“Old man?” The green-haired youth sitting in front of the carriage turned his head. “Are you thirsty? There’s still a gourd of sour plum juice here, perfect for quenching your thirst and cooling off, but it needs to be chilled with deep well water to really taste refreshing.”

Brian Brooks glanced around a few times but truly couldn’t make anything out, so he waved his hand and shrank back into the carriage.

Although the The Brooks Family was a prominent family here, they didn’t have much interaction with the merchant families of the outer city.

Moreover, during this period, an elder—who actually wasn’t that closely related—had passed away, so everyone was busy handling the funeral, and few paid attention to matters in the outer city.

Besides, hasn’t this Chang Banban been causing trouble for over half a year now? Is there a single month without some kind of mischief?

Many in the city’s The Brooks Family were aware of this. Even though Brian Brooks had only stayed here a few days, he’d already heard that in the past few months, probably seven or eight merchant families and passing ship owners had been ruined, and even one family with some ties to the Dragon Forbidden Guards had to give up half their assets and leave.

Section Three: The Once-in-a-Lifetime Hedonistic Life Must Be Preserved

The carriage rumbled along.

Shops in the outer city stood in dense rows, the streets teeming with people. At busy times, you might not even make it a mile in half an hour, so the group simply exited through the outer city’s east gate, the Weiwu Gate, and headed outside the city to the docks.

“Alkeng, this must be your first time back, right?” Philip Brooks noticed that Brian Brooks seemed a bit uneasy in the carriage and found it amusing—this wasn’t how Little Ethan usually was.

This young master was now the sole direct heir of the The Brooks Family’s three branches; of the previous generation’s three brothers, only the third master survived.

The eldest and second masters—one fell from his horse in a clash with the Mongol Tartars and not even his body could be recovered, while the second master, though about to be awarded a military post, fell ill with an epidemic and, after months of struggle in bed, finally passed away.

“I came back once with my mother when I was three or four, but I don’t remember it. This is only my second time.” Brian Brooks answered honestly. “I’ve only heard my mother talk about it, but I have no memory at all.”

“Linqing is a good place. If you ever want some peace and quiet in the future, it’s a great spot to settle down.” Philip Brooks squinted ahead; the west gate of the outer city was just up ahead.

Lining the city gate were rows of cloth banners propped up with bamboo poles, and even more makeshift stands built from reeds and bamboo.

There were tea stalls for quenching thirst, piles of black dates, vegetarian and meat snack stands, and a few pack carts leaning crookedly against two old oak trees.

A porter was energetically waving a sweat-stained towel and shouting something; even from several yards away, you could catch a whiff of his sour, sweaty odor.

A large group of laborers under the willow trees seemed to be arguing about something, with the occasional sharp curse rising above the din, followed by another round of commotion.

The docks seemed a bit chaotic, though they were never exactly peaceful; today, however, things felt a little different.

Although he sensed something was off at the docks, Philip Brooks wasn’t familiar with the area—he hadn’t been to Linqing many times himself. It was just that after spending so long on the frontier, he was especially sensitive to that restless, uneasy atmosphere.

He tightened his grip on his sturdy horse, adjusted the narrow-bladed waist knife wrapped in a cloth sheath at his side, and said quietly, “Little Ethan, something doesn’t feel quite right.”

“Huh?” Instantly pulling his hand away from the snow-white cat, Brian Brooks leaned forward. “Uncle You, what’s wrong?”

“Hmm, hard to say right now. Looks like something’s about to happen at the docks.” Philip Brooks was a bit tense as well.

The master only had this one precious son. This was supposed to be just a trip back home, and even so, he’d been assigned to look after him, just in case. He hadn’t expected to actually run into trouble.

“Will we have time to board the boat?”

Brian Brooks was well aware of his own situation. An eleven-year-old boy couldn’t expect to accomplish anything earth-shattering. In these troubled times, even a bout of illness could be fatal, let alone running into war or chaos.

His two uncles had three children between them, but none survived to adulthood. Even he had an older brother who died in infancy. Only by sheer luck had he survived a bout of illness, becoming the sole heir of the Linqing The Brooks Family in Beijing.

Given all this, his mother had been firmly against this trip to Shandong, but his father couldn’t leave Beijing due to official duties, so he had no choice but to send him.

They’d thought that traveling from the capital to Linqing by canal would be safe and not too exhausting, so his mother reluctantly agreed. Who would have thought trouble would arise right at their own doorstep?

Philip Brooks said nothing, just shook his head.

A crowd had already gathered at the docks, clustering around a few apparent ringleaders. One of them was waving his arms and shouting, while others whispered conspiratorially in different groups.

On the dock by the road, several piles of miscellaneous goods in straw sacks had been tossed about, blocking the way.

Two men in brown short jackets, sweating and cursing, pulled open their collars to reveal hairy chests as they sat on the straw sacks, glancing around.

At the head of the road, two groups had already been stopped.