Here's the translation tailored for an American audience, aiming for readability and a more relatable tone:
Miss Zhao, who was scooping porridge into the bowls of disaster victims, suddenly felt someone staring at her. At first, she tried to ignore it, but the gaze didn't go away. It stuck to her, and soon she could feel her face getting warm. Irritated, she shot a harsh look at the person.
However, Wan Qingping wasn't offended by the glare. Having spent years in brothels, he understood that most women secretly liked being watched by men—whether the man was handsome or not. A previous client of his had even said that women from wealthy families, who rarely left their homes, were particularly fond of it. After all, being stared at meant that a woman was beautiful—otherwise, who would bother looking? While women might pretend not to care about their appearance, deep down, they all did.
Seeing that Miss Zhao still wasn't backing down, Wan Qingping couldn't help but feel a little smug. I must be attractive, she thought. But at the same time, she was frustrated with how shameless the man was. The other victims in line were humble and grateful, even if they occasionally stole glances at her. But this man? He was staring openly, and it annoyed her.
Zhao San, her steward, noticed the situation and quickly leaned in, saying, "Miss, should I have someone deal with that scoundrel?"
"No need," Miss Zhao replied casually. "He hasn't done anything illegal. Let's just keep serving the porridge." She said this lightly, though her fair, delicate face was flushed. The veil she wore covered it, but it was obvious to anyone who knew her that she was a bit embarrassed.
"Big Brother, Big Brother!" A young boy holding a wooden bucket approached nervously, calling out to Wan Qingping.
"Huh? What is it?" Wan Qingping blinked, snapping out of his thoughts.
"We're almost out of porridge!" the boy pointed to the nearly empty bucket.
"Then go ahead and take some," Wan Qingping replied, uninterested. But he couldn't resist glancing back at the beautiful woman one more time. The world may be big, but my stomach is bigger, he thought. She's not someone I can dream of—she's out of my league. Just a few glances will do. After all, I'm just a poor guy with nothing but a small plot of land. Why get my hopes up?
Wan Qingping stepped back, making his way to the front of the line where there were about eight or nine people still waiting. He pushed his way through, shoving an old man and a woman aside to clear a path.
"Hey! What do you think you're doing? Is there no law around here?" the woman yelled, stepping back as she lost her place in line.
Slap, slap! Before she could finish her sentence, two loud slaps rang out as they hit her face. Her cheeks instantly swelled up.
The old man standing nearby froze in fear and didn't dare to speak.
"How dare you hit my wife? I'll fight you!" the old man shouted. But before he could do anything, a big, muscular man from the line charged toward Wan Qingping, swinging a wooden club.
Although the old man was no fighter, his anger drove him to act. He swung the club at Wan Qingping's head, but as it got closer, he hesitated. The man seemed worried that he might kill someone and bring the authorities down on him, so he aimed the club at Wan Qingping's sides instead.
Wan Qingping didn't flinch. He took a quick step forward, raised his left hand, and deflected the blow, guiding it off to the side. Then, with a swift movement, he pulled the man off balance, sending him stumbling backward.
Seeing the man about to fall, Wan Qingping kicked out lightly. The man lost his footing and crashed to the ground. He landed with a thud, and a piece of stone hit him square in the back, breaking apart on impact.
The woman, who had been waiting for the big man to defend her, suddenly rushed forward, ignoring her swollen face. She threw herself onto the fallen man, wailing and checking his back where the brick had hit.
No one in the crowd dared to speak up or step in. They all silently moved aside, afraid of angering the dangerous man who had just taken care of the situation so quickly. In the end, it was just a matter of skipping a spot in line—but no one wanted to risk getting involved with someone like Wan Qingping.
The burly man, although lying on the ground, appeared badly injured. But Wan Qingping, a seasoned fighter, knew how to make a point without actually causing serious harm. The brick that looked so deadly wasn't as dangerous as it seemed. It had a broad surface, which spread the force of the impact. Wan Qingping's goal wasn't to seriously hurt anyone—it was to intimidate.
"What's going on here? A rebellion?" Two soldiers from the garrison walked over, seeing the commotion.
"Officer, please help!" the woman immediately cried, seeing the soldiers as her chance to get some justice. "This man cut in line and beat my husband! Please make him pay!"
"What's going on here?" one of the soldiers, named Guo Ertou, shouted at Wan Qingping. He looked like he was trying to play the tough guy.
"Please, officer, let me explain," Wan Qingping said calmly. He could already tell what was coming next. He had seen enough crooked officials and rough soldiers to know how these things worked.
"These soldiers are no different from street thugs," Wan Qingping thought. "They pick on the weak, but when it comes to someone tough, they back off. As long as no one dies, they'll look the other way."
"Officer, I was already in line," Wan Qingping pointed to a small branch on the ground near his younger brother's feet. "I was just defending myself when this woman tried to slap me."
"Enough! Stop causing trouble!" Guo Ertou shouted, waving his hand as if trying to keep the peace. "If you cause another scene, you'll be punished. Now, get back in line and wait for the porridge!"
With that, the soldiers returned to their post, leaving the woman confused, her cries forgotten. She tried to keep protesting but froze when she saw Wan Qingping approach again. Terrified, she backed away, clutching her husband, who was too heavy to move.
This translation adapts the style and pacing to fit a more American narrative, focusing on clarity, character development, and dialogue while retaining the core elements of the original text.