The minor scuffle spread through the village faster than dry grass catching fire.
The Prince of Tang's guards moved almost in unison, hands settling on their saber hilts out of instinct rather than command. Across from them, the Gao Family Village Militia stepped forward as well, not aggressively, but with no intention of yielding ground.
The flintlock rifles had been discreetly put away earlier to preserve courtesy, yet that did not mean the militia stood unarmed. Each man carried a concealed military knife beneath his rough working clothes, and none of them looked nervous. They stood with the quiet steadiness of men who had faced worse than wounded pride.
The air in the center of the village grew heavy.
Bai Yuan and Zhu Yujian had been speaking with measured civility only moments earlier. The sudden clamor cut through their conversation, and both men turned at once. What they saw made them frown in equal measure.
Their subordinates were one breath away from open violence.
They hurried forward.
"What is going on?" Zhu Yujian demanded, his tone firm, more incredulous than furious.
"What happened here?" Bai Yuan asked, his gaze already searching for the soldier involved.
The guard commander, his face still smeared with thick porridge, pointed at himself in indignation. "I only wanted a bowl of congee," he said angrily. "This man refused and threw it in my face."
Zhu Yujian studied him in silence.
He knew his own men. He also knew the world.
In times like these, commoners trembled before uniforms. A commander of a princely guard stood before them, and a village militiaman dared strike him without cause? The story did not sit right.
Bai Yuan turned to his soldier. "Explain clearly."
The militia soldier snapped to attention and saluted. "He approached without greeting anyone and helped himself to a bowl. I stopped him because that was improper. He struck first. I retaliated. That is all."
His voice was steady, neither defensive nor agitated.
Bai Yuan needed only a glance to know the man was telling the truth.
Yet the guard commander's pride had already ignited. "I am a commander of the Prince of Tang's personal guard. Even if I cut down a man like him, it would be justified."
Several militia members narrowed their eyes at that.
Behind his back, Bai Yuan made a subtle gesture. It was small, almost casual. His personal guards understood immediately. One man slipped away quietly, as if merely going to fetch more firewood.
If the situation turned ugly, the hidden flintlock rifles would reappear.
Bai Yuan did not desire bloodshed, but neither would he allow his men to be trampled by empty rank.
Everything now depended on Zhu Yujian.
Unbeknownst to him, his own life hung in the balance. Should he choose to defend his commander purely out of status and arrogance, this modest village would transform into a killing field within moments.
Zhu Yujian looked at the porridge-smeared face of his commander, then at the upright militia soldier who showed no fear.
Memories stirred.
He remembered the years of confinement with his father, imprisoned because of family intrigue, surviving on coarse rice secretly delivered by a minor official named Zhang Shutang. Sixteen years behind stone walls had taught him something many pampered nobles never learned.
Power without justice was merely brutality with a title.
He let out a quiet scoff.
"You say he was disrespectful?" Zhu Yujian said to his commander. "With that uniform on your back, what commoner would dare insult you without provocation? Do not make me a laughingstock."
The square went still.
The militia who had been preparing to retrieve their weapons froze where they stood.
Even the Prince's own guards were stunned.
"No one is injured," Zhu Yujian continued evenly. "The matter ends here. Go wash your face. You look ridiculous."
The commander flushed with humiliation and stepped back stiffly.
He walked to the village well, only to discover that the water had dwindled to a muddy trickle at the bottom. The drought had not spared even this place. He stood there awkwardly, unsure what to do.
A wet cloth was extended toward him.
He turned and saw the militia soldier.
For a moment, neither spoke.
The commander took the cloth and wiped his face clean. Steam still rose faintly from the fabric, and the porridge smell clung stubbornly to his armor. When he finished, he handed the cloth back.
Their eyes met. The earlier hostility had thinned, replaced by something more complicated. Embarrassment perhaps. Recognition perhaps.
Across the square, Bai Yuan relaxed almost imperceptibly. The signal was withdrawn. The flintlock rifles would remain hidden.
He clasped his fists toward Zhu Yujian. "Your Highness handles matters with fairness. That is rare."
Zhu Yujian waved him off lightly. "Fairness is not rare. It is merely inconvenient."
Bai Yuan allowed himself a faint smile, then said more seriously, "Your Highness, about your decision to raise troops in service of the emperor, I still believe it deserves careful thought."
Zhu Yujian arched a brow. "You too? The Prefect of Nanyang chased me for miles to persuade me otherwise. I thought you were not the pedantic sort. I lead this force without selfish intent. My loyalty is genuine. Surely His Majesty will recognize that."
Bai Yuan hesitated. "His Majesty's temperament…"
He did not finish.
Two scouts burst into the village at nearly the same moment, one from the Prince's guards, the other from the militia. Breathless, they spoke over each other.
"Bad news. Meng Hu and Du Hu are attacking again."
Zhu Yujian blinked in disbelief. "Meng Hu and Du Hu? I scattered them myself. They fled like frightened rats. They dare return?"
Bai Yuan's expression, however, grew thoughtful.
Earlier, the bandits had retreated because they had not understood the strength or composition of the force opposing them. Caution had driven them away.
But once they regrouped and conducted proper reconnaissance, they would have realized the truth. What had routed them was not an imperial army, but merely the personal guard of a prince.
And across the land, the word "prince" did not inspire fear.
It inspired contempt.
Meng Hu and Du Hu had recovered their courage.
Now they were coming back.