Chapter 15: Zheng Xing Hatches Another Vicious Plot, Eldest Brother Is Injured

After settling matters in the courtyard, Du Chengfeng decided to first return to Du Family Village; he needed to report to Uncle Dazhu. From now on, all the newly produced Immortal Wine would be transported and stored in his new residence in Chang’an, which would also help it to become even more mellow and fragrant.

Full of enthusiasm, Du Chengfeng hurried back toward Du Family Village, unaware that yet another infuriating incident was awaiting him.

Meanwhile, Steward Qian and several attendants, having been utterly humiliated and beaten in Du Family Village, limped back to the Zheng residence to report to the young master.

Zheng Xing was lost in sweet fantasies, already picturing the mountains of gold he would amass once he acquired the recipe for Immortal Wine. He was in his study, frolicking with a few charming maids, his face radiant with delight.

When a servant reported that Steward Qian had returned, Zheng Xing eagerly stepped out, only to see Qian and his attendants battered and miserable.

“What happened here?” Zheng Xing’s anger flared at the sight of his men so badly injured.

“Master, that Du Chengfeng is simply too arrogant. Not only did he refuse to cooperate, he also beat us like this. He threatened you, saying that if you keep coveting Immortal Wine, he won’t be polite about it!” one attendant replied, trembling.

“What! A mere country bumpkin dares lay a finger on my people? He must have a death wish!” Zheng Xing was livid, a vicious glint flashing in his eyes.

He, the proud eldest son of the Zheng family, had been slighted and even threatened by a rustic villager—an intolerable humiliation.

“Steward Qian, didn’t you explain that this was at my command?” Zheng Xing demanded furiously.

He believed that invoking his own name would be enough; what country villager wouldn’t be intimidated into handing over the brewing method?

Steward Qian struggled to lift himself, wincing in pain as he replied, “Master, we did, but it was useless. As soon as he heard your name, he started swinging. My ribs were broken in several places. Master, that fellow is no ordinary man. Even a dozen of us couldn’t get close to him.”

He coughed up a mouthful of dark blood and continued, “Forgive me, Master, for failing you. But I did learn something useful: that fellow has been buying large quantities of coarse wine in Chang’an lately. There’s a villager named Du Dazhu responsible for making the purchases. There’s no way he has an official license to brew, so I suspect the Immortal Wine is made by refining all that coarse wine.”

“Are you certain?” Zheng Xing’s eyes gleamed as a perfect plan took shape in his mind.

Tang law required private brewers to have an official license. Without one, it was illegal. That fellow clearly lacked such a license, so he could only purchase coarse wine and refine it.

Though he didn’t yet know how Du could turn coarse wine into nectar fit for the gods, if he could control the supply of coarse wine in Chang’an and cut off the source, he doubted Du Chengfeng would hold out for long.

Sooner or later, Zheng Xing would be in charge—he relished the thought.

“It’s absolutely true, Master,” Steward Qian replied weakly.

“Good. Go have your wounds treated. Once this matter is resolved, I won’t forget your service. This time, I’ll handle it myself,” Zheng Xing announced proudly.

His mood instantly improved. He could already imagine Du Chengfeng groveling before him, tail between his legs.

“Thank you, Master. We’ll take our leave,” said Steward Qian, and with the other attendants supporting each other, they went to find a physician.

Once they were gone, Zheng Xing immediately ordered the major brewers and sellers of coarse wine in Chang’an to his study. With his status and power, how could a mere villager possibly win?

Before long, the owners of several breweries and wine shops hurried to Zheng Xing’s study. They had no choice—the young master was the heir of the Zheng family, and rumor had it he was also the nephew of a prominent imperial concubine. Coupled with his own abilities, he was highly favored. Even if they didn’t want to, they couldn’t refuse his summons.

The shop owners exchanged nervous glances, puzzled as to why the young master had suddenly called them all here. They could only wait in fear for him to speak.

Once everyone was present, Zheng Xing narrowed his eyes and addressed them coldly, “Let’s get straight to the point. I want to know whether, in the past days, a young man named Du Chengfeng or a middle-aged man named Du Dazhu has come to buy large quantities of coarse wine from you.”

The shop owners hesitated in unison. As businessmen, they had a code of ethics and did not casually disclose the details of their customers.

“Think carefully before you answer. Your brewing licenses are all in my father’s hands. If you don’t cooperate, you know the consequences,” Zheng Xing threatened, his gaze icy, voice heavy.

The shop owners broke out in a cold sweat—they were being blatantly threatened, and there was nothing they could do.

They were all from small families who depended on wine brewing to survive. If their licenses were revoked, they’d be ruined.

Exchanging glances, they nodded in silent agreement.

“Yes, Young Master Zheng, it’s true. Every time, they nearly cleaned out our entire stock, paying generously, never haggling,” said one, surnamed Zhao, stepping forward with a bow.

“Good. From today onward, without my permission, no one is to sell even a single jar of coarse wine to Du Chengfeng. Do you understand?” Zheng Xing commanded shamelessly.

The shop owners exchanged anxious glances. After a silent exchange, Zhao spoke up, “May we ask why, Young Master Zheng? This would really cut off our livelihood.”

Zheng Xing frowned, surprised by their audacity, but reconsidered. Zhao’s point was not without merit.

After a moment’s thought, Zheng Xing smiled slyly, “You’re all men of the trade. Surely you’ve heard of the Immortal Wine sold at Wangjiang Pavilion?”

Of course they had. They nodded in unison—it was famous throughout Chang’an, and as fellow brewers, they’d all tried it. The wine’s reputation was thunderous in Chang’an these days.

They had tried to investigate its origins but gotten nowhere. Now, hearing Zheng Xing’s words, they sensed something was amiss.

“To be frank,” Zheng Xing continued, “that Immortal Wine is supplied to Wangjiang Pavilion by Du Chengfeng. At the same time, he’s been buying vast quantities of coarse wine from you all. As professionals, you know the court forbids private brewing without a license—and he’s just a country villager. I trust you understand the implications. The profit could go to anyone, so why not you?”

At this, the shop owners immediately caught the scent of conspiracy. They were old hands and understood Zheng Xing’s intentions, but could not openly oppose him.

One, surnamed Liu, spoke on behalf of the others, “Young Master Zheng, if you require our cooperation, please instruct us. We’re at your service.”

“Excellent. Then I’ll be direct. From now on, you’re to work together—without my approval, you must not sell coarse wine to Du Chengfeng. Eventually, with his supply cut off, he’ll have no choice but to come to us. I’ll force him to hand over the brewing method, and you’ll all share in the rewards. Is that clear?”

Of course they understood. It was nothing more than the young master coveting Du’s profits and dragging them into his scheme. But faced with Zheng Xing’s powerful background, they had no choice but to comply.

“Good—wise men adapt to the times. Go and see to it,” Zheng Xing said with satisfaction, waving his hand for his servants to escort them out.

Later, when Uncle Dazhu saw that the workshop’s supply of coarse wine was running low, he gathered several villagers and went to Chang’an to buy more, with Du Wen—who was to take over the brewery in the future—accompanying him to familiarize himself with the city.

But without exception, they were rebuffed everywhere. In one shop owned by Liu, Zheng Xing’s attendants happened to arrive and beat them up. Fortunately, their injuries were only superficial.

When his attendants returned and reported, Zheng Xing laughed heartily, supremely confident, convinced everything was in his grasp.

Little did he realize that his ignorance and arrogance would lead to far greater disasters and tragedies for himself.

Du Chengfeng returned to Du Family Village in high spirits, planning to speak with Uncle Dazhu, only to be greeted by Aunt Chunhua, weeping as she ran toward him. Grandfather Du stood nearby, his brow furrowed, looking old and despondent.

“Chengfeng, you’re finally back! Come quickly and see your uncle,” Aunt Chunhua cried, her voice choked with tears, as if she had finally found her pillar of support.

“What happened? Is something wrong?” Du Chengfeng’s heart clenched with worry.

“Go ask your uncle yourself,” Chunhua sobbed.

Realizing something serious had happened, Du Chengfeng rushed to Grandfather Du’s house, where he found Uncle Dazhu lying in bed, bruised and battered, with a patch of dried blood on his forehead.

“Uncle Dazhu, what happened? Tell me!” Du Chengfeng was furious. He hadn’t expected that after only a few hours away, his uncle would be beaten so badly.

“Alas, we were attacked. This morning, seeing we were running low on coarse wine, I took a few men to Chang’an to purchase more. Unexpectedly, every shop seemed to have conspired against us and refused to sell. In the end, we ran into some attendants from Magistrate Zheng’s household—they beat us and threatened that unless you hand over the brewing method, there will be consequences. Your elder brother was also injured. You should go check on him,” Uncle Dazhu sighed, recounting everything that had transpired.