Chapter Thirty-Two: The Daylight Rat!

Making money is not all that difficult, provided one possesses two things: ability and opportunity.

Li Zhao had ability in abundance, but he was plagued by the lack of a suitable opportunity.

The next day, after wandering around the county town again, he still came away empty-handed. What to do now… If worse came to worst, he would simply have to borrow money!

Cui Zongzhi was a generous and loyal man; if Li Zhao asked, it would be easy enough to borrow several hundred strings of cash. But he already owed Cui a significant favor—asking again would be truly embarrassing.

...

As dusk settled, just as Li Zhao was sulking and preparing to head home, he suddenly noticed he was being followed—and he recognized the stalker. It was the so-called "White Day Rat," the foolish fellow who had lost a fortune at the cockfighting pit and once tried to sell patterned steel as scrap iron. He was now hiding among the crowds, tailing Li Zhao in secret.

The man's tracking skills were decent, but not good enough to fool Li Zhao—a former mountain special forces operative, expert in both pursuit and counter-surveillance.

Being targeted by a thief was hardly a good thing.

But then again, fortune and misfortune often go hand in hand; perhaps this ill turn could yet be turned to his advantage!

A sly smile flickered across Li Zhao’s face. With White Mantou in tow, he gradually drifted away from the main street into a secluded alleyway. There, shaded by a massive willow tree whose trunk was so thick that it would take two people to encircle it, was the perfect spot for an ambush.

Pulling White Mantou behind the tree, Li Zhao made a gesture for silence and fixed his gaze on the entrance to the alley. Before long, a shadow appeared.

“Damn, lost him again. What rotten luck—finally spotted a nice fat lamb, only for it to slip away,” muttered the White Day Rat in disappointment, realizing his quarry had vanished.

He was just about to turn and leave when Li Zhao stepped out from behind the tree, grinning cheerfully.

“Looking for me, are you?”

“Ah!” The thief, startled and guilty, instinctively tried to bolt, but seeing that the alley was empty and his adversaries were just two seemingly frail youths, he reconsidered.

“You two little brats! Hand over your money nice and easy, and maybe I’ll let you live. Refuse, and by this time next year you’ll be nothing but a pair of forgotten graves—got it?” The White Day Rat flourished a small dagger in what he thought was an intimidating manner. To an expert’s eye, however, it was all flair and no substance.

He wanted to threaten them further, but before he could utter another word, a fist smashed into the bridge of his nose, sending blood gushing forth.

A second blow struck his cheek, a third caught his jaw, and a fourth hammered into his abdomen—each hit landing like a sledgehammer, leaving the White Day Rat utterly stunned.

He tried to run, but there was no escape.

Li Zhao closed in, kicked him to the ground, and within moments had dislocated all his joints, leaving him limp and helpless.

A quick search yielded two pouches from the thief’s clothing, containing several taels of broken silver and some copper coins—no doubt stolen goods. Li Zhao, having just been fretting about money, accepted them without the slightest qualm.

“Mercy, young master! I’ve an eighty-year-old mother and a three-year-old child at home—my family is so poor we can’t even boil a pot of gruel. That’s why I stooped to petty theft... boohoo!”

“Heh, save those lies for the children. Now, tell me your name and why you were following me. If you dare utter a single falsehood, I’ll whittle you down to a stump and bury you headfirst in the dirt!”

Li Zhao brandished the small dagger close to the thief’s nose and ears, scaring him into a cold sweat and silencing any further attempts at deceit.

“My name is Cui Tong, known as the White Day Rat. I’ve been a thief for many years. Today my luck turned sour and I lost everything at the gambling den. I was looking for an easy mark and spotted you, young master. After your grand performance at the cockfighting pit last time, I figured you must be wealthy, so I tailed you...”

...

“Heavens be my witness, I only wanted to get my hands on a bit of silver—never meant anyone real harm. Please, young master, let me go; I’ll be forever grateful, burning incense for you daily, repaying your kindness even in the next life!”

...

“Nonsense. The Virtuous Consort has just passed away, and the Emperor has decreed that all entertainment is forbidden during the period of national mourning. Who would dare operate a gambling den now?”

“I wouldn’t dare lie, young master. You know how it is—there’s policy above, but there are always ways around it below. The main streets may look deserted, but in secret, the revelry continues. If the city’s too risky, they just move beyond the walls.”

“Oh? And where outside the city?”

“Laoshui Wharf!”

After hearing the explanation, Li Zhao nodded. Since ancient times, the reach of imperial power seldom extended into the countryside, where clans ruled themselves and self-governance was the order of the day—a reality that held true even here, just a hundred or so miles from Chang’an. For the imperial court, this was already a case of “the whip being too short to reach.”

But that was not the main point. The main point was: here was an opportunity to make money. If the gambling dens were still in operation, with his skills he could easily win a few hundred strings of cash in half a day.

The trouble was, gambling dens were crawling with unsavory types. Even if he won, getting out safely with the money would be a challenge—he could lose his life if he wasn’t careful.

But for a clever man, there were always more solutions than problems.

After a moment's thought, a perfect plan took shape in Li Zhao's mind. To carry it out, however, he would need a capable helper. He didn’t know many people—who could he trust with this?

White Mantou had to stay by his side, so he was out.

Aunt Qing and Jin Bao’er were women—not suitable for a gambling den.

Old Cai was loyal, but too old for this kind of job.

Heh, got it!

He had been searching high and low, only to find the answer right in front of him. Li Zhao’s gaze landed on the White Day Rat—wasn't this fellow the perfect ready-made helper? But to ensure obedience, he’d need to apply a little persuasion.

“Cui Tong, listen carefully. You have two options before you.

First, I tear my own clothes, cut my arm, and drag you before the authorities on charges of highway robbery and assault with a weapon.

Second, you help me accomplish a certain task. If you succeed, you’ll be handsomely rewarded. Well?”

According to the Tang Code, robbing someone earned you eighty strokes and three years of penal labor—a light sentence. But if you used a knife and injured someone in the process, things were much more serious: summary execution, no questions asked.

“Boohoo!” The White Day Rat burst into tears. This young master looked so gentle and harmless—who could have guessed he was so ruthless? At most, he was guilty of attempted robbery; how had it escalated to assault with a weapon? He was being set up to die!

But now, he was out of options and could only submit.

“Please have mercy, young master! I’ll do whatever you ask—scale mountains, cross fire, jump into boiling oil, I’ll do it all without a word of complaint.”

“Oh, don’t force yourself. I’d hate to make you do something against your will.”

“It’s no trouble at all! To serve you is the blessing of eight lifetimes!”

The White Day Rat nodded fervently, his tone sincere, though his beady eyes gleamed with cunning.

He'd just humor this young master for now. As soon as the other let his guard down, he’d slip away. Even if Li Zhao reported him to the authorities, without evidence there’d be nothing to worry about.

The White Day Rat had been a rogue for years—a sly old fox. But this time, he had run into a fox who had trained for a thousand years.

“Tell me, are you stalling for time so you can run off?”

“Wha—no, of course not! I wouldn’t dare… Ugh, what did you just give me? It’s so bitter!”

Li Zhao grinned wickedly, grabbed the White Day Rat’s jaw, and fished a small black pill from his robe, forcing it down the thief’s throat.

“Listen well. That was the Brainworm Poison Pill—made from corpse beetles, monkshood, wolfsbane, red arsenic, and dozens of other deadly poisons, simmered for forty-nine days. It tastes bitter and is extremely toxic. If you don’t receive the antidote within three days, the corpse beetles will burrow into your brain, turning you into something neither man nor beast. You’ll lose all reason, bite your own family, and then rot away—your flesh will fester, your organs will burn, your veins will burst, and you’ll die in agony.

But don’t worry—if you obey, I’ll give you the antidote in three days. If you betray me, you’ll die with nothing left to bury. And let me tell you, this is a secret poison—only I have the antidote. No doctor will be able to help you; they won’t even know what poison you’ve taken. Heh!”

...

“Rest assured, young master! I’ll obey, I swear—I wouldn’t dare think otherwise... Boohoo!”

Seeing the thief in tears and on the brink of a breakdown, Li Zhao nodded in satisfaction and reset his joints, allowing him to move again.

His deft handling left the White Day Rat completely convinced; never had he seen someone dismantle a man’s joints as easily as snapping twigs. As for the Brainworm Poison Pill—just the name was terrifying enough, leaving no room for doubt.

He had no choice now but to obey and hope that, after three days, the young master would keep his word and provide the antidote.

“White Day Rat, can you ride a horse?”

“Yes!”

“Excellent. Go rent a fast horse. Tomorrow morning, wait for me outside the south gate. I have a task for you.”

“Yes, but may I ask, what task does the young master have in mind?”

“Don’t ask what you shouldn’t. You’ll know tomorrow. Go.”

“Yes, I’ll take my leave.”

Li Zhao returned the stolen pouches to the White Day Rat, who saluted and scurried off to nurse his wounded pride somewhere safe.

Li Zhao and White Mantou set off for home, but the latter’s expression was odd—clearly, questions weighed on his mind.

“If you have questions, ask.”

“Master, I’m with you every day, but I’ve never seen you preparing poison...?”

“Of course not. I don’t know the first thing about making poison.”

“The Brainworm Poison Pill?”

“Haha! I’ve been too busy these past days to bathe—what I gave him was simply a little dirt I scraped from my armpit. Fooled that rascal good!”

White Mantou: ...

...