The city that had stood for so long had never been this ‘full of turmoil’ before, not even once, until tonight.

The closing of the city gates signaled that tonight’s farce had finally reached its end. Perhaps someone had carefully counted: more than twenty households had exited the city that night alone, without exception, all officials of the Court.

When the rumors began, they were the first ones to withdraw.

The cold night wind tugged at the strands of hair around Sir’s temples.

Chen Changsheng tipped his head back and drank deeply from his wine gourd. He retracted his gaze, then descended the City Tower.

There was nothing left worth watching.

…

As rooster crows broke the silence, a blush of dawn painted the horizon. Dense fog clung to the distant mountain edges, blown into Shangjing City by the morning breeze.

Chen Changsheng went out early.

The Teahouse was quiet at this hour. Only a few patrons were present, and the Storyteller hadn’t arrived yet. A glance revealed the place largely empty.

A Teahouse attendant was wiping tables. Spotting Chen Changsheng enter, he approached to greet him. “Sir, you are exceptionally early today?”

Naturally, he recognized this gentleman. As a front-hall attendant, failing to remember a guest after a few visits would mean he shouldn’t hold the job.

“Free in the early hours, so I came ahead to wait,” Chen Changsheng replied.

The attendant knew exactly whom the gentleman was waiting for. He acknowledged and said, “Sir, please head upstairs.”

Once seated, Chen Changsheng said, “No need for tea yet.”

The attendant initially agreed, but turned and brought tea anyway.

Chen Changsheng was about to speak when the attendant pre-empted him, “Sir, please drink this first. When Lord Liu arrives, I’ll bring fresh. No charge for this pot.”

Chen Changsheng responded, “How can that be acceptable…”

The attendant shook his head, “Sir, you are Lord Liu’s friend. It’s just a pot of tea; it’s nothing.”

Chen Changsheng smiled faintly. “I am honored.”

The attendant smiled warmly. “Where do those words come from, Sir? Since Sir walks the same path as Lord Liu, Sir must also be a person greatly worthy of respect.”

Chen Changsheng cupped his hands slightly. “My thanks.”

“Sir is too polite. If there’s anything you need, just ask. I’ll be standing over here.” The attendant said cheerfully and moved to stand aside.

“There isn’t much going on this early. Why not chat with me for a bit?” Chen Changsheng suggested.

The attendant readily agreed. But then he heard Chen Changsheng add, “You may sit while we talk.”

Hearing this, the attendant’s heart skipped a beat.

His face paled with alarm. He waved his hands frantically. “Absolutely not! That won’t do! Can’t, can’t!”

Chen Changsheng inquired, “Why not?”

“Your servant is just a lowly worker. How could I ever sit as equals with you, Sir? It breaks all the rules,” the attendant stammered.

Chen Changsheng countered, “I am merely a common man myself. There are no distinctions between high or low here. The Teahouse is almost deserted in the morning; you aren’t busy. Sitting to talk causes no harm at all.”

“Sir’s kindness fills me with gratitude, but sitting is still beyond me. I must stand here respectfully and talk with Sir,” the attendant insisted. He remained firmly upon his feet. To him, sitting felt like an impossible honor.

His job was in the front hall. He’d seen enough people and situations to know survival required strict adherence to the hierarchy. Losing his job wasn’t worth the risk.

Seeing his determination, Chen Changsheng didn’t press further. The attendant stood close, beginning a light conversation.

Chen Changsheng asked, “Might I ask, does Lord Liu visit this Teahouse often?”

“We often see Lord Liu when he has some leisure time,” the attendant replied. He paused, then added significance, “Actually, Sir, there’s a story associated with the very table you’re sitting at.”

“Oh?” Chen Changsheng raised an eyebrow, curious.

The attendant explained, “Back then, Lord Liu preferred sitting with a clear view. Because of this, the Manager specially reserved this spot for him.”

“When Lord Liu found out, he actually spoke to the Manager about it. Later, during busy times at the Teahouse, this seat would be offered to other patrons. But at any other time, it was always kept free.”

Chen Changsheng pondered this. “Was Lord Liu given this courtesy before anyone else ever received it?”

The attendant’s answer was simple. “Only Lord Liu.”

Understanding dawned on Chen Changsheng. “So this special treatment wasn’t granted solely because of his official position.”

“Naturally not,” the attendant affirmed immediately. “Lord Liu is the County Magistrate, yet he carries himself without the slightest airs. I heard our Manager say that since Lord Liu took office, Shangjing City has been remarkably free of trouble. Lord Liu is also incredibly dedicated. He personally handles matters big and small – major cases demanding justice all the way down to squabbles between neighbors. You could see Lord Liu there.”

“Over time, whether it was the Butcher, beggars by the roadside, or the young woman selling rice cakes on the street… there was no one who didn’t know Lord Liu.”

“Us attendants know plenty too. One year, I remember, there was a terrible snow… It collapsed houses everywhere…”

Once the attendant began speaking about Lord Liu, the words poured out like a flood, determined to recount every single achievement.

He told Cheng Changsheng of the time Lord Liu rushed into a burning building to pull an infant from its Water Crossing, saving the child. He recounted Lord Liu speaking truth to power in the Imperial Court, using his position to bravely advocate for the common people. He described Lord Liu during a bitter snowstorm, unable to bear the sight of people freezing. He had gone to a large coat-making workshop, swallowing his pride to plead for winter garments…

Chen Changsheng listened patiently, sipping his tea occasionally.

Championing the people, putting the people first, soothing disasters, saving lives… compiling every story seemed like it could fill an entire biography.

Liu Huaizhang was a man hard to truly grasp.

He could lower himself utterly to secure a few clothes for those suffering. Yet on behalf of the people, he would unflinchingly speak blunt truth to power within the Imperial Court, demanding nothing but justice.

That was his way as an official…

The attendant talked until his throat grew dry, taking a deep breath as his emotions surged. Then, momentarily forgetting the boundaries of his position, he uttered a phrase tinged with real passion.

“In my humble servant’s eyes, Sir, in all of Shangjing City, after His Majesty… stands only Lord Liu.”

Chen Changsheng paused at these words.

Earlier, this attendant had displayed the ingrained caution born of front-hall experience. His trade involved speech aimed to please. One misplaced phrase could truly cost him his livelihood.

Yet, speaking of Liu Huaizhang, he uttered words that crossed a clear line—words of genuine, uncalculating admiration.

Chen Changsheng set his teacup down. “Aren’t you afraid those words could cost you your job?”

The attendant seemed startled at the bluntness, yet waved a dismissive hand. “It matters little. If they do cost me my job… so be it. At the very least, my conscience would be clear.”

“People like me, working the front hall… all we have, really, is our mouth, Sir. We learn the art: sometimes you talk like a human, sometimes like a ghost. We lose track of what’s fact and what’s flattery. Wanting to say something true… well, you worry it won’t sound sincere enough. Maybe that’s why I sounded so reckless just now. But at least…”

“Nobody would think it was a lie.”

Chen Changsheng’s inner thoughts halted. He looked closely at the attendant standing before him.

Here stood a front-hall attendant willing to risk his livelihood merely to speak glowingly of someone.

Chen Changsheng couldn’t suppress a deep sigh, the words escaping almost involuntarily.

“To reach such a pinnacle… in the path of service…”