Chapter 26: Preparing the Dog
“What? How could you take advantage of His Majesty…” Kong Xueli was utterly stunned.
“Who said I was taking advantage? I never claimed that my house wasn’t bestowed by Emperor Taizong.”
The Emperor of Song was known for his affability, but Shen Shi thought it best to be cautious; after all, he was no scholar himself.
At this moment, Gongsun Ce added, “Brother Kong, if His Majesty learns that a royal gift has made a house so valuable, he would be pleased.”
As a member of the slave-catching family, the Gongsuns understood the tastes of those in power. The Zhao emperors were always delighted when anything they owned proved useful.
Gongsun Ce continued, “It’s just that the loan can only be secured with them, and can’t be withdrawn.”
“It’s only a temporary deposit with them. Five thousand strings of copper coins, the house—everything belongs to me,” Shen Shi declared with absolute confidence.
“Do you keep fighting dogs, my good brother?” Gongsun Ce inquired.
“No,” Shen Shi shook his head.
Who would keep such animals? Though theirs was a military family, they had turned to scholarly pursuits and no longer participated in martial hunts. What use would they have for dogs?
Given their rundown state, even a guard dog seemed unnecessary.
“No? Then how will you compete?”
Shen Shi looked at Gongsun Ce and said, “Last time I visited your home, I recall you had some fine dogs.”
“They are indeed good, but I fear they won’t stand a chance against the fighting dogs of the Qian brothers.”
Fighting dogs were not the same as ordinary ones, and Gongsun Ce was well aware of that.
“No matter! I have my own ingenious plan,” Shen Shi remained supremely confident.
Seeing such confidence, Gongsun Ce had no reason to refuse. Yet their venture met with an immediate setback; upon arrival at Gongsun’s home, they ran into Gongsun’s uncle.
What now? They couldn’t very well lead the dogs out for a fight in front of their elder. So they put on the act of dutiful children—reciting poetry and composing verse.
When it came to poetry, Shen Shi realized Gongsun Ce was truly out of his depth. He even asked Shen Shi about a particular poem.
“By the way, Shen, you once wrote ‘The chrysanthemum withers’—that I can understand. But how could a withered chrysanthemum cause pain in the…well, it’s not a rose; there are no thorns.”
To ask such shamelessly indecent questions in front of one’s father—it was strangely endearing.
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“Don’t understand?” Shen Shi drank his wine, chuckling lewdly.
He took a deep draught and then, with a lascivious grin, sang out loud:
The chrysanthemum withers, the pain fills the flesh,
Your chrysanthemum has turned outward,
Tightening of the flesh, heartbreak ensues,
Your sorrows linger in your heart…
Such brazen shamelessness left Gongsun’s uncle doubting his own sense of aesthetics.
“Is this what poetry has become nowadays? Is this considered good verse?”
He tried singing it, then left abruptly, feeling embarrassed. He managed to slip away without alerting anyone.
Ah, the hearts of parents—always anxious to know if their sons are mixing with the wrong crowd.
Once he left, they immediately ceased their poetic pursuits.
Gongsun Ce remarked, “I’ve seen the Qian brothers’ fighting dog before. It’s truly a rare specimen, a king among dogs. Though I have some excellent mountain hounds, I doubt any could best it.”
“The best mountain hound I have—I estimate the odds are four to six, with more chance of loss than victory.”
Gongsun Ce didn’t want to tell Shen Shi to walk away with the money; he could only warn him that his dog was unlikely to win.
Shen Shi laughed, “Four to six is plenty. I’ll cover the remaining sixty percent myself.”
With Shen Shi so confident, Gongsun Ce had no qualms about lending a dog. He ordered the kennel servants to bring the hound, and thinking carefully, had several burly men accompany them.
This was Gongsun Ce’s meticulousness—just in case. Five thousand strings of coins were no trifling matter; win or lose, caution was necessary.
Shen Shi said nothing.
With the dog, Shen Shi and his companions returned to the fighting ground, now nearing afternoon. They stopped at a tavern for lunch, and then made their way back. During this time, the little fox scrutinized Gongsun Ce’s hound, ran out for a while, and returned to tell Shen Shi, “Don’t bet, sir. You’re sure to lose.”
“Don’t worry, I have a secret technique,” Shen Shi replied with a mysterious smile, utterly unconcerned.
The little fox tilted her head, unable to fathom Shen Shi’s confidence. How could a human know more about animals than the animals themselves?
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On the contrary, the little Gulu, well-fed and content, thumped his chest and promised certain victory, as if his mere presence guaranteed a win. This, of course, elicited laughter from everyone.
Ever since Shen Shi left Gulu at Gongsun’s house last time, the little fellow followed him everywhere, behaving like a miniature adult, much to the admiration of Gongsun Ce and Kong Xueli.
When Shen Shi and his group returned to the fighting ground, news of the wager had spread throughout. Gamblers, hearing of the bet, turned to look.
Many whispered, “The Shen family must be wealthy. They say a tiger’s prestige lingers after death, and though the Shens have fallen, they still have five thousand strings of coins.”
“But such a gamble—perhaps the Shen family will be erased from Jinhua after this.”
“Yes, indeed, even their house is at stake. Truly reckless.”
“In Jinhua, our infamous wastrels are capable of anything.”
“Wait, look at the dog behind them—it seems quite formidable. Perhaps there’s hope.”
“What hope? The Qian brothers’ General Cavalry is no ordinary dog—it’s a dog king, bred through sorcery.”
“Sorcery? What sort?”
“They say you must find a female dog with nine pups, then starve them and let them fight. The survivor becomes the dog king.”
“Hah, superstitions. We’re just here for the spectacle.” Some believed, others doubted.
Amid the murmurs, Shen Shi paid no heed, heading straight upstairs. Gulu followed, perched atop the hound like a victorious general. It was remarkable—Gongsun’s hound, fierce as it was, allowed only its caretaker near, not even Gongsun Ce himself. Yet Gulu rode it without any protest.
Dogs are typically more wary of their own kind than of humans, except for mating pairs.
But Gulu and the hound were both males, without a doubt.
Upon reaching the second floor, Shen Shi saw it was packed with people, all drawn by rumors of this astounding wager. Compared to those downstairs, these spectators clearly held higher status.
Shen Shi spotted many classmates, and even several acquaintances from beef-eating—those who enjoyed dog meat.
Seeing so many, Kong Xueli grew nervous, like a novice under a spotlight—tense and uneasy.
He turned and urged Shen Shi, “Brother, you heard them—that’s a dog king. No dog can defeat it. You can’t just pick any fighting dog and expect to win…”