Chapter 1013 - 1015 Heaven-set Phoenix Star (9)
"The greatest pain in the world is not death, but waiting for death, especially for those close to someone who is dying. Watching their loved one’s life slowly fade away, yet feeling utterly powerless due to lack of money, is a kind of pain one can never escape in a lifetime. Therefore, I hope to help those poor people who can’t afford medical treatment!"
"Miss, do you mean to give medicine to the poor as alms? There are so many poor people. If you do this, how much silver will you lose?" Huan Qiu, upon hearing Cai Wei’s idea, was moved but also felt it was unrealistic.
In the Capital, there were many poor people, and even more who liked to take advantage of any opportunity. If those who were looking for benefits pretended to be poor and came here for medicine when ill, the Master’s possessions wouldn’t last two years before being squandered by the Royal Consort!
Cai Wei laughed and said, "I am not a fool; I won’t indulge these humble ones who come here to take advantage. I will also appoint trustworthy people to manage this Medical Center. Those who think they can take advantage here, well, they’d have to be lucky enough to take my advantage!"
Huan Qiu bowed her head; she was just a Secret Guard and did not know the methods the Miss would use to distinguish the truly needy from those pretending, but she knew that her Miss’s heart was indeed kind!
Time flew quickly, and in a blink of an eye, the sun was setting in the west. Cai Wei had inspected several shops in succession and was a bit tired, so she and Huan Qiu walked to meet her father at their own Tavern, and then they planned to go to the fabric store together, pick up Fei’er, and head home.
As the master and servant walked intently, they suddenly heard a commotion up ahead—children crying and begging for mercy mixed with the sound of scolding. Cai Wei and Huan Qiu exchanged glances and hurried over.
Around the corner, next to a small stall selling steamed buns, an irate Street Vendor was grabbing a disheveled eight- or nine-year-old boy by the hair, beating him mercilessly. The boy’s little face was bruised and swollen, but he was stubbornly gritting his teeth, neither crying nor screaming, just covering his head firmly with his dirty little hands, looking extremely pitiful.
On the ground, a tray of overturned buns lay scattered, trampled and messy, and not far away, a five- or six-year-old little girl was crying bitterly, "Uncle, please don’t hit my brother, I beg you..."