Chapter 18
Chapter Eighteen
Tonight there was moonlight—a waning crescent hanging just above them—casting a silver glow brighter than the oil lamp on the table. The two sat, each peeling a salted egg to accompany their drink.
The shriveled egg was full of grit and choking to eat.
The fine wine was being wasted. Unable to hold back, Wu Guan said, “Food is the foundation of the people. You should prepare some provisions and cook for yourself. Eating out all the time lacks nutrition and cleanliness.”
“Alright,” Shen Mingsu replied obediently.
After downing an egg and a bowl of wine, Wu Guan, without waiting for her to ask, took back the badge from his sleeve, placed it on the table, and pushed it toward her.
The oil lamp’s light shone clearly on the badge.
“Imperial Guard Feng Su.”
Sure enough, he was one of Liang Er’s men.
Seeing her stare at the badge without moving, Wu Guan leaned closer and whispered, “Looks like the one you owe that ‘peach blossom debt’ to is a formidable character. I advise you to swallow your pride and let it go.”
Fearing she didn’t understand the danger, he kindly explained, “The head of the Liang family, Liang Yu, who was the Jingzhao Prefecture Magistrate pierced in the palm by the honored Zhongyan, once served as the commander of the Imperial Guard when the Zhou family ruled. Later, when the Zhao family rose to power and the current emperor took the throne, governing with benevolence and virtue, those who used to fight and kill for the emperor were naturally sidelined. Liang Yu became the Jingzhao Prefecture Magistrate, and the remaining Imperial Guard existed only in name, living off their salaries without purpose. Over time, it became a stepping stone for aristocratic sons to advance their careers. Liang Er was one of these, taking over his father’s position two years ago. If it’s him, then the three lashes you received in Jingzhao Prefecture make sense.”
He glanced at Shen Mingsu with a mix of genuine and feigned concern. “Tenjin, which Miss Liang did you get involved with?”
After a moment’s thought, he added, “The Liang ladies aren’t exceptional. If Tenjin washed off that yellow mud from your face, I’d bet there’s no one more beautiful in Changdu…”
Shen Mingsu ignored him, took the badge from the table, and stood. “Thank you, Young Master Wu Guan. It’s late; you should rest early.”
She hadn’t gone far when the man behind her suddenly said, “I can help you.”
She paused and slowly turned around.
Wu Guan looked at the badge in her hand. “You’re looking for Imperial Guard Feng Su, right? I travel the Jianghu and have wide connections. I can help you.”
There’s no such thing as free help in this world, yet here it was, delivered to her doorstep. Shen Mingsu smiled and asked, “I wonder what you want in return, Young Master Wu Guan?”
“I want to help you,” Wu Guan poured more wine into his bowl, then pulled back his sleeve to reveal a faint scar on his wrist. “That day, you weren’t the only one lashed—I got one too. I never leave regrets; I repay every grudge. Ever heard that?”
Shen Mingsu remained silent.
Wu Guan tilted his head to look up at the crescent moon sinking behind the blue-tiled roofs. “Like you, I want revenge. Who doesn’t want a home, Tenjin?”
A soft sigh drifted out like a probing blade, cutting through her defenses and closing the distance between them.
A chilly breeze brushed her ear. Shen Mingsu lifted her eyes and looked at him calmly.
“But thanks to Liang Er, I’m now a fugitive with no home. I can only rely on Tenjin to shelter me. Don’t you think I ought to settle this debt?”
His narrow eyes gleamed with playful mischief, as if she had just imagined it.
Shen Mingsu stood outside the oil lamp’s glow, the faint moonlight too thin to reveal the depths of her eyes.
She answered, “You should. Then I’m grateful for your help, Young Master. Since you are assisting me, what would you like to eat? I’ll buy ingredients tomorrow.”
“Fish and lamb cooked together—fresh and warming before spring ends,” he said quickly, nearly choking on the salted egg.
---
The next day, Shen Mingsu went on selling wooden dragonflies as usual.
The Liang family was in mourning today, so yesterday’s street was even quieter. She chose another street market. The sky was bright when she left but began to rain on the way.
Not far from the market was a temple where many sought shelter, crowding the roadside teahouses and inns.
Unintentionally, this worked to her advantage. The children lacked patience to wait out the rain and took an interest in the wooden dragonflies in her box.
“Little brother, how much are these?”
“Thirty wen each.”
Women began bringing children over. Shen Mingsu placed the box on the ground and squatted under the eaves to sell.
“Little brother, two please,” came a pleasant, gentle voice tinged with familiarity.
Shen Mingsu looked up.
Before her stood a woman dressed in cloud-patterned brocade, her jade hairpin high by her temple, regal and elegant, holding a two-year-old child whose round, polished eyes were fixed on the dragonflies.
This was the eldest daughter of the Feng family, already married off, whom Shen Mingsu had seen at a birthday banquet two months prior.
She smiled at the child and softly asked, “Which one do you like?”
The little boy reached out to pick one himself.
Madam Feng stopped him. “Son, you must keep rules. If you break something, you’ll have to pay.”
Shen Mingsu smiled and nudged the box closer. “It’s alright, young master, you choose.”
At two years old, he had no favorite, only ones he liked more. He picked left and right but couldn’t decide—he wanted them all.
Someone approached behind them. “Big sister, have you finished buying? Brother is waiting.”
It was the third young lady of the Feng family, Feng Fulan.
Shen Mingsu’s heart stirred slightly. She glanced behind her and saw Feng Zhongyan holding an umbrella by the carriage, his expression calm as he gazed through the misty rain at her.
Her legs numb from squatting, she sat down on the ground. Rain dripped from the eaves and soaked her shoes and socks.
Only then did she feel the chill. She withdrew her gaze and feet, then slowly rose.
The little boy clung to the box, unwilling to let go. Fulan took a silver ingot from her purse and handed it to Shen Mingsu. “Little brother, it’s not easy doing business on a rainy day. We’ll take all these dragonflies. No need to give change.”
The ingot weighed two taels—enough to buy her entire box.
Shen Mingsu reached out her hand and smiled. “Thank you, Miss.”
---
Fulan placed the silver in her palm, then turned with the eldest lady and the boy, one holding an umbrella, the other carrying the child, walking toward the carriage opposite.
The three were seated, but Feng Zhongyan had yet to board. Fulan lifted the curtain and saw him stepping toward the teahouse, calling out puzzled, “Brother…”
The wooden dragonflies in the box had all sold out, and Shen Mingsu didn’t linger. Carrying her box, she stepped into the rain and brushed past Feng Zhongyan on the stairs, walking steadily into the thick rain and mist behind him.
Words caught in her throat were drowned by a splash of rain on her hand. Feng Zhongyan turned around.
The figure in the rain stood straight, the sorrowful raindrops seemingly leaving no trace of discomfort on her.
...
“Why didn’t you bring an umbrella, Ajin?”
“With Brother Feng here, I’m not afraid.”
“I’m walking the path Lord Feng once took…”
They both knew well that the path he walked once had her company. Now, in the cold, misty rain, she was alone.
No one in Changdu had seen her before—only Feng Zhongyan had.
She was the Shen family’s proud eldest daughter-in-law—clean and bright, full of proud bones, her face always smiling.
The biting chill of the rain seeped through. The umbrella in her hand slipped from her head and was tossed to the ground. If she was to be drenched, so be it.
Fulan gasped in shock, “Brother…”
“I’ll go to the provincial office. You all go back first.” His sleeve flicked in the rain as he hurried to catch up with the figure. The rain stung his eyes, blurring his vision. At the end of the road, he turned a corner, but the empty street was deserted.
Feng Zhongyan stood there, no longer moving forward, scanning the alleys on both sides. Suddenly, he called out, “Shen Mingsu.”
Apart from the rain, there was silence.
His voice cut through the mist with anger and pain. “Is this the life you want?”
“Ajin.” The voice suddenly softened, as though conceding. “Come back with me. Do whatever you want. Didn’t you want to use my hand to get your revenge? I’ll give it to you.”
Raindrops splattered at her feet, rolling noisily. Shen Mingsu leaned against the wall in the alley, looking up at the narrow sky above. The yellow mud on her face had been washed away by the rain, revealing a pale complexion. She swallowed softly. The tears that welled in her eyes were light and clear, their warmth or chill indistinguishable.
The rain intensified. She took a breath, wiped the water from her face, and turned toward the deep alley.
Crossing the alley and returning to the bridge market, she had just reached the entrance of Willow Lane when she saw Wu Guan waiting for her in the rain.
Holding an umbrella, he frowned. “It’s spring rain season—why didn’t you bring an umbrella when you went out?”