Chapter 19

Chapter Nineteen

Shen Mingsu hadn’t expected him to return so early today and paid no mind to her disheveled appearance. “I forgot.”

Wu Guan stepped forward, holding his umbrella over her head. “It’s alright. Sometimes you have to get caught in a heavy rain to remember.” His eyes flicked over her face as he pulled out a handkerchief and offered it to her. “Want to wipe it off?”

Shen Mingsu didn’t take it, instead wiping her face with her sleeve, only to make it wetter. “I’m a drenched mess—a drowned rat. Wiping or not makes no difference.”

Wu Guan laughed. “I told you to stew fish and mutton, not to stew yourself first.”

Upon hearing this, Shen Mingsu’s eyes flickered. “It’s still early; Lord Wu Guan has come back sooner than expected.”

Wu Guan led her into the small courtyard. The umbrella was large enough to cover both their heads. Rain pounded on the canopy like thunder, yet beneath it, all was quiet. “With such heavy rain, what could possibly happen? I’ve already figured out Feng Su’s background. Once this rain stops, I’ll take you to find someone tomorrow.”

“Thank you, Lord Wu Guan.”

“No need for thanks—we’re family now.”

Knowing his penchant for smooth talk, Shen Mingsu said nothing.

On the way, she noticed he glanced at her several times, but she paid no attention. Only when they returned to the courtyard and he folded the umbrella, standing under the eaves, did his eyes fix intently on her face. It was then Shen Mingsu realized her makeup must have already melted away. Her expression stiffened briefly before returning to calm. “Have you seen enough?”

The two really did not resemble each other.

Shen Yueyao was beautiful, but her features were gentle and mild, lacking the radiant brilliance and aloofness on Shen Mingsu’s face.

Wu Guan, sensing this, averted his gaze. “Lord Shi Jin’s looks are indeed remarkable. Now I believe this so-called ‘Peach Blossom Debt’ you mentioned.”

Whether he truly believed it was another matter.

Inside, Shen Mingsu changed into dry clothes and reapplied her makeup. With such a downpour, the idea of enjoying a fresh pot of fish and mutton was out of the question. She decided to buy a few steamed buns to make do.

Stepping outside, the rain began to ease and then seemed to stop altogether.

While she was changing, Wu Guan had already inspected the small courtyard thoroughly and now stood in the center, looking at her suspiciously. “You don’t have a stove?”

Shen Mingsu smiled in response.

Not only was there no stove, but there were no cooking utensils, no firewood, rice, oil, salt, soy sauce, vinegar, or tea—everything was missing.

So why had she asked him what he wanted to eat?

Though Wu Guan’s mask concealed his face, it could not hide the doubt in his eyes. Shen Mingsu knew what he was thinking. “I’ll go buy them now.” She took a few steps, then turned and warmly invited him, “Lord Wu Guan, would you like to come along?”

—

Wu Guan stood outside the shop but did not enter. His white robes seemed to separate him from the mundane world, as if he wished to avoid touching these worldly things.

Shen Mingsu examined all the cooking utensils inside but hesitated to decide.

The shop owner followed her, introducing each item in turn. “This clay pot is good, large enough to hold five or six ladles of water…”

“Too big.”

“If the lord thinks it’s too large, how about this cauldron?”

Shen Mingsu shook her head. “Too deep.”

“This iron pan is newly arrived, shallow but wide-mouthed, suitable for cooking large or small amounts…”

“Is it? Let me see… too wide.”

“Then this one.” Suddenly, an arm extended from beside her; Wu Guan placed a double-handled copper pot on the counter before the owner.

The shopkeeper glanced between the two.

Shen Mingsu took out her purse and smiled. “I’ll go with his suggestion.”

Leaving the shop, the copper pot still in Wu Guan’s hand, Shen Mingsu continued to select bowls and chopsticks.

—

Half an hour later, Wu Guan finally understood why she had insisted he come along—her arms were laden with all sorts of items.

Copper pot, spatula, bowls, chopsticks... with every step, the items clanged and jingled.

Not bad.

He had never been so bossed around in his life.

Though his face was hidden behind his mask, Shen Mingsu couldn’t see whether he looked pleased or not. With all the necessary goods purchased, they began heading back.

Wu Guan glanced at the long road ahead and at the person in front carrying a chunk of mutton and a fish. His eyelids twitched repeatedly, and unable to bear it any longer, he said, “Are you sure you don’t want to hire a carriage?”

“No money,” she replied truthfully. The two taels of silver given by Floren today were completely spent.

“You’re not exactly wealthy yourself, Lord Wu Guan. We might as well save what we can.” After walking a while, she suddenly asked, “Wu Guan, do you know how to cook?”

Wu Guan laughed bitterly. “Lord Shi Jin, what do you think?”

“My surname is Jiang—Jiang Shi Jin.” Hearing his gritted teeth, Shen Mingsu didn’t provoke him further. “Just asking casually. Don’t worry, I can cook.”

The clanging noise rang in her ears, dampening her spirits. “You better know how.”

The rain had stopped, but the ground was still muddy. Shen Mingsu’s clothes were a dull blue-gray, so dirt didn’t show. Unfortunately, Wu Guan’s white robes were already soiled. Following behind him, she watched as his robe dragged through the mud and sincerely offered, “Since you’re out of money, maybe next time wear something less likely to get dirty…”

“Bang!” A door to a gambling den nearby suddenly burst open, and someone was thrown out.

The person was dumped into a puddle, splashing mud everywhere. Wu Guan was not spared, half his body drenched.

As the mud splashed up, he closed his eyes. Though the mask covered half his face, it couldn’t shield the mud on his eyelids. He stood firm, his taut posture revealing his anger.

The man in the mud was even more disheveled. After rolling around, he stood up and shouted at the finely dressed young men standing by the door, “If you’re so capable, don’t attack! Let’s continue this debate.”

The voice sounded strangely familiar. Shen Mingsu was about to look when, just moments ago furious, Wu Guan suddenly turned to block her view, intending to take a detour. “Let’s go. Mind your own business.”

“Bullshit debate! Get lost! What, you think this is a puppet show? Who I curse is my business. I say Guan Yu is a traitor—what do you think of that?”

Shen Mingsu: ...

Shi Quan.

“He’s not a traitor!” Shi Quan’s half-mask slipped askew from the fall, but somehow he still summoned the will to step forward. “He never betrayed Liu…”

“Get lost! You’re addicted to this crap.” Someone rushed forward and delivered a kick.

Shi Quan wasn’t just for show—he dodged back several steps. “A gentleman uses words, not fists. Seems you’re utterly uncultured.”

“Who are you calling uncultured?” The gamblers were spoiled scions of noble families. Angered, they drew short knives from their waists.

Shi Quan’s face changed.

They hadn’t expected such boldness—when words failed, they resorted to killing. Just as he prepared to call for help, something flew from behind, striking the knife-wielding man on the forehead.

The man hadn’t yet stabbed before stars burst before his eyes. He staggered back, looking down at the object that had hit him.

A half-dead fish.

Shen Mingsu felt a pang of sympathy—such a fish cost a good few coins.

Shi Quan turned in surprise and, seeing Shen Mingsu, brightened. “Shi…”

The gambler glared at her, fury evident. “Catch her! Spare her life, but break her hands and feet…”

“Run!” Shen Mingsu shouted to the still-stunned Shi Quan, retreating several steps and grabbing the motionless Wu Guan.

The pots and bowls on Wu Guan’s arms clanged loudly, the noise unprecedented. Beneath the mask, his face had already turned ashen.

He must have been in a rare mood to get involved today.

The pursuers pressed hard, and Shen Mingsu threw the chunk of mutton in her hand to distract them.

—

Vendors’ stalls on both sides of the street were knocked over by the crowd behind. Something struck Shen Mingsu’s back, and she tumbled, rolling and crawling into a nearby alley.

Three months of escaping death had honed her skills—she ran faster than anyone.

Shi Quan took a hit to the back of his head but, though stubborn, was nimble when fleeing. He grabbed something and hurled it behind him, staying close to Shen Mingsu.

Wu Guan cut off his pursuers by sidestepping, leaping onto a cargo cart and down again with grace—far more elegant than the two rolling and crawling.

He’d be even more graceful without all those items in his hands.

“This way.” Shen Mingsu beckoned, not daring to look back, urging Shi Quan to run ahead. When Wu Guan charged past, he kicked over a neatly stacked pile of firewood in the alley.

The firewood, thick and uneven, scattered everywhere.

Shen Mingsu turned and followed.

Shi Quan raised his hand to his mouth, whistling sharply.

The pursuers cursed but weren’t out from the firewood pile before another group charged from behind, and a fierce brawl erupted.

After running through countless alleys and hearing nothing but silence, Shen Mingsu finally stopped.

Both she and Shi Quan were gasping for breath, but Wu Guan stood before her, calm and composed. “I didn’t expect Lord Shi Jin to be quite experienced.”

“Instinct, nothing more,” she replied.

The instinct to survive.

Only after countless hunts would one know precisely where to hide first. No room for error; nerves must be taut, eyes and ears alert, for a single mistake could mean death—not just for oneself, but those around them.

After speaking, she relaxed the tension in her body, averting Wu Guan’s gaze and stepping out of the alley.

The back alley was dimly lit. Wu Guan watched her silhouette move into the light, his expression unreadable beneath the mask.

Instinct?

Indeed, it was.

—

The muddy puddle by the roadside was churned into a slurry by numerous footprints. Returning to Willow Alley, none of the three were clean.

Especially Shi Quan, whose mask was broken, face smeared with mud, and forehead bleeding.

Going out now would be risky; luckily, she had a bottle of tea oil at home, given by the blacksmith Wei after Rong Xiu had stepped on her neck.

Shen Mingsu considered and decided to bring Shi Quan back to the courtyard as well.

Once inside, Wu Guan slammed the copper pot on the table with a loud bang—everyone could see his sour mood.

No wonder. After the market, he carried the copper pot and dishes, Shen Mingsu handled the ingredients.

Now, everything in his hands remained intact, without a single loss; Shen Mingsu, however, had nothing left.

No fresh pot of fish and mutton tonight.

Tonight, they’d feast on the northwest wind.

Shi Quan knew he’d troubled them both. Along the way, he had apologized and thanked them countless times. Now, sitting on a wooden stool, he dared not glance at Wu Guan, his eyes only darting toward Shen Mingsu. “Sorry to have troubled you, Lord Shi Jin.”

“It’s nothing,” Shen Mingsu smiled to reassure him. She went to fetch a basin of water, set it before them, and looked up at the two. “Would you like to take off your masks and wash your faces?”