Chapter 79
Chapter 79: Jealousy on the Road
The carriage swayed along the market street, rocking gently.
Inside, the air carried a strange, sharp standoff.
Xiao Man sat caught between them, looking left at Lin Qing Xuan and right at Tuan Tuan, thinking they were both absurd beyond saving.
One was an aloof, refined Buddhist scion. The other was a lawless heart demon in the shape of a black cat.
And right now, they were glaring at each other over the same ridiculous thing:
Competing for affection.
Tuan Tuan struck first. It arched its back, throat rumbling with a low growl, teeth bared at Lin Qing Xuan.
Its thoughts crackled with grievance and accusation, sharp enough to pierce the roof.
Lin Qing Xuan’s brows drew tight.
“What?”
He genuinely had no idea what the cat had decided to lose its mind over now.
Tuan Tuan took his confusion as shameless pretense. It yowled, whiskers trembling with rage, and its inner complaints poured out in a relentless flood.
“Shut up!” Xiao Man lunged forward without thinking and clapped a hand over the cat’s mouth. Her face went blazing hot, red clear up to her ears.
If this cat kept spouting nonsense, she’d die of embarrassment right here.
She lowered her voice, half desperate, half furious.
“Say one more word and when we get back, I’m not patting your butt anymore!”
“Meow…”
The threat worked like a switch.
Tuan Tuan instantly turned docile, rubbing its head into Xiao Man’s warm palm—and then, just to be vicious, flicked Lin Qing Xuan a smug, victorious look.
Look. She still loves me most.
Lin Qing Xuan’s face sank, the pressure around him dropping cold.
“No.”
He spat the word like a blade.
Xiao Man blinked, confused. “No what?”
The Buddhist scion’s throat worked. A faint red stained the tips of his ears. He held it in for several breaths before forcing the words out, slow and heavy, like he was biting through them.
“…No patting butts.”
Xiao Man choked on a laugh and promptly lost the battle, shoulders shaking.
“Eldest Young Master, it’s a cat right now! Cats like being patted, having their fur rubbed, eating little fish snacks—”
“It’s not only a cat.” Lin Qing Xuan cut her off, gaze sharp as he stared straight at Tuan Tuan. “It’s a heart demon.”
Meaning: don’t treat it like an ordinary pet.
That was enough to light Tuan Tuan’s fuse. It bristled, protesting wildly in Xiao Man’s arms.
Lin Qing Xuan narrowed his eyes, a dangerous glint passing through.
Then he spoke again, voice flat.
“She’s a maid in my courtyard.”
The words landed like a stone.
Tuan Tuan went still for half a heartbeat—then, if cats could roll their eyes, it would have done it so hard the heavens shook.
Xiao Man also froze, dread tightening under her ribs.
If this cat kept running its mouth, Lin Qing Xuan might truly decide to “deliver salvation” with his bare hands.
Survival instinct snapped her into motion.
She grabbed Tuan Tuan by the scruff and, ignoring its furious meows, shoved it into a bamboo basket beside her, then slapped the lid down.
Silence, at last.
Xiao Man exhaled, turned to Lin Qing Xuan, and forced a stiff smile. “Buddhist scion… the weather is lovely today. Let’s talk about almond pudding. Do you like it sweeter, or more tart—”
Before she could finish, the carriage braked hard.
Everything lurched forward.
Xiao Man cried out, pitching ahead—and in a flash, Lin Qing Xuan tossed his book aside and caught her by the waist, pulling her into his chest with effortless precision.
At the same moment, the basket lid popped open.
A black shadow shot out.
Tuan Tuan twisted in midair and, riding the momentum like it had practiced, slapped a paw square across Lin Qing Xuan’s face.
“Meow!”
“Tuan Tuan!” Xiao Man, still in Lin Qing Xuan’s arms, stared in horror and scolded the cat. “What if you scratched him?”
She hurriedly cupped Lin Qing Xuan’s face and leaned close to check.
On his pale cheek, several clear red marks stood out.
Her fingertips brushed them with careful regret. She felt awful—truly awful.
Every bit of that feeling rang straight into Lin Qing Xuan’s ears.
The sting on his cheek vanished beneath a rush of bright, unreasonable joy. His chest felt light. His mouth wanted to smile all on its own.
From the basket, Tuan Tuan poked its head out, looked at the two of them still pressed together, and seemed personally offended by how sweet it was.
“Meow. We’re here, we’re here!”
Outside, Chen Shi’s voice arrived right on cue.
“Eldest Young Master, Miss Xiao Man—we’ve reached the market!”
Xiao Man startled back to herself. Her cheeks burning, she quickly slid out of Lin Qing Xuan’s arms, tugged her clothes into order, and jumped down first.
The market’s heat and noise surged toward her—people flowing past, carts rolling, hawkers shouting, laughter weaving through everything.
Her gaze latched instantly onto a stall frying sesame cakes.
Golden rounds sizzled on the stove. The thick scent of sesame marched straight into her nose and made her mouth water.
“Boss, four!”
She paid briskly, then carefully wrapped the hot cakes in oiled paper.
She handed one up to Stone on the driver’s seat. Then she gave one to Chen Shi.
She kept one for herself—and offered the last to Lin Qing Xuan, eyes bright as if she were presenting treasure.
“Eldest Young Master, this smells amazing. Try it.”
Lin Qing Xuan took it, his gaze softening before he realized it.
Chen Shi leaned closer, suddenly pointing at Lin Qing Xuan’s cheek.
“Eldest Young Master, your face—those red marks…”
Lin Qing Xuan lifted the sesame cake, took a calm bite, and only then spoke, as if nothing had happened.
“It’s nothing. Where’s the sundries shop?”
Stone pointed into the deeper press of the market. “Inside. It’s crowded. Eldest Young Master, should Miss Xiao Man and I go? You can wait by the carriage.”
Lin Qing Xuan acted as if he hadn’t heard. He reached out, took Xiao Man’s hand, and walked straight into the crowd.
“Come.”
Xiao Man was mid-bite, eyes half-closed in pleasure at the crisp, fragrant cake. With him pulling her along, she didn’t even remember to resist.
Behind them, Chen Shi stared at their linked hands and looked like he’d forgotten how to breathe.
They turned a corner, and the sign at the street’s edge came into view:
Chen’s Sundries Shop.
Xiao Man’s eyes lit up. Only then did she realize her hand was still in Lin Qing Xuan’s.
Heat rushed to her face. She quickly pulled free and slipped inside ahead of him.
Lin Qing Xuan looked down at his empty palm. The softness lingered there like an afterimage, and his heart went oddly hollow with it.
The shopkeeper hurried up with a grin.
“Miss, what would you like?”
Xiao Man shoved the last bite of sesame cake into her mouth and rattled off her list through it.
“Sweet almonds, sesame, honey, malt sugar, ghee, red dates—plus glutinous rice and flour.”
Then she leaned in, emphasizing each word.
“Boss, you heard me? I want sweet almonds. Do not give me bitter ones.”
“Of course, of course! Don’t worry, Miss!” the shopkeeper promised, already moving quickly.
A clerk wrapped and tied the parcels with practiced hands. He took one look at the tall, distinguished man standing beside Xiao Man and shoved the bundles into Lin Qing Xuan’s arms without a second thought.
“Here.”
The shopkeeper, busy behind the counter, called out without lifting his head.
“Miss, let your husband hold those. Come over here and settle the bill.”
Lin Qing Xuan’s mind went blank.
Husband.
The word echoed, bright and endless, drowning out every other sound in the shop.
He held the ordinary paper parcels like priceless treasures. His hands actually trembled. His smile nearly split his face.
Chen Shi stepped forward, concerned. “Eldest Young Master, those are heavy. Let me—”
Lin Qing Xuan pivoted away as if shielding some holy relic, shooting Chen Shi a warning look.
These were things his “wife” bought.
No one else touched them.
The clerk only saw Lin Qing Xuan’s arms were full, so with a grunt, he shoved the final huge sack of flour into Chen Shi’s embrace instead.
Shopping done, they stepped back out into the market.
Lin Qing Xuan carried parcels with light, buoyant steps, looking as if he might float off the ground.
Chen Shi hugged the flour sack like a man sentenced to labor, his face full of quiet despair.
Xiao Man walked ahead empty-handed, head turning left and right as she searched for a vendor selling pickled plums.
Lin Qing Xuan slowed, then glanced sideways at Chen Shi and asked abruptly, “What are pickled plums?”
Chen Shi blinked, thought, and answered, “Those honey-preserved plums, I think. Sweet and sour. They wake your appetite and cut grease. My mother makes jars every year.”
“Then tomorrow,” Lin Qing Xuan said, tone leaving no room for disagreement, “have Granny Chen make a few more jars. Xiao Man wants them.”
Chen Shi answered, “Yes,” but inside him, the world tipped on its axis.