Chapter 26

Chapter 26: Entering the City

The road to Xiao City was anything but smooth.

Even if you ignored wolves and tigers, venomous insects and savage beasts, the bandits who robbed travelers were enough to make anyone’s scalp crawl.

To avoid needless trouble, Shen Tang and Qi Shan tried not to sleep out in the wild.

Their most urgent problem, though, was clothing. Young Master Shen needed two new outfits, and even Qi Shan’s own robes were about to give out.

He came out of the cloth shop with a bundle under his arm.

There was no time to have anything tailored, so he picked two ready-made men’s sets close to Young Master Shen’s height. Underclothes and outer robes, all included. With the set he’d loaned Young Master Shen, that made three to rotate—enough, in theory.

“Young Master Shen, we should go—” Qi Shan turned to call Shen Tang over, aiming to reach the next village before nightfall.

But the person who should’ve been waiting outside the door was gone.

Where did she run off to?

In a strange place, and she still dared wander?

He was about to go searching when his eyes caught a familiar patch of white across the street.

Moto—the tall, snow-white mule—was lying obediently on the ground. A knot of onlookers surrounded it, but nothing could stop its tail from swishing irritably.

Qi Shan’s eyelid twitched.

“Folks passing by! Come take a look! Fresh green plums, just picked—three copper coins a jin, until they’re sold out!”

As Qi Shan moved closer, that familiar shouting hit his ears.

There was Shen Tang, sitting on the ground with zero shame, hair roughly tied into a bun with straw cord. A cloth was spread in front of her, piled with green plums. Beside it sat a big basket, also packed full.

She sold like she’d been born to it.

Whenever someone approached, she greeted them brightly—calling one “lady,” another “sister,” throwing out “brother” and “young lord” like candy. Her mouth was sweet as syrup.

Qi Shan watched from the edge for a bit and realized most of the buyers were women. And they weren’t buying a little—they were buying three jin, five jin at a time.

Green plums were cheap, so it felt like a bargain no matter what. And having a handsome little “young lord” beam at you and call you “sister” or “lady” didn’t feel like a loss, either.

If Young Master Shen weren’t so young, so openly cheerful, so pretty—and if her eyes weren’t so clear, so lacking in filth—Qi Shan suspected the men on this street would’ve dragged her into an alley and beaten her for stirring up married women and young ladies like that.

Before long, the green plums were completely sold out. Shen Tang stuffed a small pile of copper coins into her pouch, stood, and dusted herself off as if she’d known all along Qi Shan was watching.

She smiled. “Yuan Liang, you’re done?”

Qi Shan’s expression was flat. He fought down the urge to roll his eyes. “Done. What are you doing?”

Most people set up wine stalls. Young Master Shen sold green plums in the street?

Shen Tang shook her jingling pouch. “I’m broke. That’s what I’m doing. What kind of question is that?”

As if she could just reach into Qi Shan’s pocket for money.

They weren’t family. They owed each other nothing. Using him like an ATM would be shameless, and Shen Tang wasn’t about to do that.

Under Qi Shan’s complicated stare, Shen Tang returned the basket to the vendor. Then she redeemed the literary heart signature seal she’d pawned and hung it back at her waist.

With the money she’d just made, she bought salt, wine, and a few pickled side dishes.

“Since you knew you were short on money,” Qi Shan said, “why did you still give silver to Teacher Tian and them?”

As he spoke, he tossed the cloth bundle into the sack on Moto’s back. Ever since he’d realized Shen Tang could keep Moto condensed for twelve shichen straight without tiring, Moto had been put to work.

Both their belongings rode on its back now. It saved effort.

Two days earlier, when they’d split from Tian Zhong’s group, Shen Tang had given them a few bits of silver and more than a dozen flatbreads.

“First,” Shen Tang said, “that silver wasn’t even something I earned.”

It was what she’d scavenged off the first constable who’d been killed. Spending someone else’s “inheritance” didn’t sting. “Second, Tian Zhong and them are hurt and penniless. Even if they have somewhere to run to, they’ve got nothing on them. Who knows if they’ll even live long enough to reach it?”

Even if she had no money, she wouldn’t starve.

After thinking it through, she’d handed over the silver.

Shen Tang had grown up in peaceful times as a shut-in artist. She couldn’t stand watching someone suffer if she could help, even a little.

Qi Shan looked unconvinced. “That’s all?”

Shen Tang tilted her head. “If not that, then what? You’re telling me doing a good deed gets turned into a conspiracy now?”

Qi Shan went quiet, staring at her as if he’d just fitted together some ugly puzzle piece in his mind. His expression kept shifting, unreadable.

Shen Tang frowned. “Yuan Liang?”

Qi Shan looked at her for a long moment, then sighed. “Nothing.”

His foot shifted—

And the next instant he was already three zhang away.

Shen Tang froze, then cursed under her breath. “Damn it!”

If it’s nothing, why are you using word-spirit to run?

Just because she couldn’t ride Moto with Wind-Chasing Shadow-Treading, he kept bullying her.

They were so poor the coins in Shen Tang’s pouch sounded like mockery, so she spent the rest of the journey doing whatever she could to earn along the way—selling flatbreads, green plums, and malt sugar.

She even adjusted her prices based on how people dressed. Those who looked clean and well-off paid a few coins more. Those in patches and grime paid a few coins less. Flatbreads stayed in line with local vendors.

It was business with no capital. The least she could do was avoid wrecking the market.

Qi Shan neither approved nor objected. Whatever he thought, he kept it to himself.

In any case, Young Master Shen was the most miserable literary-heart strategist he’d ever seen. Even at his own lowest point, he’d never been reduced to this.

But Shen Tang seemed to enjoy it, so he didn’t lecture her.

After rushing and scraping their way forward, they finally entered the territory of Sibao Commandery.

By Shen Tang’s rough estimate, they’d taken so long that they were probably moving slower than Madam Gong’s second batch of exiled prisoners.

“Yuan Liang,” Shen Tang said, leading Moto and looking around, “I heard commoners say Sibao Commandery has four great treasures, that people here have plenty to eat and wear… but why does it look like this?”

The streets were empty. Everything in sight was broken and worn down. The few passersby they did see were sallow and gaunt, like bones draped in a torn sack. A strong wind might’ve knocked them over.

Worse, they were skittish. If their eyes accidentally met Shen Tang and Qi Shan’s unfamiliar faces, they’d shrink like startled rabbits and hurry off.

Qi Shan sighed. “Sibao Commandery was one of the first commanderies Geng State broke through. Of the six nearby commanderies, three were looted clean. Sibao Commandery was hit hardest.”

His voice went quieter. “If it wants to return to its former prosperity… it won’t be easy.”

Everywhere they went, mourning cloth hung. Funerals were constant. The wailing and sobbing never seemed to stop.

Qi Shan wasn’t surprised.

The battlefield between the two states had been Xin State. The commoners on this land were doomed to pay the price.

But after the two of them finally struggled their way to Xiao City, they found something that made the skin on Shen Tang’s arms prickle.

Inside and outside the city were two entirely different worlds.

Outside, corpses lay scattered, wasteland stretching for miles. When night wind howled, it sounded like a thousand lost souls sobbing in your ear.

Inside—

Crowds surged. Music and laughter spilled into the streets. It was bright and alive.