Chapter 33

Chapter 33: Returning to the Old Trade (Part 1)

Qi Shan knew Shen Tang well enough to recognize trouble the moment it took shape in her eyes.

“That’s old history,” he said. “If there’s a chance later, maybe I’ll tell you.”

Meaning: he could tell her, but she wasn’t allowed to pry.

Shen Tang clicked her tongue, pulled down the support rod, and let the window slam shut with a sharp crack.

Qi Shan heard her mutter through the wood, “Fine, don’t tell me. Like I care about your stupid business.”

He could only shake his head, amused despite himself.

“Young Master Shen…” he murmured. “Still so childlike.”

He unpacked their things, but he’d only gotten halfway when the old woman’s shadow fell across the door.

She knocked three times.

Qi Shan called, “Come in.”

The old woman entered with a low meal table bearing dinner and a small jug of lamp oil for the night. Qi Shan immediately rose to take it from her.

“You shouldn’t be doing this,” he said. “Leave it to me.”

The old woman laughed and sidestepped him. “Young Master Qi, just sit. This old matron’s hands are still steady. Why can’t I do a little work?”

She set the meal down and made the bed with practiced efficiency.

When she finished, Qi Shan pulled several large pieces of broken silver from his pouch and pressed them into her hand.

“This is for the two of us staying here—food, fuel, trouble. Please take it, Old Madam.”

The old woman shoved it back without hesitation. “I can’t.”

Her voice softened, roughened by old gratitude. “If not for you, my husband and I would’ve been dead in the ground four, five years ago. We wouldn’t have this peace. And you…” She swallowed the rest. “I can’t take it.”

Qi Shan’s expression didn’t change, but his insistence hardened. “One matter is one matter. If you won’t accept it, then we won’t feel right staying here.”

He even reached for his luggage as if to pack it again.

Only after much coaxing did the old woman accept the silver. She stood in the doorway for a moment afterward, staring at Qi Shan’s silhouette, and let out a long, quiet sigh.

Shen Tang, exhausted from travel, fell asleep the instant her head touched the wooden pillow. She slept deep and dreamless, unaware the lamp next door burned all night.

At dawn, Shen Tang woke on instinct.

She dug out her homemade bamboo tube, fetched clean water from the courtyard, and plopped down under the corridor to scrub her teeth and rinse her mouth.

Qi Shan returned just in time to see Young Master Shen sitting without a shred of decorum, bent over and spitting into the dirt.

He set a paper-wrapped bundle into her hands. “Breakfast. Eat it while it’s hot.”

“Thanks.” Shen Tang splashed cold water over her face, jolting the last sleep right out of her. She bit into a steaming flatbread, then glanced at Qi Shan as he sat beside her.

“Yuan Liang,” she asked casually, “do you know where Xiao City’s music quarter is?”

Qi Shan almost choked. His face darkened at once.

“How old is Young Master Shen,” he demanded, “and you’re already thinking about going to the music quarter for pleasure? That’s not a place you should be setting foot in.”

Shen Tang grinned like he’d handed her a joke. “What kind of filthy things are you imagining? I’m not going for that.

I want to find someone. See how she’s doing.”

She chewed, then added, almost lightly, “Without her, I probably wouldn’t have dared to run away so early. In a way, I owe her. And if not for her, I wouldn’t have met you.”

Qi Shan’s expression shifted. He understood immediately.

“You want revenge,” he said.

Most likely, it had to do with the womenfolk exiled with Madam Gong.

He warned her before she could charge in headfirst. “As far as I know, Madam Gong still has a Fifth Grand Officer at large. As long as he’s free, the exiled prisoners will be watched. If you get too close, you’ll invite trouble onto yourself.”

Shen Tang’s jaw tightened. “If someone shoves me into a fire pit, I’m not the sort to smile and pretend it’s warm.”

Qi Shan said, “Then take a roundabout approach.”

“Like what?”

Qi Shan didn’t blink. “Figure it out yourself.”

Shen Tang opened her mouth, then shut it. She stared off, muttering under her breath. “No, no… that won’t work…”

“What won’t work?” Qi Shan asked, despite himself.

Shen Tang’s ears reddened. She looked away. “Nothing.”

It wasn’t that the idea wasn’t vicious. It was that it didn’t sit right.

Paying someone to humiliate that woman the way she’d humiliated others—paying her back in kind—would be satisfying. But Shen Tang was a woman too. Using that kind of revenge felt dirty, even if it was “fair.”

And there was another problem: she was broke.

The music quarter wasn’t cheap.

So she crushed the thought before it could fully bloom.

Shen Tang sighed. “Forget it. I’ll let her live a few more days. Once that Fifth Grand Officer gets caught, I’ll go visit her and ask her for ‘guidance.’”

Qi Shan shook his head, half amused, half exasperated. Catching a Fifth Grand Officer wasn’t something that happened easily.

The morning dragged on. Shen Tang had nothing to do. She’d already memorized Qi Shan’s scrolls front to back, and rereading them produced nothing new.

Boredom made her itch.

It made Qi Shan itch too. With Shen Tang hovering and sighing, he couldn’t focus on a single line.

Finally, he said, “If Young Master Shen is truly that bored, go take a walk. Clear your head.”

Shen Tang lit up instantly. “Good idea.”

Xiao City was still new to her. There had to be something interesting out there.

She dashed inside, grabbed her little stash—the few coins she’d saved from hawking green plums, flatbread, and malt candy—and bolted.

Qi Shan only managed to call after her, “Watch for the constables! And don’t get lost!”

She was already gone.

“Still so childlike,” Qi Shan muttered, sitting back down.

On the desk lay a scroll covered in notes—phrases like “state seal,” “the way of feudal lord,” and sketches of the defenses around Xiao City.

Outside, Shen Tang led Moto onto the streets.

Beyond the walls lay barren land as far as the eye could see. Inside, the city buzzed with smoke, noise, and life. Vendors lined the road, calling out every few steps.

Shen Tang looked at everything with bright curiosity. She bought little trinkets here and there—small, useless, delightful things—until she realized her money pouch was nearly flat.

“I really need a way to make money,” she groaned to herself.

Xiao City had plenty of flatbread, green plums, and candy sellers. Competition was brutal. The profit was thin.

She wandered another loop, then caught sight of a sign and hurried back.

“True Light Bookshop… buying art drafts?”

Shen Tang’s grin turned sharp.

Now that was an idea.