Chapter 42

Chapter 42: This Is an Expert (Part 3)

Shen Tang stared at him, expression flat.

By the usual logic, men who looked ready to drop dead in the next second always outlived the healthy ones. Scumbags lived forever.

And—shit. She’d forgotten he could read minds.

Can you hear that too, Big Brother?

The young man coughed a few times, then said with mild amusement, “Young Lord has a sense of humor.”

Shen Tang didn’t answer.

The shopkeeper didn’t dare either. He stole another glance at Shen Tang’s profile—wild-looking, sharp-featured, but clearly a young lady’s face. He was sure he hadn’t mistaken her gender. Which meant the sick young man’s eyes really were questionable.

The young man’s brow twitched, but he offered no explanation.

The male courtesan came out from behind the screen as well. With his lashes lowered, he swept a cool glance over Shen Tang and the shopkeeper, then signaled the servant.

The servant immediately handed the shopkeeper a heavy money pouch stuffed with silver. “Please count it.”

The shopkeeper had handled more silver than he could remember. He weighed the pouch in his palm and already knew it wasn’t short. Still, he opened it, counted quickly, then smiled wide. “No problem. All correct.”

The male courtesan said, “Then we’re settled.”

By the usual flow, that meant it was time to send them out.

The shopkeeper, always tactful, took the pouch and started to lead Shen Tang away. Then a third, unfamiliar bout of coughing broke out behind the screen—followed by a muffled, teeth-gritted groan, like someone swallowing pain down.

Something heavy thudded, as if it had rolled off the bed.

Shen Tang froze mid-step.

That voice was male.

And it didn’t sound good.

She’d always assumed the people who came to a place like this were the ones doing the “work.” But from the sound of it, the one pinned to the couch in misery was the actual customer.

Ugly men really did play the wildest games.

A faint metallic scent reached her nose—blood—mixed with the bitter bite of herbs. Shen Tang couldn’t help throwing the male courtesan a look of grudging admiration.

Hidden depth, huh?

The male courtesan’s face tightened. He moved fast, striding around the screen. Shen Tang only caught a flash of his robe vanishing from sight.

And she heard him call, low and urgent, “Yun Chi…”

Shen Tang’s mind tripped.

Yun Chi?

Which Yun, which Chi, and what surname?

She felt like she’d heard it somewhere—

Then memory snapped into place, and her expression twisted.

Her eyes slid upward until they crashed into the sick young man’s gaze.

That look in his eyes—calm, knowing—told her everything.

He’d heard her thoughts again.

Was the GM seriously not going to ban these cheaters?

Shen Tang backed up half a step, right hand tucked behind her back.

If he moved wrong, she’d form the Merciful Mother Sword and teach this unfilial brat how to behave.

At this distance, she was confident she could cut him down in one strike.

Not every Wenxin Strategist was as slippery as Qi Yuan Liang.

The young man’s lips curved. “Why is Young Lord so tense?”

Shen Tang shot back, “You don’t know? Check your own conscience.”

The shopkeeper stared, baffled.

The sick young man didn’t bother hiding anything. He asked directly, “Young Lord—do you know Yun Chi?”

Shen Tang narrowed her eyes. “His surname is Gong?”

The young man nodded. “Yes.”

Shen Tang’s stomach sank.

So it really was Gong Yun Chi.

What was he doing in the Moonlight Tower?

She remembered the official punishment clearly: the men were sent to the border as forced labor, the women sent to Xiao City’s entertainment bureau.

She hadn’t misread it.

Her gaze slid to the screen as if she could see through it. “How is he here?”

“The road of exile is brutal,” the young man said evenly. “Most people don’t make it. And for someone whose Dan Palace stage has been destroyed? Half his life was ground away.”

He spoke as if he were describing the weather. “He was about to go report to King Yama. So I brought him here.”

Then his tone sharpened just a hair. “You still haven’t answered. How do you know Gong Yun Chi?”

Before she could respond, he added lightly, like it was a joke, “If Young Lord refuses to answer, then for my safety and the safety of those involved… you probably won’t be going home in one piece.”

He might as well have said: I’ll kill you to keep this quiet.

Inside, Shen Tang scoffed. Everyone knew about Madam Gong’s exile. Just knowing the name didn’t mean she knew the man.

Out loud, she said, “I heard what happened to Madam Gong. That’s how I learned Gong Yun Chi was among the exiled.”

She kept her voice steady. “I’d met him once before. Hearing the name again, I wanted to confirm it.”

The young man’s eyes narrowed. “Truly?”

“Truly,” Shen Tang said, holding steady.

From inside the room, a hoarse boy’s voice drifted out. “Sir Gu… did someone come?”

Sir Gu smiled, hands tucked into his sleeves, posture lazy. “They said they’ve met you once.”

A moment later, the male courtesan reappeared, supporting a young man whose upper body was wrapped in a snow-white cloth chit. He looked seventeen or eighteen at most, but the road had stripped youth right out of him. What was left was dull exhaustion, heavy gloom, and a weakness that clung to the bones.

Shen Tang’s scalp went tight.

The mind-reader was still watching her like a hawk. The last thing she needed was to get silenced.

The injured boy lifted his eyes and saw her face. He froze.

Sir Gu caught the reaction immediately.

So the boy really had seen her before. She hadn’t been lying.

The male courtesan asked, cautious, “Yun Chi—is he someone you know?”

The boy shook his head. “Not someone close. But I think I’ve seen him.”

The male courtesan’s gaze sharpened, all wariness and edge. He asked again, “Will he harm you?”

Yun Chi hesitated, then shook his head. “Probably not.”

The male courtesan’s curiosity rose. “Then who is he—”

Yun Chi gave a bitter little smile, patted the male courtesan’s hand, and motioned that he could stand on his own.

When the male courtesan released him, Yun Chi steadied himself with effort. Then he cupped his hands and bowed to Shen Tang.

“I am Gong Yun Chi,” he said. “I apologize… Brother-in-law.”

The words hit the room like a slap.

Even Sir Gu went still.

The male courtesan’s eyes widened.

Shen Tang nearly lost control of her face. She forced her voice steady. “What are you apologizing to me for?”

Brother-in-law.

She didn’t need to think hard to know where that came from. On the day Gong Yun Chi’s clan was arrested, he’d been set to marry a girl from the Shen clan. He’d seen the bride—and later, when Shen Tang crossed paths with people connected to that mess, she’d been mistaken for the bride’s twin brother.

Because Shen Tang wore a pretty face and carried a literary heart, the misunderstanding had stuck like mud.

And now it was back to bite her again.