Chapter 63

Chapter 63: Betrothing a Cat (Part 2)

As if answering, the bundle let out another soft, sticky “meow.”

Little Pang Dun Er nodded and carefully loosened the cloth.

A tiny tabby kitten peeked out.

Its eyes weren’t the usual amber-yellow. They were a rare watery green. Its nose was pink. Its fur was a shade lighter than most tabbies.

When it saw Shen Tang, it gave a timid “meow” and burrowed deeper into the child’s arms. Chu Yao frowned faintly, but Shen Tang was already gone.

She stroked the kitten’s fur with the pad of her finger, gentle as a thief. “Is it yours? Or a stray?”

“Our mother cat had it,” Little Pang Dun Er said.

“Then why bring it out? It’s so small.”

Little Pang Dun Er’s shoulders drooped. He looked down at the kitten. “Father and Mother said we can’t keep it. They told me to throw it away.”

“Can’t keep it because it’s sick?”

He shook his head quickly. “No. It’s healthy. It’s just… its eyes are different. Father thinks it’s unlucky.”

In the litter of seven, every kitten had amber eyes like the mother—only this one was different. Business had been slow lately, and the butcher’s nerves were already raw. He decided the kitten was a bad omen and wanted it gone.

“What’s wrong with its eyes?” Shen Tang said, genuinely offended on the kitten’s behalf. “They’re beautiful.”

Those clear green eyes looked up at her, and her heart practically melted on the spot.

She was about to say more when Qi Shan’s voice dropped low, soft in a way she’d never heard from him. “Has this kitten found a master yet?”

Little Pang Dun Er shook his head. “Not yet.”

Shen Tang slowly turned her head.

Qi Shan was smiling—gently.

That was not normal.

Qi Shan said, “Good. Wait a moment. I’ll check the almanac and pick a date to go deliver the betrothal gifts.”

Shen Tang froze. “Betrothal gifts?”

“Mm.” Qi Shan sounded completely serious. “I’m proposing to this cat. It looks just like a cat I used to keep.”

Shen Tang stared at him. “You’re… proposing… to a cat.”

“Yes,” Qi Shan said, like she was the strange one here.

He didn’t just say it, either. He actually dug out an almanac and picked a good day—tomorrow, an auspicious day, good for marriage. He drew a lifelike cat portrait on the “betrothal letter” and asked the old woman next door to buy dried fish and two bags of salt.

Fast, decisive, no hesitation, and he looked downright pleased with himself—like he was about to become a groom.

Shen Tang could only think: This is fucking ridiculous.

While Qi Shan vanished into his “wedding” preparations, Chu Yao borrowed the kitchen and washed the offal and scraps he’d bought, hands quick and practiced.

Shen Tang watched, surprised. “Sir Wu Hui… isn’t it said gentlemen stay far from the cook?”

Chu Yao wiped his hands on a cloth and smiled. “This offal was already slaughtered and cleaned. What’s there to stay far from? And we’re not from great families. If I can’t cook, should I expect to live on wind and dew and still eat?”

His master now was Young Master Shen.

Servant, not lord. He knew his place.

Cooking here was simple—few seasonings, mostly boiled, roasted, and steamed. Food could be painfully bland.

Chu Yao, however, had a knack. He treated the offal properly, drove out the stink, mixed his own seasonings, and turned scraps commoners avoided into something fragrant and rich.

“Wu Lang,” he said, “try it.”

Shen Tang didn’t hold back. She slurped down a bowl of rough noodles—more like sliced dough and lumps than anything else. But after days of flatbread, it tasted like heaven.

Little Pang Dun Er ate until his mouth shone with grease. He didn’t leave a drop of broth.

In the afternoon, Chu Yao taught the child.

Not books.

Martial skills.

Shen Tang stared. A former literary heart scholar, teaching a student, and he wasn’t teaching the one thing he should be best at?

Meanwhile, Qi Shan was joyfully “betrothing” a cat. Chu Yao was training a student in the yard.

And Shen Tang…

She was idle again.

After fifteen minutes of lying around like a corpse, she shot upright.

Too boring. Being idle made her skin crawl.

If she had nothing to do, she might as well go make money.

“Sir Wu Hui,” she called, already moving, “I’m going out to set up my stall and sell wine.”

By the time the words finished, she was halfway gone. Chu Yao only managed to shout after her, “Don’t touch wine!” Whether she heard him was anyone’s guess.

She took yesterday’s spot.

This time she had more varieties. Not just du kang wine, but also grape wine in a night-glow cup, new-brewed wine with green froth, rice wine, Lanling wine—lanling fine wine, scented with tulip; served in a jade bowl, it shines like amber…

More to come later.

The only tragedy was: she could make it, but she couldn’t taste it.

“I’m seriously miserable,” Shen Tang muttered, sighing like her soul weighed a hundred pounds. “Ask you how much sorrow there can be—it’s like a eunuch going to a brothel.”

A laugh came from above her—dry, amused.

She looked up and saw a familiar pale face.

Sir Gu. The sickly man from the Moonlight Tower.

“Young Lord Shen is… selling wine?” he asked, as if he couldn’t believe his eyes.

“What else would I be doing?” Shen Tang tapped the “wine” sign beside her. “Sunbathing?”

Sir Gu’s gaze lingered. “How do you sell it?”

“Grape wine is four hundred fifty wen for a two-jin jar,” Shen Tang said. “Everything else is three hundred. No bargaining.”

Sir Gu paid with a solid chunk of silver.

Shen Tang reached for her scale and clipping shears, but he lifted a hand to stop her, eyes bright. “I’ll buy them all.”

Her heartbeat stumbled.

She forced herself to stay calm. “That’s a lot of wine. Can Sir Gu carry it back?”

“When did I say I’d carry it myself?” Sir Gu asked smoothly. “For such a big deal, could I trouble Young Lord Shen to deliver it?”

Shen Tang’s smile didn’t slip. “Of course.”

He dipped his lashes. “Then please deliver it to the Radiant Spirit Pavilion.”

Shen Tang kept her voice even. “Where is the Radiant Spirit Pavilion?”

Sir Gu’s mouth curved into something that wasn’t quite a smile.

“The entertainment ward,” he said. “Xiao City’s entertainment ward.”

Something cold sank into Shen Tang’s gut.