Chapter 65

Chapter 65: The Unexpected

With the money Sir Gu had handed over, Shen Tang bought a little of every kind of wine.

The moment word-spirit took hold, a fierce, domineering aroma crashed through the private room like a gust of heat, so thick it felt almost physical. It hit Sir Gu right in the gut and woke the drunk in him.

Whatever other plans he had, they died on the spot. He poured himself a cup first.

He looked sickly enough to drop dead at any moment, but Sir Gu was a serious wine addict—one of those people who lived for the bottle.

“Fine wine!”

He drained the cup and praised it without holding back.

A bit of color finally rose in his death-pale face. He looked more alive than he had a moment ago.

Even someone who knew nothing about medicine could tell it was wrong. If you were ill, you should be resting and recovering—not drinking yourself senseless. Shen Tang’s disapproval was written all over her face.

Sir Gu drank, but he didn’t stop watching her.

He caught the flash of worry she couldn’t quite hide, and the faint, constant muttering coming from her heart. Surprise flickered through him.

This Young Lord Shen really was something.

He was clearly carrying intentions that weren’t exactly kind to her, yet she was still throwing her “goodwill” away on him.

Sir Gu had assumed this interesting Young Lord Shen would prefer him to collapse dead on the road. After all, the brief killing intent earlier—when she’d glanced at his throat—had been sharp as a blade.

He filled his cup again under Shen Tang’s stare. “Truly fine wine.”

“Binge drinking ruins the body,” Shen Tang said.

“Only for ordinary people,” Sir Gu replied. “For me, it’s the opposite. Drinking hard is how I stay alive.”

He tipped the cup toward her as if making a point. “This wine brewed with word-spirit is no worse than a master’s work. If I had that kind of talent, I’d save a ridiculous amount of money.”

Shen Tang stared at him. That line sounded painfully familiar.

“Someone told me the same thing not long ago,” she said. “Is it really that good?”

Sir Gu blinked. “You haven’t tried it?”

“I have. Last night.”

She didn’t add the rest—that last night had been a mess. Unless she was completely alone, her drinking was a threat to everyone around her.

Sir Gu didn’t know that. He assumed she was simply too young to understand, and he chuckled as if indulging a child. “That’s because you’re still young. You don’t know what you’re tasting.

When you’re older, you’ll understand. Wine is the best medicine in the world. It cures a hundred illnesses.”

Shen Tang’s face didn’t move.

She was absolutely sure wine couldn’t cure everything—because Sir Gu had just downed a whole jar of Lanling wine like it was water, and whatever was wrong with his brain still hadn’t been fixed.

She had word-spirit [Hearts Are Walled Off] active right now, too. He couldn’t hear her insults in her head. A shame.

Sir Gu watched her, expression unreadable. Shen Tang lowered her eyes and counted jars instead.

When she finished setting everything out, she rose. “The wine is ready. Drink slowly.”

She started to leave, but Sir Gu set his cup down with a soft click.

“Young Lord Shen,” he said, “are you truly Young Lord Shen?”

“What else would I be?” Shen Tang shot back. “If I’m not Young Lord Shen, am I supposed to be ‘Young Master Gu’?”

“I doubt it.”

His tone stayed mild, but the words didn’t. “It’s not that I don’t trust Gong Yun Chi. It’s that I trust what I see and hear more than what anyone says. Your appearance is far too… convenient.

What is your purpose? What is your identity? And why did you redeem Chu Yao?

He’s someone whose literary heart has been destroyed—his future is ash. What could he possibly bring you?”

Shen Tang held back the twitching in her temple. Her voice turned sharp. “What does any of that have to do with you?

I’m a tavern girl selling wine to scrape together a meal. If you have time to waste sniffing around me, Sir Gu, you should spend it tending your own little patch of land.”

Her eyes narrowed. “That desert sunset painting. Hmph. Northern Desert, wasn’t it?

Hiding a message in the paper like that—your motives are a lot more interesting than mine. Are you trying to fish in muddy water, or stir it up on purpose?”

They kept their voices low. Neither raised their tone.

But the air in the room turned cold enough to cut.

“Young lord,” a woman’s voice called from outside—soft and sweet, almost cloying. “The music and dance have arrived.”

The tension cracked.

“Let them in,” Sir Gu said. For some reason, his voice suddenly softened. “Young Lord Shen, you may as well sit and watch.”

Shen Tang’s expression soured. “I’m not interested in women.”

Sir Gu’s brows lifted. “Not interested in women… then men?”

“Yes,” Shen Tang said, dead calm. “Like the one called Weng Zhi.”

She’d already guessed Sir Gu’s relationship with that male courtesan wasn’t ordinary. Lord and vassal, master and disciple—maybe both. That man likely wasn’t a real courtesan at all.

Otherwise, how could he call Gong Cheng—back when Gong Cheng still had his status—an “old friend”?

She said it to provoke Sir Gu. To disgust him. To make him flinch.

Sir Gu didn’t flinch.

“If it’s Weng Zhi,” he said thoughtfully, “that one isn’t very good.”

Shen Tang went still.

Sir Gu continued, completely serious. “If you like, you can switch to another place later. But you’re still young. You shouldn’t sink into that.”

Before Shen Tang could respond, the wooden door slid open.

Outside sat a troupe of mu si ci an, all around thirty. In a pleasure academy, that wasn’t “fresh,” but their skill was first-rate—the kind that could stun a room into silence with a single performance.

Xiao City’s self-styled refined scholars loved coming to listen.

Today, there was also a court dancer.

She would perform the flower-drum dance.

She was pretty enough, but at the Radiant Spirit Pavilion she didn’t stand out. What stood out was the fact that she had only one ear.

Shen Tang looked at the court dancer.

The court dancer looked at Sir Gu.

Sir Gu looked back at Shen Tang.

Then the court dancer let out a strange, animal sound. The gentle mask fell away, and she lunged at Shen Tang like a madwoman.

Shen Tang sneered and kicked her hard in the shoulder, sending her skidding across the floor.

Sir Gu widened his eyes, feigning surprise. “This court dancer is new—”

“Not just new,” Shen Tang cut in coldly. “She’s one of the women exiled to Madam Gong.

Sir Gu, you sit at the head of the table enjoying the dance of the women Madam Gong exiled. If your body can take it, maybe you even plan to spend a night of ‘spring.’

Tell me—does Gong Yun Chi have no objections?”

A dragon-patterned longsword was in Shen Tang’s hand now, bright enough to throw her expression back at her.

Cold. Killing. Hungry.

Sir Gu met the blade with calm eyes. “Gong Yun Chi, of course, won’t object.”

Shen Tang’s laugh turned sour. Every answer from him landed wrong, like punching cotton. “He won’t object, or he doesn’t know?”

“He doesn’t know. And even if he did, he wouldn’t have time to care.”

Sir Gu’s voice stayed even, almost lazy. “Because she is the dowry maid of the eldest young lady of the Shen family.”

Shen Tang’s mind blanked.

So that was it.

That ability of his—this quiet, filthy way of prying into people—had wrecked his body for years. He lived on medicine, and he drank to dull the pain.