Chapter 65

Chapter 65: Paying on Someone’s Behalf
After Yamen Runner Feng and his men left, the market slowly breathed again. The guests who’d scattered and hidden at a distance drifted back in cautious clusters, peering toward Qin Hui Yin’s stall.

Too late.

The trays were scraped clean, the skewers gone, the mala tang pot reduced to nothing but broth and the smell of spice lingering in the steam. People could only droop their heads and sigh, swallowing any complaints before they reached their tongues.

They hadn’t gone far during the commotion. They’d heard every word between Qin Hui Yin and Ying Hai.

Everyone who frequented this street knew Ying Hai. He was close to Ou Yang Manor’s chief steward and handled the manor’s purchasing—one of those servants who usually strutted around like he owned the road. When he bought from the market, he always found something wrong: the meat too lean, the vegetables too old, the prices too high.

Yet just now, he’d stood at Qin Hui Yin’s little stall smiling like an old friend, speaking gently, even telling Captain Feng to “look after them.”

People didn’t know what kind of background a small stall owner could have. But anyone who could make Ou Yang Manor’s people treat them kindly wasn’t someone ordinary folks dared to offend.

Qin Hui Yin wiped her hands and bowed slightly to the crowd. “Honored guests, I’m truly sorry. We had a big customer today, and they bought out the whole stall.” She lifted the bamboo lid to show what remained. “All that’s left are ingredients we haven’t cooked yet. But our barbecue and pan-fried flatbreads are just as good. Please give them a try.”

A man at the front leaned in, curiosity all over his face. “Boss, how did you come to know Supervisor Ying? I heard you mention Ou Yang Manor’s chief steward. Are you related to him or something?”

“Not related,” Qin Hui Yin said with a smile. “We’ve just crossed paths. Auntie’s an old customer, so we’re on the same side. I won’t hide it—I got to know the steward of Ou Yang Manor thanks to my cooking.”

“The steward’s tasted your food?”

“More than that.” Her tone stayed light, as if she were embarrassed to say it out loud. “The proprietor of Ou Yang Manor has tasted it. So have the honored guests the proprietor hosted. I even received a reward from the proprietor and that honored guest.” She lifted her hands in a helpless little shrug. “That honored guest came from the Capital City and has eaten every rare delicacy you can name. If he approved of my food, it was only because I put a bit of clever thought into it. You’re all laughing at me now.”

The crowd stirred, impressed despite themselves.

“Amazing. Even folks from the Capital City like your flatbreads? Then we really have to try…”

Li Tao Hua slid into place beside Tang Lu Wu, and the two of them took over the dough board like they’d done it a thousand times. Tang Lu Wu’s hands were quick and steady, flattening and flipping while Li Tao Hua handled the oil and heat, her movements sharp as scissors.

Qin Hui Yin stayed at the grill, turning skewers with practiced ease. Smoke curled around her sleeves; the fat hissed and popped when it hit the coals.

Tang Yi Xiao, seeing the bare baskets, dug a few copper coins from his sleeve and jogged to a nearby stall for vegetables. He ran to a house a short distance away to wash them, threaded the greens onto sticks, then came back and dropped them into the mala tang pot like he’d always belonged there.

Qin Hui Yin spotted it and gave him a thumbs-up. “Younger brother, your brain really works.”

Tang Yi Xiao’s ears reddened, but he didn’t slow down. “Second Sister, I’ll go to the butcher and buy some meat. I’ll ask a few people to help thread skewers, too. We can bring more over to boil in the pot.”

No one stepped on anyone else’s work. It looked like a mess of separate motions, but everything fit together perfectly—grill, flatbreads, pot, coins. Two hours blurred by in a tide of orders and steam, and then, at last, they saw off the final guest.

Li Tao Hua dropped onto a low stool as if her bones had turned to water. “I’m exhausted. I can’t do it anymore. This body can’t take it.”

Tang Lu Wu walked behind her without a word and began kneading her shoulders. Her fingers pressed deep, patient and sure.

Li Tao Hua’s eyes slid shut in immediate satisfaction. “Not bad.”

“Mom, rest here for a bit.” Qin Hui Yin rinsed her hands. “I’m going to check the general store.”

“All right. Go, but come back early,” Li Tao Hua said, opening her eyes just long enough to pin her with a look.

“I’ll go with you.” Tang Yi Xiao had already hoisted a basket onto his back.

Qin Hui Yin took it from him before he could settle the straps. “I see ice drinks over there. Go buy some for everyone to try.”

Li Tao Hua’s eyes snapped open. “That stuff isn’t something you can eat. It’s too expensive. Only rich people can afford it.”

“We made money today.” Qin Hui Yin fished a string of copper coins from the box and let it clink softly against her palm. “We earned this much. We should reward ourselves a little. We can’t work like old oxen and never enjoy anything, right?”

She told them to wait and threaded through the crowd toward the general stores. Merchant ships came and went from the outer islands, and every so often the shops turned up strange little surprises—an unfamiliar spice, a new kind of seed, something the usual peddlers didn’t carry.

She checked several stores, bought a few packets of seeds, and picked up daily necessities they’d been putting off. When she passed the bookshop, she remembered Tang Yi Chen and went in.

A few books, several bundles of paper.

“Boss,” she said, stacking them neatly on the counter, “I’ll store these here for now. When I pass later, I’ll pick them up.”

“No problem.”

She stepped back out—and froze.

A nimble figure darted past her, a man slung on his back. The injured man’s right foot hung limp, blood dripping and spotting the ground. The figure didn’t even slow; there was a pharmacy right next door, and he carried the injured man straight inside.

Qin Hui Yin hesitated only a heartbeat before following.

The runner was Song Rui Ze—the one who’d volunteered to work at the Dam Worksite.

He wore old, worn clothes, his hair tied high with a strip of cloth. Dust coated him from shoulder to boot, and his stern face carried that cold, keep-your-distance aura that made people instinctively give him space.

The person on his back looked much the same, only smaller, thinner—more bone than flesh.

The physician glanced at the bleeding foot and clicked his tongue. “With an injury like that, he needs to be bandaged. Do you have money?”

Song Rui Ze’s voice was flat. “Bandage him first. I’ll bring the money later.”

“You’re from the Dam Worksite, aren’t you?” the physician snapped. “You people come in waves. Where am I supposed to find you afterward? From yesterday to today, more than a dozen have been carried in. Five have already bought on credit, and I still can’t find them.”

“I will pay you.”

“This is a small business.” The physician’s face hardened like stone. “If everyone comes here dodging debts, I might as well rename my clinic a charity hall. I don’t care. No money, no treatment. Go ruin some other place.”

“How much?” Qin Hui Yin said.

The physician turned and looked her up and down. “And who are you?”

“This is my brother.” Qin Hui Yin didn’t blink. “Tell me the price. I’ll pay.”

Song Rui Ze’s eyes flickered to her—complicated, sharp, unreadable.

The injured youth shifted on the bench, staring at her, then at Song Rui Ze. “Brother Ze… is she your sister?”

Song Rui Ze didn’t answer.

“Bandaging is 30 wen,” the physician said. “If you want medicine, this kind of wound salve is 100 wen per bottle.”

“Bandage him first,” Qin Hui Yin said at once. “And prepare a bottle of medicine, too.”

Song Rui Ze’s jaw tightened. “I left the money at home. I’ll pay you when I go back.”

“Then when are you going home?” Qin Hui Yin asked, almost curious.

Song Rui Ze’s eyes slid away. “…When the Dam Worksite is finished.”

“And when will it be finished?”

“…I don’t know.”

The way he got stuck there—stubborn and helpless all at once—made Qin Hui Yin snort. “I’m teasing you. I’m not in a hurry. Pay me whenever you have it.”

“Next month when we get paid works too,” the injured youth said quickly, as if grateful for any easing of the tension. “Hello, Brother Ze’s sister. My name is Jiang Qi Bin. My bunk is right next to Brother Ze’s.”

“Jiang Qi Bin…” Qin Hui Yin repeated under her breath.

[That name felt familiar.]

[Right. In the original novel, Jiang Qi Bin was Song Rui Ze’s loyal lackey. After Song Rui Ze died, Jiang Qi Bin collected his body. In the end, he charged into the male lead’s residence to try to assassinate him—and died under the male lead’s deathsworn sword.]

[So they knew each other this early.]

Song Rui Ze kept everyone at arm’s length, and yet he’d carried Jiang Qi Bin here himself, running on those long legs like he didn’t feel the weight. He’d even argued with the physician for him.

So it wasn’t that the villain was too cold. It was that the people he’d met before had never been his people.