Chapter 20.1

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Fan Changyu spun around and barked at Master Jin and his crew, “What are you all yelling for?”

Master Jin scratched his head awkwardly. “Isn’t he the husband you brought into your household?”

Fan Changyu froze for a moment, her gaze instinctively flickering toward Xie Zheng. His expression was calm and indifferent, as if Master Jin’s words hadn’t fazed him at all. Relieved, she exhaled before snapping, “Yes, he is my husband. But why are you calling him that?”

Master Jin and his lackeys instantly lowered their heads, looking like a group of meek daughters-in-law who’d just been scolded by a harsh mother-in-law.

Fan Changyu’s temple throbbed with irritation as she waved her hand dismissively. “I brought you along to Wang’s today just to demand justice, and now that we’ve achieved that, it’s time for you all to head home. Stop getting involved in bullying and petty crimes!”

Master Jin and his crew mumbled their agreement and slinked away, leaving Fan Changyu standing there. She glanced at Xie Zheng, who remained standing at a distance, his composed gaze making her inexplicably uneasy. Why do I feel guilty? I haven’t even done anything wrong.

Steeling herself, she folded the paper in her hand and straightened her posture. Walking over to him, she asked, “What are you doing here?”

Light snow fell on Xie Zheng’s dark hair, accentuating the cool elegance of his features. “The essays I wrote a few days ago sold well and caught the attention of the bookshop owner. He invited me for tea. I heard you went to Wang’s Braised Goods, so I came to take a look.”

Fan Changyu was surprised. “If the bookshop owner was impressed, your writing must be excellent!”

Xie Zheng hadn’t expected her, who seemed unpolished and straightforward, to have such an understanding of literary matters. Lowering his eyes slightly to hide his thoughts, he replied, “I fled from Chongzhou and am more familiar with the chaos of the war there and the hardships people face. Writing about such things, even if roughly done, brings a fresh perspective to Lin’an Town, which likely caught the bookshop owner’s interest. How did things go with Wang’s?”

His last question seemed like an intentional shift of the topic.

Fan Changyu, straightforward as ever, missed the subtlety entirely. As they walked, she recounted the events at Wang’s Braised Goods. “…I didn’t even hit anyone! I just kicked over their cutting board and shaved off the son’s hair with my cleaver. That was enough to scare him half to death…”

Her tone was so matter-of-fact, as if such actions were completely normal, that Xie Zheng couldn’t help but glance at her sidelong, his lips twitching slightly as if suppressing a smile.

Mid-sentence, Fan Changyu abruptly stopped talking. She glanced at Xie Zheng, then clamped her mouth shut.

Xie Zheng, who had been quietly listening as she animatedly recounted the events at Wang’s Braised Goods, finally turned to her when she fell silent. “Why did you stop?”

He was truly a sight to behold, with features so exquisite they seemed painted with the finest ink. When he looked at her with his head slightly lowered, the usual impatience in his gaze was gone. Instead, his dark eyes carried a cold yet unexpectedly gentle expression, like winter sunlight breaking through clouds.

When their eyes met, Fan Changyu suddenly felt a little self-conscious. Scratching her head awkwardly, she asked, “Do you think I’m a bit too coarse?”

Xie Zheng raised his eyebrows slightly, clearly surprised by her question. After a moment, he replied, “No.”

Before his fall from grace, he might have thought so. But now? Not anymore.

People who never worried about food or shelter had the luxury of considering what was coarse or refined, elegant or vulgar. For those struggling to survive, their thoughts rarely strayed beyond their next meal.

To judge the poor by the standards of the wealthy was truly to ask, Why don’t they eat minced meat porridge?

Fan Changyu smiled faintly at his response, whether or not it was sincere. She nudged a small stone with the tip of her boot, as if her long-held solitude had suddenly cracked, spilling words that had been bottled up inside her. Speaking almost to herself, she said, “My father never allowed me to use force in front of others. My mother wouldn’t even let me help with the slaughtering. She’d say, ‘A girl doing those things will draw gossip. Even if Song Yan doesn’t mind, others will mock and look down on you behind your back.’”

“For over ten years, I kept myself in check. I was no genteel lady by any stretch, but my reputation in town wasn’t bad either. Then, after my parents passed, I had no choice. To make a living, I started slaughtering pigs—and on a few occasions, I picked up a staff to deal with troublemakers. Now, most folks in town probably think of me as some kind of shrew.”

She waved the paper advertising the moneylender’s job with a half-joking grin. “If I ever stop butchering pigs, I guess I could always take up debt collection!”

Xie Zheng understood all too well the weight of a woman’s reputation. Fan Changyu already carried the stigma of being a “Lone Star of Calamity,” and now, with her fierce demeanor and notoriety, it was certain that while people might not say anything to her face, they were gossiping behind her back.

Whether this woman in front of him was genuinely carefree or simply making light of her struggles, he wasn’t sure. A stray snowflake landed on his eyelashes and quickly melted into tiny droplets of water. His dark eyes rested on Fan Changyu, his tone both lazy and earnest as he said, “Then go and collect debts.”

Fan Changyu, in the middle of kicking another pebble, nearly lost her balance on the icy road. Her foot slipped, and she would have done a full split if not for a hand as firm as an iron vice catching her arm in time.

Wide-eyed, she exclaimed, “You’re encouraging me to do something so immoral?!”

Half her arm was still held in Xie Zheng’s grasp. Despite the thick winter coat between them, she could feel the strength in his fingers. Her arm wasn’t soft and weak like a noodle, but lean and strong—like the forelimb of a panther, powerful yet controlled.

Her wide, almond-shaped eyes, glaring at him with mock indignation, only added to the impression of a scrappy little leopard, dirtied and battered but still determined to look fierce.

Xie Zheng’s brows furrowed slightly as he withdrew his hand and averted his gaze. His tone cooled, though his words were steady. “I’m saying you shouldn’t fear what others say.”

Fan Changyu mulled over Xie Zheng’s words for a moment before realizing his true meaning. The lingering frustration in her heart dissolved entirely.

She quickly caught up to him as he walked ahead with his crutch. “Your leg’s still not fully healed. Let me call an ox cart to take you back.”

“…”

“No, wait, I didn’t mean it like that! I just meant—your leg’s still injured!”