Chapter 29.1

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Now that those black-clad assassins who could strike at any moment were no longer a threat, Fan Changyu didn’t have to rush to sell off her belongings or flee Lin’an Town.

She struck a long-term deal with Yixiang Tower, and after reopening the butcher shop, business actually improved thanks to the restaurant’s endorsement. The braised meat sold even better than before, even beginning to outshine the famed Wang family’s shop.

The day before Lunar New Year’s Eve, she was walking home from the shop when she spotted a grand-looking carriage parked at the mouth of the alley. At first, she assumed it must be the Song family—mother and son—back in town. But as she stepped into the alley, she saw a crowd gathered outside her home.

Her heart tightened. Had something happened again?

She squeezed through the crowd. “Excuse me—coming through, let me through…”

One neighbor asked, “Changyu, do you have some wealthy relatives?”

Changyu was puzzled. “No, not that I know of.”

The person pressed, “Could it be someone from your husband’s side of the family? The carriage parked at the end of the alley—it’s even fancier than the one the Song family used when they moved!”

Only then did Fan Changyu realize—the owner of the carriage must be here for her?

Someone nearby chimed in, “The carriage the Songs used when they moved wasn’t even theirs. It was rented from the carriage house!”

There was even a hint of mockery toward the Song family in the way people spoke now.

Old Madam Kang, standing at her doorway, flashed her gap-toothed smile and said, “Just a bunch of bootlickers. Wait till Yan-ge’er goes to the capital and takes first place in the exams—then he can have any carriage he wants!”

Fan Changyu remained confused, brushing off the neighbors’ idle chatter. Once she stepped inside and closed the courtyard gate behind her, she finally saw a noble-looking young man seated at the main table in the central room, dressed in fine robes with a sash of jade at his waist.

When he saw her, he nodded with a gentle smile. Not knowing who he was, Fan Changyu mirrored his polite gesture with a slight nod of her own.

“It’s getting late,” the man said as he stood up, bowing respectfully to Xie Zheng. “I won’t take up any more of your or Madam’s time.”

He turned to Changyu as he spoke, and his smile deepened.

Xie Zheng sat on the other side of the table, his expression calm. Though dressed in plain, everyday clothes, his bearing somehow still overshadowed the refined guest. “Take care. No need to see him out,” he replied coolly.

Fan Changyu, knowing full well how prickly Yan Zheng could be, wasn’t surprised he didn’t move from his seat. Still, out of courtesy, she walked the visitor to the gate.

Once she closed the door again, shutting out the prying eyes of the neighbors, she turned to Xie Zheng and asked, “Who was that?”

“The owner of the town’s bookstore,” he replied.

Fan Changyu picked up the teapot from the table and poured herself a cup of water. “I thought the owner of the bookstore in town was that bearded old man?”

“That’s the shopkeeper,” Xie Zheng replied. “The real owner lives in the main city of Jizhou.”

The last time Zhao Xun came looking for him, most of the people in this alley had gone off to find work elsewhere, so no one noticed. But today was near the end of the year, and every household was home, which was why word had spread like wildfire.

As she poured, tea spilled into her cup—only then did she realize it was cold. She took a sip anyway, then glanced at the half-empty cup still sitting where the nobleman had been and couldn’t help but say, “You served him cold tea?”

Xie Zheng looked up at her, and in that brief glance, she read—clear as day—a silent What else did you expect?

She was momentarily speechless.

Then he noticed she’d brought back another bag of dried tangerine peel candies. He pushed the red-wrapped bundle on the table toward her. “I earned some silver writing shiwen. Take it.”

Fan Changyu unwrapped the red paper—and her apricot eyes went wide with disbelief. Inside were four silver ingots!

Before she’d started selling braised meat, the shop didn’t even make this much in a month!

She stared at him, dumbfounded. “You can make that much just writing shiwen?”

Xie Zheng lifted the rough porcelain cup in front of him and took a small sip. His fingers, no longer scabbed over, were slender and well-defined like carved bamboo.

“The essays I wrote earlier sold well,” he said. “The bookstore gave me a share of the profits. These forty taels also include an advance for the next batch.”

The few shiwen he had authored had indeed stirred up a storm in the capital. Though Zhao Xun was from the merchant class, he clearly had skill—managing to protect his family business amidst circling wolves. While he aggressively reprinted the essays across major prefectures to sell to aspiring scholars, he also took care to conceal their origin.

Back when the Fan family faced disaster, his uncle had been combing every bookstore in the capital. If the essays hadn’t been untraceable, the death squads sent to this little town would’ve easily doubled.

So the silver wasn’t some gesture of goodwill from Zhao Xun. Even judged on their own merit, those essays were worth their weight in gold.

The bookstores under Zhao’s name had made a fortune off the reprints in recent weeks. To avoid suspicion, Xie Zheng had deliberately asked for only forty taels. Even so, she still thought it was too much.

Fan Changyu looked at the bright silver ingots beside her, then back at Xie Zheng. “That shop owner came all this way just because of your essays?”

Xie Zheng nodded. “The campaign in Chongzhou hasn’t been going well, and factional struggles at court continue. My piece on the chaos of war there may be a rough account, but it touches on things most scholars haven’t personally experienced. That’s why it’s selling well.”

Seeing that Fan Changyu didn’t look pleased by the silver—in fact, she’d gone quiet—he instinctively frowned.

A moment later, he heard her say, “You don’t have to lie to me. I already know.”

The grip of his fingers against the rim of the cup tightened slightly. “Know what?”

Fan Changyu looked up at him. “If the owner of the bookstore values you this highly, your writing must be outstanding. You’ve clearly read a great deal in the past. You just didn’t want me to resent you because my former fiancé passed the exam and then broke off our engagement—so you kept pretending you weren’t well educated, didn’t you?”

Realizing what she meant, Xie Zheng finally loosened his grip on the cup.

Before he could reply, Changyu frowned and went on, “I’m not as petty as you think. There are plenty of scholars in this world. Just because my former fiancé was a heartless bastard doesn’t mean every man who studies is the same. I understand that much. You don’t need to tiptoe around me like that.”

Xie Zheng lowered his gaze and said, “I’m sorry.”

Fan Changyu waved it off, signaling that it was no big deal. After all, she herself had kept her martial skills hidden from the neighbors. His talent was his own—whether he told her or not didn’t affect her in the slightest. There was nothing for her to take offense over.

Still, she was curious and asked, “Since you’ve read so many books, why didn’t you sit for the imperial exams? Why become an escort instead?”

Xie Zheng replied, “The things I want to do—studying won’t help me with that.”

They’d been living under the same roof for nearly a month, but this was the first time Fan Changyu had truly asked him about himself. Since the conversation had already gone this far, she followed up, “So what is it you want to do?”

A gust of wind swept through the courtyard, lifting a loose strand of hair at Xie Zheng’s temple. He looked toward the courtyard wall, where thick snow had accumulated, the sky above a pale, misty gray. His gaze grew distant and hard to read. “Just as you want to keep your father’s butcher shop going, I want to finish what my father couldn’t.”

Fan Changyu fell silent for a moment, thinking. Then her eyes widened in surprise. “Don’t tell me… your family runs an escort agency?”