Chapter 116 — A House Too Small for Fame

CHAPTER 116

A House Too Small for Fame

“Two spirit stones to see the courtyard?” Shi Feng asked.

Bao Shun immediately lowered his hand. Three strangers waited behind the broker, peering past his shoulder toward the pear tree.

“Not to see it,” Bao Shun said. “To hear its history.”

“I rent it,” Shi Feng replied. “Its history is a leaking roof.”

The three visitors looked at one another. Bao Shun laughed too loudly and stepped closer to the gate.

“Young Master Shi, you've misunderstood,” Bao Shun said. “People admire your rise. A little account of your cultivation would inspire them.”

“Tell them to refine pills until their sleeves smell of charcoal,” Shi Feng said.

“That's not very inspiring,” Bao Shun replied.

“Neither is sleeping beneath a leak,” Shi Feng said. “Did you mention that part?”

Bao Shun's smile weakened. A woman behind him examined the roof with growing disappointment. She seemed to expect a glowing formation or a hidden immortal sitting on the tiles.

Shi Feng pointed down the lane.

“Return their money,” Shi Feng said. “You won't be bringing people through my gate.”

“I haven't brought them through it yet,” Bao Shun protested.

“Keep it that way,” Shi Feng replied.

The broker bowed and led his customers away. His explanation became quieter with every step. Shi Feng shut the gate before another listener could decide that the conversation deserved an entrance fee.

Ling Qingzhu untied the veil she had put on at the knocking. Their home was theirs again. Ling Qingzhu stood behind him with folded sleeves.

“You could've charged Bao Shun,” Ling Qingzhu said.

“Then he'd sell tickets to collect his losses,” Shi Feng replied.

“He'd sell tickets to watch you chase him,” Ling Qingzhu said.

Shi Feng looked at the gate. That was probably true.

Her laugh followed him across the courtyard.

Clothes covered half the bed. Ling Qingzhu's chest stood open at its foot, and a folded traveling cloak lay on the chair. There was nowhere left for her book.

Shi Feng stopped beside his own rolled bedding.

“Are we moving?” Shi Feng asked.

“I'm deciding what to take,” Ling Qingzhu replied.

“To the tournament or to establish a new clan?” Shi Feng asked.

She picked up a folded robe and threw it at his chest. He caught it before it fell.

“Put that on the chair,” Ling Qingzhu said.

“Which chair?” Shi Feng asked.

She looked at the cloak, the washbasin, and the little stack of books occupying every available seat.

“Hold it,” Ling Qingzhu said.

Shi Feng held it. He was pleased enough by her ridiculous difficulty that he didn't immediately remind her about storage bags.

She noticed his expression anyway.

“Don't say it,” Ling Qingzhu warned.

“I haven't said anything,” Shi Feng replied.

“You look ready to,” Ling Qingzhu said.

He put the robe across a clean section of the bed. She checked the edge, then started sorting again. Most of the things in her chest were ordinary clothes. Some were carefully wrapped, and he didn't reach for them.

Their agreement still meant something. Living together didn't make every private belonging his to inspect.

Ling Qingzhu lifted a small silk pouch and paused. The old violet ribbon beneath it was badly creased.

“That one's useless,” Ling Qingzhu said.

“Then leave it,” Shi Feng replied.

She put it into the traveling pile.

He smiled. She immediately covered it with another robe.

For a while, they worked without arguing. She sorted her clothes while he tied fresh cords around the books. The little room filled with the smell of sun-dried cloth.

Shi Feng liked this more than he expected. He thought, Everyone outside wants the kingdom's third qualifier. In here, she just wants somewhere to put a sleeve.

That was easier to understand.

“Your cloak's too thin,” Ling Qingzhu said suddenly.

“It's not cold yet,” Shi Feng replied.

“It will be on the road,” Ling Qingzhu said.

She pointed at the folded cloak on the chair. It was dark blue, plainly cut, and large enough for his shoulders.

“That's yours,” Ling Qingzhu said. “Don't leave it behind.”

Shi Feng picked it up. The stitching near the neck was new. She'd chosen something without patterns or bright borders.

“No silver beasts?” Shi Feng asked.

“You'd complain they were heavy,” Ling Qingzhu replied.

He felt warm despite standing with a cloak he didn't need yet.

“It suits me,” Shi Feng said.

Ling Qingzhu looked satisfied. Then she noticed that she looked satisfied and turned back to the chest.

“Naturally,” Ling Qingzhu said. “I chose it.”

She told him to stand. He put the cloak around his shoulders, and she walked behind him to check the length.

“Too long?” Shi Feng asked.

“Don't move,” Ling Qingzhu replied.

He stood still while she straightened the collar. Her fingers brushed his neck, and he felt strangely pleased about obeying such a small instruction.

“Now move,” Ling Qingzhu said.

“A difficult inspection,” Shi Feng replied.

She came around to look at the front. The cloak fitted well. Its hem stayed clear of the floor, and his sword hand had plenty of room.

Ling Qingzhu looked openly proud of that last detail.

“You checked the sleeve,” Shi Feng said.

“I watched you practice,” Ling Qingzhu replied. “I'm not blind.”

He touched the fastening once, then folded the cloak carefully himself.

By afternoon, the bed was clear again. Shi Feng carried the books outside and set them on the courtyard table. A breeze moved the pear leaves overhead.

Ling Qingzhu followed with tea. This time, the liquid wasn't dark enough to resemble a medicinal extract.

He took a sip.

“Better?” Ling Qingzhu asked.

“You remembered the water,” Shi Feng replied.

“Give it back,” Ling Qingzhu said, reaching for the cup.

He moved it out of reach and drank again. She sat down with an irritated expression that didn't last.

The neighbors talked beyond the wall. Someone mentioned the three representatives. Another person claimed Shi Feng spent every night meditating on a bed of precious jade.

Ling Qingzhu looked toward the room.

“Your floor must be very valuable,” Ling Qingzhu said.

“Jiang Meilan will hear that,” Shi Feng replied. “Then we'll have to pay more.”

She laughed into her tea.

It still surprised him how easily she could make him forget the people outside. His strength changed their manners. Her laugh changed his whole afternoon.

He was in love with her. There was no point pretending otherwise to himself.

The thought no longer frightened him. It simply made him want this quiet courtyard to remain part of his life after the tournament.

Ling Qingzhu opened the top book and noticed a loose page inside. It was one of his short refining records, tucked away the previous evening.

“This isn't mine,” Ling Qingzhu said.

She passed it back without reading further.

Shi Feng accepted it. She understood the same boundaries he did, at least in small things.

“Have you finished your own practice today?” Shi Feng asked.

“Enough,” Ling Qingzhu replied.

He didn't ask to inspect her cultivation. Her Foundation Establishment cultivation—left unmeasured beside her second-place rank on the royal board—already put her among Great Liang's finest young cultivators. Whatever else she chose to keep private belonged to her.

She didn't ask about his foundation either.

That quiet understanding pleased him.

A knock sounded at the gate. Both of them looked toward it. Ling Qingzhu reached for her veil before going to answer.

“If it's Bao Shun, I'm charging him for knocking,” Ling Qingzhu said.

Shi Feng went to answer. A delivery boy held out a sealed envelope, collected his carrying fee, and hurried away. The envelope bore the mark of Ling Qingzhu's clan.

He brought it to the table unopened.

Ling Qingzhu broke the seal, read the first few lines, and sighed.

“Another family gathering?” Shi Feng asked.

“Several,” Ling Qingzhu replied. “Apparently qualifying means every elder needs to see me eat.”

“A dangerous responsibility,” Shi Feng said.

She folded the letter and looked at him over it.

“They'll ask about you too,” Ling Qingzhu said.

He leaned back beneath the pear tree. The blue cloak lay across his knees, still warm from her room.

“Then tell them I eat without instruction,” Shi Feng replied.

Ling Qingzhu's smile faded slightly as she read the postscript at the bottom of the page. “Uncle Ling Zhen says Sima Yu has added a formal petition from the Wei household of Yunze to tomorrow's briefing before Wen Shou.” She looked up at him closely. “The same Wei summons from the Southern Gate?”

“The same one,” Shi Feng said calmly. “Let him bring the witness into the light.”