Chapter 120 — The Ling Clan's Invitation
CHAPTER 120
The Ling Clan's Invitation
“The invitation includes you,” Ling Qingzhu said, putting the red envelope beside Shi Feng's cup.
“I can read my name,” Shi Feng replied. “I'm wondering why they wrote it larger than yours.”
She leaned over the table. The two names were the same size. He watched her realize that, and her cold gaze immediately returned to him.
“You have too much time,” Ling Qingzhu said.
“Not enough for everything people invite me to,” Shi Feng replied.
The Ling clan wanted its two young Foundation Establishment cultivators at a family gathering before the journey. One was its own daughter. The other was the son-in-law many relatives preferred not to discuss before Great Liang's qualification.
Now they discussed him a great deal.
He turned the envelope over. Beside the family seal was a second, smaller note about preparing medicines for the road.
“Are they inviting a guest or booking a furnace?” Shi Feng asked.
“A guest,” Ling Qingzhu replied. “They can ask about medicine separately.”
“Good,” Shi Feng said. “I'm more expensive when someone tries to mix the two.”
Her mouth curved. She took his untouched cup, drank from it without noticing, and began explaining the gathering. He noticed. The little act pleased him enough to distract him from the invitation.
Three days later, relatives leaving with other trading parties would meet at the Ling residence. Ling Qingzhu needed to settle her own travel supplies and speak to an elder about Hundred Flower Valley. Nobody could promise her entry. Even Great Liang's second-ranked candidate still needed to compete against the surrounding kingdoms.
“Will you come?” Ling Qingzhu asked.
“For the gathering,” Shi Feng said. “Don't promise anyone my medicine.”
“I heard you the first time,” Ling Qingzhu replied.
He let the subject go. She sounded annoyed, but she didn't withdraw the invitation. He thought, Perhaps she wants me there even when nobody needs a husband to stand in front of a prince. He wanted that to be true.
Ling Rong arrived before noon with two servants carrying packed travel cases.
Ling Qingzhu put on her veil before admitting them. The thin steward was at early Foundation Establishment. He bowed to Ling Qingzhu, then gave Shi Feng an equally careful greeting.
“Young Master Shi, the clan would like to know your departure date,” Ling Rong said.
“After my last orders are finished,” Shi Feng replied. “I've already given the travel office my route.”
“You won't use our carriage?” Ling Rong asked.
“I haven't decided how much of the road I'll ride,” Shi Feng said.
The steward glanced at Ling Qingzhu. She immediately looked displeased.
“Ask him,” Ling Qingzhu said. “He's sitting in front of you.”
Ling Rong bowed again and changed the subject. The cases held a cloak, dry provisions, and several jars chosen for her. She opened the cloak, checked its lining, and rejected two jars because the sealing wax smelled too strong.
Ling Rong set a sealed permit beside the cases.
“The northern warehouse finally has its approval,” Ling Rong said. “The court office signed it three weeks after your wedding.”
“After keeping it unsigned for half a year,” Ling Qingzhu replied.
“The elders would rather discuss the result,” Ling Rong said.
Shi Feng looked at the seal. The marriage had changed the court's leverage. It hadn't made her relatives forget how comfortably they could bargain with someone else's future.
Then Ling Rong opened a third paper.
“Several relatives would like advice from Young Master Shi,” Ling Rong said. “Nothing difficult. A few old injuries and some cultivation concerns.”
“How many?” Shi Feng asked.
“Eleven,” Ling Rong replied.
Shi Feng looked at him. Ling Qingzhu lowered the cloak.
“That's not a few,” Ling Qingzhu said.
“They only wish to make his acquaintance,” Ling Rong said quickly.
“Then they can introduce themselves,” Shi Feng replied. “Their old injuries can stay at home.”
The steward's smile stiffened. Ling Qingzhu looked away, hiding amusement. Shi Feng wasn't angry. These relatives saw an alchemist appearing in the family and immediately developed ailments that required free attention.
Eleven sore knees didn't need to become a great conspiracy.
“Should I tell them you're unavailable?” Ling Rong asked.
“Tell them I'll attend as a guest,” Shi Feng replied.
Ling Qingzhu nodded. The steward rolled up the paper and finally took it away.
After the visitors left, Shi Feng carried one empty case into the room. Ling Qingzhu untied her veil again. Ling Qingzhu stood beside her chest, looking between the case and the folding screen.
“Where should it go?” Ling Qingzhu asked.
“Outside,” Shi Feng said.
“It's going to rain,” Ling Qingzhu replied.
“Then we'll tell Jiang Meilan we need a second room,” Shi Feng said. “She'll charge us for imagining one.”
She laughed and moved the case beneath the bed. Her cloak followed it, folded into a much smaller bundle than the servants managed.
His own belongings needed little space. With the storage ring open, he could keep the furnace tools and most ingredients safely out of the way. He still slept on the same floor bedding. Neither improved cultivation nor more money changed that arrangement without her consent.
Ling Qingzhu looked at the rolled blanket, then at his travel pack.
“You're taking everything?” Ling Qingzhu asked.
“I'll need my things,” Shi Feng replied.
“We might come back,” Ling Qingzhu said.
“We might enter a sect,” Shi Feng replied.
She fell quiet. That possibility was the point of qualifying, yet the room suddenly felt different when he said it aloud. He watched her fingers move over the edge of the chest.
“You want Artificer Hall,” Ling Qingzhu said.
“If I earn a choice,” Shi Feng replied.
“Hundred Flower Valley suits me better,” Ling Qingzhu said. “Its sword methods aren't all gentle flower dances, despite what people in the capital say.”
“Good,” Shi Feng replied. “I'd hate to see you attack someone with a flowerpot.”
She picked up the little empty pot beside the window.
“Don't be so sure,” Ling Qingzhu said.
He held up his hands. She put it down with a satisfied smile. Her gaze moved to the leather-wrapped journal and the dark iron enforcement badge resting beside his pack.
“The elder's sword notes and his sect badge?” Ling Qingzhu asked.
“Yes,” Shi Feng replied, touching the engraved Artificer Hall mark on Xu Changhe's iron badge. “I swore over his cairn to return his badge to the Hall myself once I finished studying the last corrections.”
She sat beside him and looked at the worn iron token. He opened a page of the journal and showed her the correction beside Returning Tide.
“When you return his badge to Artificer Hall, can you show them where he fell?” Ling Qingzhu asked.
“I marked the chamber,” Shi Feng replied. “They can choose what to do with it.”
She nodded. He wasn't promising service to an entire sect because one dead elder taught him useful swordsmanship. He was returning a name and an account.
She let him close the notes. The next morning she appeared at the kitchen door holding another clan letter.
“Tomorrow afternoon,” Ling Qingzhu said. “Ling Rong is bringing two elders. I said you'd show them the pills before we go.”
Shi Feng set down his pestle.
“I've promised that hour to a customer,” Shi Feng said. “Did you ask whether I was free?”
“It's only a look,” Ling Qingzhu said.
“Don't promise my time without asking,” Shi Feng said.
Her expression changed. She folded the letter more tightly, embarrassed enough to become sharp.
“Fine,” Ling Qingzhu said. “I'll tell them you're busy.”
He nodded and returned to the roots. Giving a clear answer wasn't a quarrel unless someone insisted on making it one. Still, the kitchen felt less pleasant after she left.
He finished the promised order the next day. When he returned, Ling Qingzhu stood at her mirror fastening the repaired clasp. She had told Ling Rong not to bring the elders. Shi Feng thanked her, and she looked annoyed by his relief.
He gave her a small warming wash for the shoulder she had complained about after practice. It wasn't part of the clan's request. She looked at the parcel, pleased and puzzled.
“You remembered?” Ling Qingzhu asked.
“You mentioned it three times,” Shi Feng said.
“Two,” Ling Qingzhu said.
He smiled. She put the parcel beside her own medicines and handed him the dark robe she wanted him to wear. For him, the disagreement had a sensible ending. She asked too quickly, he refused, and she changed the plan. He still wanted to go because she would be there.
Behind the screen, Ling Qingzhu considered another explanation: he was proud of his new work and disliked relatives inspecting it. That seemed reasonable. She never asked whether it was true.
When she came out, he waited by the gate. She tied her veil, took his arm and told herself she would make sure the clan treated him properly.