Chapter 126 — The Same Room

CHAPTER 126

The Same Room

“Will you eat?” Ling Qingzhu asked.

Shi Feng stood at the kitchen door with a bowl in his hand. He came home after dark and found two places set at the table. She'd bought food from the stall at the lane's entrance.

“Yes,” Shi Feng replied.

He sat across from her. She pushed the warmer dish toward him, then looked annoyed when he noticed.

“The seller gave too much,” Ling Qingzhu said.

“Then he made a mistake,” Shi Feng replied.

The familiar answer should've made her laugh. Instead she lowered her eyes and began eating.

He ate because he needed food and because refusing it would turn the evening into another accusation. He didn't want to punish her with an empty bowl. The dish was good. He could taste it without feeling much pleasure.

For a while they spoke only about the next day's weather. She said the mornings were colder. He said the roads should stay dry. Both knew they weren't discussing what mattered.

Finally, she put down her chopsticks.

“Ling Rong asked whether you'd attend the last meeting,” Ling Qingzhu said.

“I've already said I would,” Shi Feng replied.

“You don't have to come if you're angry,” Ling Qingzhu said.

“I gave my word,” Shi Feng replied. “I'll settle what I promised.”

The answer hurt her. She wanted him to say he wasn't angry, or that he'd come because she wanted him there. Yesterday, he offered that freely. Tonight, he spoke of settling a promise.

“I didn't mean to insult you,” Ling Qingzhu said.

He looked at her. She sounded sincere again. He wished sincerity alone could undo what they now understood about each other.

“I know,” Shi Feng replied.

“Then why are you still looking at me like that?” Ling Qingzhu asked.

He didn't know what she saw. He wasn't trying to look cold. He was trying not to keep asking for an answer she didn't have.

“Like what?” Shi Feng asked.

She couldn't explain it without sounding frightened. He looked like someone sitting beside a road after deciding not to take it, though his feet hadn't moved yet.

“As if I've become a stranger,” Ling Qingzhu said.

He lowered his chopsticks.

She had removed her veil when he came home, as always. He hadn’t paused at the sight of her. When she brushed the hair from her cheek, his eyes stayed on the bowl.

Once, she couldn’t get through supper without telling him to stop looking. Now she wanted to hear one of his ridiculous excuses.

None came.

“You haven't,” Shi Feng replied. “That's why it hurts.”

She went still. His bluntness left her nowhere to hide behind an argument about schedules.

“I like living here,” Ling Qingzhu said. “I like the time we spend together. Isn't that clear?”

His chest tightened. There it was, close enough that he wanted to believe it answered everything.

“Then why did you answer me with money?” Shi Feng asked.

“Because you said the things you did weren't covered by the agreement,” Ling Qingzhu replied. “I wanted you to know I valued them.”

“You wanted to pay for them,” Shi Feng said.

“Does being paid make every feeling false?” Ling Qingzhu asked.

He was quiet. She wasn't asking an entirely foolish question. They started with an arrangement. He couldn't pretend he never accepted one.

But she still thought his feelings belonged inside a service she could keep purchasing.

“No,” Shi Feng replied. “But my feelings weren't what I offered to sell.”

She looked at his face, confused and hurt by the distance that remained even after she admitted enjoying their life together.

“I didn't know you separated it like that,” Ling Qingzhu said.

“I thought you could see the difference,” Shi Feng replied.

He remembered the little moments he chose not to name. Her hand on his arm. Her waiting at the gate. The tea made too strong. He took those as signs she wanted him, not simply a convenient husband doing his work well.

Perhaps some of them were. That uncertainty was worse than a clean rejection.

“Would you have agreed to marry me without the payment?” Ling Qingzhu asked.

“At the beginning, I agreed for ten thousand spirit stones, a hunting pass, and a name that kept the Yunze Wei inquiry from detaining me at the gate without a hearing,” Shi Feng said evenly. “You gave me an empty bag, called me a liar when I showed you the seams, and I stayed anyway because the pass was real—and later because I cared for you. We're not at the beginning anymore, Ling Qingzhu, yet yesterday you still thought I was lying about the first bag to bargain for a second.”

Her lips parted. She couldn't deny that. She couldn't easily abandon the explanation she'd trusted for months either.

He stood and began clearing the table. She reached for a dish at the same time, and their fingers touched. Usually he'd tease her or let the contact last. Tonight he simply passed it over.

“I'll wash these,” Ling Qingzhu said.

“All right,” Shi Feng replied.

He didn't stop her. She carried the bowls into the kitchen and stared at them as if she'd never seen their shapes before.

He went into the room and opened his order book. Three deliveries remained. None required more than the time he already reserved. After those, he could leave the capital without owing anyone unfinished work.

The marriage certificate lay wrapped beneath a spare robe. He didn't take it out. A legal name on paper wasn't the thing hurting him tonight.

Shi Feng thought, She doesn't owe me feelings because I have them. He understood that clearly. He only wished she hadn't mistaken his for another thing her payment secured.

He set the book aside and checked the sword beside his bedding. The blade needed no repair, but wiping it gave his hands something ordinary to do.

When the cloth passed over the hilt, his thumb brushed a familiar worn patch. He remembered practicing beside the dry stream, guiding the sword between marked targets while the forest stayed quiet.

That problem was easier. There was a movement to correct and a clear result when he corrected it. If he worked carefully, the blade went where he intended.

Here, being alive and strong didn't tell him what to do next.

He sheathed the sword and leaned it against the wall. No enemy's blade forced him to remain in this room. Neither did a contract require him to keep hoping every night.

Shi Feng thought, I can leave. The thought didn't make him feel free. It made him realize how much he'd wanted to stay.

Behind the kitchen wall, the dishes stopped moving. She remained there for a little while before returning. He didn't call her. If she needed a quiet moment, she could have one without explaining herself to him.

He folded the cleaning cloth and put it away. The little mirror beside her bed caught the lamp's light. He looked away from it before remembering another evening in which her reflection smiled at him.

Ling Qingzhu returned after washing the dishes. She stood beside the screen and looked at him.

“Are you going to keep sleeping there?” Ling Qingzhu asked.

He glanced at his bedding corner. The new quilt lay folded above the old blanket.

“Tonight,” Shi Feng replied.

She heard the word and felt uneasy. She wanted to ask about tomorrow, but pride and fear made her hesitate.

He closed the book and put it into his pack. Then he took the medicine he retained from the day's work and went to the kitchen to cultivate.

His qi answered readily. His foundation remained firm. His cultivation path was still his own, and the tournament still waited. He hadn't forgotten either just because another part of his life was breaking. The pills strengthened him without resistance, and the process required enough attention to keep him still for a time.

Afterward, he sat with the empty wrapping in his hand.

He still loved her. Discovering a painful difference didn't switch that off. He wanted to hear her call him back into the room, then hated that he was waiting for it.

No call came.

When he returned, the lamp burned low beside the screen. Ling Qingzhu was awake, but her breathing became careful when he spread the bedding.

He lay down without saying anything. Four steps remained between them, the same as on the first night.

He never noticed the distance so much before. Behind the screen, the lamp stayed lit until long after the lane outside became quiet.