Chapter 127 — A Room of His Own

CHAPTER 127

A Room of His Own

“No more orders before the tournament,” Shi Feng said, setting the final boxes on Gao Yuan's table.

The furnace owner looked at the seals and immediately began worrying about empty rooms.

“You could take one more,” Gao Yuan said. “I know a buyer with good herbs.”

“Then introduce him to someone else,” Shi Feng replied.

“Someone else will want a fee,” Gao Yuan complained.

“So will I,” Shi Feng said.

Gao Yuan sighed. Shi Feng paid the last room charge, collected his own tools, and left the rented furnace clean. He didn't owe the yard anything except the normal mess Gao Yuan somehow considered part of its charm.

At the gate, Yan Meizhen waited with two empty carrying cases. She inspected her last order, checked the quantities, and handed over the balance.

“You'll return at a higher price,” Yan Meizhen said.

“If I return with better pills,” Shi Feng replied.

“Men always promise the improvement after naming the increase,” Yan Meizhen said.

“You're planning to resell these at a higher price tomorrow,” Shi Feng replied.

She laughed without denying it. Their business ended with paid balances and no promises of lifelong friendship.

That suited him. He couldn't bear another arrangement pretending to explain things it never touched.

Shi Feng thought, Don't bring her into every conversation. Yan Meizhen didn't know his private hurt, and it wasn't her responsibility to cure it. He put away the spirit stones and carried the empty cases toward the main street.

He rented a small room at Yonghe Inn beside the canal, paid for several nights and accepted Kang Fu's key. One bed, one table, one chair. Choosing it wasn't the same as moving into it. He still had belongings at home and a decision Ling Qingzhu deserved to hear.

That evening he told her he would move the next morning. She asked for how long. He couldn't answer honestly, so he didn't give her a date.

Shi Feng rolled his bedding after sunrise.

Ling Qingzhu sat behind the screen, listening to the cloth move. Usually he folded the blanket, washed, and began heating water. This morning he tied the bedding shut.

“You're taking the new quilt,” Ling Qingzhu said.

“You gave it to me,” Shi Feng replied.

She looked at him through the space beside the screen. He wasn't discarding her gift. Somehow that made his decision harder to dismiss as anger.

He put the bundle away in the storage ring. The ring's space made packing simple. It couldn't make deciding what belonged to him pleasant.

His clothes, sword notes, medicine tools, and remaining ingredients went first. The knife followed. He left her bottles on the kitchen shelf, clearly marked, and took only the jars he'd kept for his own use.

She came out when he lifted the last pack.

“You don't have to hurry,” Ling Qingzhu said.

“There's no hurry,” Shi Feng replied.

He checked the floor once. The little pale storage bag lay beside the folded private agreement. He picked up the paper and left the bag on the table.

“You forgot that,” Ling Qingzhu said.

“It's yours,” Shi Feng replied.

He didn't offer another explanation of the payment. He already gave one when the debt began. Repeating it now wouldn't tell her why he was leaving.

She looked at the bag, then back at him. He thought she would say something about it, but her attention moved to the sword at his waist.

“Where are you staying?” Ling Qingzhu asked.

“Yonghe Inn,” Shi Feng replied. “Until I leave for Qingyun City.”

There was no secret destination. He wasn't hiding so she would have to chase him across the capital. He needed a different room and the space to decide his own next step.

She nodded slowly, as if learning the address made this an ordinary change of plans.

“The inn's food won't be as good,” Ling Qingzhu said.

“Then I'll eat elsewhere,” Shi Feng replied.

Her attempted smile disappeared. He saw it and felt the familiar urge to make the moment easier for her. He didn't know how to do that without pretending nothing had changed.

Shi Feng thought, Don't stay because leaving hurts. That isn't a reason to keep doing this.

He lifted the empty carrying box he still used for the street stall. She moved aside at the door, then stopped him with a hand on his sleeve.

“We haven't ended the marriage,” Ling Qingzhu said.

“I know,” Shi Feng replied.

“People will talk,” Ling Qingzhu added, frightened by how little the first answer secured.

“They've talked since the first day,” Shi Feng said. “This isn't for them.”

She let go. He waited a moment, hoping she would ask about what he actually felt instead of what others might say.

She couldn't find the words quickly enough.

He went through the courtyard and opened the gate. The pear tree's shadow lay across the same little table. One cup sat near the edge, where she liked it in the morning.

He looked at it once and left.

Jiang Meilan intercepted him near the lane's entrance. She looked at the carrying box, then toward the gate behind him.

“You're moving?” Jiang Meilan asked.

“My things,” Shi Feng replied.

“And the courtyard?” Jiang Meilan asked, immediately worried about losing rent.

“Paid until the agreed date,” Shi Feng said. “Ling Qingzhu is still there.”

The landlady looked relieved, then curious. He didn't wait for the second feeling to become a question.

“Don't add charges because one tenant leaves,” Shi Feng said. “You already tried charging because one arrived.”

Jiang Meilan shut her mouth. He walked on without discussing his household with the lane.

At Yonghe Inn, Kang Fu offered to carry the box for an extra spirit stone. Shi Feng carried it himself. The innkeeper then offered hot water, which was included in the room price, and looked annoyed when Shi Feng remembered.

“You've got a good memory, Young Master Shi,” Kang Fu said.

“Try giving me less to remember,” Shi Feng replied.

He shut the door and put the box beside the table. His things were moved. There was nothing left to delay the quiet.

He sat on the bed but didn't unfold the quilt. For months, his place was a corner on someone else's side of a screen. Now he had a whole bed, and he would've traded it for the evening before she spoke about payment.

The wish made him angry with himself. He couldn't purchase yesterday either.

After a while, he stood and checked his road provisions. He sharpened the ordinary knife, inspected the sword's sheath, and put the representative's token where he could reach it easily.

His hands knew the work. They helped him continue when his thoughts didn't.

Ling Qingzhu stayed by the gate after his footsteps faded. The bowls still stood in pairs. His cup remained because he had bought it for the household, not because he needed an excuse to return.

At noon she bought enough food for two before remembering. By evening the second bowl had cooled beneath its cover. She warmed it, then stopped before calling his name.

The pale bag lay on the table where he left it. She pushed it aside without opening it. Neither had filed to end the marriage. The corner opposite her bed was empty all the same.