Chapter 129 — He Already Told Her

CHAPTER 129

He Already Told Her

“Shi Feng,” Ling Qingzhu said.

Only the empty kitchen answered her.

She stood beside the rice jar with one hand over her mouth. His name slipped out before she remembered there was nobody behind the wall to hear it.

She couldn't blame him for leaving without explaining. He explained. He put the empty bag beside her breakfast and asked her to open it.

She remembered her own fingers searching the seams. Nothing was broken. Nothing prevented her from seeing the truth. She simply decided the truth was a trick because she trusted her own certainty more than his words.

The memory made her ashamed enough to sit down. On this same table, he wrote that the promised payment hadn't been received. She told him to keep the debt where she couldn't see it.

He did. He stopped putting it in front of her. She took his silence as proof that he knew she was right.

Ling Qingzhu pressed her hands against her knees. She wanted to find a different explanation, one that left some part of her judgment intact. The full bag in the room refused to provide it.

The fish disappeared first.

She remembered that clearly. There were still two dishes and soup, but no silver carp laid carefully along the plate. She asked why. He said no fish and gave her another bowl of broth.

She thought he was punishing her for refusing a second payment.

Now she saw the butcher's bones differently. He bought them, carried them home, and spent the afternoon making something good from what he could afford. She ate it and complained about what wasn't there.

He didn't owe her expensive meals after being paid nothing. Yet the cheaper food still suited her tastes. He reduced the chili when she complained. He kept the greens from cooking too soft because she disliked them that way.

Those things didn't cost ten thousand spirit stones. They required him to remember her.

Her eyes filled. She wiped them impatiently, but the next memory came before her hand fell.

She watched him count a few spirit stones and called him stingy. She opened her own purse that night. It held enough to buy anything she wanted for supper.

She closed it because she wouldn't reward his greed.

Ling Qingzhu bent forward. The shame hurt worse now that it had somewhere exact to land. It wasn't a vague mistake between two people. She had the means to help, saw his need, and decided her suspicion mattered more.

He still set her bowl down first.

She remembered the well rope. He measured it twice, argued over the price, and made sure it would hold before letting her use the bucket. She told Su Wanning the story as a joke about a husband who counted everything.

Her friend laughed. Shi Feng paid for their evening while she laughed too.

Now she remembered carrying a bucket without worrying whether the rope would break. She treated that small comfort as something the courtyard naturally provided. Someone chose it, bought it, and checked it first.

Not every practical thing was proof of love. She understood that. But she couldn't keep calling the whole person greedy just because he cared whether a merchant cheated him.

She was wrong about his actions before she was wrong about his feelings.

Her gaze moved to the doorway. During the rain, she dried his bedding and pretended she only wanted it out of the kitchen. He thanked her with a smile instead of forcing her to admit the kindness.

He allowed her pride to keep its little excuses. When his own heart finally needed a plain answer, she gave him a bargain.

Ling Qingzhu closed her eyes. She couldn't remember what she paid for the purse string, but she could remember how she wanted him to look when she gave it to him. Why did she imagine his wishes were simpler than hers?

She covered her face. She didn't know when her quiet tears became sobbing.

Later, she went out because she couldn't stay beside the cold stove. The lane looked unchanged. Granny Qin's brazier smoked near the corner, and someone argued over the price of cabbages.

Peng Tao saw her near the fish stall and immediately lifted a fresh carp.

“Young Mistress Ling! Good timing,” Peng Tao called. “I've kept the best one.”

“Did you keep it, or just pick it up?” Ling Qingzhu asked.

The fishmonger laughed without embarrassment. She almost heard Shi Feng answering him instead, calm and unwilling to pay for a story.

“Your husband used to buy these often,” Peng Tao said. “Then he stopped. I thought I'd offended him.”

She looked at the fish and couldn't speak.

“Shall I wrap it?” Peng Tao asked.

“No,” Ling Qingzhu replied.

She stepped away before he could ask another question. Buying an expensive fish wouldn't undo the meals she insulted. It wouldn't bring Shi Feng into the kitchen to cook it.

At the street corner, she remembered Yuelan Terrace.

Su Wanning laughed. Music drifted over the pond. Shi Feng read the bill, then read it again.

Two hundred and eight spirit stones.

She saw him count them out and thought he cared too much about money. She never asked whether the payment she'd given him covered the evening, because she believed it did. She wanted her friend to approve of their life, and he made room for that wish.

He could've refused. He could've chosen a cheaper table and let her be disappointed. Instead he came, listened, and honestly said he enjoyed himself.

On the road home, she took his arm. She told him she was glad he came.

He said he was too.

Ling Qingzhu stopped walking. She remembered the exact warmth of his voice. There wasn't an audience to fool on that quiet road. He wasn't proving anything to a prince or a clan elder.

He was answering her.

She wanted to hear that answer again so badly that her chest hurt.

Before returning to the courtyard, she went to the warehouse street. Ke De recognised her and boasted about paying Shi Feng eight stones for a full day loading carts. She saw the sacks, remembered dust on his sleeves and understood where another part of his time had gone. She left before the foreman could ask for an introduction.

Fang Jingyuan recognized her before she entered his medicine shop. The unmarked Foundation Establishment alchemist immediately straightened his robe and moved a cracked bowl beneath the counter.

“Fairy Ling!” Fang Jingyuan said. “Looking for medicine for the journey? Your husband knows my quality well.”

“That's what I came to ask about,” Ling Qingzhu replied.

His smile faltered. He looked toward the back room, then at the empty doorway behind her.

“Young Master Shi and I always dealt fairly,” Fang Jingyuan said.

“What did he do here?” Ling Qingzhu asked.

The alchemist hesitated. Her expression turned cold enough that he decided a simple answer was safest.

“Pill testing,” Fang Jingyuan replied. “Paid sessions. Nothing hidden.”

“Failed pills?” Ling Qingzhu asked.

“Test batches,” Fang Jingyuan said quickly. “Sometimes flawed. He agreed to the terms before swallowing anything.”

She remembered the smell from the kitchen. A chipped jar stood behind the rice sack. Shi Feng ate from it when she thought he was wasting money on a ridiculous medicine trick.

Her heart shook.

“You paid him to swallow your failures?” Ling Qingzhu asked.

“Five spirit stones a session,” Fang Jingyuan replied. “He insisted on the written rate. I paid it.”

“Did he become ill?” Ling Qingzhu asked.

“He never complained,” Fang Jingyuan replied. “He was unusually suitable. Kept coming back.”

“Did you know what the failed pills would do?” Ling Qingzhu asked.

“That's why I paid for observation,” Fang Jingyuan replied. “I wrote down the ingredients. He knew what he was taking.”

She imagined him hiding discomfort in their small kitchen so he could still cook supper for her without a word of complaint.

“He also bought some waste,” Fang Jingyuan added, eager to show everything was voluntary. “I didn't force it on him. He bargained very hard.”

Ling Qingzhu stared at him. The alchemist finally stopped speaking.

She left without buying anything. Fang Jingyuan watched her go and wondered whether he should offer Shi Feng a lower price next time, just in case.

At home she set the two bags beside the agreement. She took out a sheet to explain why she'd first noticed him, then put it away. A pleasant beginning wouldn't repay the months when she had heard his care as hired work.

He had wanted to care for her. She had heard a price complaint. Even now she was imagining damage without asking whether it was real. Tomorrow she would bring the stones to Yonghe Inn and listen to his answer. She couldn't repair the first refusal by making another one sound kinder.