Chapter 141 — White Crane's Steward

CHAPTER 141

White Crane's Steward

Han Zheng chose the medicine street for his complaint because there were enough people to hear him.

Shi Feng had just left a shop with cooling sand for his practice furnace. He saw the White Crane steward beside a tea stall and would have continued walking if Han Zheng hadn't stepped into the middle of the lane.

“The boy who wouldn't kneel,” Han Zheng said. “You remember how to bow now, after all.”

Several shoppers stopped. Two White Crane disciples stood behind Han Zheng, looking as though they wished they had chosen another errand.

Shi Feng put the sand packet in his everyday bag.

“I bowed to Xie Wenyuan,” Shi Feng said. “He was courteous.”

Han Zheng's mouth tightened.

“Wenyuan underestimated you,” Han Zheng said.

“He accepted the result,” Shi Feng replied. “You should ask him how.”

Someone beside the tea stall laughed into a cup. Han Zheng turned toward the sound, and the man became very interested in the tea leaves.

Shi Feng didn't draw his sword or release pressure. A steward's wounded pride wasn't a reason to damage a busy street.

Han Zheng clearly wanted anger. He was less comfortable with a man who had errands to finish.

“White Crane is attached to Martial Palace,” Han Zheng said. “A first-round victory doesn't put you above a Great Sect's judgment.”

“Then let Martial Palace judge what it sees,” Shi Feng replied.

The answer reached the nearby shoppers. White Crane's connection sounded less impressive when the steward had to announce it after losing.

Shi Feng stepped around him.

Han Zheng didn't reach out.

Lu Qingxue waited outside the White Crane lodging until Han Zheng returned. She had sent the younger disciples to the arena notice board, leaving no audience for what she wanted to ask.

The steward saw her expression and slowed.

“You shouldn't linger in these streets alone,” Han Zheng said.

“I want to see the old treatment correspondence,” Lu Qingxue replied.

Han Zheng's hand stopped on the door latch.

“That matter is closed,” Han Zheng said.

“The internal report described dormant meridians,” Lu Qingxue said. “The public account said destroyed. Who approved the change?”

A cart rattled past behind her. Neither spoke until its wheels had faded.

Han Zheng looked toward the empty stairwell.

“Your elders wanted the engagement ended cleanly,” Han Zheng said.

“That's not what I asked,” Lu Qingxue replied.

The steward frowned. He had given the same sort of answer for years and seldom needed a second one.

Lu Qingxue kept looking at him.

“I signed the public copy,” Han Zheng said at last. “A dormant network with no remedy was of no practical use to anyone. You had a future in the sect.”

“And he had a future in the town,” Lu Qingxue said.

Han Zheng's patience broke.

“He stood on a platform today because he found something elsewhere,” Han Zheng said. “Would a different word have healed him then? Did I hide a medicine that could restore him?”

“No,” Lu Qingxue replied. “You hid the difference between not knowing how and knowing it was impossible.”

Han Zheng opened the door.

“Don't make an enemy of your own sect over an old marriage arrangement,” Han Zheng said.

Lu Qingxue didn't follow him inside.

She found Shi Feng near the public furnace suppliers. He had stopped to inspect a stand for a small cauldron, measuring its height against his own hand.

Lu Qingxue waited until the seller moved away.

“Han Zheng signed the destroyed-meridians account,” Lu Qingxue said.

Shi Feng looked up. He set the stand back where he'd found it.

“Did he admit that to you?” Shi Feng asked.

“Yes,” Lu Qingxue replied. “He said there was no remedy, so the distinction didn't matter.”

Shi Feng remembered the courtyard in Qingshi. His aunt had stood between him and people who felt entitled to decide what remained of his life. The report might not have cured him. That didn't make its concealment harmless.

Lu Qingxue held a newly sealed note alongside the original clinic record she had sent him in Qingshi.

“I wrote what he said while I still remembered it exactly,” Lu Qingxue said. “I put my seal on it.”

Shi Feng accepted the signed note and read the short account, then gently pressed the older clinic copy back into her hand.

“Keep the record. You were the only one who sent it,” Shi Feng said quietly. “It doesn't matter now. It mattered then.”

Lu Qingxue lowered her eyes, her fingers closing around the paper.

“I know,” Lu Qingxue said.

He folded the new note into his bag, his manner easy and unguarded.

Lu Qingxue watched his hand leave the bag.

“You don't have to be kind to make me feel better,” Lu Qingxue said.

“I'm not saying it to make you feel better,” Shi Feng replied gently. “You sent the truth when nobody else in that hall did.”

She nodded, a faint warmth touching her eyes. When Shi Feng turned back toward the counter and saw Ling Qingzhu beneath the awning at the end of the row, his expression cooled at once; he gave her only a brief nod before facing the seller again.

Ling Qingzhu saw them from the other end of the suppliers' row. She had come for a practice medicine and stopped beneath the awning when she recognised Lu Qingxue.

She had heard the quiet warmth in his voice when he told Lu Qingxue to keep the record, and she had felt the immediate distance when his eyes met hers and offered only a nod.

A sharp, unmistakable jealousy stung her chest.

He had kept a small, genuine kindness for the girl who had sent him one honest report in Qingshi, while for his wife he left only polite stone. Ling Qingzhu turned back to the medicine counter with her throat tight.

The furnace seller returned with the price of the stand. Shi Feng paid, and Lu Qingxue moved aside so the man could wrap it.

There was no reason to stretch their conversation into a walk through the city.

“I'll return to the lodging,” Lu Qingxue said.

Shi Feng nodded. She left without asking whether he blamed her, forgave her, or remembered how they had once spoken. He appreciated that more than he could have appreciated another apology made to win an answer.

At the corner, two White Crane disciples were reading the betting board. One saw Lu Qingxue and hurried to tell her Xie Wenyuan had been invited to observe a Martial Palace training session.

Life in the sect would continue. Her chief disciple's defeat would become a lesson, then a story, then something younger disciples exaggerated after dinner.

The judgment made in Qingshi had stayed with Shi Feng much longer.

He lifted the wrapped stand and headed back to the inn.

On the way, he passed Han Zheng again. The steward stood beneath a Martial Palace notice, speaking to a clerk in respectful tones entirely unlike those he had used in the lane.

Shi Feng didn't stop.

He had the report and the acknowledgment. He also had a furnace that needed a level base before tomorrow's practice.

Of those things, the furnace was the one still capable of improving his evening.

Upstairs, he set the stand beneath the cauldron and locked Han Zheng's signed admission beside the Pavilion physicians' copy inside his ring—a complete docket ready for the day he returned to Qingshi Town.