Chapter 142 — A Pill on the Doorstep

CHAPTER 142

A Pill on the Doorstep

The bottle stood beside his room door when Shi Feng returned from breakfast.

It was wrapped in a clean square of cloth, with a narrow paper strip under the stopper. He recognized the handwriting before he read the words.

For recovery between matches. No need to answer.

Ling Qingzhu's name appeared at the bottom.

Shi Feng stood in the corridor with one hand on his key. The window at the far end was open, letting in the smell of steamed grain from the kitchen. Someone downstairs argued over whether the tournament gate would admit a child without charging full price.

Ordinary morning sounds. They made the little bottle harder to look at.

Kang Liu came up the stairs carrying a folded quilt. He saw what Shi Feng held and slowed.

“Your wife came early,” Kang Liu said. “She didn't ask me to wake you.”

“Fairy Ling left this?” Shi Feng asked.

The innkeeper heard the change in address and shifted the quilt against his chest.

“Yes,” Kang Liu replied. “I told her you were eating in the back court. She said the bottle could wait here.”

Shi Feng nodded and unlocked his room.

Kang Liu hesitated by the stairs. He had the expression of a man with a helpful observation pressing against his teeth.

“The broth was good this morning,” Shi Feng said.

“It was,” Kang Liu replied after a pause. “I'll tell the cook.”

He carried the quilt away.

Shi Feng set the bottle on the table and checked the stopper. The seal was unbroken. Inside lay three pale pills suitable for recovering Foundation Establishment qi after a demanding fight.

Good medicine, properly stored.

He didn't invent a fault with them because they came from her.

His first match hadn't left anything to recover. He had used less qi than a short furnace practice and taken no injury. Even if he needed medicine later, he had his own supply.

He held the paper strip between two fingers.

No need to answer.

Shi Feng folded the note around the unopened bottle, placed it in the back corner of his ring untouched, and took out his own refined pills to cultivate.

The pills carried warmth into his foundation. He guided it through the restored meridians at an even pace, keeping the devouring flow quiet. Nothing about the medicine hurt him. The remembered fears about failed pills belonged to another person's misunderstanding, not his body's reality.

That had been true in Great Liang too.

He opened his eyes when the gain settled and reached for his practice notes.

At the southern lodging, Hongxiu found Ling Qingzhu sitting beside an unopened breakfast tray.

The white veil remained over her face. Her travelling cloak lay folded across the other chair, and the repaired silver clasp still held her black hair.

“Did you see him?” Hongxiu asked.

“No,” Ling Qingzhu replied.

Hongxiu moved the porridge bowl nearer her hand.

“You went all that way,” Hongxiu said.

“I took medicine,” Ling Qingzhu replied. “I didn't take a reason he had to open his door.”

Hongxiu didn't immediately answer. She had expected anger, perhaps tears, perhaps another question about what Shi Feng was thinking. Ling Qingzhu's quiet made those prepared comforts useless.

Ling Qingzhu lifted the bowl.

The porridge had cooled. She ate it anyway.

“I used to think he would tell me if something truly mattered,” Ling Qingzhu said.

Hongxiu sat on the edge of the other chair.

“He did tell you some things,” Hongxiu replied.

“I know,” Ling Qingzhu said.

There was no argument left to hide behind. He had told her about the promised money. He had told her when work ran late. He had made room for her bed and kept eating smaller meals without turning each one into an accusation.

She understood the separate moments now. Together, they were harder to bear.

Outside, Ling Rong spoke to the carriage driver. The clan wanted a short report about the first round and the next draw. Ling Qingzhu set the bowl down and reached for paper.

Her family still had business to conduct. Missing Shi Feng didn't remove it.

Shi Feng spent the middle of the day at the arena's open practice court. Candidates were allowed to use the ordinary stone lanes until sunset, provided they kept their techniques inside the marked spaces.

At the practice gate, an attendant checked the sword's wrapping before allowing the sword into the marked lane. A loose grip had sent another candidate's blade over the wall that morning. Shi Feng tightened the final knot, tested a short, controlled cut and presented it again. The attendant nodded. He entered without needing anyone to fetch his weapon from a neighbouring roof.

Duan Yichen was practising short sabre cuts. He stopped after the seventh and shook out his wrist.

“Too much watching yesterday,” Duan Yichen said. “My hand kept trying somebody else's angle.”

“Was it better?” Shi Feng asked.

“No,” Duan Yichen replied. “That's why I'm annoyed.”

Shi Feng drew his sword. Returning Tide brought the edge back along his forearm before turning it outward. The weapon's balance was familiar, though the grip had worn smooth beneath his thumb.

He would need to replace the wrapping soon.

Duan Yichen watched one sequence, then returned to his own cuts. Neither interrupted the other to explain what a useful friendship they might become.

After practice, they sat on the wall to drink water. A young candidate hurried through the court with a fresh notice from the officials.

The second draw would be posted before evening.

Duan Yichen stood immediately. Shi Feng finished his water first.

He had no preference strong enough to make the names change by reaching the board sooner.

At the inn, the little recovery bottle remained untouched inside his ring. The paper wrapped around it had gained a crease where his thumb had held it too long.

He remembered that crease while tightening the new cloth around his sword hilt.

Then he tested the grip and went to see the draw.