Chapter 221 — The Purse She Wouldn't Open

CHAPTER 221

The Purse She Wouldn't Open

“Day three,” Zhu Liu said. “Customers: none.”

Zhu Liu wrote the result small enough to leave plenty of room beneath it. He was embarrassed by the empty page. Three days at the gate, and he still hadn’t issued a customer’s receipt.

Shi Feng didn't answer. He was feeding the portable furnace another scoop of charcoal and watching the gate. Outer-court disciples streamed past with their buckets and baskets. They still read the board, and they still sped up afterward.

“Busy morning, champion?” Qiu Bao called from the gatepost. “I can hardly get through all these customers!”

Qiu Bao leaned on the gatepost with three friends. He was a stocky outer-court disciple at the peak of Qi Condensation, and he'd laughed at the stall since the first morning. Now he walked up and kicked the empty stool, gently, to make a point.

“One set in, one pill out,” Qiu Bao read. “Do you know how many alchemists have said that? The Pavilion has been in business for three thousand years, and even they take sixty percent!”

“They do,” Shi Feng said.

“So you're either a fool or a liar,” Qiu Bao said.

“If you aren’t buying, move your foot off the stool,” Shi Feng said. “Zhu Liu needs it.”

His friends laughed. Qiu Bao scowled, because the answer hadn't given him anything to push against.

“Fine!” Qiu Bao said. “Listen, everyone! If this stall ever makes one real pill for one real customer, this Qiu Bao will carry the cauldron for a month! Every morning! On my own back! A gentleman's word can't be caught even by four horses!”

One friend nervously reminded Qiu Bao that he could barely carry his own bedroll. A cauldron every morning for a month was a much bigger promise, and people were already listening.

“Quiet!” Qiu Bao said.

“Noted,” Shi Feng said. “Zhu Liu, write it down.”

Zhu Liu wrote it down with enormous care. Qiu Bao went red and stalked off. His friends followed, and one of them looked back at the receipt book with a trace of worry.

It was nearly midmorning when the carriage came up the outer road.

It was small, black and lacquered, with a curtain stamped with the royal crest of Great Liang. A driver reined in beside the gate. A thin man in a courier's cap stepped down holding a heavy brocade purse in both hands, like something that might spill.

The outer-court disciples stopped what they were doing.

“That's a royal crest!”

“What's a royal carriage doing at the outer gate?”

“Who is it for?”

“Isn't there a princess in the outer court?”

“…”

Sima Lan was already walking down the road from the dormitories. She wore her plain grey outer-court robe, and the hem had been mended in three places with three slightly different greys. She carried a wooden bowl against her hip. She didn't hurry, and she didn't slow down.

The courier hurried to meet her and bowed so low that his cap nearly fell.

“Princess Sima Lan,” the courier Yin Kui said. “His Majesty's household sends the quarter's stipend. Three hundred spirit stones. The household begs that Your Highness will accept it this time.”

“Return it,” Sima Lan said.

“Princess, please, at least open the purse,” Yin Kui said.

“Opening it means accepting it,” Sima Lan said. “Take it back, Yin Kui. Don’t make the journey longer by following me.”

She didn't stop. She walked past him, past the carriage and past the staring crowd, with her bowl still held against her hip. Yin Kui trotted after her for four steps, holding the purse out like an offering. Then he understood that she wasn't going to turn her head, and he stood still in the middle of the road.

“Three hundred,” someone whispered.

“Three hundred spirit stones, and she didn't even look at it!”

“Is she crazy?”

“She's a princess. They're all crazy.”

“A month of porridge for the whole dormitory!”

“…”

Shi Feng watched her from behind the cauldron.

Shi Feng knew how little outer disciples had to spend. Sima Lan bought her own bowls and wore a robe mended in three places. Three hundred stones would have made her life easier. She had refused even to break the seal.

He thought, She has no backing here. And she just walked away from three hundred spirit stones in front of forty witnesses.

It wasn't his business. He turned a stick of charcoal over with his tongs and kept his face still.

Yin Kui stood in the road a little longer. Then he climbed back into the carriage with the purse in his lap, still sealed, and the driver turned the horses around. The crowd waited until the wheels were out of sight. Then, all at once, forty people started talking.

Sima Lan reached the end of the line for the dining hall and stood quietly in it. Nobody offered her their place. Nobody had the nerve to speak to her either.

On her way back, she passed the stall.

She did not slow down. She did not look at Shi Feng. But her eyes moved over the wooden board, one line at a time. ALCHEMY. BRING YOUR OWN INGREDIENTS. ONE SET IN, ONE PILL OUT. FEE: ONE TENTH.

She read all of it. Then she read the fee a second time.

Her footsteps didn't change. She went back to the dormitories.

“Senior Brother Shi,” Zhu Liu whispered, “did the princess just read our sign?”

“Yes,” Shi Feng said.

“Does that count as a customer?” Zhu Liu asked.

“No,” Shi Feng said. “Write it down anyway.”

Zhu Liu wrote it down. After a moment he added, in even smaller characters: Possible interest. Then he crossed it out, in case someone checked.