Chapter 256 — Publicity Fee

CHAPTER 256

Publicity Fee

“I won,” Gongsun Ce said.

“You did,” Shi Feng said.

“I was challenged by a Martial Palace inner disciple in front of the entire border market, over a note I never wrote, and I won with three puppets and a bird.” Gongsun Ce held up Yuan Kuang's storage ring between two fingers. “Four hundred people saw it.”

“Four hundred and twelve,” Zhu Liu said. “I counted twice.”

“Four hundred and twelve!” Gongsun Ce rounded on him. “You counted?”

“Senior Brother Shi asked me to write down the crowd,” Zhu Liu said, and stepped behind Sima Lan.

Gongsun Ce faced Shi Feng again. His hair had come loose, the crane circled proudly overhead, and strangers were still calling his name. He was pleased with the victory and furious with the man who’d arranged it. He hadn’t decided which feeling should come first.

“You signed my name,” Gongsun Ce said again, more slowly.

“You said the whole region would know it,” Shi Feng said. “It's a start.”

“I meant by my own deeds!” Gongsun Ce said.

“You did win it yourself,” Shi Feng said. “I didn’t move a single puppet. I only made sure people came to see.”

Sima Lan stepped forward. She had been waiting for exactly this pause. In her left hand was a sheet of paper, written in her small upright hand, with a column of figures down the right side.

“Publicity services,” Sima Lan said. “One note, drafted and signed. One announcement, delivered to Martial Palace's record office by Sky Pavilion post. One challenge, arranged. One crowd of four hundred and twelve, at the going rate of a tenth of a stone a head.”

“A tenth of a... that's forty-one stones!” Gongsun Ce said.

“Forty-one and two-tenths,” Sima Lan said. “I've rounded down. Chalk is extra.”

Gongsun Ce stared at the sheet, then at Shi Feng, then at the ring in his hand.

“I'm not paying,” Gongsun Ce said. “I didn't commission it. I was ambushed.”

“The ring is yours,” Shi Feng said. “The publicity is mine. They're different ledgers.”

“That's an outrage,” Gongsun Ce said. “You borrowed a flower to offer to the Buddha.”

“Then add that to your complaint,” Shi Feng said. “You’re still holding the ring.”

The prince opened his mouth, and for a moment seemed to be considering a speech. Then he closed it, took the little black notebook from his belt, and began to write, very fast. He stopped, tore out the page and held it up.

Wager two: I top the next Assessment. Stake: two puppet cores. The bill is added to the stake.

“Puppet cores,” Sima Lan said, in a different voice.

“Two,” Gongsun Ce said. “The stake was to be doubled. I'm doubling it with something that cannot be bought in this market.” He tapped the page. “Take it or don't.”

Shi Feng read the line. The cores in Gongsun Ce's puppets were small carved crystals, each holding a thread of living qi, each built by hand over months. They were worth far more than forty-one stones. A rival who bet them was a rival who meant to win.

“Accepted,” Shi Feng said. “Payable in the usual currency.”

“You still don't know what that is,” Gongsun Ce said.

“I'll find out,” Shi Feng said.

Gongsun Ce snorted, tucked the notebook away and strode off through the cheering stalls, with the crane circling above him and a growing crowd of strangers trailing behind.

Sima Lan folded the sheet and put it in her ledger.

“He didn't pay,” Zhu Liu said.

“He bet,” Sima Lan said. “It's the same. Later, with interest.”

That evening the hut smelled of sun.

Shi Feng stepped through the door, and the bedding was waiting. The quilt lay folded across the foot of the bed in three exact thirds, the pillow square against the wall. She'd aired it all on the line behind the hut that afternoon, per the contract, and it had held the warmth of the day.

Sima Lan was bent over the bed with her back to him, tucking the last corner of the sheet. She wore her usual plain robe. Her ledger and a stick of chalk lay on the table.

“Done,” Sima Lan said, straightening. She brushed her sleeves. “Tomorrow it rains, so I've moved your cauldron under the eaves. Your tea is on the table. The ledger is balanced and tomorrow's herbs are weighed.”

“Thank you,” Shi Feng said.

“Don't thank me. It's in the contract,” Sima Lan said. She collected the pillow cover she'd set aside. “Is there anything else?”

Shi Feng considered the bed.

Shi Feng remembered Lin Langtian telling him to ask a question even when he knew the likely answer. It was probably foolish advice. Looking at Sima Lan beside the freshly made bed, he felt like trying it anyway.

He asked it anyway.

“Will you warm my bed too?” Shi Feng asked, keeping his face straight.

For a moment there was no sound in the hut at all.

Sima Lan froze with the pillow cover in her hands. Then her neck, cheeks, and ears flushed red. She was embarrassed and angry that he’d caught her off guard. Shi Feng watched her struggle to find an answer.

Her mouth opened.

Nothing came out.

She stood there for what felt like a long time. The pillow cover began, very slowly, to crumple in her fingers. Her eyes were fixed on a point a little to the left of Shi Feng's shoulder.

“…” Sima Lan said.

She put the pillow cover down on the bed with extreme care. She turned. She walked to the door, opened it and stepped through, and the door closed behind her with a very quiet click.

Shi Feng stood alone in the middle of the hut.

The chalk still lay on the table beside the ledger. In all her days with the contract she had never once left it behind.

Above him, a roof tile creaked.

“Do not mind me,” Lin Langtian whispered through the rafters.