Chapter 273 — Did You Read It

CHAPTER 273

Did You Read It

“Twelve hundred and forty-four stones,” Sima Lan said.

She stood at the gate with the ledger open on her forearm and her pen behind her ear. Behind her, the Valley's white carriages were being lined up on the road, and servants in pale green were stacking trunks. The morning air smelled of horses and lantern oil.

“Lanterns, four hundred,” Sima Lan said. “Tea, seven hundred. That's the eleven hundred the Sect Master keeps mourning. Tents, one hundred and forty. Candles, four.”

“Candles?” Shi Feng said.

“Elder Qian Mo counted the candles,” Sima Lan said, turning the page. “The lodging statement’s unpaid, with interest accruing. Income: four hundred and thirty for the joint, eighty in spar fees, and Hou Ping’s thirty-five, collected on the sand.”

“Thirty-five?” Shi Feng asked.

“Group rate,” Sima Lan said. “It was your idea.”

“So we lost,” Shi Feng said.

“Five hundred and forty-five in, twelve hundred and forty-four out. We lost six hundred and ninety-nine stones and gained three sects' worth of rumours,” Sima Lan said. “The rumours are ahead.”

Zhu Liu knelt beside a Valley trunk and wrote its farewell receipt. Lin Langtian ate the last chestnuts by the gate. Martial Palace had left at dawn without speaking; Hao Wen’s exhausted inspectors had run ahead of the main party.

“Ten days,” Lin Langtian said. “Three sects, one gathering, no deaths. Li Changyuan says he spent a year of his life and wants it back.”

“Where is he?” Shi Feng asked.

“Sweeping the east terrace,” Lin Langtian said, cracking a chestnut. “He says he isn’t sulking. I wouldn’t ask him twice.” He glanced at the road. “Junior Brother, you know the Valley’s about to leave.”

“I can see the carriages,” Shi Feng said.

“And there is a particular carriage,” Lin Langtian said.

“There are twelve,” Shi Feng said.

“And a particular person in it.” Lin Langtian pointed the chestnut. “Go say something. Whoever tied the bell must be the one to untie it.”

“Say what?” Shi Feng asked.

“Anything,” Lin Langtian said. “A bill. A remark about the weather. Su Wanning has told the whole east terrace about the cloak. When a woman takes thirty stones off you for a cloak, Junior Brother, it is considered rude to stay silent.”

“It's considered a deduction,” Shi Feng said.

“It's considered a confession!” Lin Langtian cried. “Lesson thirteen! Follow it!”

Shi Feng did not follow it. He stayed where he was.

Mu Shuyun came down the road first, with He Zhen walking beside her. The Valley elder stopped at the gate and bowed to Sima Lan, not to Shi Feng, and Sima Lan returned the bow exactly.

“The Valley is grateful for the lodging,” Mu Shuyun said. “And for the lesson in hospitality. Courtesy calls for courtesy in return, and I'd like to hear one day how you managed the inspectors.”

“It was a draught,” Shi Feng said.

“A serious draught,” Mu Shuyun said. Her face did not move at all. “Please give my regards to Elder Li.”

“He isn't an elder,” Shi Feng said. “He's the night sweeper.”

“Of course,” Mu Shuyun said.

She walked on to her carriage. Her sash was a deeper green than anyone else's, and it didn't move at all as she walked. Behind her, Valley disciples were climbing in. Lin Yue ducked into the second carriage, still looking baffled. From the fourth, a hand emerged waving a scarf.

“Write to me!” Su Wanning shouted. “Not you, you, I mean Big Sis, no, Mmph, mmph!”

The hand was pulled back inside. The scarf stayed.

The last carriage was the plainest. Its curtain was white, with a single silver thread along the hem. Ling Qingzhu stood beside it, on the road, with one hand resting on the door. Her veil was down. She was not looking at the gate.

Then, between one breath and the next, she was.

Ling Qingzhu crossed the stones. Servants made way for her. Sima Lan lowered her eyes to the ledger, Zhu Liu stopped mid-word, and Lin Langtian quietly stepped back. None of them tried to interrupt.

Ling Qingzhu stopped beside Shi Feng, close enough that her sleeve brushed his. She did not look at him either. She looked down the road, where the hills turned blue.

“Did you read it?” Ling Qingzhu asked.

She meant the letter. A Valley courier had delivered it to the Qingyun inn three months ago, before the final, sealed with a pale green thread. He had read it the night it arrived. He had read it again at dawn. It lay in his storage ring now, under the blue cloak, and in three months he had not written one word back.

“I read it,” Shi Feng said.

She nodded once.

She didn’t ask what he thought of the letter. Her thumb rubbed the edge of her sleeve while she stood beside him. Ling Qingzhu looked relieved to have the answer, but saying anything more seemed beyond her.

“Good,” Ling Qingzhu said.

She walked back to her carriage, and the silver thread flickered in the sun. The curtain fell. The coachman called, and the first horse shook out its harness.

The Valley's carriages rolled out of the gate, one after another, and the dust rose and settled. The morning grew louder. A cart rattled in from the lower road. Zhu Liu began to write again.

Shi Feng stood beside the gatepost with his hands at his sides. The road was empty, and there was nothing to look at.

He watched it for a breath longer than he needed to.