Chapter 303 — Paid in Full

CHAPTER 303

Paid in Full

Gongsun Ce arrived at the stall at dusk, carrying a heavy cloth bag and the stiff face of a man who had lost a bet.

“Champion,” Gongsun Ce said.

“Prince,” Shi Feng said.

The last customer had gone. Zhu Liu was stacking the empty herb jars, and Sima Lan was closing the ledger, which meant the day's figures had pleased her. Behind them, the elders' trays still sat on the table, covered with a cloth.

Gongsun Ce set the bag down. It landed with a deep, expensive sound.

“Two hundred spirit stones,” Gongsun Ce said. “The survival wager. Once spoken, even four horses cannot pull back a gentleman's word. I said you wouldn't live through the ninth bolt, and you did. I've counted it three times.”

“You bet against me?” Shi Feng asked.

“For the ledger,” Gongsun Ce said stiffly. “Nothing personal. I’d have worn white and told the Hall what it had lost if you’d died.” He glanced at Shi Feng. “And I’d have meant it. Don’t look so pleased about the money.”

Sima Lan opened the bag, counted by the handful, and nodded.

“Correct,” Sima Lan said.

Gongsun Ce took out his tiny brush and the black notebook. He wrote slowly, each character the size of a grain of rice, then turned the page around.

Wager: survival. Lost. Paid in full.

Shi Feng read it. There was a gap where a sentence usually went.

“You didn't write that it doesn't count,” Shi Feng said.

“He Zhen counted all nine in front of three hundred people,” Gongsun Ce said bitterly. “I can’t dispute that.” He snapped the notebook shut. “Don’t expect me to be this agreeable about the next wager.”

“Understood,” Shi Feng said.

“Good.” Gongsun Ce lifted his chin, turned on his heel and walked away. Halfway across the courtyard he glanced back, quickly, to check that Shi Feng was still standing.

Shi Feng was.

Wu Qiang appeared from the shadow of the gate wall, bowing and sweating, with a second and much larger bag held in both arms.

“Senior Attendant Sima,” Wu Qiang said. “Your bet. Ninety stones, nine to one.”

“Eight hundred and ten,” Sima Lan said, “plus the stake.”

“Nine hundred,” Wu Qiang said. “Exactly. May I say that it was a very brave wager, and that nobody in the outer court thought you were serious?”

“You may say it. You may not repeat it.” Sima Lan took the bag. The cash box swallowed the stones, and the lid shut.

“Senior Attendant Sima,” Zhu Liu said, in a very small voice. “Is some of that, perhaps, the stall's—”

“No,” Sima Lan said.

“I didn't—” Zhu Liu said.

“I bet my own stones,” Sima Lan said. “I earned them. I'm keeping them.” She looked at Shi Feng. “Do you object?”

“No,” Shi Feng said.

“Good,” Sima Lan said.

“Why nine to one?” Shi Feng asked.

“I placed it before you entered the cliff,” Sima Lan said. “Those were the odds then.” She hesitated. “Everyone else was mistaken. I wasn’t.”

Zhu Liu put his hand up. “I bet too. Under the name 'Mu Er'. Sixty stones.”

“Whose sixty stones?” Sima Lan asked.

“…The receipt fund's,” Zhu Liu said.

“Return them before the audit,” Sima Lan said.

“Yes, Senior Attendant,” Zhu Liu said.

“With the winnings,” Sima Lan said.

“Yes, Senior Attendant. Thank you, Senior Attendant.” Zhu Liu began writing a receipt for himself.

A dry cough came from behind them. Elder Qian Mo stood at the edge of the lamplight with his abacus held in both hands, thin and nervous.

“Disciple Shi,” Qian Mo said. “The gifts. I was told to count them. I counted. The Treasury voucher, in particular, is... nonessential.”

“It's a voucher for two hundred contribution points,” Shi Feng said. “From you.”

“From the Treasury,” Qian Mo said. “Which is not the same as from me. I would be willing, as a courtesy, to buy it back. At forty percent.”

“Ninety,” Sima Lan said.

“Fifty,” Qian Mo said.

“Eighty-five. And the thunder-silk belt,” Sima Lan said.

“Sixty, for both!” Qian Mo said.

“Eighty. Final.” Sima Lan lifted her chalk. “Or the voucher gets spent on shoes.”

Qian Mo stiffened and turned green. Shi Feng decided not to ask about the shoes. Sima Lan had found the argument the treasurer feared.

“Seventy-five,” Qian Mo said. “And we do not mention the shoes.”

“Done,” Shi Feng said.

The abacus clicked. The stones were counted into his palm. Qian Mo bowed stiffly and left with the voucher and the belt held tightly to his chest.

“You'd have taken seventy,” Sima Lan said.

“Yes,” Shi Feng said.

“I know,” Sima Lan said. She turned to the covered trays. “The rest goes to stock. The herbs, the cloth, the cups.” She lifted the cloth from the third tray, and stopped.

The pale green package sat alone at the end.

Shi Feng picked it up. The silk was soft and cool, with a small white flower stitched in the corner. Inside lay a single pill, round and plain, the colour of river jade. It had no seal, no mark and no label.

“Unmarked,” Sima Lan said. “Unmarked pills don't go on my table.”

“It's not for the table,” Shi Feng said.

“Valley silk,” Sima Lan said.

“Is it,” Shi Feng said.

“It's from Hundred Flower Valley,” Sima Lan said. “Their embroidery is all over the Duanyang markets. I've priced it.”

“Then it's priced,” Shi Feng said.

He folded the silk around the pill, exactly as it had been, and slid it into his ring. He didn't look at anyone. His other hand, he noticed, had tightened around the purse at his waist.

Sima Lan noticed his tightened hand. She picked up the chalk, then set it down. This time she chose not to write an entry.

“Senior Brother Shi!” Zhu Liu burst back in, from the gate. “A man from Duanyang City is asking if we sell Nascent Soul tribulation pills! He says he heard it in a teahouse! There's no wall that keeps out the wind!”

“We don't,” Shi Feng said.

“He wants three!” Zhu Liu said.