Chapter 344 — A Letter of Thanks

CHAPTER 344

A Letter of Thanks

“Read it again,” Lin Langtian whispered.

“You've read it twice,” Shi Feng said.

“Then read it a third time to me. Slowly,” Lin Langtian begged, leaning closer to the table.

It was a bright morning in hut nine, and the letter lay on the crooked table on a sheet of Sky Pavilion contract paper that had cost eleven stones. Shi Feng's brush had been steady. His handwriting was plain, careful and very polite. Sima Lan stood over the paper with her arms folded and a face that gave away nothing at all.

Shi Feng picked up the sheet and read it aloud without smiling.

“To the Honoured Deacon Kong Hui, Hall of Outer Affairs, Martial Palace. Artificer Hall writes to thank you. Over the past six quarters our tribute from Qingtong, Jinsha and Cuiping has fallen short by six thousand spirit stones. Your Hall saw our difficulty. With great kindness, and through the Qiao house and the Iron Fist Gate, it arranged to cover the sum. Thirty-one jars of friendship gifts reached our Outer Steward as a sign of this generous promise, and we are deeply moved,” Shi Feng read.

Lin Langtian pressed a hand to his chest.

“Our Treasury has not yet received the loan itself,” Shi Feng went on, “so we assume it is on its way. Please deliver it at your convenience. Artificer Hall will charge no interest, in the spirit of friendship, and will issue a receipt. With sincere gratitude, Shi Feng, for the Chief Disciple's Inspection.”

Silence filled the hut.

Lin Langtian took the letter and read it again, then returned to the first line. He was delighted by the trap and took far too much pleasure in every polite phrase.

His unusual silence alarmed Zhu Liu, who waited in the doorway.

“Is he ill?” Zhu Liu whispered.

“He's happy,” Sima Lan said. “It looks worse.”

“'A generous promise,'” Lin Langtian finally said, in a voice that shook. “He thanked them for a promise they never made. A knife hidden in a smile!”

“They sent the jars,” Shi Feng said.

“And no interest!” Lin Langtian exclaimed, pointing at the line.

“They can’t complain about that,” Shi Feng replied.

“Junior Brother,” Lin Langtian said, wiping one eye with a sleeve. “I taught you everything. And I've never been so ashamed of anyone in my life.”

“You said you were proud,” Shi Feng reminded him.

“That too. Shut up and let me feel both,” Lin Langtian said, snatching the letter back.

Sima Lan picked up her brush. She turned to a fresh page and drew three lines across it.

“For the record,” Sima Lan said, “this is how it works. First, if Deacon Kong Hui says it's a bribe, he has confessed to paying another Great Sect's steward, which the Accord forbids. Second, if he says he knows nothing, then thirty-one jars with his Hall's seal were stolen or forged, and Martial Palace must ask the Pavilion to hunt the thief. In front of everyone.”

“And third?” Lin Langtian asked eagerly.

“Third, he pays,” Sima Lan said. “It's the cheapest of the three.”

“And if he sends men?” Zhu Liu asked in a small voice.

“Then they arrive to answer a thank-you letter,” Shi Feng said. “Which is already in the Pavilion's register.”

“How does he know it's in the register?” Lin Langtian asked.

“Because I'm about to put it there,” Shi Feng said.

The Duanyang Sky Pavilion tower was busy at the hour of the morning post.

Shi Feng joined the queue at the counter for open letters, with Sima Lan one step behind him and Lin Langtian pretending to be a stranger twenty paces back. Clerk Du sat behind the glass. He was a thin, sensitive man in the Pavilion's black, and he still looked slightly hurt whenever he saw Shi Feng.

“Open post,” Clerk Du said. “Anyone at any tower may read it on the way. The tower keeps a copy in the register for a year. Three stones.”

“That's what I want,” Shi Feng said.

Clerk Du checked the address, then read more carefully. By the last paragraph he was staring at Shi Feng, amazed that this was meant for open post.

“To Martial Palace?” Clerk Du whispered.

“Yes,” Shi Feng confirmed.

“A thank-you?” Clerk Du asked, still reading.

“That’s what the letter says,” Shi Feng replied.

“With ‘no interest’ in it?” Clerk Du asked in disbelief.

“It's a friendship matter,” Shi Feng said.

In the queue behind him, voices began to murmur.

“Who's sending thanks to Martial Palace?”

“That's the Hall's champion!”

“Did he say 'generous promise'?”

“Open post! They'll all read it!”

“…”

Clerk Du lifted his stamp. He hesitated, and an old injury crossed his face.

“Once or twice?” Clerk Du asked. He asked cautiously, still remembering their earlier disagreement over stamps.

“Twice,” Shi Feng said.

Clerk Du's whole face brightened. He stamped the letter once with a firm hand, then again beside it, then a third time on the register copy because he was happy and felt generous. He tied the red cord with a small flourish.

“Delivered by tomorrow's courier,” Clerk Du said. “Nobody will say it was lost.”

“Thank you, Clerk Du,” Shi Feng said.

“It's an honour,” Clerk Du said, and meant it.

They walked out into the sun. Lin Langtian fell into step on Shi Feng's other side and began to hum.

At the tower steps a runner from the sect gate came dashing up, red in the face. It was Zheng Yu, the gate supervisor's junior, and he had run the whole road from Thousand Forge Peak.

“Senior Brother Shi!” Zheng Yu panted. “Qingtong's smiths are coming up the stair with a red bundle! Master Smith Kang is at the front! It takes six men to carry!”

Shi Feng stopped walking.

Shi Feng remembered the oath he’d tried to refuse. If Master Smith Kang had come himself, the town had clearly taken it seriously.

“What's inside?” Shi Feng asked.

“They said it's an anvil,” Zheng Yu said. “Their very best.”