Chapter 398 — More Than You Can Haggle Down
CHAPTER 398
More Than You Can Haggle Down
The guest court was a small stone yard with a plum tree, a washstand and one room.
Lin Yue led him in, bowed three times and ran. The wall behind her was already lined with green sashes. A row of heads rose above the tiles.
Shi Feng set down the herb case and waited.
He didn't wait long. A door banged somewhere beyond the wall, quick steps crossed the gravel, and the row of heads dropped out of sight all at once.
Ling Qingzhu came in through the gate.
She wore the Valley's green over her violet inner robe, and she had no veil. Her face was pale, paler than at the lakeshore, and there were shadows under her eyes that no one would have dared mention. Her left hand stayed inside her sleeve. She stopped at the plum tree, which put the whole width of the yard between them.
“Article nine,” Ling Qingzhu said.
“It was on the board,” Shi Feng said.
“I know where you read it,” Ling Qingzhu said, drawing a sharp breath. “Do you know how many people have asked whether I’m married today? They started before I even reached this court.”
“How many?” Shi Feng said.
“Three hundred and eleven. I counted. The last one asked if I had a sister,” Ling Qingzhu said.
“The matchmaker,” Shi Feng said.
“Of course it was the matchmaker,” Ling Qingzhu said.
Her thumb pressed hard against the edge of her sleeve. Shi Feng saw it.
“The Valley wrote to Artificer Hall,” Shi Feng said. “I came for the Heart Garden. The gate was closed, so I used the door that was open.”
“You used my name for a door,” Ling Qingzhu said.
“It was the only one that fit,” Shi Feng said.
Ling Qingzhu stared at him, irritated and unable to decide what to accuse him of. He’d come because the Valley asked. He’d also calmly announced their marriage at the gate. Both facts were making her day difficult.
“The Master wrote that letter,” Ling Qingzhu said. “I didn't.”
“I know,” Shi Feng said.
“So who told you to come?” Ling Qingzhu said.
“The letter,” Shi Feng said.
“Only the letter?” Ling Qingzhu said.
“Only the letter,” Shi Feng said.
His thumb found the violet purse string. Ling Qingzhu noticed and paused. She looked from his hand to his face, then waited as though he might add something. Shi Feng said nothing more.
“Hm,” Ling Qingzhu said.
She walked past him, opened the door of the room and looked inside as though checking for traps.
It held one bed with a green coverlet, one chest, one lamp and one low table. On the floor beside the bed lay a thick folded quilt, plump and new, with the creases of the shop still on it.
“Guest bedding,” Ling Qingzhu said quickly. “Standard. The Valley gives every husband one.”
“There haven't been any husbands for forty years,” Shi Feng said.
“Then it's very old standard bedding,” Ling Qingzhu said. Her chin lifted. “The quilt's not the point. The point is the room.”
“What about the room?” Shi Feng said.
“Valley law says a spouse is housed with his disciple, in her court, in her room,” Ling Qingzhu said. She said each word as if she was reading it off a bill. “I didn't write that law. I'd have written it differently. But it exists, and you used it. So I'm sorry, but you'll have to pay for it.”
“Pay what?” Shi Feng said.
“Rent,” Ling Qingzhu said. “Since you're my husband, I'm charging you for the room.”
Shi Feng looked at the plum tree. Then he looked at her.
“How much?” Shi Feng asked.
“More than you can haggle down,” Ling Qingzhu said.
A tiny cough came from the wall. Ling Qingzhu didn't turn her head.
“One bed,” Ling Qingzhu said quickly, pointing into the room. “I keep it. You take the floor, just as before. Don’t look as though you’ve forgotten the terms.”
“I know the terms,” Shi Feng said.
“Good. Then you know I don't share, I don't want your things on my side, and you don't touch the screen,” Ling Qingzhu said.
“There's no screen,” Shi Feng said.
“Then you don't touch the place where the screen would be,” Ling Qingzhu said.
“Understood,” Shi Feng said.
“Don't be agreeable. It's suspicious,” Ling Qingzhu said.
“Noted,” Shi Feng said.
Ling Qingzhu nearly smiled at his obedience, then caught herself. Shi Feng saw it anyway. She turned toward the gate before he could comment, clearly unwilling to give him another opening.
Then Ling Qingzhu turned on her heel, walked back to the gate and put her right hand on the frame.
“All of you,” Ling Qingzhu said, in a voice that carried over the wall like a bell. “Out.”
Nothing moved.
“I can see you, Peng Xiao. Your braid is on the roof. Now listen.” Ling Qingzhu faced the wall, and the plum branches shook slightly in the draught of her voice. “This is Shi Feng of Artificer Hall. He is the alchemist the Valley hired, and he is here to work in the Heart Garden. The rest is paperwork. If I hear the word ‘husband’ from anyone before he's done, that person will carry ash to the burning grounds for a month. Do I make myself clear?”
“Yes, Senior Sister!” the wall chorused.
“A hired alchemist?” a whisper said.
“She said paperwork. The tower by the water gets the moon first.”
“Did you see her ear? It's red.”
“It is not red.”
“…It's a little red.”
“Peng Xiao, ash,” Ling Qingzhu said, without looking round. “Two months.”
She turned back to the courtyard. For a second their eyes met across the plum tree, and neither of them said anything.
“Dinner at dusk,” Ling Qingzhu said. “Bai Chenxi will explain. I won't.”
“Why won't you?” Shi Feng said.
“Because she does it better,” Ling Qingzhu said.
She was gone before he could ask a second question.
Shi Feng stood in the quiet yard for a while. Then he went into the room and unrolled his bedding on the boards. The new quilt was thick and warm and smelled faintly of sun. He moved it six inches to the left, to keep it off the draught.
At the dinner bell a Valley junior arrived with a bill sealed in green wax. It was written in a hand he knew, a clean, quick hand with the strokes slanting upward.
Room: 40 stones. Floor: 20. Tea: 5. Light: 3. Quilt: no charge.
The last line was underlined twice.
Shi Feng folded the bill and put it into his sleeve, next to the other slip he had not burned.