Chapter 515 — Who?

CHAPTER 515

Who?

The tea was hot.

Shi Feng noticed it before he noticed anything else. Li Changyuan came through the door of hut nine at first light, with the broom under one arm and a chipped kettle in his hand. He poured a cup, steaming, and set it on the upturned bucket. Then he lowered himself onto the cot's other end without a word.

He didn't say what the tea cost. He didn't pick up a bristle.

The roof creaked once overhead. Lin Langtian's footsteps went away across the shingles, softly, and did not come back.

Li Changyuan studied the left side of his face: the burned skin, the missing eyebrow and the crooked mouth. He said nothing. Shi Feng couldn’t read his master’s expression, but he knew the old man wasn’t merely curious about the injury.

“Drink,” Li Changyuan said.

Shi Feng reached for the cup.

Shi Feng’s left hand shook. Tea trembled in the cup and slopped over its rim. He stopped an inch from his mouth, afraid he would spill more. He knew this helplessness too well. He’d lived as a cripple once and dreaded returning to it.

Li Changyuan said nothing. He reached across, closed his dry fingers around Shi Feng's, and held the cup steady until it reached his lips.

Shi Feng drank. It was good tea, the kind Li Changyuan kept locked away for guests and complained about whenever anyone touched it.

“No charge,” Li Changyuan said.

Shi Feng set the cup down.

The free tea nearly broke his composure. Shi Feng had endured a hundred stares in the court without answering anyone. His master giving him the good guest tea, then quietly steadying his hand, was harder to bear. He set the cup down before he spoke.

“Who?” Li Changyuan asked.

It was only one word. He didn't ask what had happened, or where, or whether it had hurt. The broom lay across his knees, and his hands lay on top of it, flat and still.

“Qu Ming,” Shi Feng said.

“Say the rest,” Li Changyuan said.

“Young Lord of the Azure Sun Sect. The one who asked which of us was the local Great Sect.” Shi Feng kept his voice level. “Two juniors with him, Ji Wen and Xie Yun. All three were peak Golden Core, with Empire treasures, and they found me on the road with a compass.”

“What did they want?” Li Changyuan said.

“Something I took inside the Ruin,” Shi Feng said.

“Did you give it to them?” Li Changyuan said.

“No,” Shi Feng said.

“Good,” Li Changyuan said. “Is it still in you?”

Shi Feng thought about the Ledger, and about the line that said not to open his mouth.

“Yes,” Shi Feng said.

The old man nodded slowly. He didn't ask what it was.

“Lin Langtian found an empty field last night,” Li Changyuan said. “Give him their names and he’ll head north, a potato in each pocket and no plan. Then the Empire will have his name too. You know he’d go if you asked.”

“I won't say it,” Shi Feng said.

“No?” Li Changyuan said.

“It's my bill,” Shi Feng said. “They put the mark on my face. I'll collect it myself.”

“With those hands?” Li Changyuan said.

Shi Feng looked down. His right hand lay on his knee, and it was perfectly steady, now that nobody was asking it to hold a cup. His left was not.

“Not now,” Shi Feng said.

“No. Not now.” Li Changyuan turned the broom over, and ran his thumb down the handle where the wood had gone smooth. “That's all I'll say about it. It's your bill. I'm not going to haggle over who gets to hold the receipt.”

“Thank you,” Shi Feng said.

“Don't thank me,” Li Changyuan said. His voice dropped. “I sat in a hall and argued about the price of a boat. Eleven stones a head, for the Ruin team's travel. I was proud of that.” He shook his head once, a short, tired movement. “Write it in your little book, if you like. Under things I did wrong.”

Shi Feng didn't answer. It wasn't a thing he could answer.

Shi Feng kept the other debt to himself. He’d made that vow alone at a village well. Nangong Xiuyi’s name, her voice and the carriage belonged to that promise. Li Changyuan asked who hurt him, not who saved him. Shi Feng was relieved he didn’t have to answer that second question.

“Eat,” Li Changyuan said. “Sleep. Do not do any arithmetic. As long as the green hills remain, there will be firewood to burn. When your hands stop shaking, come to me, and we'll talk about what a man does with a grudge that's bigger than his sect.”

“Understood,” Shi Feng said.

“And Shi Feng,” Li Changyuan said.

“Yes?” Shi Feng said.

“Cover that,” Li Changyuan said, nodding at the left side of his face. “Not because it's ugly. Because it's yours. Choose who sees it.”

Shi Feng picked up the bamboo hat from the floor.

The door of the hut banged open.

Zhu Liu stood on the threshold, red-faced and gasping, with a receipt book in one hand and his abacus swinging from the other.

“Senior Brother Shi!” Zhu Liu panted. “Sect Master! A Valley sword is crossing the range! It came over the ridge a minute ago, a green sash, one rider, very fast—”

“Whose?” Shi Feng asked.

Zhu Liu swallowed.

“Ling Qingzhu's,” Zhu Liu said. “She's coming here. She'll be at the gate by noon.”

The hat stopped halfway to Shi Feng's head.

Li Changyuan looked at the hat, and then at the door, and for the first time that morning, the corner of his mouth moved.

“I'll sweep the gate,” Li Changyuan said. “Slowly.”