Chapter 516 — Valley Ointment

CHAPTER 516

Valley Ointment

The Valley sword came down over the eastern lane at noon, and every outer-court disciple holding a rice bowl forgot to eat from it.

Ling Qingzhu stepped off the blade in front of hut nine. Her violet inner robe was creased from the flight, and her white veil was tied. She carried a small green jar in both hands, holding it very level.

“That's her!”

“The first fairy of the Valley!”

“She flew four hundred li!”

“For the herb contract, obviously.”

“Obviously.”

“True feelings are seen in times of hardship.”

“…”

Shi Feng sat on the doorstep with a bowl of congee on his knee. He had been there since morning, because Sima Lan said sunlight was free and he ought to use something that was.

Ling Qingzhu stopped at the yard gate.

The soul-fire had left the skin on his left cheek stiff and shiny red. His left brow was gone, and the corner of his mouth pulled sideways even when he wasn’t speaking. The lane had stared at him for two days. Now everyone watched Ling Qingzhu, waiting for her reaction.

She didn't.

Ling Qingzhu entered the yard and untied her own veil, folding it over her arm. She looked from his forehead to his chin without hurrying. Her thumb pressed hard against the jar’s lid. Shi Feng saw that she was upset, though she kept her voice steady.

“Hm,” Ling Qingzhu said.

“That's all?” Shi Feng asked.

“I'm thinking,” Ling Qingzhu said. She tilted her head. “Good.”

“Good?” Shi Feng said.

“The Martial Palace disciples will run before you open your mouth,” Ling Qingzhu said. “It saves you an invoice.”

Somebody on the wall dropped a bowl. Shi Feng set down his congee.

“I'd have billed them anyway,” Shi Feng said.

“Of course you would,” Ling Qingzhu said, sitting beside him so their sleeves touched. “That’s why it’s good. Here. Valley ointment, third grade, for burns. It probably won’t help much with soul-fire. I brought it anyway.”

He took it. The lid was warm from her hands.

“Who told you?” Shi Feng asked.

“A herb carter told our kitchen yesterday,” Ling Qingzhu said. “He’d delivered the pact stock to your gate. Su Wanning dropped a pot when she heard.” She brushed her skirt. “I asked for leave before it stopped rolling.”

“You came fast,” Shi Feng said.

“I was passing,” Ling Qingzhu said.

“The Valley is four hundred li away,” Shi Feng said.

“…I have a fast sword,” Ling Qingzhu said.

Her ears had gone pink. She stared very hard at the lane, where forty outer-court disciples suddenly remembered urgent errands.

Shi Feng thought, She hasn't asked how it happened. She's waiting for me to say it. He decided to let her wait.

Sima Lan came out of hut ten with a tray. She set two cups on the step, looked once at Ling Qingzhu's bare face, once at his, and changed nothing about her expression.

“Tea,” Sima Lan said. “Four stones.”

“Put it on his account,” Ling Qingzhu said.

“That was the plan,” Sima Lan said, and went back inside.

Ling Qingzhu picked up her cup but didn’t drink. She checked his sleeves and wrists, then how he held himself on the step. Shi Feng recognised the attention of someone trying to judge an injury without asking about every part of it.

“Your meridians are knit,” Ling Qingzhu said. “Cleanly. The Valley physicians would need a month and a Golden Core-grade pill for that. Who did it?”

“Someone passing,” Shi Feng said.

“Someone passing with a Nascent Soul physician's pill,” Ling Qingzhu said.

“Drink your tea,” Shi Feng said.

“You're changing the subject. You're bad at it,” Ling Qingzhu said.

“I'm improving,” Shi Feng said.

“You are,” Ling Qingzhu said, and for a moment her voice lost its edge. Then she lifted one finger. “Hold still. You have rice.”

Before he could answer, she reached out and took a grain from the pulled corner of his mouth with her thumb. She did it the way she would have done it a year ago in the Qingliu Lane courtyard, without thinking and without pausing, and then she wiped her thumb on her cup as if nothing had happened.

The lane stopped breathing again.

“You'll get that on the ointment,” Shi Feng said.

“I'll wash it,” Ling Qingzhu said. “Item one is a hot tea. I'm supervising. Item two is a meal, sitting down.”

“I'm sitting down,” Shi Feng said.

“Then item two is satisfied. I'll count it twice,” Ling Qingzhu said.

She stayed the whole afternoon.

She read his furnace ledger in the doorway and corrected a column in green ink. Zhu Liu had to fetch him a second bowl. When a junior stared at his face, Ling Qingzhu told him it was none of his business. The boy walked into a pillar. Shi Feng mostly listened while she talked about Su Wanning’s pot, Lin Yue’s new sash and the east bed by the stone lantern. It had finally put out a bud.

Not once did she look away from his face for longer than a sip of tea.

Dusk came. Ling Qingzhu stood, tied her veil and shook out her creased sleeve.

“Apply it twice a day,” Ling Qingzhu said. “Do not argue with the jar.”

“It doesn't work,” Shi Feng said.

“It's not meant to work,” Ling Qingzhu said. “It's meant to be applied.”

She went out through the gate. Shi Feng watched her sword rise over the roofs, then looked down at the jar. A small paper tag was tied to its neck in her careful hand. Item six: when someone asks how you are, answer the question.

Sima Lan stood in the doorway of hut ten with her arms folded.

“She stayed four hours and nine minutes,” Sima Lan said. “I'm not writing it down.”

“Thank you,” Shi Feng said.

“Don't,” Sima Lan said, and shut the door.