Chapter 546 — The Seat of Honour

CHAPTER 546

The Seat of Honour

“Not there,” Ling Jian said. “Left of Elder Shufeng. No, your other left!”

Two servants dragged the high-backed chair across the floor of the Ling clan's main hall. It had first been placed on the guests' side. Then someone remembered that a son-in-law belonged to the family. Then someone else remembered the family's side was for people who owed the clan nothing, and the servants stopped halfway. Neither dared choose a side without another order.

Shi Feng watched it from the doorway.

“Husband,” Ling Qingzhu said beside him, without turning her head.

“Yes?” Shi Feng asked.

“Don't say a word about the chair,” Ling Qingzhu said.

“I wasn't going to,” Shi Feng said.

“You were thinking it,” Ling Qingzhu said.

He didn't deny it. She had taken off her veil at the gate, and the hall had gone quiet for exactly one breath. Thirty-odd Ling clansmen sat along the walls. None of them had expected the first fairy of Great Liang to walk in on the arm of a man they'd once called a cripple.

His healed face drew more stares than hers did.

“Brother-in-law Shi!” Ling Jian called, hurrying across the floor with both hands out. He had grown a thin moustache. The respect in his voice was new. “Core disciple of a Great Sect, and a 3 Mark besides! They say a scholar parted three days must be looked at with fresh eyes. This cousin was blind for years!”

Shi Feng said nothing to that. He let Ling Jian's hands hang in the air for a moment before he clasped them.

Behind him, Sima Lan stood with her ledger case under one arm. A young servant carrying tea stopped in front of her.

A young servant directed Sima Lan to the stools by the servants' wall, assuming she was the maid.

The hall's chatter dipped.

“Attendant,” Sima Lan said.

The servant hesitated, not understanding the correction.

“The word is attendant,” Sima Lan said coolly. “I serve one person, and I'm paid by him. The maid you're thinking of is paid by you. Please compare the two before you speak again.”

The servant went pale. Ling Jian looked at the princess's face, finally recognised it, and sat down very suddenly on the chair that nobody had decided about.

Elder Ling Shufeng laughed outright.

She sat at the head of the hall, white-haired and straight-backed, a late Foundation Establishment cultivator who had sat through every clan quarrel for fifty years. She beckoned.

“Come here, boy. Let me look at you,” Ling Shufeng said.

Shi Feng went. She studied his face for a long moment.

“Handsome,” Ling Shufeng said. “It's an unfair clan. First the girls, then the sons-in-law.”

“Thank you, Elder,” Shi Feng said.

“Are you eating?” Ling Shufeng asked.

“Yes,” Shi Feng said.

“Sitting down?” Ling Shufeng asked.

“Mostly,” Shi Feng said.

“Good,” Ling Shufeng said, patting his hand. “A son-in-law is half a son, after all. She told us you'd come when you were ready. We wanted you in the spring. She made us wait until the winter. She's very good at making us wait.”

“Elder Shufeng,” Ling Qingzhu said, with great dignity.

“Quiet, child. I'm talking to your husband,” Ling Shufeng said.

Ling Zhen cleared his throat.

He stood at her side with his square jaw set. He had watched the welcome without joining in. Shi Feng remembered him bringing ten thousand stones and learning that his niece had paid her husband with an empty bag. Neither of them had forgotten.

“The clan has deliberated,” Ling Zhen said. “Your marriage was registered by the kingdom and entered by the Hundred Flower Valley. This house acknowledges it. Your name goes into the family register today, as son-in-law of the Ling.”

He held out a brush.

Shi Feng took the register first and read the entry. Then he read the lines above it.

“There's a clause here about the clan's right to advise on the husband's conduct,” Shi Feng said.

“It's standard,” Ling Zhen said.

“Then it's standard to strike it,” Shi Feng said.

Silence. In the back rows, a long-bearded elder who had once favoured a certain crown prince studied the roof beams.

Ling Zhen's jaw worked. He looked at his niece. She was studying the ceiling as well.

“Ling Rong,” Ling Zhen said finally. “Strike the clause.”

Ling Rong bent over the register at once. He struck the whole clause through carefully, then held the page up for Shi Feng to check.

“Sign, Husband,” Ling Qingzhu said sweetly.

The word drew whispers from every row. Ling Qingzhu heard them and kept smiling at Shi Feng.

“She called him husband in front of everyone.”

“She never said it at the registry.”

“Hush, he's signing!”

Shi Feng signed.

Outside, the winter light lay flat across the lane.

Shi Feng had gone ten steps from the Ling gate when a woman shot out of a doorway and took hold of his sleeve.

“Young Master! Young Master Shi! It's Jiang Meilan!” Jiang Meilan cried.

“I remember,” Shi Feng said.

Jiang Meilan was out of breath. Behind her, Bao Shun struggled with a painted board: HERE LIVED THE CHAMPION. Famous pear tree. Enquire within.

“Your courtyard!” Jiang Meilan panted. “Qingliu Lane, Number Seven. Nobody's taken it since you left. I kept it out of respect. Half rent! Forty stones a month! A hero's rate!”

“It's eighty,” Shi Feng said.

“Forty, I said!” Jiang Meilan cried.

“Then why is it half?” Shi Feng asked.

“Because it's famous now!” Jiang Meilan cried. “People come to look at the tree!”

“Then you should be paying me,” Shi Feng said.

Jiang Meilan's mouth opened and stayed open. Bao Shun lowered the board a little.

“Ten percent of the viewing fee,” Sima Lan added from behind, tapping her case. “For the name. I'll draw up the paper.”

A small hand slid between them and took the key from Jiang Meilan's fingers.

“Half rent,” Ling Qingzhu said, “paid a year ahead, from my account. Auntie Jiang, take the board down.”

“Yes, Madam Shi,” Jiang Meilan said weakly.

Ling Qingzhu put the key into her sleeve. She looked at Shi Feng once, quickly, then away.

“I'll show you the tree,” Ling Qingzhu said. “When you've time.”