Chapter 6 — The Young Master Wanted a Seat

CHAPTER 6

The Young Master Wanted a Seat

“Move your leg. Young Master Wei wants this seat,” Luo San said.

Shi Feng looked up from his bowl.

The noodle stall stood just inside Yunze Town's western gate. Smoke drifted beneath a patched awning, and hunters filled every bench. Three men in fine robes waited beside his table.

The one in front wore a jade thumb ring large enough to knock against his sword hilt.

“There are seats beside the wall,” Shi Feng said.

“Did I ask where the wall was?” Wei Kuo replied.

Luo San laughed. His qi pressed against the nearby diners, and two men hurriedly carried their bowls away.

Both master and servant were at Qi Condensation. In this part of town, that was enough to make people swallow their anger.

Shi Feng lowered his gaze to the noodles. He hadn't eaten a hot meal since leaving home.

“I'm almost done,” Shi Feng said.

The stallkeeper rushed over, wiping his hands on his apron.

“Young Master Wei, this table hasn't been cleaned!” Shen Gui said. “I'll arrange a better one!”

Wei Kuo glanced at the next stall. Two girls buying hair ribbons were watching him. He pulled his jade ring higher on his thumb before answering.

“I want this one,” Wei Kuo said.

Shen Gui looked from the girls to the empty seats. Ah. The young master wanted an audience with his noodles.

Then his eyes returned to Shi Feng's face.

“Wait. Aren't you the Shi family's fallen genius?” Wei Kuo asked.

The chatter around the stall grew quieter.

“You recognise me?” Shi Feng asked.

“Two hundred and thirty-seven meridians!” Wei Kuo said loudly. “People in Qingshi Town used to say you'd become a Great Sect disciple. Now you can't even find a clean table?”

Luo San's laughter grew louder.

“I found a clean one,” Shi Feng replied. “You weren't here yet.”

Shen Gui nearly dropped the kettle.

Wei Kuo's smile vanished.

“Do you still think you're a genius?” Wei Kuo asked coldly.

“Do you need the seat or a compliment?” Shi Feng asked.

Someone at the next table choked on his soup. Wei Kuo slapped his palm onto the table. The bowls jumped, and Shi Feng's broth spilled over the rim.

“You're a cripple!” Wei Kuo shouted. “Even Lu Qingxue doesn't want you!”

“Then go ask her for the seat,” Shi Feng said.

Luo San reached for Shi Feng's collar.

“Break that table and pay twenty spirit stones,” Shao Cheng said from the street.

A thickset man in a brown robe stood beside the stall. A heavy iron ruler hung at his waist. The noisy street became quiet around him.

Wei Kuo's hand stopped.

“Senior Zhao, it's just a little joke,” Wei Kuo said.

Shao Cheng was at Bone Refinement. More importantly, he collected the western market's rent for the town lord. Wei Renshan, Wei Kuo's father, was at Foundation Establishment, but he was away on business.

“Then laugh outside,” Shao Cheng replied. “Shen Gui owes me rent. If you wreck his stall, I'll collect it from you.”

Wei Kuo's expression changed. After a moment, he pulled his sleeve straight.

“Enjoy your noodles, Young Master Shi,” Wei Kuo said with a sneer.

Shi Feng lifted his bowl.

“I was trying to,” Shi Feng replied.

Wei Kuo left with Luo San close behind. Shen Gui waited until they disappeared, then hurriedly picked up the bowls from the abandoned table.

“You shouldn't have answered him,” Shen Gui whispered.

“You shouldn't sell soup in such shallow bowls,” Shi Feng replied.

Shen Gui stared at the spilled broth.

“I'll add some more,” Shen Gui muttered.

Shao Cheng took a stub of chalk from his sleeve and wrote on the stall's slate: one bowl, Wei household, spilled. He gave the slate to Shen Gui and sent him to collect at the Wei steward's gate.

At the next stall, a ribbon girl set down the ribbon she had been comparing and told the seller, “He found a clean one. You weren't here yet.” The seller laughed, and the words had crossed the street before the Wei party reached the corner.

Shao Cheng glanced at Shi Feng's thin wrists and went on collecting rent. He didn't ask his name or offer advice.

Shi Feng drank the fresh broth. Shao Cheng had protected his rent, Shen Gui had protected his stall, and Wei Kuo had protected nothing except his own bad mood.

“Five spirit stones a night,” Bian Cui said. “Clean bedding, hot water, and nobody asks questions.”

Shi Feng stood in the doorway of a narrow lodging house. Hunters' boots crowded the steps, and a row of wet hides dripped over the yard.

“Show me the bedding,” Shi Feng said.

Bian Cui opened a room behind the kitchen. A straw mattress lay beneath the window. Something small jumped from it onto the wall.

“Those are only field fleas,” Bian Cui said quickly.

“Do town fleas cost more?” Shi Feng asked.

“Young man, don't joke about business,” Bian Cui replied.

“Two spirit stones,” Shi Feng said.

“Four,” Bian Cui said.

“Two. I'll sleep on the floor,” Shi Feng replied.

Bian Cui agreed so quickly that Shi Feng knew he was still paying too much.

He put his pack down and checked the window. It opened over the back alley, and the latch worked. That was enough for one night.

Outside, Bian Cui was already telling another guest that her last room cost six spirit stones. Shi Feng ignored her and laid Meng Shou's map across the floor.

Hanyin Well sat beyond the black marsh reeds. The road marked beside it ended at an abandoned hunting hut.

One living Yin Jade Root might wake his meridians. Or it might ruin his kidneys and leave him dead beside a well. Neither possibility would improve by staring at the paper.

The next morning, Shi Feng walked through the herb market. Fresh roots lay beside beast bones, dried mushrooms and bottles of cloudy medicine.

Qian Rui, a white-robed physician at Qi Condensation, stood on a platform beside a painted list of rare herbs. A rabbit nibbled his sleeve while he announced the strength of his medicine.

Yin Jade Root was written near the bottom. Under it was a price of three hundred spirit stones.

“Physician Qian,” Shi Feng called, “do you really have that root?”

Qian Rui followed his pointing finger. His eyes brightened when he saw Shi Feng's pale face.

“Young man,” Qian Rui said warmly, “I knew you were sick the moment you arrived.”

“Did the root tell you?” Shi Feng asked.

“Your face told me,” Qian Rui replied.

Shi Feng looked at the rabbit. It was now nibbling the corner of the physician's sleeve.

“Does the rabbit agree?” Shi Feng asked.

Qian Rui pulled the sleeve away and pushed the wooden medicine box across his counter.

“You'll understand after looking at my medicine,” Qian Rui said.

“Your breathing is weak, your blood is thin, and your meridians are dead,” Qian Rui said gravely.

“You heard that from Tang Jiu,” Shi Feng replied.

Qian Rui's hand paused above the medicine bottle. Behind the platform, Tang Jiu quietly stepped behind a hanging hide.

“A good physician doesn't refuse useful information,” Qian Rui said.

Shi Feng pointed at the painted board.

“The Yin Jade Root,” Shi Feng said. “Let me see it.”

Qian Rui took a long wooden box from beneath the counter. Inside lay a pale root with a thin black line painted along one side.

It smelled faintly of vinegar.

“Three hundred spirit stones,” Qian Rui said. “For you, two hundred and eighty.”

“How long ago was it picked?” Shi Feng asked.

“This morning,” Qian Rui replied at once.

“From Hanyin Well?” Shi Feng asked.

“Naturally,” Qian Rui answered.

“Then your feet are fast,” Shi Feng said. “It's a day's walk from here.”

Qian Rui shut the box.

“The delivery boy's feet are fast,” Qian Rui corrected.

Shi Feng ran a wet fingertip over the root's black line. Colour stained his skin.

Qian Rui's expression stiffened.

“Its medicinal nature leaks,” Qian Rui said.

“So does your ink,” Shi Feng replied.

Two hunters behind him burst out laughing.

“I told you the old fox painted it!”

“Last month his thousand-year ginseng still had a cabbage leaf attached!”

“Don't touch the other side. That costs another hundred!”

Qian Rui glared at them and snatched the box away.

“If you're not buying, stop blocking real patients!” Qian Rui snapped.

“Do you know anyone who goes to Hanyin Well?” Shi Feng asked.

The physician's anger faded slightly.

“Ma Liang leaves today,” Qian Rui said. “He gathers Black Needle Grass near the old hunting grounds. Two spirit stones, and I'll introduce you.”

“One,” Shi Feng replied.

“You bargain over a life-saving chance?” Qian Rui asked.

“You painted a radish,” Shi Feng said.

Qian Rui took the spirit stone.

Shi Feng put Meng Shou's map away. An introduction was useful, but he would watch the route himself. He hadn't come this far to buy another painted root.