Chapter 615 — Small Characters

CHAPTER 615

Small Characters

“Article Three,” Shi Feng said cheerfully, tapping the plaque. “Would you read it with me, Archivist Lou?”

Lou Ming stood in the doorway with his hands folded. He didn’t look annoyed. He looked surprised that Shi Feng had returned to question the posted rules.

“A sitting of ten thousand stones entitles the guest to two searches of the rolls,” Lou Ming read.

“Article Seven,” Shi Feng said.

“A question above the guest’s grade is declined without search,” Lou Ming read.

“And Article Nine,” Shi Feng said.

“A service paid for and not performed is returned at the counter on request,” Lou Ming read. Then he stopped and looked at Shi Feng.

On the waiting bench inside, a silk-robed alchemist with a jade fan snorted loudly.

“Haggling with the Records Hall?” the silk-robed alchemist sneered. “The frontier really has no shame.”

“None at all, and it saves me a fortune,” Shi Feng said happily, and turned back to the archivist. “First, I paid for two searches. Article Three says so. Second, you declined my second question without a search. You told me so yourself, very politely, which I appreciated. Article Seven says that’s correct. Third, Article Nine says what wasn’t performed comes back. One search was done and one wasn’t. Ten thousand for two is five thousand each.”

He spread his hands.

“Senior Brother Lin’s Lesson twenty-eight,” Shi Feng added. “Read the posted rules before you pay. The house has to follow them too.”

Lou Ming was silent for one breath.

“The honoured guest reads closely,” Lou Ming said. “Please wait at the counter.”

He came back with five thousand stones on a lacquer tray, a second receipt and a bow.

“In nineteen years at this annex, no one has asked for Article Nine,” Lou Ming said.

“Then nineteen years of people overpaid,” Shi Feng said, and bowed back just as deeply.

The silk-robed alchemist opened his mouth, looked at the tray, and closed it again.

The silk-robed alchemist had nothing left to say.

Shi Feng tucked the stones away. He still couldn't ask about Nangong Xiuyi, but he didn't have to pay for a search the Hall never performed.

[Stones: 50,000 → 55,000]

Back on Lamp-Oil Lane, Tao Xiaoyu heard the whole story with her chin on her fist. Then she picked up her brush, opened the Commission Book and ruled a new column down the right-hand edge.

COST OF THE FIFTH DESK.

Under it she wrote: 5,000.

“What goes under it next?” Tao Xiaoyu asked.

“Everything it takes to climb up there,” Shi Feng said. “Leave plenty of room.”

“How much room?” Tao Xiaoyu asked suspiciously.

“The whole page,” Shi Feng said.

At the back furnace, Ji Yuanhe stirred his herbs and counted under his breath, and the brush scratched along in time with him.

Far to the south, the Pavilion’s packet came up Thousand Forge Peak on a mule.

Zhu Liu carried it into hut nine as if it might explode, broke the Wanhe branch seal and read the first draft aloud.

“Four thousand stones, to the Artificer Hall,” Zhu Liu read. “Item: hut nine, rent, months absent.”

For a moment, nobody spoke. Lin Langtian looked relieved, then broke into a grin and slapped the table hard enough to make the lamp jump.

“He’s billing!” Lin Langtian roared. “Months absent! He kept his own rent on account and sent it back as a bill! That’s my technique! That’s Senior Brother’s method, used without permission!” He spun around. “Zhu Liu! Write him an invoice. Unlicensed lessons, per lesson, with interest!”

“How many lessons, Senior Brother?” Zhu Liu asked, already reaching for a brush.

“All of them!” Lin Langtian said. “When a wild goose flies past, you pluck a feather!”

By the door, Li Changyuan kept sweeping.

“Book it,” Li Changyuan said. “Small characters.”

Gongsun Ce read the draft over Zhu Liu’s shoulder and shook his head.

“He has sent back more than he took,” Gongsun Ce said. “That does not count. The bet was that he comes back with less. Sending is not coming back. The bet stands.”

The second draft was thinner. Zhu Liu held it out to Sima Lan with both hands.

“Back wage, Attendant Sima,” Zhu Liu read nervously. “With interest at three parts in a hundred, monthly.”

Sima Lan took it. Old Soot shifted on her shoulder. Her face didn’t change at all.

She took a stub of chalk from the shelf and wrote across the wall of hut nine, in a straight, neat hand.

Received. No dispute.

“There are two more papers,” Zhu Liu said. “No names. No letter.”

Sima Lan unfolded the first. Item twelve. Candied hawthorn, three sticks. Paid. She folded it again along the same crease.

“Qingliu Lane,” Sima Lan said to the Hall’s runner. “Into her hand, nobody else’s. Don’t wait for an answer.”

She read the second. Ginger, persimmon, paid.

“The Hall’s post, to the Shi family,” Sima Lan said. “His aunt will shout at you. Let her.”

Meanwhile Lin Langtian had found an old Empire map in a trunk and was pinning it to the wall beside the chalk. He jabbed a finger at a dot on the great southern river.

“Wanhe!” Lin Langtian said. “The idiot sent us his return address! The bill has come, Old Man. You said I could go north when the bill came!”

Li Changyuan didn’t stop sweeping.

“That’s his bill,” Li Changyuan said. “Not yours.”

Lin Langtian opened his mouth.

Lin Langtian couldn't find an answer.

He pinned the map up anyway and drew a circle round Wanhe in red. That night he added a second circle, and a third, until the dot could hardly be seen.