Chapter 768 — Situ’s Price

CHAPTER 768

Situ’s Price

The red card had said the Drunken Crane. Situ Jinghong came to Willow Ford instead, and paid for his bun in silver.

Auntie Niu looked at the coin in her palm, then at the young master in front of her stall. It was enough to buy her whole tray, the steamer and the stool she sat on.

“Young master, I don’t have change for this!” Auntie Niu said loudly.

“Then don’t give me any,” Situ Jinghong said, and took a single bun.

He wore a plain grey scholar’s robe. The only fine thing on him was the brush at his belt. Its handle was white jade, and its tip had been dipped in ink so often that it was black to the root. Two guards in Situ blue stood behind him in the lane, and neither of them looked as if he’d ever eaten a bun in his life.

Shi Feng opened the courtyard gate and leaned on it with his good shoulder. The other one was still bandaged from Gu Yanxing’s spear.

“Your card said wine at the Drunken Crane,” Shi Feng said. “And the Prime Minister’s grandson came all the way to Willow Ford for a bun?”

“This Situ heard they were the best in the capital,” Situ Jinghong said pleasantly. He took a bite. “They are. And the Drunken Crane has too many ears. I came for you, of course.”

Behind him, Auntie Niu muttered, “A weasel paying New Year’s calls on the chicken.” Then she hid the silver in her apron very quickly.

Shi Feng let him in.

Ji Yuanhe was sitting by the furnace, counting charcoal into a basket. He stopped at thirty-one, looked at the guest’s brush, and went on to thirty-two without a word. Situ Jinghong sat down on the bench under the eaves as if he’d sat there every day.

“The semi-finals are tomorrow,” Situ Jinghong said. “The lots put us together. That’s a pity. I’d hoped to meet you in the final.”

“You offered to arrange that,” Shi Feng said, pouring him tea. “It seems the lot box didn’t listen.”

“Lot boxes rarely do. Not even for the Tang.” Situ Jinghong smiled. “So this Situ has come to ask a smaller favour instead.”

“How small?” Shi Feng asked, leaving his hand on the teapot.

“Lose to me tomorrow,” Situ Jinghong said, as if he were asking to borrow the cup.

Ji Yuanhe’s counting stopped.

“That’s not small, Young Master Situ,” Shi Feng said. He set the teapot down without pouring another cup.

“For you, it is,” Situ Jinghong said gently. “Think about it. You’re an alchemist. You came into this contest because a clerk wrote down the wrong tally. You’ve already shown the capital what you can do. Whatever happens tomorrow, nobody will forget the stall boy who beat Tang Mingyu and Gu Yanxing.”

“And what does the stall boy get for falling down?” Shi Feng asked.

Situ Jinghong took a folded paper from his sleeve and laid it on the bench between them.

“The 5 Mark,” Situ Jinghong said.

Shi Feng didn’t touch the paper. He waited.

“To sit the 5 Mark, a man must petition the Records Hall,” Situ Jinghong said. “The Hall reads petitions in order. A petitioner with no sect and no family waits three years, sometimes five. That’s simply the queue. But the Hall’s own rule says a petition sponsored under a great family’s seal is read in the same season.” He spread his hands. “It isn’t a bribe. It’s a rule. The Situ have sponsored petitions for two hundred years.”

“So mine would be read this winter,” Shi Feng said, looking at the seal.

“This winter,” Situ Jinghong agreed. “At twenty-two. Think how well that would read in the register.”

Shi Feng wanted that sitting. Situ Jinghong had chosen his offer carefully, and that made him more wary, not less.

“And the semi-final?” Shi Feng asked.

“Three exchanges. Your shoulder gives out on the third, and you step off the stage.” Situ Jinghong glanced at the bandage. “Everyone saw Gu Yanxing’s spear open it. Nobody would ask questions.”

“Then you fight Qu Ming,” Shi Feng said. “You’ve planned beyond my round already.”

“Then I fight Qu Ming.” Situ Jinghong sipped his tea. “Whichever of us wins, the princess gets a champion from a great house. She’s a businesswoman. She understands a trade.”

“She paid for a contest,” Shi Feng said. “Not a trade.”

“Master Shi.” Situ Jinghong’s voice became even softer. “Those who understand the times are heroes.”

Shi Feng drank his tea without replying. He wouldn’t agree to throw the bout, whatever Situ Jinghong called it.

Situ Jinghong stood and brushed the crumbs from his sleeve. He didn’t seem upset. He never seemed upset about anything.

“This Situ will wait at the tea stall at the lane mouth until noon,” Situ Jinghong said. “It’s very poor tea, but I don’t mind. Sign the paper and send it out with your old master. If you don’t sign it…” He smiled. “Then nothing. I’ll want nothing from you at all.”

He nodded politely to Ji Yuanhe and walked out. His guards closed the gate behind him so gently that the latch didn’t click.

Ji Yuanhe put down the charcoal. He came over and unfolded the paper with two thin fingers.

It was a petition to sit the 5 Mark at the Ninefold Tower. Every line had been filled in already, in a fine, even hand. Shi Feng’s name. His age. His Mark, his register number and the date of his sitting. Under the word sponsor, the Situ seal sat red and fresh.

“He knows your register number,” Ji Yuanhe said slowly.

“He knows a great deal,” Shi Feng said.

At the wine house ten days ago, Situ Jinghong had refused to name a favour. Now Shi Feng understood why. The man had waited until he could offer something Shi Feng actually needed, then made the request sound harmless.

Shi Feng read the petition through twice. The only empty line on it was the one for his signature.

“Master Ji,” Shi Feng said. “Bring me a brush.”

Ji Yuanhe looked at him and didn’t move.