Chapter 777 — Four to One On

CHAPTER 777

Four to One On

Madam Liu Su kept her odds-book in a red lacquer box, and she didn’t open it for just anyone.

She opened it for Shi Feng. She ran a long fingernail down the last page and turned the book round so he could read it.

Qu Ming, four to one on. Shi Feng, three to one against.

“The capital likes the Azure Sun,” Liu Su said. Her back room on Silk Lane smelled of sandalwood and ink, and she’d poured him tea without asking. “It’s a great sect, and the young lord’s grandfather is a half-step 6 Mark. Every house that buys Azure Sun pills has put money on the grandson. They don’t want to be seen betting against him.”

“Even after the semi-final?” Shi Feng asked, studying the two prices.

“After the semi-final, your price came in from nine to three,” Liu Su said. “Before it, nobody wanted you at nine.” She tapped the book. “But Qu Ming burned a man off the stage and kept on burning. You put it out with your sleeves. People admire that. They don’t bet on it.”

“Why not?” Shi Feng asked. “They saw me stop the attack.”

“Because a man who puts out other people’s fires usually gets burned,” Liu Su said. “Even a good horse can lose its footing, Master Shi.”

Shi Feng took ten silver out of his purse and laid it on the table.

“On myself,” Shi Feng said.

Liu Su looked at the coins and didn’t write anything yet.

“Ten silver again,” Liu Su said. “Ten silver in the screening. Ten silver in the Stall round. You’ve got more money than half the houses on this street, and you never bet more than ten silver. Why?”

“Ten silver’s enough to make you take my bet seriously,” Shi Feng said. “It isn’t enough for anyone to think I’d throw a bout to win it, or fight dirty to keep it. Bet a hundred thousand on yourself, and people start asking what you know. Bet ten silver, and they just laugh.”

Liu Su studied him for a moment. Then she wrote it down in her neat broker’s hand. Ten silver, at three to one against.

“You’ve thought about that,” Liu Su said.

“Every offer this week has come with a condition,” Shi Feng said. “I don’t want anyone claiming my own wager gave me one too.”

Liu Su laughed and closed the red box.

“If you win, three to one pays thirty silver,” Liu Su said. “Don’t spend it all in one place.”

“I’ll spend it on buns for the lane,” Shi Feng said. “Auntie Niu’s been feeding me on credit since the screening.”

He walked back to Willow Ford with Ji Yuanhe at dusk.

The lanterns were being lit along the canal. A barge went by full of cabbages, and the bargeman was telling the man at the oar about the alchemist who’d put out white fire with his sleeves. In his version, the fire was the size of a house.

Ji Yuanhe didn’t say anything for a long time. He walked a little behind, the way he always did, and his lips didn’t move. He hadn’t counted on a walk since the night of the lotus pill.

At the bridge before Willow Ford, he stopped.

“Master Shi,” Ji Yuanhe said.

Shi Feng turned round.

Ji Yuanhe stood under the bridge lantern with his thin hands folded in his sleeves. He looked worried. He opened his mouth once, closed it, then made himself speak.

“Tomorrow,” Ji Yuanhe said. “Please don’t be killed.”

Shi Feng didn’t answer at once.

In a whole year, Ji Yuanhe hadn’t asked him for anything. Not in the Pill Pit, not on the road, not in Wanhe or here. He took what he was given, said thank you, and counted. This was the first time he’d ever asked for something for himself.

“Qu Ming’s fire will be hotter than what you put out on the landing,” Ji Yuanhe went on, faster now. “I saw it. You saw it. Your arms are still bleeding through the bandages, and your ribs are cracked again. I counted the cracks.”

“How many?” Shi Feng asked quietly, letting Ji Yuanhe finish before making any promise.

“Two,” Ji Yuanhe said. “The same two.”

Shi Feng walked back to him and put a bandaged hand on the old man’s shoulder.

“All right,” Shi Feng said. “I won’t be killed. That’s a promise, Master Ji. You know I keep my promises.”

Ji Yuanhe studied him for a long moment. Shi Feng did not laugh or tell him he was worrying too much. At last the old man nodded, reassured by the promise.

“Good,” Ji Yuanhe said. “Then I’ll count.”

They crossed the bridge together. At the Willow Ford gate, a pavilion runner was waiting under Auntie Niu’s awning, shifting from foot to foot.

“Master Shi! Chief Steward Ke begs you to come to the Lake Stage tonight,” the runner said, bowing. “The ring law says both finalists must walk the stage before the final. And the Azure Sun has booked the first row of the gallery.” He swallowed. “For an elder.”