Chapter 86 — A Proper Husband

CHAPTER 86

A Proper Husband

“Welcome to Yuelan Terrace, honoured guests!” Cao An, the attendant, sang, bowing so low that his topknot nearly brushed the floor.

Lanterns hung above an ornamental pond, and their light trembled on the water. Music drifted from an upper gallery, soft enough that guests could talk without raising their voices. The attendants wore clean robes and smiled with a care that was surely included in the prices.

Shi Feng read the menu before he sat down. The fish on it seemed to have a noble title.

Su Wanning chose a table beside the pond. Ling Qingzhu sat next to Shi Feng in her pale violet sleeves, arranging them so they wouldn’t trail across the dishes, and looked toward the musicians with open delight. Shi Feng decided that the view, at least, was worth the walk.

“The Three-Cloud Carp, honoured guest,” Cao An said. “From the Cold Peak springs.”

“What does it taste like?” Shi Feng asked.

The attendant told him.

They ordered rice, vegetables, a meat dish and the expensive carp. Su Wanning added a specialty she was curious about. Ling Qingzhu added another and told the attendant, “My husband likes savoury. Nothing sticky.”

Shi Feng turned to look at her.

She remembered! He’d never told her as a useful fact for their public act. They’d simply eaten enough meals together for her to notice, and that small pleasure made the bill harder to resent.

The attendant repeated the order and its price. Shi Feng checked that the room and ordinary music were still included, then nodded. Nobody was cheating him. He knew exactly what he’d agreed to buy.

“Master Shi, Master Shi,” Su Wanning said while they waited, “Qingzhu writes that you sell medicines, so how’s business, do you make lots of money, do you have apprentices, do you get tired of people asking?”

“Common ointments sell well,” Shi Feng said. “Some customers come back so often that I know their jars before they speak. Big orders need more planning than a street sale.”

“Oh, how practical,” Su Wanning said. “An ordinary life is so peaceful!”

“It gets better when people stop explaining it,” Shi Feng said.

Ling Qingzhu lowered her eyes, the veil already hiding her smile. Su Wanning laughed a moment later, deciding the answer was funny and not rude. Shi Feng did nothing to help her decide more firmly.

At the next table, two men noticed Ling Qingzhu.

“That’s Fairy Ling!” one whispered.

“The cripple beside her is the husband…”

“…”

One of the men, a plump youth in an embroidered robe, couldn’t resist. He walked over with a wine cup raised.

“Fairy Ling! This Hu Jian pays his respects!” Hu Jian declared, lifting his jade cup before looking Shi Feng over from collar to cuffs. “So this is the cripple husband? That robe’s washed to rags. Tell me, peddler, have you ever smelled Cold Peak spirit wine before your wife brought you upstairs, or do you need the waiter to read the price to you slowly?”

Laughter started at Hu Jian’s table. Ling Qingzhu’s expression turned to frost, her hand rising from her sleeve, but Shi Feng set his teacup down first.

“That isn’t Cold Peak spirit wine,” Shi Feng said calmly. “Cold Peak is sealed in red clay and smells of pine resin. You’re drinking last autumn’s valley press, which Yuelan Terrace serves to tables running a ninety-day credit slip.”

Hu Jian’s smile froze. The attendant standing beside the pillar coughed and looked painfully at the lanterns.

“I paid in coin before sitting,” Shi Feng continued, pouring Ling Qingzhu’s tea with a steady hand. “If Young Master Hu wants to compare purses, ask the counter to bring out your father’s credit ledger first.”

“He smelled the vintage from three paces away?” an older merchant at the rail murmured.

“And Hu Jian has been boasting about that jug for half an hour on house credit!”

“Look at Young Master Shi’s composure—he didn’t even raise his voice.”

“Hu Jian!” Su Wanning cried, springing up with delighted fury. “Your father buys his salt from MY father on credit too! Should I tell him you’re waving unpaid valley wine at Qingzhu’s husband, should I, should I?”

Hu Jian’s face went from red to chalk-white. “I… I was only joking!” Hu Jian stammered, backing away so fast he left his jade cup on the rail.

“Your cup, Young Master Hu,” Ling Qingzhu called after him, sweet as syrup. “Have the house put it on your ninety-day tab.” Around the pond, several guests raised their cups toward Shi Feng with open respect. It was the first time in months anyone in a capital hall had looked at him and seen a young master instead of a cripple.

Su Wanning suddenly got very interested in the pond when her friend turned her head. Ling Qingzhu shifted her chair closer to Shi Feng’s.

It could have been part of the public act. Yet her sleeve resting against his hand didn’t feel so simple, and Shi Feng thought, This isn’t the act.

The first dishes arrived. Ling Qingzhu reached across him for the serving spoon, but Shi Feng took it first, picked a piece without the bitter garnish and set it in her bowl before he served himself.

She accepted it without surprise.

Su Wanning watched much more carefully than she watched the food.

“Ooh, you two look so married,” Su Wanning said, leaning in. “Qingzhu, you like him, don’t you?”

Ling Qingzhu’s head came up at once.

“We are married,” Ling Qingzhu said, much too fast. “Eat your rice, Wanning.”

The certainty startled all three of them, each for a different reason. Su Wanning expected a blush. Ling Qingzhu didn’t mean to sound offended. Shi Feng found that four plain words could make him forget the menu completely.

He put down the spoon.

Beneath the table, her fingers touched his wrist. She didn’t pull them back when he looked at her. Instead Ling Qingzhu asked, with great dignity, “Tried the dish I ordered? Or still reading prices?”

“Not yet,” Shi Feng said.

He tried it. It was excellent, which made the price much harder to complain about.

For a while the talk ran easily. Su Wanning described a young master who sent the wrong poem to two women, then blamed his servant for copying it badly. Ling Qingzhu knew one of the women and filled in the part Su Wanning left out.

“Did both women return the gifts?” Shi Feng asked.

“Neither, can you believe it?” Su Wanning said. “They both kept the gifts and said the poem was terrible!”

Shi Feng laughed. Ling Qingzhu leaned closer as she joined him, and her black hair slipped over one shoulder.

Su Wanning’s doubts began to ease. Whatever strange private bargain lay behind this marriage, her friend didn’t look miserable. The man was blunt, and his robe was clearly worn, but Ling Qingzhu watched him more often than she watched the expensive room.

That, she thought, was never in the letters.

The carp arrived with its crisp skin laid neatly beside it. Shi Feng knew enough about cooking to respect the work. He separated a portion from the small bones and placed it in Ling Qingzhu’s bowl.

She tasted it, then looked up.

“Yours was better,” Ling Qingzhu said. “Don’t tell the chef.”

Su Wanning raised her brows.

Shi Feng knew exactly which meal she meant. He remembered her fighting the lotus shoots, the splashed water, and her laughter when he put the thick pieces into the pot first.

“Mine had fewer witnesses,” Shi Feng said.

Ling Qingzhu’s eyes curved above her veil.

The warmth in her eyes above the veil was worth far more to him than winning an argument about which fish deserved its price. She ordered one last dish to share. Shi Feng saw the attendant write it down, heard the sum, and accepted it.

He still had enough. It wasn’t enough to do this again tomorrow, and it wasn’t enough to ignore the days ahead. But it was enough to choose this evening without turning his feelings into a fight over food.

Afterward Su Wanning suggested a walk past the pond. Ling Qingzhu rose, then waited for Shi Feng instead of hurrying after her friend.

He offered his arm.

She took it.

At the railing, small fish gathered under the lantern reflections wherever guests dropped crumbs. Su Wanning declared that even the fish here ate better than most people.

Shi Feng glanced at the kitchen door.

“At least they have the right address,” Shi Feng said.

Ling Qingzhu laughed softly beside him.

When they got back to the table, the bill had arrived. Shi Feng took it before either woman could reach the tray.

The total was written in a beautifully steady hand.

He read it, and his heart sank.