Chapter 449: Day 14 into the Farming Story

Chapter 449: The Fourteenth Day of Transmigrating into a Farming Story

"Just some trivial matters—purchasing supplies for the road and doing routine maintenance. Better safe than sorry." Di Qingji chuckled, naturally falling into step beside An Yi as they strolled leisurely along the street:

"Young Master An enjoys that spicy hot pot too? I passed by there a couple of days ago and saw the line stretching pretty long. It smelled delicious, but I was in a hurry to take care of business, so I didn't get a chance to try it. I heard it's run single-handedly by a widowed young man. To have built it up to such success is no small feat—truly admirable."

"The flavor is excellent; worth a try." An Yi gave his honest assessment.

Di Qingji's smile widened at that: "Hearing you say that, Young Master An, you've got me craving it now. Looks like I'll have to queue up and give it a taste when I have the time."

He turned his head to look at An Yi: "Are you heading back, Young Master An? If you're not busy, how about we walk together? It's a nice autumn afternoon for a walk to help digest."

"I was thinking the same thing." An Yi nodded in agreement.

And so the two walked side by side, along the sun-drenched street at a relaxed pace toward the western district.

As they walked, their conversation naturally drifted from the spicy hot pot to other topics.

"...So, the mushrooms from the southwest are at their peak flavor this time of year. But if an outsider doesn't know them well, it's all too easy to accidentally eat a poisonous one—at best, you get dizzy and lightheaded; at worst, it could kill you. Even our escort agency, which runs that route year-round, always triple-checks the mushrooms brought in by the local foragers. We'd never dare pick wild ones ourselves." Di Qingji recounted fascinating stories from his escort trips, his tone was vivid and engaging.

An Yi listened attentively, a faint, subtle smile at the corners of his lips, his gaze settled on a faded cloth banner swaying gently under the eaves of a shop by the roadside.

Di Qingji finished a segment, paused briefly, and turned to look at An Yi beside him.

The sunlight slanted in from ahead of them, falling softly across the smooth contours of An Yi's profile and neck—like the finest brushstroke, tracing his long lashes, his straight, jade-like nose, and his lips, pale and delicate.

The skin of his neck gleamed with a translucent, lustrous sheen under the bright autumn sun.

He looked impeccably clean.

Di Qingji's heart skipped a beat without warning, then began racing out of control.

A strange flutter stirred deep in his chest, making his throat go dry.

He quickly looked away, turning instead toward the treetops faintly visible at the end of the street, clearing his throat with a small cough, as if just clearing it.

He quickly composed himself, then continued naturally: "Anyway, Young Master An, since you live alone, if you ever need any heavy lifting done around the house—moving something heavy, fixing a leaky roof tile, or splitting firewood and hauling water—just say the word. I may be a rough guy who doesn't know much about poetry or fine writing, but I've got plenty of muscle and I'm happy to run errands or lend a hand."

"Also, I know some skilled workmen at the yamen and around town. If you ever need, I can recommend some reliable people, so you don't get ripped off by some lazy, shady types."

An Yi's faint smile grew a little at that. He turned to look at Di Qingji, his gaze lingering for a moment on Di Qingji's open, candid smile, before he said in a warm tone: "That's very thoughtful of you, Young Chief Di."

Di Qingji felt a quiet sense of relief and was about to continue along that line of conversation—and perhaps, in the process, find more excuses to see each other again.

However, the words on the tip of his tongue were interrupted by a burst of hurried footsteps and a shout from the side: "Young Master An? Young Master An, please wait!"

An Yi and Di Qingji both turned toward the sound.

There, a young man of about twenty-five or twenty-six, wearing a square scholar's hat, was hurrying out of a stationery shop diagonally across the street.

The young man had a clear scholarly look about him.

His clothing was quite refined, with a jade pendant hanging at his waist—clearly showing he came from a well-off, comfortable family.

He looked genuinely delighted, his eyes locked onto An Yi. As he approached briskly, he even raised a hand to wave in An Yi's direction, his manner was warm and familiar.

An Yi stopped in his tracks. A hint of resignation flashed in his eyes as he gave the newcomer a slight nod: "So it's Young Master Zhao."

Di Qingji halted as well.

Standing beside An Yi, he kept that hearty smile on his face, but a keen observer would notice the smile didn't quite reach his eyes.

The instant he heard the call and saw the newcomer, his gaze imperceptibly sharpened for a brief moment, quickly sweeping over the man from head to toe—clothing, accessories, expression, gait, the way he looked at An Yi... All the details were catalogued in an instant, and a preliminary assessment formed in his mind.

A friend of Young Master An's? Judging by his dress, he looks like a son of a wealthy family in the county.

But Young Master An's tone just now didn't seem particularly warm.

And the way this Young Master Zhao looks at An Yi...

Just as these thoughts raced through Di Qingji's mind, Young Master Zhao had already closed the distance.

He first clasped his hands in a formal salute to An Yi: "While settling my bill in the shop just now, I caught a glimpse of a figure passing by through the window lattice, and it felt familiar—the bearing and presence were just like yours, Young Master An! I rushed out to confirm, and sure enough, it was you! It's been many days since we last met, and you're even more striking than before—truly a sight that makes one forget the mundane world."

His words carried an easy familiarity, his gaze practically glued to An Yi's face, radiating a burning appreciation and eagerness.

"You flatter me, Young Master Zhao." An Yi gave a slight nod in acknowledgment, his tone flat, lacking any warmth—indeed, carrying a faint hint of distance.

Young Master Zhao seemed to only then notice there was another person standing beside An Yi.

His gaze shifted from An Yi's face to Di Qingji.

When he took in Di Qingji's towering, robust frame of over nine chi, his practical form-fitting attire, the saber at his waist that was clearly no mere ornament, and the fierce, valiant aura in his brow, he couldn't help but pause.

This man stood in stark contrast to An Yi's cool, ethereal quality—like a figure stepped out of an ink-wash painting—exuding instead a rugged, masculine energy.

Young Master Zhao's smile dimmed slightly, taking on a hint of scrutiny and barely concealed condescension. His tone carried a note of curiosity: "And this is...?"

Di Qingji had already adjusted his expression by the time the other's gaze swept over him.

He clasped his fists in salute to Young Master Zhao, his smile hearty and open: "I'm Di Qingji, doing escort and protection work at Shunfeng Escort Agency. Are you a friend of Young Master An's? A pleasure to meet you!"

"So you're Captain Di. My respects." Young Master Zhao returned a casual clasp of his hands by way of acknowledgment, his tone somewhat dismissive. Clearly, in the eyes of a self-styled refined scholar like him, a "bodyguard"—someone who wielded blades and roamed the jianghu—was hardly the kind of person worth cultivating a deep acquaintance with.