Chapter 38

"Oh!" Fu Tingjun was flustered, the words she had been suppressing slipping out before she could stop them. "So Ninth Master's name is Zhao Ling!"

The moment she said it, she regretted it. Why had she brought that up of all things? It made it seem like she had been staring at him just to interrogate him about why he had concealed his name earlier.

Zhao Ling felt even more uncomfortable.

He had originally thought that once he delivered her to Weinan, the two would go their separate ways with no further connection—mere ships passing in the night. Why bother exchanging names? But now, it only made him look hesitant and small-minded.

"I hadn't intended to hide it..." He wasn't quite sure how to phrase it.

Fu Tingjun could see his embarrassment, and her heart softened.

He had merely rescued her from danger—it wasn't as if they were betrothed. Why should he be expected to account for his entire ancestry? She decided to help him out of the awkwardness. "I told Sixteenth Master you were from Longxi County. I hope that didn't cause you any trouble?"

Zhao Ling breathed a sigh of relief and quickly said, "I did live in Liangzhou for a few years, and I often visited Longxi County, so it's not entirely unfamiliar to me."

Fu Tingjun relaxed and said, "I only knew because A Sen told me that Ninth Master had found him in Liangzhou, so I instinctively said you were from Longxi County." She felt a twinge of unease at having casually fabricated someone's ancestral home, and added by way of explanation, "At the time, I thought since we would never see Sixteenth Master again, it was enough to give him some answer..." At this point, she let out an "Ah!"

Zhao Ling's heart immediately leaped into his throat.

She wasn't going to explain that business about being "betrothed," was she?

Though it had been a matter of urgency, it was still an awkward subject. Better to leave it unmentioned and let it pass like water over stones.

As she had said, they would never encounter Sixteenth Master again anyway, and he had no intention of seeking refuge with Sixteenth Master either. On this point, the two were of one mind.

Though wealth and honor were won through risk, there was no need to defy heaven and earth for them.

Then he heard Fu Tingjun say, "Ninth Master, did you manage to discern anything from that name card?"

Finally, they could move on from that topic. Zhao Ling felt as relieved as a traveler who had lost his way and finally found the correct path again.

He handed the name card to Fu Tingjun. "Take a look!"

The name card was the kind of red card with gold foil lettering that could be bought anywhere, written in the standard script that all scholars were required to learn.

"'Respectfully sent by a humble servant, the Hermit of the Clear Stream,'" Fu Tingjun read aloud from the card. "Since it doesn't specify who it's for, nor what business the servant was sent on, and the signature is only a sobriquet... even if we showed this to an elder of wide experience, they probably couldn't identify whose card it is." She examined the card inside and out once more, then mused, "If it were lost, no one could guess whose card it was. Such caution suggests that Sixteenth Master must indeed be a feudal prince."

Zhao Ling nodded slightly and said, "Tell me from beginning to end how you came to take shelter at the City God Temple." Previously, with Sixteenth Master and the others present, she had only given a brief account.

Fu Tingjun knew that what she was about to say was crucial to Zhao Ling's judgment, so she recalled carefully, recounting even the smallest details with clarity.

Zhao Ling was silent for a long while, thinking deeply before saying, "So, according to you, when you went in, Mo Yi and Sixteenth Master were pretending not to know each other. Later, when we clashed with the bandit leader, Mo Yi disappeared, while Sixteenth Master watched coldly from the sidelines. It wasn't until I killed the bandit leader that Sixteenth Master's men finally stepped in to help?"

Fu Tingjun nodded. "I felt quite indignant at the time. They clearly had such skill—why wait until we were at the end of our rope before acting? I know that the best way to earn someone's gratitude is to offer help when they need it most, but this wasn't offering help in dire need—it was like sending a cooling fan in autumn, waiting until you could barely hold on before appearing. If it were me, I would have stepped in while you were facing off against the bandit leader... I would have shouted, 'Friend, let me lend you a hand!' and then sent my men charging in... At that point, the bandit leader wasn't dead yet, so the credit for the first strike would naturally be theirs, and we would have been endlessly grateful to them... They would have gained both face and substance..."

Zhao Ling watched her indignant expression, like a child who hadn't gotten candy and was running to an elder to complain, and the corners of his mouth couldn't help but curl upward.

He said to Fu Tingjun, "Call A Sen in. I have a few questions for him."

Fu Tingjun called A Sen in.

"You're certain that the person following you fell into your trap?" Zhao Ling's expression turned serious, a solemnity settling over his brow. The relaxed atmosphere from moments ago vanished without a trace.

"I'm certain," A Sen swore. "I originally planned to capture him alive, but I was worried he might be one of Third Master Feng's spies—Master, you're always telling us to leave some leeway in all matters, so we can meet again in the future. I was afraid that if I offended him, he'd go and talk nonsense to Third Master Feng, and Third Master Feng would get vicious and pursue us relentlessly." As if afraid Zhao Ling might misunderstand, he added hastily, "Of course, we're not afraid of Third Master Feng. We're in a hurry to get to Xi'an Prefecture because we don't want any unnecessary complications..."

Fu Tingjun turned her head away, covering her mouth with her hand as she laughed quietly.

Zhao Ling watched her shoulders shaking with suppressed laughter, and a hint of amusement crept into his eyes as well. He scolded A Sen lightly, "Alright, alright, stop with the slick talk in front of me!"

A Sen glanced at Fu Tingjun, who was still laughing, then at Zhao Ling, who was smiling along with her. He felt the atmosphere in the room was a bit different from usual, though he couldn't quite put his finger on how. Either way, he thought it felt good.

"I'm telling the truth," he muttered. "If I hadn't smelled blood, I'd have had something good to offer him..."

Zhao Ling didn't press further. "Go keep watch outside the door," he said.

A Sen obeyed Zhao Ling without question and immediately went to the door.

Fu Tingjun asked Zhao Ling, "What did you discover?"

Her eyes were bright, looking quite curious.

Zhao Ling paused before replying flatly, "Nothing much. I just wanted to know what happened while I was unconscious."

Who was he trying to fool?

Every time it was like this—whenever it came to something important, he'd put on that cold, distant expression to downplay the matter... treating everyone else like fools.

She hadn't even pressed him about hiding his name, and yet he still put on that face with her!

Fu Tingjun was furious. She shot to her feet and turned to leave in a huff.

After taking two steps, she felt that wouldn't be right.

If they encountered similar situations in the future, would she just storm off like this every time?

Would Zhao Ling volunteer to tell her what happened just because she did that?

She paced back and forth across the room a couple of times, and once her emotions had gradually settled, she asked Zhao Ling, "Is Ninth Master brushing me off like this because you think I'm too dull—that even if you explained it to me, I wouldn't understand? Or do you think this matter has nothing to do with me, and I don't need to know?"

Zhao Ling was puzzled.

They had been talking fine just now—why was she angry again?

This temper of hers was like June weather—wind when it said wind, rain when it said rain, changing this way and that without any rhyme or reason.

He furrowed his brow slightly, but the soft backrest behind him, the warm breeze coming through the window, and the bright, open room all reminded him of how carefully she had tended to him... If he ignored her now, it would be too cold-hearted.

Zhao Ling felt a bit uneasy, wondering how to break the deadlock, when Fu Tingjun sat back down by the bedside.

He felt a weight lift from his chest. "Miss Fu, don't misunderstand. I just haven't worked it all out yet. Once I do, I'll definitely tell you!"

Haste makes waste.

Some things needed to be taken slowly.

Having that assurance from him was enough.

Fu Tingjun stood up with a smile. "You haven't slept all night, and you're badly wounded. Ninth Master, you should rest well! We'll discuss this matter this afternoon!" Without waiting for Zhao Ling to say anything, she opened the door with a creak, startling A Sen, who had been leaning against the doorframe. "Miss, what's wrong?"

"Nothing!" Fu Tingjun said with a laugh. "I'm going downstairs to find a rag so I can clean up the room."

The place she was staying in was filthy too.

"I'll go!" A Sen clattered down the stairs.

Neither of them noticed that Zhao Ling's expression had turned somewhat grim.

How had he ended up saying something like "I just haven't worked it all out yet. Once I do, I'll definitely tell you"?

Was he really going to discuss this with Fu Tingjun in the afternoon?

She was just a woman—even if she knew, what could she do about it?

It would only give her needless worry and fear.

His head throbbed as if it might split open. He lay down with his brows knitted tightly.

...

Downstairs, Mo Yi was sitting on the threshold of the shop, legs spread wide in a commanding posture.

Seeing A Sen come down, he turned his head and glanced at him. "Is something the matter?"

"Nothing!" A Sen said. "I'm just finding a rag for our miss so she can clean the room."

Mo Yi nodded. Chen Liu and Xiao Wu walked in.

One was carrying water on a pole, the other holding a bamboo basket filled with flour, eggs, and scallions.

A Sen's eyes lit up. "Where did you get all this stuff?"

The two smiled but said nothing.

A Sen guessed their supplies might not have come by entirely legitimate means, so he didn't ask further. Once they had fried up some flatbreads, he brought them upstairs to Zhao Ling and Fu Tingjun.

Mo Yi shot Chen Liu a meaningful look.

Chen Liu squatted at the bottom of the stairs with his bowl of food.

Mo Yi asked Xiao Wu, "So that fellow was the one who dumped you in the cesspit?"

Xiao Wu's face turned red.

Mo Yi's expression darkened like it was about to rain.

...

Upstairs, Fu Tingjun watched as A Sen attended to Zhao Ling, who had taken his medicine, and then sat at the head of the bed. "Ninth Master, have you figured out the matter at the City God Temple?" she asked, then said seriously, "But I've thought it over carefully. Since Sixteenth Master cannot leave his fief without authorization, he must have come to Shaanxi secretly. What do you think—could Mo Yi have been looking for him? They happened to run into each other at the City God Temple, and when we stumbled in unintentionally, they had no choice but to pretend not to know each other..."

Zhao Ling's expression was rather complicated—whether he was surprised by her reasoning or resigned to her persistence was unclear.

Fu Tingjun raised an eyebrow at him. "Ninth Master, am I wrong?"

Zhao Ling gave a wry smile.

But he did not answer her.

Fu Tingjun simply said, "Well then, if there's anything you can't figure out, Ninth Master, why not ask me?"

Zhao Ling looked at the hint of cunning flashing in her eyes and could not help but press a hand to his forehead.

This Ninth Miss of the Fu family was a little stubborn, a little headstrong... Otherwise, she would not have insisted on getting to the bottom of things even when falsely accused of an illicit affair.