Chapter 70

Fu Tingjun went to open the door and was quite surprised to see Zhao Ling.

Zhao Ling, however, smiled: "This time I did knock."

Fu Tingjun's eyes widened.

He—he actually spoke to her in such a frivolous tone... It made her feel a bit flustered.

Zhao Ling paid no attention to her shock, walked past her, and went straight into the room.

Fu Tingjun, her mind in a whirl, went inside and brewed some tea.

Zhao Ling looked casual and at ease, took a sip of tea, and said: "What are you doing?" Glancing at the needlework thrown on the kang.

"Oh!" Fu Tingjun, somewhat embarrassed, put the needlework into the small rattan basket beside her. "Just idle, doing a few stitches."

Zhao Ling had already seen that it was a grape-purple handkerchief embroidered with rattan-yellow silk thread. The pattern looked somewhat familiar.

He thought for a moment, then said softly: "Would you like to go for a stroll on the street?"

Fu Tingjun's eyes brightened, then dimmed again: "I'd better stay at the inn..." Her tone was a bit dejected.

He guessed right!

Zhao Ling breathed a sigh of relief, and his smile grew even gentler.

"It's fine," he said softly. "People of all ethnic groups live together here, each with their own customs. There aren't as many restrictions as in Guanzhong."

Is that so?

Fu Tingjun thought of the women she had seen on the street that day... Although their clothing was strange, their heads and faces were wrapped tightly, and their bearing was proper—clearly they were respectable women. So it must indeed be true.

She couldn't help but feel tempted, but thinking of Zheng San's words, she hesitated again.

Zhao Ling saw this clearly and encouraged her: "Yongjing is the essential route from Guanzhong to Jiayuguan." Besides the Dashi people and the Huihui, there are also the Uyghurs..."

Fu Tingjun had never heard of this before and asked curiously: "Who are the Uyghurs? Aren't they the same as the Huihui?"

"They are very similar to the Huihui," Zhao Ling laughed, "but the Huihui wear small white round caps, while the Uyghurs wear small square floral caps. There are also some differences in their customs. I can't explain exactly what they are at the moment. I'll point them out to you when we get there."

Fu Tingjun was naturally lively to begin with, and how could she resist such temptation from Zhao Ling? She thought that she could wrap her head so that no one could see her face clearly, and she couldn't help but feel inclined.

Zhao Ling, being extremely perceptive, immediately added fuel to the fire: "We can also go out and see if we can buy some good tea leaves. Once we get to Zhangye, tea is sold at a very high price."

That made going out on the street a proper errand.

Fu Tingjun readily agreed, wrapped her head with a handkerchief, and went to the street with Zhao Ling.

The town of Yongjing was not large, but it was very lively. It was already near noon, and the winter sun felt warm on one's body. The merchant caravans in transit had already left the city; those who remained were either caravans resting here or businessmen whose trade only extended to Yongjing and who had no plans to go beyond the pass. The whole city was bustling yet tinged with leisure. Vendors selling flatbread, lamb offal soup, sweet melons... their cries rose and fell one after another, and from time to time people gathered around to buy and sell. Women wearing sarongs or wrapped in headscarves mingled in the crowd, hurrying past.

Fu Tingjun followed behind Zhao Ling, looking around with eyes too busy to take everything in, finding it all extremely interesting.

Zhao Ling glanced sideways at the person behind him, saw those big dark eyes spinning without stop, their gaze full of surprise and curiosity, and he couldn't help but smile softly.

Fu Tingjun suddenly tugged at Zhao Ling's sleeve: "Look, look!"

Zhao Ling followed her gaze.

Two Semu people with golden hair and blue eyes were standing by the roadside talking. They wore moon-white robes, gestured extravagantly, and occasionally laughed loudly.

"Look at them, look at their hands," Fu Tingjun said in a low voice, her tone a little shy.

Zhao Ling was puzzled.

Fu Tingjun bit her lip: "Their body hair—it's, it's golden."

Just for that!

Zhao Ling laughed, feeling she was full of childishness, and asked her: "Are you scared?"

Fu Tingjun nodded, then thought about it and shook her head: "I just find it very strange."

"It's fine!" Zhao Ling comforted her. "You'll get used to it once you've seen it enough." But in his heart, he let out a long sigh of relief.

Most Han people looked down on the Hu merchants, considering them uncivilized people, profit-seeking, cunning and treacherous, lowly and vulgar, regarding everything about them as heterodox. Even if they made money doing business with them, they still despised them in their hearts. Yet both Yongdeng, where Zhuanglang Guard was located, and Zhangye, where the Gansu Regional Commander's office was, were key points on the road beyond the pass, where Hu merchants gathered. Fu Tingjun came from a distinguished family, and he had always worried that she wouldn't be able to adapt to this kind of life.

Seeing that from beginning to end she only found it novel and interesting, without the slightest hint of contempt... She should be able to adapt to life in Zhuanglang Guard!

A wave of tenderness gently washed over Zhao Ling's heart, filling it to the brim with joy.

He led her to stop in front of a shop that was colorful and glittering with gold.

"Shopkeeper," Zhao Ling called out with a smile to the man wearing a small white round cap inside the shop, who was enthusiastically recommending tapestries to several Han Chinese customers dressed in fur coats, "bring out the headscarves you sell here and let us have a look!"

The people in the shop turned to look at them.

The one at the front was a man in his thirties, of medium height, wearing a treasure-blue Lake silk fur-lined coat. He had a sturdy build, a composed demeanor, and a pair of handsome handlebar mustaches. His eyes were bright and spirited, carrying an air of authority mixed with competence. Behind him were several men—the eldest already past fifty, the youngest only fifteen or sixteen—all wearing fur coats lined with either Lu silk or Lake silk, with a shrewd look in their brows.

Ever since encountering Sixteenth Master, Fu Tingjun had become wary of strangers who clearly weren't ordinary people, so she couldn't help but softly call out, "Ninth Master."

Zhao Ling turned back and asked gently, "What's the matter?"

Before Fu Tingjun could speak, the man with the white round cap who appeared to be the shopkeeper had already responded in broken Chinese, "Alright, alright."

Zhao Ling ignored the shopkeeper and quietly gazed at Fu Tingjun, his eyes as soft as spring light, patiently waiting for her to speak.

Zhao Ling being like this made Fu Tingjun feel as uncomfortable as sitting on a bed of nails. She quickly lowered her voice and said, "Let's go!" Her gaze darted briefly toward the man with the handlebar mustache.

Zhao Ling understood: "I know. We won't strike up a conversation with them. We'll buy what we need and leave."

His voice was as low as hers, like they were whispering, which made her heart flutter slightly, and she couldn't help but blush.

The shopkeeper had already brought out a large pile of headscarves: "Honored guests, which ones would you like?"

Zhao Ling's sharp eyes immediately spotted two black headscarves embroidered with gold silk thread in patterns very similar to what Fu Tingjun had been embroidering. He pointed at the two headscarves: "Just these two!" He didn't even haggle over the price.

Seeing the deal concluded so smoothly, the shopkeeper beamed with joy, took the silver, carefully wrapped the scarves in a piece of cloth, and handed them to Zhao Ling.

Zhao Ling took the headscarves, nodded to Fu Tingjun, and turned to leave.

Fu Tingjun felt relieved and followed closely behind Zhao Ling.

Once they turned the street corner, Zhao Ling handed the headscarves to Fu Tingjun.

Fu Tingjun was stunned.

"Yesterday I saw you staring at someone else's, and today you embroidered that pattern," he said with a smile. "I happened to come across a shop selling these... I thought you might like them." He appeared to look at Fu Tingjun openly, but his ears were already bright red.

"Ah!" Fu Tingjun stared blankly at Zhao Ling, not knowing what to do.

Accept them? These were things to wear—personal items. Men and women had their differences; how could she be so forward... Not accept them? He had been perfectly gracious and had made his intentions clear—he simply noticed her admiring them and happened to pass by a shop selling headscarves... Accept or not, a moment's thought would settle it, but why did her heart feel so strange?

She hesitated, dawdling.

In the dead of winter, Zhao Ling looked at her, his palms nearly sweating with anxiety, feeling as though everyone passing by was watching them.

"Just take them!" His smile began to strain. Then, thinking of the people buying tapestries in the shop earlier, he had a flash of inspiration: "I was also thinking of taking you to buy some woolen blankets—but then we ran into those people. It looks like we'll have to find another shop." Feeling his words were full of holes, he explained, "In Zhangye, the winters are very cold. People like to spread blankets on their heated beds. These blankets are woven from sheep's wool—soft and warm..."

I'm overthinking things!

Fu Tingjun immediately felt relieved and took the headscarves, though for some reason she still felt a bit shy. She softly thanked him, then, remembering that it was because of her objections that Zhao Ling hadn't been able to buy the blankets, she gave him an apologetic smile.

Zhao Ling's taut nerves finally relaxed, and he was startled to realize his back was soaked with sweat.

But he was used to keeping his composure, and since he was trying his best to hide his nervousness, his expression naturally showed nothing unusual. He smiled and chatted with Fu Tingjun: "What kind of blankets do you like? We can each pick one—how does that sound?"

One each?

Suddenly, Fu Tingjun's mind conjured the image of two identical blankets spread across their respective rooms...

How awkward that would be!

Her face burned.

She looked up and saw that Zhao Ling had already entered a shop, pointing at a treasure-blue blanket hanging on the wall, embroidered with moon-white lotus flowers and bright red pomegranate blossoms—vivid and bold in color—and asking her, "What do you think of this one?"

"Oh!" Fu Tingjun was a little distracted.

Should she tell him that it might be better for each of them to pick their own?

Seeing her look indecisive, Zhao Ling thought back to the headscarves he had just given her.

If he hadn't acted swiftly and decisively, they would probably still be standing on the street being stared at.

The thought crossed his mind, and he felt his back starting to sweat again.

Zhao Ling immediately asked her decisively, "Is this blanket pretty? I think when it's cold, having a bright, cheerful blanket in the room would lift one's spirits just looking at it!"

Indeed.

Fu Tingjun nodded.

Zhao Ling then instructed the shopkeeper, "Wrap up this woolen blanket." He then pointed to a plain ginger-yellow woolen blanket nearby and said, "I'll take this one too!"

Fu Tingjun was speechless for a long moment.

So when he said one blanket per person, he meant each person picked out one blanket!

How could she have thought of that?

Fu Tingjun's face turned as red as a piece of cloth.

Zhao Ling asked her with some concern, "Are you tired from walking?" He then asked the shopkeeper for a wooden stool and said, "Sit down and rest for a while. I'll call a carriage to take you back to the inn."

Yongjing County was a tiny place—if they called for a carriage and A Sen and the others saw it, they'd probably laugh their heads off.

Fu Tingjun quickly said, "No need, no need. It's just that I'm wearing too much, and with the sun beating down, I'm a bit warm."

A flicker of doubt passed through Zhao Ling's eyes, clearly not quite believing her words.

"Didn't you say we needed to buy some tea leaves to take back?" Fu Tingjun had no choice but to say. "It's almost noon now—let's hurry and buy the tea and head back!"

"That works!" Zhao Ling didn't insist further and said with a smile, "You've been walking for most of the day; you must be hungry by now."