Achan knew she’d misunderstood but wasn’t embarrassed.
“Since I’m the one proposing this, I’ll bear the consequences, whatever they may be,” she said tentatively. “Does my lord agree to the proposal?”
There’s a human saying: misfortune may lead to fortune, and fortune may conceal misfortune. If Achan wanted to take advantage of Bai Xiuming, she was prepared to pay a price.
She’d already provoked the man; with an opportunity at hand, how could she let it slip?
Those who hesitate achieve nothing.
“I agree,” Bai Xiuming said.
Achan’s eyes curved into a smile. Looking at the tall man before her, she thought, no connection now? She could forge one.
Before, Bai Xiuming lived in her lies; now, they were becoming reality.
But it wasn’t over yet.
“My lord,” she called sweetly.
Bai Xiuming lowered his gaze, waiting for her to speak.
Achan, feigning shyness with flushed cheeks, said, “I know your word is your bond, but… could you pay the reward first?”
“Don’t push your luck.”
Unfazed by his cold tone, Achan held out her hands before him.
“Look at my hands, my lord. These scars are from recent days. I didn’t even know what a stove looked like before, and now I pinch every penny. If life weren’t so hard, I wouldn’t dare ask you.”
Achan spoke earnestly, her eyes misting over.
The scars on her hands were real, some from blisters caused by carving yin willow, not yet fully healed, and a newer cut from slicing chicken two days ago.
All for survival, so it wasn’t a lie.
Her scars healed slowly but weren’t severe, though they looked alarming.
When playing the victim, the more pitiful, the better.
Bai Xiuming looked at her delicate, pale fingers, recalling the soft, smooth touch when he held her hand that night.
He looked away. “When do you want me to go?”
Achan’s eyes lit up. “Tomorrow?”
“You’re in a hurry?” He didn’t refuse.
“Very.” Achan looked at him eagerly. “Is that alright, my lord?”
“…Fine.”
“What time tomorrow? I want to join the fun,” Achan said, not hiding her glee at the prospect of the Jinyang Marquis’s misfortune.
“Tomorrow at the hour of wèi (1 PM to 3 PM).”
“It’s a deal.”
Achan was delighted, having secured her reward first, but she didn’t forget the main task.
She said seriously, “I’ll write you a list of materials. I assume you have dragon bone?”
“I do.”
“Good. Besides the items on the list, grind a section of dragon bone into powder and give it to me.”
Bai Xiuming had no objection.
Achan suddenly remembered she had no paper or brush at home and hurried to Boss Xu’s bookshop next door to borrow some. Xu generously provided them.
Before writing, she saw Bai Xiuming enter the shop. Her pen paused briefly, then she listed several materials and their approximate quantities in her neat, feminine hairpin-flower script.
After finishing, she blew on the ink and handed it to Bai Xiuming. “Keep it safe, my lord.”
He glanced at it, folded the paper, and tucked it away.
After bidding farewell to Boss Xu, Achan and Bai Xiuming left the shop. Seeing he was about to leave, she called out, “My lord.”
“Something else?” He turned back.
Achan blinked her clear eyes. “If one day your enemies come for me, will you save me?”
“I don’t save useless people.”
“No room for negotiation?”
Bai Xiuming didn’t bother answering, turning to leave.
Tch, heart of stone.
Achan huffed inwardly, but thinking of tomorrow’s spectacle, her steps home were lighter.
The next day at noon, she skipped lunch and headed to the Jinyang Marquis’s residence.
Before the wèi hour, she found a prime viewing spot on the third floor of a teahouse across the street, with a clear view of the residence’s gate.
She chose her spot, ordered a pot of tea and three snacks, and the waiter eagerly led her to a window seat.
The third floor wasn’t crowded, mostly scholars gathered in small groups, reciting poetry and painting, which Achan found amusing.
Unbeknownst to her, while she observed others, she was a sight herself.
In a screened-off private room not far away, several young noblemen peered at her through the gaps.
These were sons of officials, drawn by rumors of the teahouse’s tea lady’s exceptional skills.
After appraising Achan, they shifted their attention. Given their status, they’d seen all sorts of women and didn’t need to fixate on one.
Only one kept looking.
“Mulin, with her plain dress, she’s just a commoner’s daughter. If you’re taken with her, go introduce yourself. Maybe you’ll be a groom tonight, haha,” said Yan Cheng, son of the Vice Minister of Justice.
The Mulin he addressed was the second son of the Minister of Rites.
By rank, Mulin’s status was higher, but Yan Cheng’s maternal grandfather was the Marquis of Zhenbei, a war hero and fiercely protective, so Mulin swallowed his annoyance at Yan’s tone.
Another at the table, the son of the Minister of the Court of Judicial Review, laughed. “If Mulin’s interested, why not meet her? Don’t regret it later.”
Mulin, stirred by the words, hesitated before walking toward Achan.
His companions watched with amusement, except Yan Cheng, who smirked coldly.
As Mulin approached, Achan was nibbling a piece of eight-treasure cake, its sweetness delightful. She thought of buying some to take home.
“Greetings, miss,” Mulin said.
Achan turned to see a young man by her table, youthful with a hint of inexperience but clear-eyed, not like a spoiled noble.
“Is something the matter, sir?” She set down her cake, puzzled.
Mulin’s cheeks warmed, thinking her voice was lovely.
He bowed. “I am Mulin, son of the Minister of Rites. May I… sit here?”
Achan glanced around; there were plenty of empty seats.
His face was now fully flushed, which she found amusing, so she nodded. “Please, sit.”
Mulin, elated, sat down, pondering what to say, when Achan turned to look out the window.
He followed her gaze and saw a Mirror Division guard unit on dragon-blood horses stop outside the Jinyang Marquis’s residence.
Achan spotted Bai Xiuming at the front, riding the largest horse.
Today, he wore a crimson official robe, his hair bound with a golden crown, a long sword at his waist, looking sharp and imposing.
From his horse, Bai Xiuming signaled, and a subordinate stepped forward to knock on the gate.
The gatekeeper, hearing they sought the Marquis, dared not delay and ran inside.
At that moment, the Jinyang Marquis was in his study reviewing his son Xue Zhao’s work. Hearing from the steward that the Mirror Division’s Commander had arrived with men, his heart sank. He set down the essay and hurried out.
Xue Zhao followed.
Bai Xiuming didn’t wait long before the Jinyang Marquis, in casual robes, emerged with his nominal adopted son.
Their resemblance in appearance and gait made it hard to believe they weren’t father and son.
Xue Zhao, young and unaccustomed to such scenes, looked tense. The Marquis appeared far calmer.
Seeing Bai Xiuming remain mounted, a cold glint flashed in the Marquis’s eyes, quickly concealed. “What brings Lord Bai to my door today?”
“I’m here on someone’s behalf to retrieve something from you, Marquis.”
“Oh? And what might that be?”
“Your late wife’s dowry, from the Lin family.”
The Marquis’s expression shifted, his gaze toward Bai Xiuming filled with suspicion.
“Is Lord Bai joking? In what capacity do you come to claim my late wife’s dowry?”
“I’m here on Ji Chan’s behalf to retrieve her late mother’s dowry. That’s not excessive, is it?”
The Marquis frowned, seemingly unprepared for his disowned daughter to have the influence to enlist Bai Xiuming.
He said nothing, but Xue Zhao, unable to hold back, stepped forward. “Lord Bai, you’re unreasonable. Ji Chan is the product of Lin’s adultery. What right does she have—”
Before he finished, Xue Zhao was sent flying. The Marquis’s face changed as he countered Bai Xiuming’s move, barely catching his son.
But as he set Xue Zhao down, the young man coughed up blood and collapsed.
Bai Xiuming dismounted, brushing dust from his sleeve. “The Jinyang Marquis’s upbringing isn’t very good.”
The Marquis’s face darkened. His son was gravely injured, and Bai was making snide remarks.
Suppressing his anger, he gritted out, “Why must Lord Bai stoop to a child’s level?”
Bai Xiuming chuckled. “Someone had to teach your son that words bring consequences. Don’t you agree, Marquis?”
When the Marquis didn’t respond, Bai Xiuming’s smile turned cold. “It seems you’d like to spar with me, Marquis?”
“No need for jest, Lord Bai.” The Marquis lifted Xue Zhao, paused, and said, “Since you’re here for my late wife’s dowry, please, come inside.”
Bai Xiuming led his men into the residence. Lady Xue, the Marquis’s wife, rushed over upon hearing the news, trembling at the sight of her unconscious son.
“Marquis, what happened?”
“Internal injuries. Have the steward fetch a doctor.”
Lady Xue hurriedly summoned the steward. Once everything was arranged, she glanced at the menacing Mirror Division guards and whispered to the Marquis, “Who are these people?”
The Marquis was silent for a long time before answering, “They’re here for Lin’s dowry. Get her dowry list and have everything accounted for, nothing missing.”
Lady Xue was puzzled. “Why? Why are they asking for Lin’s dowry?”
When Lin married, the Lin family was at its peak, and her dowry was substantial. After Ji Chan was expelled, it all fell into Lady Xue’s hands.
Even as the Xue family rose, Lady Xue’s dowry was a fraction of Lin’s. How could she part with such wealth?
“It’s that wretched Ji Chan…” The Marquis stopped as Bai Xiuming glanced over, and Lady Xue’s expression shifted.
She remembered Ji Chan’s words from the Flower Festival.
At the time, Lady Xue had been swayed, but when Ji Chan made no further moves, she thought the girl had tricked her.
Yet, in just a month, Ji Chan had actually brought Bai Xiuming to their door.
What a shameless wench! Lady Xue clenched her fists, seething.
Still reluctant, she pressed, “Marquis, that’s a fortune. You need funds for your cultivation. If we give it away… outsiders might think you’re afraid of Lord Bai.”
Lady Xue believed the Marquis, a fourth-realm cultivator reduced to third-realm due to old injuries, was still experienced enough to match Bai Xiuming.
Yielding now would invite ridicule, undermining the Jinyang Marquis’s standing in the capital.
She thought it through, but the Marquis glared at her, snapping, “Enough nonsense. Have the maids and servants inventory Lin’s dowry.”
“But…” Lady Xue wanted to argue, but the Marquis’s fierce glare silenced her. She relented.
Lady Xue led the Mirror Division guards to the courtyard storing Lin’s dowry, but the Marquis stayed put. Did he want to hand over such wealth if he had a choice?
Rumors claimed Bai Xiuming was third-realm but could kill fourth-realm foes, a peerless talent.
Only the Marquis knew his own cultivation couldn’t match Bai Xiuming’s.
Ji Chan…
He repeated her name in his mind, sighing at last.
While Lady Xue and the guards inventoried the dowry, Bai Xiuming didn’t follow. He summoned the residence’s steward and had him lead him to Ji Chan’s former courtyard.
Though Ji Chan had been expelled, her old courtyard remained—not kept for her, but because the residence’s young masters found it inauspicious.
A cleaning maid was there, identified by the steward as Ji Chan’s former personal maid.
The maid, visibly worn from mistreatment, knelt and began kowtowing numbly upon hearing an official had come.
“Get up,” Bai Xiuming said. “I have questions. Answer truthfully.”
“Yes,” the maid replied softly.
“What kind of person was Ji Chan?”
The maid paused, thinking, then said, “The young lady was kind, always good to us servants.”
Her answer didn’t satisfy Bai Xiuming. He rephrased, “Did your young lady cry often?”
The maid shook her head. “She rarely cried, but… when she was sick, she’d secretly cry for her parents.”
Her lips curved slightly, as if recalling old memories.
Then she added, “But even when sick, the Marquis rarely visited her.”
“Could she read and write?”
“Of course.”
Bai Xiuming took a paper from his sleeve and unfolded it. “Look, is this her handwriting?”
The maid nodded eagerly. “That’s her writing. She tried to teach me once, but my hands were clumsy, and I couldn’t write well.”
“Are there any samples of her writing here?” Bai Xiuming asked.
“Yes.” The maid opened the door and retrieved a stack of papers, covered in various writings, likely scribbled in idle moments.
The handwriting matched the list she’d given him perfectly.
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