A Lesson Learned, but Only with Acquaintances

The sudden sharp pain in her scalp made He Zhuoming cry out.

The white-robed maid was so startled that the comb slipped from her hand, and she fell to her knees in a panic. He Zhuoming paused, then quickly reached out to help her up. "Why are you kneeling to me... get up, get up!"

The maid looked slender and frail, but He Zhuoming found that she couldn't pull the girl to her feet no matter how hard she tried.

Refusing to accept it, she used more force, but the maid remained motionless, kneeling with her head bowed, her forehead nearly touching the floor, her shoulders trembling.

He Zhuoming didn't know what to do. She looked up at Lin Qingyun and mouthed carefully, "What's going on?"

She had assumed these sisters were disciples of the Pear Garden, like Lin Qingyun, just of a lower rank, sent by him to help—just like teachers in school would assign group leaders to collect homework or check recitations.

But seeing the maid this frightened, even someone as oblivious as He Zhuoming finally realized these people seemed to occupy a much more subservient position.

Lin Qingyun walked in, picked up the fallen comb, and said lightly, "You may go. Don't stay here."

The maid scrambled up with her head bowed, her back still bent, and backed out of the room with a mixture of terror and caution.

He Zhuoming touched the spot where her hair had been yanked and asked, puzzled, "That sister seemed really scared..."

Lin Qingyun asked, "What did you call her?"

He Zhuoming: "Sister. Is that not right?"

Lin Qingyun thought for a moment, then shrugged. "Fine, call her whatever you like. Come here, let me see the spot where your hair was pulled."

He Zhuoming waved him off, ignoring him, and turned back to the bronze mirror, examining herself. "It only pulled a little. My mom yanks my hair sometimes when she combs it too. Wow, this hairstyle is so complicated—how does it twist around like that... Is it done?"

"But why was that sister so scared? Isn't she a disciple of the Pear Garden?"

Lin Qingyun: "She's a maid of the Divine Palace, tasked with serving the idol of the Lord of Pear Palace."

He Zhuoming was startled. "Shouldn't that give her high status?"

Lin Qingyun: "No matter how high her status, she can't injure a guest."

He Zhuoming was even more surprised. "...I'm a guest? I thought I was just a friend crashing at your place."

Lin Qingyun's smile was faint, but when he met He Zhuoming's wide, incredulous eyes, he couldn't hold it in and burst out laughing.

"Mm, true, Xiao He is a friend crashing at my place, not a guest. Now, bring out the gold and I'll estimate its value."

As soon as He Zhuoming heard it was time for business, she stopped mirror-gazing and fetched the red silk bundle she'd kept within reach—she'd even kept it in her sight while bathing.

Unwrapped, it revealed a heap of brightly colored beads and a lump of gold that had been hammered into a strange shape.

Traces of fine carving could still be seen on the gold's surface.

Lin Qingyun picked up the gold, weighed it in his hand, tossed it, and said, "This was the phoenix crown on your head when we got married."

He Zhuoming nodded and complained, "Right, I worked so hard hammering it flat, and I even cut my hand."

Lin Qingyun glanced at her hand—it had healed quickly, clean and smooth, without a trace of a scar.

But there were several cracked nails, a result of those rough days in the mountains.

He looked away and said with a faint smile, "This gold weighs exactly twenty taels. Converted to copper coins, it would be enough to buy a two-courtyard house, four or five servants, and still have some left over."

"These beads aren't worth much—they're low-grade glass. Glass is valuable, but these small beads are usually scraps, poorly polished, with cracks inside and not clear enough in color. If you find the right buyer, you might get five or six taels of silver for them."

He Zhuoming's head spun from all the currency conversions. After Lin Qingyun finished, she sat there dazed, unable to digest it all.

Gold, silver, copper coins... so complicated. How many kilograms is twenty taels? What about five or six taels? And where would she find the right buyer?

Just thinking about it made her head ache.

She wrapped her arms around her head, but touched her newly styled hair—afraid of messing it up, she sheepishly lowered her hands.

Lin Qingyun casually tossed the gold back into the bundle. "If you trust me, leave it to me. I have connections to exchange it for money..."

Before he could finish, He Zhuoming jumped in, "I trust you, I trust you!"

She wrapped the gold and glass beads together in the red wedding dress, and with both hands, solemnly handed it to Lin Qingyun. "I'm entrusting you with all my worldly possessions. Once we get the money, I'll treat you to the most expensive, best meal!"

Lin Qingyun smiled. "I don't eat."

He Zhuoming: "You're fasting... no, fasting—um..."

She groped for the word, her face scrunching in frustration.

Lin Qingyun felt the urge to laugh again. He pressed the dimple at the corner of his mouth, held it back, and prompted, "Bigu."

He Zhuoming clapped her hands. "Yes, that's it! Bigu! Is it because you practice bigu that you don't eat?"

Lin Qingyun said vaguely, "Mm, something like that."

He didn't mean to deceive Xiao He.

It was just that explaining would be troublesome. If he clarified the difference between his condition and bigu, he'd have to explain his identity, which was complicated...

But now, just like Xiao He, he had a secret he didn't need to confess.

Score one for him.

In a good mood, Lin Qingyun stood up with a smile and said, "Are you rested? If so, let's go find the place where you appeared and see if there are any clues."

At the mention of going home, He Zhuoming perked up, grabbing her skirts piled around her legs and getting to her feet.

She smoothed down the wrinkled fabric and complained, "Qingyun, I don't want to wear this dress. Can you lend me another set of your clothes?"

Lin Qingyun agreed readily. "Sure."

He Zhuoming changed back into men's clothing—the same eye-catching red top with white trim—and stood beside Lin Qingyun, who wore the same outfit.

They both looked into the bronze mirror together. He Zhuoming made a peace sign at her reflection and said, "Wearing these clothes feels like wearing a school uniform."

Lin Qingyun: "School uniform?"

He Zhuoming: "In my hometown, disciples of the same sect all wear identical clothes."

Lin Qingyun snorted. "Boring."

What was the point of thousands of people wearing the same thing?

The two left the room, crossing the corridor and the crabapple grove. He Zhuoming continued to look around curiously, studying the overlapping eaves behind the corridor.

The residence looked large enough to house many people. When they'd arrived, several people had come out to greet them.

But on the way out, He Zhuoming didn't see a single person; the place was so quiet that not even a bird call could be heard. No matter which direction she looked, all she saw were eaves, walls, and the brilliantly blooming crabapples.

He Zhuoming hurried to catch up with Lin Qingyun, tugged his sleeve, and whispered, "Why doesn't the Pear Garden plant pear trees? Why so many crabapples?"

Lin Qingyun smiled mischievously. "That you'd have to ask the Lord of Pear Palace. After all, he didn't become a god through proper means. He's a mixed bag, so it's only natural he does odd things..."

Before he could finish, He Zhuoming jumped up and clapped her hand over his mouth in alarm.

He staggered back against the wall, his nose pressed under her fingers—her breath, warm and soft, carried the scent of her skin, a warm, food-like aroma... she must have eaten some date-paste pastries during her bath.

"Shh, shh, shh—we're still in the sect's dorm!" He Zhuoming said seriously. "How can you badmouth the Lord of Pear Palace? What if your fellow disciples... what if the Lord hears you?"

"I'm telling you, True Deities are incredibly powerful. You can't even imagine their abilities!"

Though her memory of the original novel was nearly nonexistent, He Zhuoming still remembered that the True Deities who appeared in the plot were terrifyingly strong—the male lead didn't even get to face any of them face-to-face until mid-story.

And setting aside the fact that she was counting on Lin Qingyun to exchange her money and help her get home, given their bond forged through life-and-death over the past ten-odd days, she couldn't let him court death!

"They say True Deities have eyes and ears everywhere... Besides, you're a registered musician of the Pear Garden. You need to be more careful..."

He Zhuoming rattled on earnestly—but Lin Qingyun wasn't listening. He was silent for a long moment, then suddenly grabbed her wrist and pulled it away.

"From now on, we make a pact," he said. "You won't cover my mouth with your hand, and I won't press your head. Whoever breaks it..."

He paused, thought for a moment, then said coolly, "has to bark like a dog."

He Zhuoming didn't understand why, but she had a strange way of thinking, so she asked, "That isn't really a punishment, is it?"

Lin Qingyun: "Isn't it?"

He Zhuoming earnestly debated with him. "My mom sometimes calls me a puppy, so this has no bite. At the very least, the offender... hmm... should have to bark at the first stranger they meet that day. That would be a real punishment!"

Lin Qingyun was taken aback by her words. "Aren't you worried you'll break the pact?"

He Zhuoming said righteously, "But barking at friends isn't a punishment at all."

Lin Qingyun: "..."

He let the topic drop, reached out, and pressed her head, turning her face forward. "Enough of that embarrassing punishment—watch the road and see where you appeared."

The topic slipped away, He Zhuoming because she was forgetful, Lin Qingyun because he didn't want to bark at strangers.

He knew himself well enough to doubt he could avoid breaking the pact if he took it seriously. And when it came to shamelessness, Xiao He seemed far more willing to be the dog.

...Why did her mother call her a puppy? And why did she look so proud about it?

The two left the residence and wandered along the stone paths.

At first, He Zhuoming genuinely tried to find the spot where she'd crossed over—but before they'd gone far, they came across a candied hawthorn stall.

Then came fried dough sticks, pancakes, fried pastries, and cherries in syrup...

He Zhuoming's hands were full, so she handed some to Lin Qingyun, hoping he'd try them.

"Even if you practice bigu and don't eat," she said, "tasting isn't really eating, right?"

She eagerly held the fried dough up to Lin Qingyun's lips. He smiled warmly but refused, turning his face away and shaking his head.

When Lin Qingyun persisted in refusing, He Zhuoming had to eat it herself.

As she ate, she suddenly realized, "If you don't eat, then I can't treat you to a meal after all!"

Lin Qingyun sighed with a laugh. "Xiao He, it took you this long to realize? I'm pleasantly surprised."

He Zhuoming felt embarrassed. "Actually, it wasn't that slow—"

Lin Qingyun: "I wasn't complimenting you."

He Zhuoming swallowed a cherry and sighed. "Then I'll have to repay you some other way. Oh! Here, here!"

She spotted a familiar stretch of road, quickly stuffed the remaining cherries into her mouth, freed a hand to grab Lin Qingyun's wrist, and dragged him forward. He stumbled along, his smile fading slightly.

Not because he was unused to running, but because he was unused to being pulled by the wrist by He Zhuoming.

She'd just been eating cherry syrup, and apparently it got on her hands. Lin Qingyun felt his wrist moist and sticky where she held it; the syrup seemed to glue their skins together.

Not only that, it even trickled down to his palm, making it itch.

Once He Zhuoming reached her destination, she released his wrist and pointed at the stone bridge over the river, excited. "When I first came—just arrived here! I saw this bridge!"

"But I was dressed differently from the locals, so people kept glancing at me. I felt awkward and walked along this road... and then... I think I made a few turns? The roads here are so hard to tell apart..."

As He Zhuoming chattered, Lin Qingyun lightly pinched his own palm—his fingertips met dry skin. He looked down; his wrist was clean, leaving only the faint impression of her fingers.

No dampness, no sticky syrup.

That phantom warmth and itch had been entirely his imagination. It was the first time he realized he could have hallucinations.

Though they found the spot where He Zhuoming had crossed over, their inquiries around the area yielded almost nothing.

Wen County had no strange legends, no Corrupted Deities or spirits, no county records resembling He Zhuoming's situation—Lin Qingyun even inspected the earth veins and spiritual traces near the bridge, but found nothing unusual.

It seemed He Zhuoming had appeared out of thin air, without cause, elusive, hard to comprehend... The last two phrases were Lin Qingyun's own addition.

To him, she truly was like that.

By the time the sun sank, He Zhuoming, exhausted from the day, listlessly returned to the sect's "dormitory."

The mansion had already prepared a fine meal, but her mood killed her appetite. She forced down a few bites, then went to the room Lin Qingyun had pointed out earlier to sleep.

The one who'd been sent to find "Tang Shuyu" had returned.

He knelt before Lin Qingyun, forehead against the floor, and said in a soft, respectful voice, "Your Highness, the person has been brought back."

Lin Qingyun stood and walked out. The others remained still, waiting for orders.

The mansion was still the same exquisite residence, but in the open space surrounded by crabapple blossoms, a dilapidated mud-brick house had appeared out of nowhere, its roof thatched with straw, a faded spring couplet still pasted on the doorframe.

Lin Qingyun entered the house and scanned the place: it was cluttered, with a makeshift bed of straw and rags in the corner, where a boy in coarse cloth lay sleeping soundly.

Despite his unseemly posture and shabby clothes, his garments were cleanly washed, and with his handsome features and thick black short hair, he easily evoked goodwill.

But what drew the eye most was the string of long earrings hanging from the boy's left ear.