Li Shu’s words revealed her mixed feelings toward Li Linsheng—disapproval, yet a hint of admiration for his ability to fight horse bandits.
The hunter’s expression darkened.
Li Shu ignored him, finishing her meal, then had the inn staff guide her upstairs to rest. She reminded the innkeeper: “I’ll be meeting my father here early tomorrow. Keep an eye out for me.”
Once Li Shu left, the hunter ground his teeth, glaring upstairs with murderous intent.
The innkeeper quickly stepped in, signaling and lowering his voice: “This one wears a hood, a stranger, with ties to the army—best not to stir trouble.”
The hunter reluctantly suppressed his anger.
Li Shu had only spoken casually. If these two were indeed linked to horse bandits, she might as well help Li Linsheng build his reputation. After all, he wanted to gain merit as a city gate guard; her five taels of silver shouldn’t go to waste.
Li Shu didn’t return home that night; she slept at the inn. She wasn’t concerned about the Li family. Given Madame Zhou’s temperament, she would probably spread the story of Li Shu staying out late—but for Li Chutian, this wasn’t something to brag about, so he’d likely cover for her anyway.
Even if he didn’t, so what? She could kill people—half the night away didn’t scare her.
In this town, women weren’t overly restricted. The original Li Shu’s misery wasn’t from societal constraints but entirely from her cruel family.
Li Shu’s sleep was restless.
Money was on her mind. In her previous life, she earned through technology. Here, none of that worked. She couldn’t turn stone into gold, and invention wasn’t her forte. Her skills were practical, survival-based—but silver was essential.
Her life goal: fill the space with enough supplies to feel safe. The emptiness of the space made her uneasy.
The next morning, she awoke to find the inn nearly empty. Business was so bad, she marveled the innkeeper could even stay open.
“Miss, no soldiers came looking for you. Do you want to wait a bit longer?” the innkeeper asked politely.
“Ah… maybe my father is really dead. Innkeeper, do you know anyone in the army? I just want to know where my father’s bones are, so I can pay respects on holidays…” Li Shu’s voice sank.
“I can’t help with that, miss,” the innkeeper said awkwardly.
“What about a coffin? Do you know a good carpenter? I want to prepare one for my father.”
“That would be the Qian family—they’ve been making coffins for generations,” he smiled.
Li Shu, with the original memory, knew the business. Yet she pretended ignorance, thanked the innkeeper, and trudged toward the Qian household.
The Qians specialized in coffins. Though the name sounded morbid, they were wealthy. Their trade required discretion, so their reputation in town was solid.
She heard that the eldest grandson had been sick in Yicheng but recently returned healthy. The old Qian was delighted and planned a large birthday celebration, inviting relatives.
If horse bandits targeted the Qians for such a small event, it seemed hardly worth the risk.
Before entering, Li Shu used her remaining copper coins—less than a hundred—to buy cheap makeup, applying it in a hidden spot to alter her appearance and avoid resemblance to the original Li Shu.
The original Li Shu had pale, damaged skin from years of housework. Combined with her slight frame, she wasn’t strikingly beautiful nor ugly—perfectly inconspicuous.
With a few tweaks, Li Shu could move among townsfolk unnoticed.
She entered crying.
The Qian eldest son and his wife, Cheng, were home, unsurprised—visitors arriving with grief were common.
The Qian family treated her politely. Some servants were present but stayed out of the main hall. Qian Dailang poured tea and asked gently: “Miss, are you here about coffins?”
Li Shu cleared her throat, stopping her tears.
“No.” She spoke boldly: “Passing by, I came to warn you of danger. I came crying not due to death in the family, but to conceal my true purpose.”
The couple exchanged glances.
“You don’t believe me?” she continued, sitting properly.
“Are you trying to cheat us?” Qian Dailang frowned. “You’re capable of work—why not do that? We don’t buy into your warnings.”
Li Shu tapped the table, thinking, then said: “Your family recently completed a major transaction, right?”
Qian Dailang paused.
“It concerns your town’s treasure,” Li Shu added.
Observing Mrs. Cheng’s slight shock, Li Shu felt more confident and continued: “This transaction is done, but it must remain secret, or disaster may follow…”
“Miss! Wait, I’ll fetch my father,” Qian Dailang panicked, stopping her, and ran out.
Li Shu held her tongue, considering her next move.
The Qians’ well-known treasure was nanmu wood from remote mountains and valleys. The tree had been buried for centuries, impervious to water or insects. Crafted into a coffin, its value was extraordinary.
Li Shu had considered: if she were a horse bandit, this treasure would be her target.
Yet hauling a coffin all the way here? Impossible.
The only explanation: the coffin had already been sold.