Climbing the outer wall of an inn wasn’t difficult. Besides, it was only the second floor; as long as one discarded their moral standards, they could be as light as a swallow.
Song Yin didn’t exert much effort to reach the second floor, making no sound at all.
She carefully pushed open the window, confirming that this was indeed the room where Helan Tan was staying.
The other rooms were filled with disciples attending the Youth Exchange Competition. They might have been young and handsome as well—and “eating” them wouldn’t have been a loss—but she was angry today. She would only eat Helan Tan; she didn’t want anyone else.
Song Yin pushed the window open easily, meeting no resistance.
A flicker of suspicion crossed her mind. She tossed a silk sash into the room and waited a few breaths to ensure there were no traps before lightly leaping inside and closing the window behind her.
The room was dark; the candle had already been blown out.
Song Yin wasn’t familiar with the room’s layout, and her valuable night pearl had been confiscated by her Master. Unable to see in the dark, she had to reopen a small part of the window to let in a bit of moonlight.
Under the moonlight, several spots sparkled with reflections. There were many mirrors on the table, and Song Yin’s heart skipped a beat; she really wanted to go over and take a closer look, but remembering her main mission, she suppressed the urge.
What was Helan Tan doing? Had he fallen into a deep sleep in such a short time? Or was she so quiet he hadn’t heard her?
She felt her way to the bedroom and looked directly at the bed.
No one was there.
Did he go out? Impossible; she had been squatting at the stairs the whole time.
Song Yin ran out of patience and didn’t want to search in the dark anymore. She ignited a fire charm and relit the candle.
The room brightened.
Song Yin no longer restricted her movements. She strolled boldly into the outer room, only to see a figure collapsed by the door.
“Oh.” Song Yin let out a small gasp of surprise.
She walked over. Helan Tan’s eyes were still tightly shut, and he was lost in a high fever.
The black lotus on his face had faded considerably, but pain still radiated through his body.
Song Yin wondered why he was wearing a cloak in the middle of the night. She called his name a few times without response, so she had no choice but to help him up.
She accidentally knocked off the cloak’s hood, revealing the half of his face covered by the lotus. She stared intently, her cat-like eyes bursting with the excited glint of someone seeing something novel.
Song Yin didn’t recognize this as the mark of a “medicine tester” forced out by the secret poison of the Medicine Sect.
Her only thought was: His skin is so white, and that black tattoo is so… erotic.
“Don’t sleep here,” Song Yin said, having forgotten some of her anger over him rejecting her. She felt a bit of concern. “Sleeping on the floor will give you a cold.”
Aside from her foolish junior brother who had been knocked unconscious and slept on the arena, he was the second person she had encountered today sleeping on the floor.
Song Yin reached out to support him, but as she drew closer, she realized Helan Tan was terrifyingly hot. He was like a cage sealing a volcano; beneath his skin was boiling lava.
He has a fever.
Song Yin was certain. She looked at his tightly pursed lips. They were parched, and the lines of his lips were deepened by dehydration.
He was suffering from a severe fever.
Song Yin didn’t hold it against a sick person. She leaned in, intending to move Helan Tan to the bed.
However, their heights and builds were too different. Moving him was a massive struggle. She leaned Helan Tan against her, and his head instinctively slumped toward her.
During the short distance from the door to the bed, Song Yin struggled so much she even began to curse for no reason: Rich people are so annoying. Why do they have to stay in such a huge inn? And he’s annoying too. Why is he so tall?
Helan Tan’s body was scorching as he pressed against her. He felt like a burning mountain leaning on her side.
Halfway there, Song Yin got tired. she pushed him onto the floor; since there was a rug, it wasn’t a big deal.
She lay down as well, simply pressing herself against him.
But she heard Helan Tan let out a groan of pain. Song Yin looked up and noticed a shard of a broken mirror on the rug. His arm had brushed against the edge, nearly cutting him.
“Idiot. Can’t even put a mirror away properly.”
Song Yin was quite pained over the mother-of-pearl mirror. She picked up the pieces, fit them back together, and put it back on the table.
She also felt pained for Helan Tan’s skin. She checked his arm, confirming he hadn’t been cut. She didn’t want this body that so perfectly suited her tastes to be marred.
She stretched her limbs, straightened the perfectly peeled rabbit bag at her waist, and in one final burst of energy, continued moving Helan Tan to the bed.
Helan Tan’s eyes remained shut, and low groans escaped his throat from time to time.
Song Yin lay down on the bed beside him, placing the back of her hand on his forehead.
His forehead was burning hot.
Song Yin leaned against him, shook out the quilt, and spread it evenly over him. She even pulled a corner over her own stomach to keep the night wind from giving her a chill.
Leaning against the headboard, she rubbed his forehead with her palm.
The heat didn’t dissipate. Helan Tan seemed to be dreaming of something, as his expression grew more pained.
Song Yin studied his face quietly. The traces of the black lotus had faded a bit more.
She touched his face and changed her position.
Song Yin rested his head on her lap and then placed both hands on his temples. She massaged them in light, circular motions over and over—a gentle massage.
She even cleared her throat, recalling the lullabies her Big Senior Brother had sung to her when she was little. She began to hum a light tune to coax him to sleep: “La la la~ Meow meow meow~ La la la~ Meow meow meow~”
In Helan Tan’s dream, someone was singing. The song was truly terrible—harsh, discordant, and sounding like a ghost’s wail.
And that singing seemed to chase him. Even if he wanted to cover his ears in the dream, he was powerless. The singing rose and fell, full of emotion, piercing his ears like a knife.
In his dream, Helan Tan was walking through a desert. Countless ghosts and demons of his unbearable memories were chasing him. An endless, scorching desert from which he couldn’t escape, and layers of volcanic lava he couldn’t cross.
Suddenly, a thunderbolt flashed across the clear sky. Like nectar falling from the heavens, a song appeared out of thin air. The song surrounded him, the notes like people holding hands and circling him.
Gradually, those loathsome, hateful, blood-stained memories faded away. His mother’s face as she wept blood, his father’s cruel visage, the knife cuts on a medicine tester’s body—everything was driven away by the song, leaving only the humming voice surrounding him.
The dust storms in the desert gradually ceased. The scorching sand was no longer burning. The blood-colored sunset faded, and the clear Crescent Spring was right before his eyes.
The song accompanied him gently, allowing his exhausted self to lie by the Crescent Spring and finally fall into a deep sleep.
When Helan Tan woke up, the daylight was already bright.
He gave a soft groan as he slowly drifted awake. He opened his eyes to see Song Yin sleeping soundly beside him. Her eyes were closed, her eyelashes curled, and her sleeping face was well-behaved. Her hand rested by the pillow, and her breathing was steady and soft.
He froze for a moment and quickly felt his face. There happened to be a mirror on the nightstand, and in the reflection, the black “tattoo” had vanished.
His cloak had been removed, but his clothes were still on.
His movements weren’t large, but they still woke Song Yin, who had cared for him all night.
She opened her eyes and stretched: “You’re awake.”
She tossed aside the quilt covering her stomach, flipped off the bed nimbly, and sat at the headboard, tinkering with some jars and bottles.
Only then did Helan Tan see a clay pot and a small bowl on the nightstand. A sweet fragrance wafted from them.
He grasped his collar to close it slightly and asked surreptitiously, “When did Miss Song arrive?”
Song Yin felt that if she admitted she had stayed at the inn after being rejected, it would look a bit undignified. So she answered, “Mm, I came after you fell asleep.”
Helan Tan said nothing, calculating the possibility of her having seen the lotus mark.
Before he could finish the thought, a white porcelain spoon was held to his lips.
“Open up.”
Song Yin had looked after him all night while he had a fever. Last night, seeing that he was dehydrated and his lips were parched, she had fed him some pear water.
She had stewed a full pot and kept it warm with a spell. There was half a pot left, so she continued feeding him now that he was awake.
She held out the white porcelain spoon with a blue rim, pressing it against his lips. Before Helan Tan could react, he was fed a mouthful of warm sugar water.
He had just swallowed the first mouthful in a daze when the second spoon was held out.
He saw clearly this time: rock sugar and snow pear soup. The pears were stewed until they melted—translucent, soft pear chunks in clear sugar water. Two or three red goji berries floated on the white spoon.
This was completely the wrong treatment for his ailment, yet drinking it felt warm and sweet.
Song Yin fed him spoonful by spoonful with great patience.
“You can stew soup?” Helan Tan was very surprised.
Song Yin lowered her head to scoop another spoonful: “Mm. I often see the Master’s Husband stewing rat meat for Big Senior Brother.”
Helan Tan choked.
Song Yin paused her spoon, looked into his eyes, and considerately raised her hand to pat his shoulder, helping him catch his breath.
After Helan Tan finished, his mood remained low, and he lay back down under the quilt.
Song Yin pushed the bowl and spoon aside for him to clean later. She felt a sense of self-satisfaction at being a caregiver: “My pear water is very powerful. You only got better because you drank it.”
Helan Tan buried his head in the pillow and let out a low chuckle.
“Yes. It’s all thanks to you.”
If her pear water could neutralize the secret poison of the Medicine Sect, then thousands of years of the sect’s work would have been for nothing.
Song Yin had no intention of leaving. She climbed back onto the bed, leaning against the pillow side-by-side with him.
“Are you feeling better?” Song Yin leaned against his shoulder.
“Mm.” Helan Tan nodded in a low voice. The effect of the secret poison had vanished, and the piercing pain had dissipated.
Song Yin leaned against him. Her hair was uncombed and messy, with several tufts sticking up, yet it was unusually soft, making his heart melt.
Song Yin drew a bit closer. She still remembered that he had seduced her yesterday and then wouldn’t let her eat.
Well, now that he was in bed and had drunk her pear water, he should be at her mercy.
Song Yin looked at his pale skin, which still bore a trace of sickly pallor. She didn’t feel any pity; after all, he was naturally very pale.
On the contrary, she felt that he was currently in a “limited edition” state—slightly “damaged” and even more delicious.
Helan Tan’s brow twitched. He guessed what she was thinking from her nakedly honest gaze.
Sure enough, in the next instant, Song Yin grabbed Helan Tan’s collar and pinned him against the headboard to kiss him.
She didn’t use much force. Fortunately, after a split second of surprise, Helan Tan was very cooperative, closing his eyes and letting her kiss him.
Song Yin blocked his lips, sucking on his tongue. His mouth was sweet with the fragrance of rock sugar and snow pear.
She kissed him joyfully, her arms winding around his neck, unable to resist wanting to get even closer to him.
The kiss ended.
Color finally returned to Helan Tan’s face—it was hard to say if it was from embarrassment or because the kiss just now was too intense.
Song Yin looked at his face, then at his straight nose and his thin lips with their prominent labial tubercle.
She stared intently before picking up a cup of fresh water from the table: “Here, have some water.”
After Helan Tan drank the water, his eyes curved into a smile: “What is it?”
The little Charm Demon was being unusually attentive for no reason.
Only after Song Yin saw him rinse his mouth did she lean in close to his ear and whisper, “I want you to use your mouth for me.”
Helan Tan raised an eyebrow in surprise.
Song Yin acted cutely: “It felt so good when you used your hand before. Use your mouth this time.”
He had drunk her pear water; as a Charm Demon, it was time for her to “feed.”
She wanted to use his failure to keep their appointment last night as leverage. She raised her finger, preparing to coax and wheedle him, but before she could even speak, Helan Tan had already moved downward. He lifted her goose-yellow skirt and gave her thigh a light nip.
Song Yin gripped his hair. The water in the teapot nearby vibrated. Amidst the ripples, her eyes grew misty from time to time as she felt the height of his nose, the softness of his lips, and the flexibility of his tongue.
Outside the window, a spring oriole landed on a willow branch by the embankment, singing tunefully. The long willow branches trailed down, their tips brushing against the clear water surface, creating endless ripples every time.
What followed after that naturally took its course.
After Helan Tan rinsed his mouth, he again put his arm around her waist.
Song Yin didn’t refuse. She lay half-reclined against the headboard, cupping his face in both hands. Her almond eyes still held a hint of post-rain mist, and she gave his cheeks a firm pinch.
Her thumb instinctively brushed over the area where the black lotus had appeared on his face, stroking back and forth.
The inside of her wrist pressed against his forehead, staying there to check his temperature. Her voice carried a faint nasal quality as she looked up and asked him seriously: “The fever is gone, right?”
She had cared for him all night; she didn’t want him to catch another fever because of this, as doing this certainly raised one’s temperature.
Helan Tan let out a light laugh and bit her earlobe. His forehead pressed against her skin, proving to her that he was indeed fine.
Song Yin relaxed. The heartless, pleasure-seeking nature of a Charm Demon took over once more, and she wound her arms around his shoulders without any burden.
Yes, that’s how it should be. She had come last night as agreed, and he had failed to keep the appointment. Now he should compensate her by letting her “feed” twice as much.
She had missed one meal last night, so now she wanted to eat two—even several. she was a qualified Charm Demon who was vengeful, calculating, and petty.
The spring orioles outside twittered and chirped, hopping about on the branches and causing the willow twigs to sway slightly.
Song Yin squinted her eyes with pleasure at the rhythm, occasionally let out low moans in his ear.
He was draped over her, lightly kissing her neck and sniffing the warm, emerging scent of apricot blossoms on her body.
Back in the cave, he had been clumsy and lacked experience.
That was the first time the hunting Charm Demon had encountered a delicious prey that suited her tastes and eyes. She had been full of novelty and surprise, her eyes set on claiming him.
During their first hunt and feeding, she had tolerated his ignorance and clumsiness, responding with her own raw acquiescence.
At that time, the emerald green outside the cave had been illuminated by the morning sun and the night moonlight for two days and nights, without stopping.
Song Yin had forgotten all about it after she “ate,” waving her hand and leaving loftily.
However, she hadn’t managed to shake him off despite several attempts. Instead, she was swayed by his blue earrings, pulled into his embrace by his sleeve, and her greedy, beauty-loving heart was easily hooked once more.
Fortunately, her taste was as good as her luck. The prey she chose was not only handsome but also as eager to learn as she was; he made rapid progress during his explorations.
Now that he had experience and rapport, he seemed even better at serving her; it felt comfortable every time.
A Charm Demon only “feeds”; they do not love. That’s why her predecessors had said: just take the Primal Yang. Only the first bite of a prey is the most delicious; after that, it loses its flavor.
And yet, after eating him several times, she found it was still delicious. It was even more flavorful than before.
Song Yin instinctively held him tighter:
“You smell so good. You seem to smell even better than before.”
Jiang Zuilan’s physical cultivation match, unsurprisingly, landed her in the top five.
Song Yin no longer bothered with the sword cultivator Li Jing. Word was that during the discipline and integrity meeting, his fickle junior brother had been criticized. Li Jing was so happy he fell while flying on his sword and broke his arm. It was highly likely he wouldn’t appear in the grand friendship trial, meaning he was no longer an opponent for Jiang Zuilan.
Zhan Zhaozhao, equally unsurprisingly, lost his arena match.
Sikong Lan had specifically gone to watch the match he lost. She was dressed exceptionally well, wearing a slim-fitting green and pale-gold long dress and holding a precious sword. She released the pressure of her Transformation Stage cultivation indiscriminately.
The reason she was so high-profile was to let everyone know that this was the disciple’s own problem and had nothing to do with the Master.
The one losing face was Zhan Zhaozhao, not the Qunxian Sect.
She couldn’t let it affect her lifelong prestige.
Besides, which sect didn’t have a mascot? Why hold it against a child?
The schedule proceeded in an orderly fashion. After a few more days, Song Yin picked up another kitten.
Song Yin held the kitten—it was milky white with black spots, and its pink paws hooked onto her sleeve.
She held the cat while watching the saber cultivator arena matches, her expression serious and focused. she kept a firm eye on every competitor, seeing whose saber techniques were the fastest, most accurate, and most ruthless.
She wanted to find the best saber cultivator.
The cat in her arms thought it had found a good owner and was acting smug, occasionally meowing coquettishly, believing that wealth and prosperity awaited it.
Song Yin patiently finished watching the saber matches.
The gong sounded, and the winner of this round was decided—a youth of sixteen or seventeen. He had a high ponytail and a wide red hair ribbon.
Song Yin ascended the podium in a few steps, showing her tiger fangs to the winner with a brilliant smile: “Congratulations! Can you do me a favor?”
This was a shy, timid youth.
When he looked up and saw Song Yin, his face turned red instantly. He tugged at the hem of his robe, clenching and unclenching his hand helplessly. He instinctively turned his face away, revealing a crimson earlobe. He nodded: “Mm.”
Song Yin led the saber cultivator through several secluded alleys.
And then… she had him neuter all the kittens and puppies in the area.
“Look, this is the cat’s XX.” Song Yin showed the saber cultivator the detailed anatomical diagram of cats and dogs that Sikong Lan had drawn.
She restrained the cow cat in her arms, which had realized something was wrong and was struggling with all its might. She spread its four paws and pointed to its XX, giving the saber cultivator a detailed explanation of the neutering procedure.
“You have to make a small cut here at the XX, take out the OO, and then sew it up. That way, the neutering is successful, and these cats and dogs won’t spray everywhere in the future.”
The saber cultivator was very obedient, and his skills were top-notch. After studying the tutorial meticulously, his saber’s shadow was as swift as a flash of lightning. Wherever his blade passed, no “eggs” remained.
The cow cat was the first to despair over losing its “manhood.” It rolled its eyes and stuck out its tongue in Song Yin’s arms, hating itself for meeting the wrong person. For a moment’s worth of dried fish, it had lost its OO.
Song Yin was very satisfied with the saber cultivator’s obedience and proud of his technique.
She reached out to take his hand: “There are still many cats that only come out at night. Let’s meet again tonight. I must catch that black cat that’s leaving kittens everywhere.”
But the saber cultivator shyly avoided her hand: “I can’t go out at night.”
He looked down timidly: “My family is very traditional. We must have a marriage contract before we can have intimate contact.”
Song Yin was surprised: “Not even holding hands?”
The saber cultivator shook his head: “No. Without a marriage contract, I can’t hold a girl’s hand, nor can I go out at night.”
“You’re so much trouble,” Song Yin said, shocked.
However, there were still several areas where the cats and dogs hadn’t been neutered, and she still had a use for the saber cultivator.
So she nodded after a moment of thought, “Fine. I’ll think of something.”
In the evening, Song Yin went to help Jiang Zuilan pack up her shop.
Jiang Zuilan had opened a new shop. Her main business was selling items made of bird feathers: feather fans, feather pens, and feather jewelry.
Song Yin took two beautiful blue bird tail feathers and tucked them into her hair bun. She looked in the mirror, turning this way and that as the feathers sparkled.
“I’ve made quite a bit of money this time.” Jiang Zuilan tapped her abacus, full of confidence. “Tomorrow, I’ll take all the profit and buy more stock. I’ll get a batch of high-priced flying wings to help customers fly. It’ll definitely be very profitable.”
On their way back to the inn, they encountered a few persistent sect disciples. Song Yin was too lazy to deal with them and brushed them off with a few casual words.
“So annoying.” Song Yin shut the inn door and casually mentioned the matter of the saber cultivator.
“I can’t possibly be responsible for every one of them. I’m a Charm Demon; no Charm Demon is responsible for a man.”
“I just want to eat some Primal Yang, get some cultivation from dual cultivation, and breakthrough my bottleneck. Why would someone make things difficult for a diligent and ambitious Charm Demon like me?”
To ask a Charm Demon to be responsible for a man was a joke.
Jiang Zuilan came up with an idea based on the novels she had read: “If you pretend you have someone you like, then if those people still pursue you, you won’t have to be responsible for them, right? After all, they came looking for you themselves.”
These words cleared the fog.
Song Yin suddenly realized that if she used the saber cultivator as a shield, she could both meet him and naturally rid herself of those clingy people.
“You have a very good point.” Song Yin settled on the plan. “Heehee, then I’ll go write the marriage contract right now.”
It was afternoon, and the sun was bright.
Helan Tan happened to run into Song Yin on the street. She was window-shopping with Jiang Zuilan. She held a closed Pear Blossom Umbrella in one hand and a green jade beaded bracelet in the other, her eyes sparkling.
Every time he took the initiative to find Song Yin, he was met with failure nine times out of ten.
Song Yin was a powerful Array Master. That was the downside of an Array Master—they came and went like ghosts and loved to wander around using arrays at any time.
So, after parting ways at the inn, he hadn’t seen her for several days.
Helan Tan didn’t care that his good friend Shi Qiu was beside him. In the time it took Shi Qiu to turn his head, Helan Tan had already used a movement technique and was standing beside Song Yin.
“Miss Song.” He had already pulled out his coin purse and taken out a silver note, reservedly thinking about how to pay for her.
Song Yin’s interest was still on the jewelry, and she didn’t pay him much attention.
Helan Tan was used to her changing moods; she was always unpredictable toward him.
He had an important business negotiation for the Medicine Sect today, with a client at the Wansheng Restaurant.
He asked, “Wait for me for half an hour, and we’ll go shopping together, okay?”
Song Yin paused while holding a bracelet. Why was he always clinging to her? This couldn’t continue; it would interfere with her ability to flirt with others at the same time.
So she pouted and accused him of being inconsiderate: “If I go shopping with you, what about Xiao Lan? I made a date with Xiao Lan today.”
She yanked the silver note from his hand and then snatched the coin purse as well, saying righteously, “I’m going to put the money in my bag to spend.”
She brushed him off: “Oh, just go do your business.”
Helan Tan was driven away by her, yet he still looked back every three steps: “Then I’ll find you when I’m finished.”
He looked at the approaching Shi Qiu, his gaze confident: Look, the little Charm Demon cares about me. She’s urging me to leave because she knows I have things to discuss.
Wansheng Restaurant was the most luxurious restaurant in Zhuque Province.
After Helan Tan finished his business on the second floor and saw off his guest, he and Shi Qiu sat at the table to review their layout.
The Medicine Sect was powerful and had many entanglements. Whether it was expanding operations or struggling for power, nothing was easy.
Halfway through the discussion, he suddenly heard a familiar voice—a playful female voice with a light nasal quality drifted through the window.
Helan Tan looked out the window. Song Yin had indeed wandered nearby and was at a pastry shop right below the Wansheng Restaurant.
Helan Tan’s gaze fixed on her back. He tapped his fingers on the table and mused, “Charm Demons are truly powerful, able to stir one’s emotions from afar. Just looking at her back haunts my soul.”
He turned to ask Shi Qiu: “Don’t you feel the same?”
Shi Qiu: “…No.”
Helan Tan said thoughtfully: “It seems she’s putting all her effort into targeting me specifically.”
Shi Qiu: “…”
“But… but…” Shi Qiu stammered, hesitating to speak. He really wanted to say: She looks very impatient with you and doesn’t care about you. She even looks a bit angry.
Could this… could this also be a type of charm?
Too mysterious. Truly mysterious. I don’t get it.
Song Yin was just waiting at the pastry shop for freshly baked jujube paste cakes. In a short distance of a hundred meters, nearly twenty people had asked for her transmission frequency.
She gave none of them, never even looking back: “No. I have someone I like.”
These words reached Helan Tan’s ears clearly.
The teacup in Helan Tan’s hand shook violently, the tea rippling.
He recalled the earnestness with which Song Yin had cared for him that day. At that time, she had lowered her eyes to blow on the pear water in the small spoon, carefully holding it to his lips, her eyes only on him.
He suddenly thought: She has someone she likes. Could that person be me?
His heart suddenly accelerated, feeling a bit excited. The ripples in his cup were endless, one circle following another.
Shi Qiu was holding a layout map, analyzing the importance of a certain medicinal field to Helan Tan.
Suddenly, Helan Tan said, “My uncle and I are still struggling for power; it probably won’t stop for a while.”
Shi Qiu looked up, his face puzzled. Everyone knows that; why mention it now?
Then he heard Helan Tan take a sharp turn: “If a lady were to enter the house, it wouldn’t be convenient these next two years. It would likely mistreat her.”
Shi Qiu gasped in shock: “Your uncle isn’t married, is he? Is he seeing someone?”
Before Helan Tan could answer, the wooden window let out a creak, followed by a solid thud as a fat cat with a red invitation in its mouth jumped into the window.
the white, fat cat limped—it had a small wound on its OO, clearly having been neutered. It had brought a crumpled marriage contract from somewhere.
The cat was likely dazed; it staggered onto the table, falling over every two steps, and happened to deliver the gold-stamped red paper in its mouth right in front of Helan Tan.
“Where did this marriage contract come from?” Shi Qiu stroked the cat, pinching its belly a few times, and conveniently took the letter.
Helan Tan didn’t care, leaning back slightly in a posture of distaste for the dirt and cat saliva on the paper.
Yet he heard Shi Qiu read the marriage contract word for word:
“This marriage contract is hereby announced to relatives and friends. Male party: Saber Cultivator… Female party: Song… Song Yin?”
Helan Tan’s face changed instantly, and the porcelain cup in his hand let out a sharp crack.
Before Shi Qiu could finish reading, Helan Tan snatched the letter and scanned it rapidly.
His lips were pressed tight, and his expression grew even more unsightly.
Sikong Lan was looking at a letter.
A red, gold-stamped marriage contract. A stack of them was neatly arranged on the desk beside her—all the same style. There were likely over a hundred of them.
Sikong Lan finished reading and pinched her brow: “Can’t she put a bit of effort into this? I told her to issue marriage contracts, and she just sent the templates?”
The words were all the same cliché templates, clearly printed in a wholesale batch.
The female party’s name was Song Yin, but the male party’s was different on every page—or rather, a blank line was left for the name to be filled in.
Marriage contracts were scattered everywhere on the table. Ling Yi finished organizing a stack and then picked up several more scattered on the floor, carefully checking them and tapping the edges to align and stack them neatly.
He gave a wry smile: “To the second one, a marriage contract is just a piece of paper; she doesn’t care what it means. She probably thought she’d get a discount by buying two hundred of them—very cost-effective.”
After counting, he realized something was wrong and recounted, worried: “It seems one is missing. I hope it doesn’t cause trouble.”
“It already has.” Sikong Lan looked out the window and tilted her chin. “Look. Trouble has found us.”
Outside the window.
Song Yin had just finished shopping and was returning to the inn with Jiang Zuilan, both carrying a handful of spoils and humming a song. Not far away, Helan Tan, clutching a piece of red paper in his fist, was approaching in a fury.