Even the most handsome man wasn’t worth risking her safety.
Yun Qiya’s evasive movement was tactful enough—she tugged He Lu away and pretended to head toward the waiter to buy something. To keep up appearances, she even paid twenty extra coins for a plate of dried dates.
Meanwhile, the clash in the neighboring private room grew fiercer. A few scholars, clearly riled up, shoved and scuffled until two folding screens toppled over. The table and chairs Yun Qiya had just vacated were knocked askew in the chaos.
“Lucky we slipped away in time,” Yun Qiya murmured, handing the entire plate of dates to He Lu—she didn’t care for them herself.
When fists fly and blood runs hot, reason is nowhere to be found.
In the adjoining room, the frail young man sat unmoved, like a monk deep in meditation. The noise and commotion outside seemed to have nothing to do with him.
Still sitting there? The fight was nearly at his doorstep.
With a crash, the screen shielding him finally collapsed, sending a gust of air that ruffled the fur trim of his fox‑skin robe.
“Another eight taels of silver!” shouted the waiter. “Quick, put it on the account!”
According to the laws of Great An, anyone who damaged another’s property in a brawl was liable to pay triple compensation.
On the fallen screen, the two scholars were still grappling, neither willing to yield.
The sickly man ignored the commotion before him—until, suddenly, he spat out a mouthful of blood, his face expressionless.
The waiter, who had been happily tallying accounts, shrieked in terror: “Honored guests, stop fighting! You’ve frightened this gentleman into coughing blood!”
This guest was clearly well‑dressed, no ordinary commoner. Heaven forbid he die in their teahouse!
The two combatants froze mid‑brawl, glancing up just in time to see the blood at the man’s lips. His pallor made him look half‑dead already.
Their hotheaded impulses evaporated in an instant. Trembling, they stammered: “Sir, are you all right?”
The man calmly wiped his mouth with a white handkerchief, his face unreadable. “You may continue. Don’t mind me.”
The scholars quaked. We’d like to continue—but what if you drop dead right here?
Yun Qiya shot He Lu a look: time to leave. This spectacle was no longer safe to watch.
The mistress and maid tiptoed toward the exit, but before they had gone far, the Jinwu Guards—armored in bright mail, blades at their waists—stormed in. The two women quickly shrank back into a corner.
The guards swiftly sorted out the matter, hauling the brawling scholars away and emptying their purses to compensate the shop for damages.
With the excitement over, curious heads withdrew back into their private rooms.
“Honored guest, forgive the disturbance to your tea. Today’s expenses will be covered by the proprietor,” the waiters said, righting the fallen screen and setting a fresh pot of hot tea before Yun Qiya. “We hope you’ll continue to favor our humble teahouse.”
“Many thanks for the kind hospitality,” Yun Qiya replied warmly. Then she asked, “That storyteller downstairs—does he come here every day?”
Saving a bit on tea money wasn’t bad at all.
“It’s hard to say. Sometimes wealthy families in the city invite him to perform at birthday banquets,” the waiter explained. “But if no other patrons call him away, he comes to our teahouse on the fifth and tenth of each month to tell a story.”
“Thank you for letting me know.” Yun Qiya thanked the waiter, then waited until the storyteller downstairs finished his tale before rising to leave. At the doorway of her private room, she noticed the fox‑fur‑clad man standing in the corridor. At some point, two attendants had appeared behind him.
The teahouse had lost its earlier bustle now that the storytelling was over. From below came the faint strains of a pipa. Yun Qiya paused, gesturing politely for the man to go ahead. But he didn’t move. Seeing he had no intention of leaving, Yun Qiya slipped away quickly. The capital was vast, and she still had many places left to explore.
“Miss, your purse—where is it?”
Outside the teahouse, He Lu suddenly realized the pouch at Yun Qiya’s waist was gone.
Yun Qiya touched her empty side, her mind buzzing. That purse held ten gold notes, fifty silver notes, plus a handful of broken silver and copper coins! Her precious money!
“Master, are you all right?” one of the attendants asked, noticing his lord’s expression shift. “Your health is poor—shall we summon the imperial physician when we return?”
The man ignored him and lowered his gaze. Something hard pressed against his foot. He slowly moved his boot aside. There, lying on the floor, was a goose‑yellow purse embroidered with the words *Ankang* (“Peace and Health”).
*Ankang.* He bent down and picked it up. The pouch was heavy, clearly filled with valuables.
The attendant hesitated. Lately, a scam had spread through the capital—people deliberately dropped purses for others to pick up, tricking many unsuspecting citizens. He wanted to warn his lord not to pick up purses carelessly on the roadside—it could only invite trouble. But before he could speak, a voice rang out.
Yun Qiya hurried back up to the second floor of the teahouse. Seeing her purse in the frail gentleman’s hands, she bowed respectfully: “Many thanks, sir, for retrieving my pouch.”
“How can you prove it is yours?” The attendant, knowing his master disliked speaking, stepped forward to deal with the sudden appearance of this young woman.
Such beauty—could this be a honey trap? He dared not let his guard down.
“There’s a ten‑tael gold note inside, five ten‑tael silver notes, along with some broken silver and copper coins,” Yun Qiya replied politely. What sort of noble was this, that even his attendants wore brocade robes and black boots?
The attendant glanced at the man. The man handed the purse back to Yun Qiya. She took it with both hands and opened it in front of them.
The attendant’s expression flickered. Was she about to begin some trick?
“Thank you, sir.” Yun Qiya drew out a ten‑tael silver note and pressed it into the attendant’s hand. “Your master’s integrity is admirable—returning what was lost without keeping it. I am deeply grateful.”
The gentleman’s status was lofty; ten taels of silver meant little to him. But regardless of who he was, whether friendship could be made or not, Yun Qiya wanted him to know she was a proper person—one who repaid kindness with gratitude. When out in the world, appearances must be carefully maintained.
“Many thanks, sir. I shall take my leave.” Yun Qiya tied her purse securely and, with tact, turned to depart.
The man’s identity was unknown—better not to linger. Avoiding enmity was enough.
Watching the young woman’s decisive retreat, the attendant barely had time to refuse the silver note worth only ten taels. “Master?” He held up the note, bowed toward the man, and awaited his command.
The man reached out, took the note, and pushed open the window facing the street below.
The cries of hawkers rose and fell, carrying the warmth of everyday life, swept in together with the cold wind.
“Thank heaven, my precious purse is safely back in my hands.” Yun Qiya clutched her beloved pouch tightly as she stepped out of the teahouse, sighing to He Lu: “He Lu, we really are too poor.”
“Indeed.” He Lu sighed as well, then reminded her: “Miss, last month the young master borrowed ten taels from you and still hasn’t repaid them.” She couldn’t recall how much silver her mistress had spent on the young master, but she remembered every coin he owed her lady perfectly.
He Lu was her mistress’s most loyal little shadow.
“Look, He Lu, they’re selling your favorite fried cakes here!” Yun Qiya bought a piping‑hot portion and tucked it into He Lu’s arms. “Eat, and then we’ll keep wandering.”
“Thank you, Miss.” He Lu beamed, clutching the cakes. Her mistress was the best in all the world!
At the street corner, the pair stood together. Yun Qiya’s beauty and charm drew the eye of a nearby vendor woman, who chatted idly while sneaking glances at her.
When you come across someone good‑looking, it feels unbearable not to sneak a few extra glances—like running a stall and making no money.
“Have you heard? The *Tanhualang (Third Rank Scholar)* has been rejected from his betrothal.”
“Which *Tanhualang*?” One appears in the capital every three years. Five years ago’s *Tanhualang* was young and handsome; two years ago’s was refined and elegant. They’d all seen them parading on horseback.”
“The one from two years ago.”
Yun Qiya pricked up her ears.
No wonder this was the capital—ordinary folk here were far better informed than elsewhere.
“Ah, such an outstanding gentleman, and someone dares to break off the engagement?” a male vendor chimed in. “Won’t they regret it?”
“What do you men know?” a female vendor rolled her eyes. “Last night I packed up late and saw that *Tanhualang* was escorting a young woman home.”
“Maybe he was just being kind…”
“Hah! I’d love to ‘kindly’ escort two handsome young fellows home myself.”
“Those who know, know.”
The man’s words were cut short as several women vendors teased him into silence. He shrank his neck and dared not speak further.
The women grew more animated in their chatter. Spotting Yun Qiya nearby, they said to her: “Little miss, we’ve lived through it all. If a man is kind to everyone, it means he’s truly virtuous. But if he’s only kind to pretty young girls…”
“It means he’s a worthless man.”
The women vendors grew more animated, swapping stories of all the scoundrels they’d ever heard of.
Yun Qiya and He Lu listened with relish, reluctant to move on.
“Y‑young master…” Upstairs in the teahouse, two attendants broke into a cold sweat as the crude gossip drifted up from below.
Tales of men sneaking into latrines and drowning, or peeping at women washing their feet only to be pecked raw by a rooster—such filthy street chatter should never reach their lord’s ears.
Meanwhile, Zhou Yuzhi had just received word from home. He requested leave from the Hanlin Academy and hurried back. In the capital’s busy streets, horses could not gallop. No matter how urgent, he could only ride slowly. Passing a corner, he caught fragments of gossip: “Tanhualang… broken engagement…”
“The Tanhualang may be handsome, but marriage means living side by side. If a man spends all his time outside doting on pretty women, how can that last? Girl, don’t you agree?”
“You’re right, elder sister.”
Zhou Yuzhi yanked the reins, halting his horse, and glared at the speaker. “Ignorant woman! How dare you slander a court official?”
The vendors recognized him at once—the Tanhualang himself, dressed in official robes astride his horse—and fell silent.
“You misunderstand, my lord,” Yun Qiya interjected smoothly. “We were speaking of a character in a storybook—a fickle, flirtatious *Tanhualang*—not of any real person.”
Ah—so it was that mediocre face from last night.
The moment Zhou Yuzhi saw Yun Qiya, his harsh expression softened into gentleness. Eagerly, he said: “Miss, my surname is Zhou, given name Yuzhi. I serve as a Compiler in the Hanlin Academy. Might I ask your esteemed name?”
The stable boy, holding the reins, twisted his features in dismay. Master, please—stop flirting with pretty girls. Even your fiancée doesn’t want you anymore!
Zhou Yuzhi? Yun Qiya’s gaze, which had drifted away, returned to him. So this was her former fiancé? Great‑grandfather, if your spirit still lingers above, you ought to bless me with fortune and good luck—otherwise your conscience cannot rest. Just look at the fiancé you once arranged for me. What kind of wretched sight is this? She was still so young, hadn’t even had the chance to commit any misdeeds—and yet her life already bore such a stain!