As the day of the trade fair drew nearer, Yangcheng grew increasingly lively, with merchants from all corners of the land flocking to the city. Among them were even rare visitors from distant, exotic lands.
Walking through the crowd, the feared Miaojiang people no longer stood out as much.
Chu'he heard the jingling of camel bells and curiously raised her head. With just one glance, her eyes were riveted.
It was a group of merchants from the deserts of the Western Regions, dressed in white hooded cloaks, their black hair slightly curled like cascading waterfalls, adorned with mysterious patterns on their foreheads and dazzling golden earrings swaying at their temples.
Their sun-kissed skin glowed, their upper garments uniquely styled to reveal toned abdominal muscles, while their black-and-gold patterned trousers exuded an air of both refinement and wild mystery.
The Western merchant at the rear of the group noticed Chu'he and Ninth standing out just as much and hurriedly turned away, pulling his hood tighter over his head.
Those sculpted abs—every extra glance felt like a reward.
Clearly, Chu'he wasn’t the only woman unable to tear her eyes away.
The men, however, gnashed their teeth. "Baring their chests like that—utterly indecent!"
Whether the Western merchants understood the Central Plains' language or not, they deliberately flashed charming smiles in the direction of the admiring women, making the ladies clutch their handkerchiefs and stomp their feet in excitement.
Chu'he was no exception. She couldn’t help but sigh, "So many divine male specimens."
A hand abruptly covered her eyes with a smack. Before she could protest, a chilling voice whispered in her ear,
"Ah'he, should I turn those men into statues and place them in our room so you can admire them all day?"
Chu'he shivered. "Actually, I’m not that interested in looking."
As the group walked away, Ninth lowered his hand and leaned in close, filling her entire vision. "Those men reek of flamboyance and impropriety. They’re no good."
The words sounded oddly familiar to Chu'he—like the exact phrases her father often used to describe Ninth in the past.
How clever of him to now weaponize her father’s criticisms against other outsiders.
Chu'he replied objectively, "Ninth, that’s not fair."
Ninth arched a brow. "Not fair?"
Chu'he immediately backtracked. "No, no—you’re absolutely right!"
Ninth withdrew the short flute he’d been reaching for. Glancing once more at the retreating figures of the foreign men, he pursed his lips and subtly touched his own abdomen, thinking to himself:
I have firm muscles too—just need to suck in a little. But my texture isn’t any worse than theirs.
"Come on, Ninth, let’s get something delicious!"
Eager to change the subject, Chu'he pulled Ninth toward a street lined with food stalls. This area had once been a slum, but after Chu Sheng had a daughter, he feared that excessive wealth in one generation might deplete the family’s future prosperity. So, he began "scattering riches" again.
He waived stall rents for the slum residents, allowing honest folk to earn modest incomes while the more enterprising could turn bigger profits. Only when their earnings reached a certain level would rents be reinstated.
Compared to a decade ago, the "slum" had shed its poverty and could now be called "Commoner’s Lane."
Chu'he smiled at an elderly woman by the roadside. "Granny, one bowl of sweet tofu pudding, please."
"Oh, Miss Chu!" The old woman’s wrinkled hands scooped a full bowl of silken tofu. As she sprinkled sugar, she remarked curiously, "But Miss Chu always preferred the savory kind before?"
Chu'he tugged the figure behind her forward. "It’s not for me—it’s for my husband."
The old woman squinted, her poor eyesight catching only the most striking feature—his white hair. "Goodness! A refined lady like you married an old man? Don’t tease me, dear. If you’d wed, your household would’ve hosted a grand feast for days, and the whole city would’ve celebrated!"
At the words "old man," Ninth’s gaze turned icy. But when a spoonful of sweet tofu pudding touched his lips, his glare faltered.
He savored the spoonful, then fixed his shimmering eyes on the bowl in Chu'he’s hands.
Chu'he laughed and fed him another spoonful. To the old woman, she explained, "You’ve misunderstood, Granny. My husband comes from very far away. We’re already wed, but we’ll hold another banquet here in Yangcheng for family and friends. My father’s already preparing it—you’ll all be invited soon!"
"And he’s not old—he’s actually a few months younger than me."
"His hair color is unusual, but I find it special. Beautiful, even."
Ninth cradled the bowl Chu'he handed him, biting the spoon. Perhaps the tofu pudding had too much sugar—it felt cloyingly sweet, the syrupy sensation lingering stubbornly in his chest.
The old woman flushed with embarrassment. "Ah, I see. My apologies for the misunderstanding."
It wasn’t uncommon for couples to hold separate weddings if one family lived far away, and premature graying, while rare, did happen.
Chu'he nudged Ninth.
Snapping back to attention, Ninth fished out a few copper coins. "Payment."
"No, no!" The old woman waved her hands. "Miss Chu’s always been kind to me. For her husband to enjoy my humble tofu pudding is honor enough—I can’t take your money!"
Ninth stiffened, unaccustomed to having his payment refused. "Take it."
"I really can’t!"
By then, more people had noticed Chu'he’s presence, swarming around them.
Ninth watched the encroaching crowd warily, the hidden swarm of gu insects beneath his sleeves stirring restlessly.
"My, this is Miss Chu’s husband? Truly extraordinary!"
Before Ninth could react, a basket of fresh eggs was thrust into his hands.
"Too thin, though! These are from my hens this morning—take them, build up your strength!"
"Fresh mulberries from my tree—try some!"
"The best cut of pork from today’s slaughter—have it, and may you be blessed with a plump baby soon!"
"Peanuts from my field!"
...
Dazed, Ninth stood trapped in the human tide. Instead of handing out coins, he found himself laden with gifts in mere moments.
These fragile commoners—utterly defenseless, easily crushed with a flick of his fingers—dared to crowd around him so fearlessly.
The unfamiliar clamor of warmth and chatter prickled under his skin, setting his nerves on edge. When he looked for Chu'he, she had already slipped safely outside the throng.
Chu'he had somehow snagged a roasted chicken leg from one of the street vendors and was now happily munching on it while watching him being cornered, her beautiful eyes crinkling with mischief at his flustered state.
