Chu'he shook her head. "I don't mind."
Ninth, finding no amusement, withdrew his malicious gaze and instead idly twirled a strand of Chu'he's braid to pass the time.
Yu Sanniang immediately barked at the occupants of the corner table, "Hey, scholar! Share your table with these two distinguished guests!"
The man in question wore plain dark robes and had a gentle, unassuming face. He cradled a child about a year old, feeding the little one soft food. At Yu Sanniang's sharp command, he flinched and nodded meekly.
"Madam Host, could you perhaps... deduct just a coin from my meal today?"
"Not a chance! You still owe me days of lodging fees." Yu Sanniang shot him a dismissive glance before turning back to Chu'he and Ninth with a beaming smile. "Please, take your seats. Just pretend that penniless scholar isn't there. Order whatever you like—the kitchen will have it ready in no time."
The shabby scholar swallowed his anger, patting his child's back soothingly. When Chu'he and Ninth approached, he managed a polite nod despite his unease.
If the rest of the room was a den of wolves, this poor scholar was like a helpless rabbit thrown into their midst.
A thought struck Chu'he—if not for Ninth by her side, wouldn’t she be in the same pitiful state as this man?
Curious, she studied the child in his arms. "Is this your son?"
The scholar nodded. "Yes, he just turned one."
The baby blinked open dark, curious eyes, no longer interested in the food his father offered. Instead, he stared at Chu'he's face, seemingly fascinated by the older girl, and reached out with tiny hands, babbling incoherently.
Ninth cast a sidelong glance.
Terrified, the scholar shuddered and quickly turned his body to shield the child, humming a disjointed lullaby to coax him to sleep.
Soon, the baby drifted off, and the scholar carefully placed him into a modified book box. The child, accustomed to this, didn’t stir and slept soundly.
When the scholar looked up again, he noticed Chu'he eyeing the box strangely. He explained with embarrassment, "I... I came to the capital for the imperial exams but failed. On the journey back, my wife fell ill and passed away. The funeral expenses drained what little I had left, so now... I’m just trying to survive, traveling alone with my son."
The scholar couldn’t have been older than eighteen or nineteen. Likely, his wife had once taken care of everything for him. Now, left to care for the child himself, he fumbled helplessly—a pitiful sight.
"Useless as a scholar—how true that saying is," he muttered bitterly, ashamed.
Just then, the waiter brought over Chu'he’s order—three dishes and a soup, all fragrant and beautifully presented.
In stark contrast, the scholar had only a bowl of plain rice porridge with pickled vegetables, a sight that tugged at Chu'he’s heartstrings.
"If you don’t mind," she offered, "consider this meal our thanks for sharing your table."
The scholar was so moved he nearly wept. Starving, he didn’t refuse.
Through conversation, Chu'he learned his name was Jin Yuyuan, a traveler from afar heading to Canghaizhou to seek refuge with distant relatives.
"Jin Yu Liang Yuan?" Chu'he mused.
Jin Yuyuan smiled faintly. "Exactly so. My father named me to honor the golden bond between him and my mother."
"Then your parents must have loved each other deeply."
Jin Yuyuan nodded. "Though they faced hardships, they were devoted in life and death. Not long after my mother passed, my father followed."
His voice trailed off, weighed down by grief—parents gone, wife lost.
Chu'he quickly changed the subject.
"I’ve had enough of you!"
A sudden roar erupted from across the room. One of the three swordsmen had slammed the table and was now pointing furiously at a boy seated opposite him. "You little brat! What’s with that damn condescending look?"
The boy, utterly unfazed, crossed his arms and sneered. "Ignorant brute. Sharing this room with you pollutes the air I breathe."
"You’re dead!"
The swordsman lunged, but the boy remained still, tossing him a disdainful glance.
A guard behind the boy clenched his fist and struck with unstoppable force. A metallic clang rang out as the swordsman’s blade trembled violently, forcing him back, his hand numb from the impact.
His two companions pulled him away, whispering urgently. The swordsman shot the smug boy a hateful glare but reluctantly sat back down.
The boy lifted his chin. "Fools, the lot of you."
This place was too chaotic—best not linger and risk trouble.
Chu'he hurriedly piled meatballs into Ninth’s bowl. "Eat quickly. Once we’re done, we’ll go back to our room."
Ninth, completely oblivious to danger, ate at a leisurely pace, poking a meatball with his chopsticks before slipping it into his mouth. "It’s lively here," he murmured. "I like lively places."
"No, you don’t."
Unable to bear his sluggish eating, Chu'he snatched his chopsticks and mimicked his method—skewering two meatballs at once and shoving them into his mouth. "Hurry up!"
Ninth’s cheeks bulged, yet he remained unbothered, chewing slowly as ever.
Chu'he felt like a parent dragging a dawdling child to school, frustration gnawing at her.
He was the same with candied hawthorns—savoring each bite as if stretching the moment to eternity.
With things he loved, he seemed afraid that finishing too fast meant never tasting them again.
After swallowing, Ninth opened his mouth again, eyes fixed on her expectantly, like a little creature waiting to be fed.
All her irritation melted away.
Sighing, she skewered another meatball and popped it into his mouth.
A small green snake peeked out, eyeing a scrap of meat, but Ninth’s sharp glance sent it slithering back in fear.
Ninth was barely human when it came to guarding his food—more beast than man.
Thankfully, the kind-hearted mistress secretly slipped the snake a piece.
Jin Yuyuan glanced between the Miaojiang youth and the Central Plains woman, unable to help speculating about their relationship like everyone else.
Miaojiang people were feared for their cunning—why would any Central Plains native willingly stay by one’s side?
Rumors spoke of their bewitching poisons, especially the love gu—capable of turning even the coldest heart into a lovestruck fool.
Their methods of ensnaring minds were truly inescapable.
Meanwhile, in another corner, a man and woman exchanged glances. They unfolded a portrait, comparing it to Chu'he before hesitating.
The woman whispered, "Do we do it?"
After a pause, the man steeled himself. "Fortune favors the bold. We do it."
