Making a Bet

Men like him, the sort of street thugs who had seen all kinds of people, had honed their ability to read human nature through years of scrambling and struggling. With one glance, they could tell whether someone was easy to provoke and how best to handle them. A naive, innocent young lady like the one before him was softhearted.

That softness could be shackled by morality.

The more generously he declared that "delaying his work" was nothing and that he would accompany the young lady in "waiting" for the sake of her "safety," the more guilty she would feel. With that guilt, her trust would surge, causing her to lower her guard in an unfamiliar environment and fall straight into the trap.

Just as the man had expected.

The young lady lowered her eyes and asked timidly, "Are you sure it won't cause trouble?"

The man plopped himself down beside Shen Tang.

He deliberately stretched out both feet, exposing his frostbitten toes stained with black mud and letting Shen Tang see his severely worn straw sandals. In a hearty, broad-minded tone, he said, "It's no trouble. At most, the shopkeeper will dock me a few coppers. If that gentleman hasn't seen you go over, he should come this way too."

Shen Tang's expression shifted slightly. Her eyes darted about, as though she were engaged in a fierce inner struggle. Seeing this, the man secretly rejoiced.

Why had he dared to say that?

Because he knew Qi Shan wouldn't be back so soon!

He didn't have to worry about his lie being exposed.

He kept his composure and silently counted until he reached "fifteen." Then the young lady, who had been sitting obediently on the little stool, stood up and said softly, "Since Yuan Liang sent you to find me, we should hurry and meet up with him. If we're late, it'll not only delay your work—he'll scold me again... Please lead the way."

He had succeeded!

The man was smug inside, but hurriedly said, "It's only right that I do this. No trouble at all, no trouble. You flatter me, young lady."

"Young lady, we'll go this way." The man pointed in the direction Qi Shan had left earlier. As he pretended to lead the way, he considerately took the rope Shen Tang had been holding and added, "Fanghua Inn is some distance from here. Would you like to ride?"

Throughout the entire process, the man had behaved with great propriety and restraint, subtly increasing Shen Tang's trust in his identity as a "helper from Fanghua Inn." Shen Tang indeed suspected nothing and laboriously, awkwardly climbed onto Motorcycle's back. The man glanced at Motorcycle from the corner of his eye. As he led the rope, he chatted with Shen Tang, "This one doesn't look like a horse?"

The docile young lady answered every question.

"Motorcycle is a mule."

"A mule?"

The man secretly wondered how much this mule could fetch.

Although it was a mule rather than a horse, this mule called Motorcycle was handsome, pure white from head to toe, and nearly as tall as an ordinary grown man. It looked expensive. If he found a channel to resell it, he might be able to get a high price.

The man was leading Motorcycle ahead, showing Shen Tang only his back. Naturally, he wasn't afraid of her seeing his expression. The smugness and greed on his face were practically spilling over. The vendors who had been secretly watching the situation sighed or muttered when they saw this—some people were truly Seeking Death; no one could stop them.

In the hands of a thug like that, this young lady was finished.

A butcher's shop stood two storefronts away from the tavern.

When the butcher saw Shen Tang foolishly following the thug away, his expression changed several times. He gritted his teeth, slammed the boning knife in his hand onto the chopping block, and grabbed another butcher's knife. Before he could even step out of the shop, his elderly parents, who worked there, pulled him back and gave him an emphatic look.

The butcher didn't struggle. He merely watched Shen Tang's back gradually shrink into a tiny bundle, finally letting out a long sigh.

"What a sin!" He wiped his face with hands smeared in grease, suppressing his urge to meddle, then spat and cursed, "What a rotten world!"

He didn't know whether he was cursing the thug or himself.

After adjusting his state of mind, he returned to work in front of the butcher's shop.

A customer who had come to buy something suddenly said, "That young gentleman will be fine."

The butcher froze. "What?"

The customer smiled and repeated himself.

"That young gentleman will be fine. It's the one who tricked him who'll be fighting for his life."

The butcher opened his eyes wide in astonishment, still gripping his knife. Indignation made him wave it about as he said, "What the hell are you talking about, you old fool?"

The customer wasn't afraid. He smiled calmly and said, "Why don't we make a bet?"

Hearing the customer say Shen Tang would be fine, the butcher relaxed slightly. But then he thought about it and decided the customer was simply talking nonsense.

What young gentleman?

The one who had been taken away was clearly a handsome, pretty young lady.

He snorted unhappily. "You shameless old geezer. Your eyes don't work and your head's muddled too, spouting nonsense to deceive people. You can't even tell a man from a woman. You said we should bet, so tell me—how?"

Customer: "That young gentleman will return safely within half an hour. If I win, you'll give me today's offal."

The butcher agreed without a second thought.

It was only a few pounds of unwanted offal. It wasn't much of a bet.

He knew this customer well. He was a kitchen hand bought by Moonlit Pavilion. Every time he came, he would buy some unwanted offal. The butcher had noticed that he was different from the other people at Moonlit Pavilion: he had none of their obsequious, fawning air. Instead, he seemed like a scholar, carrying an indescribable air of refinement. The butcher liked him quite a bit and always gave him a little extra when weighing out the offal.

He had come as usual today, only to spout such nonsense.

The butcher said, "What if I win?"

Customer: "I'll buy an extra pound of offal."

The butcher said irritably, "Selling you another pound of offal won't earn me more than a few coins. Fine, then. Let's bet!"

After a while, the butcher chopped up half a pound of bones and wrapped them in lotus leaves, placing them together with the offal from before. Tapping the butcher's counter with his finger, he said, "If he really comes back, I'll give you this half-pound too."

The bones had little meat on them, but they could still make a passable pot of stew.

The customer was so thin he looked almost skin and bones. The butcher felt somewhat sorry for him and sincerely hoped the customer would win and that the young lady would return safely. That would count as accumulating hidden virtue and make him feel a little better.

The customer clasped his hands in salute. "Thank you."

The butcher muttered, "You've even got that gesture down pat."

What sort of place was Moonlit Pavilion?

A place where men and women sought pleasure.

This customer claimed to be a kitchen hand doing rough work, but as a slave bought by Moonlit Pavilion, put harshly, he was the lowest of the low. Such a person imitating a scholar had been mocked plenty of times, and even the butcher felt he was putting on airs.

But the butcher didn't laugh.

That was simply because the customer truly had an excellent bearing.

Talking to him was comfortable.

After half an hour, the butcher grew anxious from waiting. Every so often, he glanced toward the direction Shen Tang and the man had disappeared, then asked the customer, "Old fool, why did you say that was a young gentleman? That was clearly a girl."

The customer didn't take the butcher's rude form of address to heart at all. Instead, he smiled and pointed to the area around his own waist.

The butcher was baffled. "What? Does your waist hurt?"

The customer said, "Literary Heart Sigil."

The butcher froze. "What?"

Customer: "That person has a Literary Heart Sigil. Though it isn't as strong as an ordinary martial artist, dealing with an ordinary person would be no problem."

The butcher: "..."

As an ordinary person, even if he had never seen a Literary Heart Sigil, he had heard of one. Naturally, he knew what possessing such a thing meant.

"How come I didn't see it?"

The butcher recalled the scene. All he remembered was that handsome, pretty face.

The customer said, "That Literary Heart Sigil is colorless and transparent, like crystal. Unless one deliberately pays attention, it's very easy to overlook."

Because of Literary Heart Martial Gall, it was currently fashionable for men traveling outside to wear sigils or ornaments resembling tiger tallies. Ordinary sigils and Literary Heart Sigils were difficult to distinguish, and ordinary people found it hard to tell them apart at first glance.