This is an Expert (Part 2)

Shen Tang thought today would be the same as yesterday, so she obediently waited outside the Moonlit Pavilion, occasionally feeding her motorcycle a piece of candy.

Speaking of which—

Why could the motorcycle eat candy?

Shen Tang, harboring her doubts, petted the motorcycle's sleek fur. The more she looked at the mule, the more she liked it. The latter licked the candy from her palm clean and still seemed unsatisfied, nudging her belly with its head and gazing pleadingly at the pouch on Shen Tang's waist.

The motorcycle was smart; it knew where the candy was hidden.

Shen Tang cupped the motorcycle's large face with both hands and lectured sternly, "No, you can't eat anymore! It's not normal for a mule like you to be so fond of sweets... No means no. Pouting won't work, and licking my face definitely won't work... Damn it, take it easy, don't stick your tongue out. I don't want to wash my face with your saliva. If you lick me again, I swear I'll turn you into 'mule' meat pies!"

She dodged several times, but the motorcycle pressed its advantage.

It tried to lash Shen Tang's face wildly with its agile tongue.

The shopkeeper emerged from the Moonlit Pavilion and happened to see the person and the mule playing. While smiling, he didn't forget to remind Shen Tang that she had business to attend to.

He said, "Young Lady, please come upstairs."

Shen Tang and the motorcycle stopped simultaneously.

She patted the motorcycle, signaling it to go play by itself. She had business to handle and would play with it later. The motorcycle understood and obediently trotted to a nearby wooden post, holding the reins in its mouth. Shen Tang said, "I'm going in? Don't I need to wait for someone in a tea house private room today?"

The shopkeeper replied, "Not today."

Shen Tang didn't ask further and followed the shopkeeper into the Moonlit Pavilion.

If one ignored the lightly swaying thin veils indoors, the lewd carvings on the lattice windows, the paintings of beauties hanging on the walls... and the ambiguous scent of powder permeating the air, it looked no different from an ordinary restaurant at first glance.

The Moonlit Pavilion was quiet during the day, with none of the imagined singing girls and laughter. Occasionally, maids would come and go with hot water, and servants would sweep tables, chairs, and the floor with cloths. Everything was orderly, yet there was a certain indescribable desolation. Only the scent of powder lingering in the air silently spoke of the previous night's revelry.

Shen Tang initially looked around curiously.

After a couple of glances, she lost interest and looked away.

In the main hall of the Moonlit Pavilion, a handsome young attendant had been waiting for a long time. He led the two of them to the innermost private room on the second floor and then carefully pushed open the carved wooden door, as if afraid of disturbing the person inside with any loud noise. He whispered, "The gentleman is inside. Please come in."

Shen Tang withdrew her wandering thoughts.

As she stepped into the room, the first thing she saw was a large, circular screen painted with a vast desert sunset. Shen Tang was slightly surprised—in a place like the Moonlit Pavilion, even if they were to display a screen, shouldn't it be a painting of beauties or something similar?

A desert sunset?

It was completely out of place with the atmosphere here.

What surprised her even more was the subtle, elegant fragrance in the room, completely different from the cloying scent of powder in the main hall. The latter was fragrant, but after smelling it for too long, it just felt vulgar. The former was like a solitary orchid in a secluded valley; even if the scent wasn't strong, outsiders couldn't ignore it.

Beyond the screen was the courtesan's "boudoir."

The two of them could only sit on the cushions in front of the screen.

"Did you paint this?"

As soon as Shen Tang sat down, an unfamiliar young voice came from beyond the screen—Huh? Wasn't it the young courtesan from yesterday?

She looked suspiciously at the shopkeeper.

The shopkeeper didn't know either and gave her a look to answer truthfully.

Shen Tang feigned shyness and stammered, "It wasn't me. It was my elder brother. He caught me painting yesterday after I got back and scolded me, saying I was too young to be exposed to this... this. Before I could inform the shopkeeper and the employer, he took my place and painted it for me..."

There was a moment of silence behind the screen, and then the crisp sound of a chess piece being placed was heard again.

The young man said, "Mm, it's painted well."

Shen Tang grumbled inwardly.

Qi Shan's paintings were "painted well"?

As expected, no one in this world shared her aesthetic sense. For a moment, she felt a sense of loneliness and melancholy, as if she had found a kindred spirit but couldn't reach them.

Shen Tang asked, "Is the employer satisfied?"

The young man said, "Sat—"

Before he could finish the word "isfied," the young man began to cough violently, each cough shorter and more urgent than the last, so loud that one worried he might cough up his lungs. With such a physical condition, this gentleman was still on duty... truly dedicated and diligent.

Shen Tang, without paying attention, started daydreaming again.

After a long while, Shen Tang heard the familiar young voice from behind the screen, "Mr. Gu, are you alright?"

The young man's voice replied weakly, "I'm fine."

Shen Tang's recently refocused mind began to wander again.

So, the young man wasn't a courtesan from the Moonlit Pavilion; he was a customer looking for entertainment... Tsk, is this what they call dying for love, even as a ghost? Coughing like this, with one foot already in the grave, and still having the leisure to visit a brothel?

It was quiet in the room for a long time.

After a pause, the young man said, "Young man, you misunderstand."

Shen Tang looked bewildered: "..."

Did someone just speak?

The shopkeeper wore the same expression.

The young man took a breath and said with a half-smile, "Some things don't need to be spoken aloud to be heard..."

Shen Tang: "..."

The shopkeeper continued with a bewildered expression.

Shen Tang felt as if her back was covered in thorns, her hair standing on end as if preparing to revolt. She was absolutely certain the young man had been speaking to her. But the problem was, she didn't have a habit of speaking her thoughts aloud. She had been silent the entire time, only muttering a few words in her mind...

[Damn, you can hear my thoughts?]

The young man behind the screen was silent for three breaths.

He asked in a strange tone, "Did your teacher not tell you what a strategist must learn?"

Shen Tang, now convinced the young man could pry into her thoughts, stopped her internal monologue and asked aloud, "What?"

The young man said, "To conceal your emotions."

As he spoke, the distinct rustling of fabric came from behind the screen again. As footsteps approached, the silhouette on the screen became clearer.

Shen Tang happened to look up, meeting the gaze of the stranger emerging from behind the screen. She vaguely felt his build was somewhat familiar.

The young man stood tall, but his complexion didn't look good, giving him a sickly appearance. Although his features were handsome, his cheeks were gaunt, and his eyes had a hint of dark circles, his lips tinged with a pale blue. He looked like someone with consumption, the premature end of a sickly person!

As Shen Tang sized up the young man, he, in turn, scrutinized and appraised Shen Tang with his thin, cool eyes.

Unlike his instantly recognizable sickly state, the young man before him possessed a handsome appearance that could be mistaken for either gender. His brows were clear and open, his features deeper than those of ordinary people, giving him a slightly exotic look at first glance.

If the young man had to describe him in one word, perhaps none would be more fitting and accurate than "youthful impetuosity."

Literally "youthful impetuosity."

Even from three to five paces away from the young man, one could feel the continuous, surging hot literary Qi emanating from "him," like a dazzling, unignorable fireball.

He replied teasingly, "I have indeed been ill for a long time, but the fortune teller said I can still linger for another twenty to thirty years."