Unromantic

Just as he was pondering this, the door was suddenly knocked upon.

Knock, knock-knock.

Three taps, neither too loud nor too soft, like a cautious probe.

Shen Hui frowned slightly. At this hour, who could it be?

He rose, walked to the door, and pulled it open.

Outside stood a woman.

Judging by her attire, she was likely a maidservant from some household. Her hair was tied in a simple bun, and she wore a half-worn blue cloth dress with a lined jacket thrown over it—clearly put on in haste, the collar not even straightened.

A night breeze swept through the hallway, and she shivered, shrinking her neck. In her arms, she carried a stack of clean bedding and clothes, and at her side, she held a food box.

This maidservant was young, at most eighteen or nineteen, with fairly delicate features. Yet a faint layer of worry clung to her brow, as if weighed down by some unshakable burden.

She lowered her eyes, about to bend her knees in a bow.

The words "Esteemed Daoist" had yet to leave her lips when she looked up and caught sight of Shen Hui. The moment she did, she froze.

The lamplight flickered, casting shadows across Shen Hui's face.

There, two sword-like brows were as sharp as if carved by a blade, and his eyes were clear and bright like stars. Though clad in plain Daoist robes, his otherworldly aura was undeniable.

The maidservant stared blankly for a moment, and the worry on her face unconsciously faded a little, replaced by a faint blush.

"Miss, what business brings you here?" Shen Hui asked calmly.

Only then did the maidservant snap out of it. Flustered, she lowered her eyes again, fumbling to adjust the items in her arms, and murmured:

"This servant was ordered by the county... the county magistrate to bring some bedding and clothes for the Daoist master. The nights are cold, and we feared you might catch a chill. The food box has a few snacks, to tide you over during the night..."

Shen Hui was silent for a moment, then stepped aside to let her in.

The maidservant entered, set the items on the table, and placed the food box beside them.

Once everything was put down, her hands lingered on the edge of the table, and she showed no sign of leaving.

Seeing this, Shen Hui understood well enough.

This maidservant had likely been sent specifically to "keep him company for the night."

He had only read about such things in books.

In some places, inns and hostels had such customs—sending maids to attend to traveling officials and merchants. On the surface, it was service, but the real intent went without saying.

The maidservant stood there, stealing a glance at Shen Hui. Seeing his indifferent expression, she felt a little more at ease.

Before coming, she had feared meeting some decrepit old man or a fierce, brutish fellow, her heart in turmoil. Now that she saw his true face, a trace of relief arose instead.

She bit her lip, mustered her courage, and said, "Does the Daoist master have any further instructions? This servant... this servant will wait in the outer room tonight. If you need tea poured, water fetched, or mosquitoes driven away, just call for me."

Shen Hui was left speechless.

You just said the nights were cold—what mosquitoes could there be?

He looked at the woman, his tone calm but distant: "No need. There's nothing here that requires your help. You should go back and rest."

The maidservant was taken aback, disappointment flickering across her face. Unwilling to give up, she pressed on: "The Daoist master has had a long journey. Let this servant fetch a basin of hot water for you to soak your feet, how about that?"

"No need." Shen Hui's voice remained unhurried. "Please go back. I need to cultivate."

"Cultivate?"

The maidservant blinked, then took half a step closer, lowering her voice with a hint of coyness: "It's already dark—what cultivation is there to do? The Daoist master should rest early and save his energy, that's the proper thing..."

Shen Hui's expression did not change: "A cultivator knows no day or night."

The maidservant bit her lip, a flush rising to her cheeks. She twisted the hem of her clothes, and after a long pause, finally forced out: "Then... could this servant assist the Daoist master in his cultivation?"

Shen Hui nearly lost his composure.

He was almost amused into laughter.

He had spelled it out so plainly, and yet she was still pestering him—utterly unreasonable.

He took a deep breath, his face turning stern: "When I cultivate, I need to quiet my mind and focus. Having an outsider nearby is inconvenient. Please leave."

The maidservant, blocked by his soft yet firm words, had no retort left. Her face flushed red and pale by turns. After a long moment, she let out a faint sigh and said with a touch of grievance:

"The Daoist master truly has a heart of stone..."

As she spoke, she stole another glance at Shen Hui. Seeing that he remained unmoved, she finally gave up and trudged out with her head down.

When she reached the door, she paused and turned back, her voice so low it was almost inaudible: "Then... this servant will take her leave. If the Daoist master changes his mind, just call out..."

Shen Hui had already sat down by the bed, closing his eyes to regulate his breath. He answered with a single word: "Go."

The maidservant bit her lip, finally stamped her foot, lifted her skirt, and hurried out.

Just before leaving, she couldn't help but glance back. Seeing that he had indeed closed his eyes, she sulkily pulled the door shut, and her footsteps gradually faded away.

From outside came a faint mutter, indistinct through the door, something like "no appreciation for romance."

Shen Hui opened his eyes and shook his head helplessly.

He got up, slid the bolt across the door, returned to the table, and poured himself another cup of tea.

Outside the window, the night wind whimpered, rustling the paper pane until it bulged slightly. In the distance, the watchman's drum sounded—it was already the second watch of the night.

He lifted his teacup and took a sip, his mind mulling over the trip to Zhang Family Village tomorrow.

As for the maidservant from earlier, he quickly cast her out of his thoughts.

But who would have guessed that, only moments later, the door would be knocked on again.

Thump. Thump-thump.

This time, the knocking came more urgently than before.

As if afraid he wouldn't open the door, the knuckles rapped against the wooden panel, one strike after another, relentless.

Shen Hui furrowed his brows. He stood still by the table, pretending not to hear.

Yet the person outside refused to give up. After a bout of knocking, they paused for a moment, then started again. The rhythm had slowed, but it was all the more stubborn for it.

Left with no choice, he set down his teacup, strode to the door, and yanked the bolt open.

This time, a young boy stood outside.

He looked no more than fifteen or sixteen, with a rather delicate face—slender brows, long eyes, fair skin. He wore a slightly worn blue robe and stood with his hands properly at his sides.

Seeing the door open, he hastily bowed in greeting, his posture respectful, as if he had practiced it.

Shen Hui was taken aback, his frown deepening. "What is it?"

The boy straightened up, keeping his eyes lowered, not daring to meet his gaze. He said quietly, "This one has been sent by the magistrate to attend to the Daoist."

Shen Hui was confused at first, but as the words rolled through his mind, understanding dawned, and his face darkened.

Damn it.

What the hell did the magistrate mean by this?

First, he sent a maidservant, and Shen Hui sent her away. Now he turned around and sent a boy instead...

Did he think Shen Hui was into men?

He took a deep breath, suppressing the inexplicable anger rising in his chest, and gave the boy a once-over.

The boy was decent-looking, but compared to Shen Hui himself, he fell far short.

Isn't this just taking advantage of me?

He's not even as handsome as I am. Anyone seeing this would think I'm the one being kept!

The more Shen Hui thought about it, the more absurd it seemed, and the chill on his face deepened.

The boy, completely oblivious, kept his head down, waiting nervously for a reply.

"Go back and tell your master."

Shen Hui's voice came out cold as ice. "This poor Daoist is a man of cultivation, unaccustomed to worldly affairs, and has no need of attendants. If he sends anyone else to disturb my cultivation—"

He paused and let out a cold snort, making the boy flinch.

"—then don't blame this poor Daoist for being rude."

Before the words had even faded, he stepped back and slammed the door shut with a bang.

The door panel closed with such force and speed that it stirred a gust of wind, making the candle flame on the table flicker several times.

Outside, there was a moment of silence, followed by the sound of the boy's hurried footsteps scampering away in panic.

Shen Hui stood behind the door, his chest heaving twice before he let out a long, heavy breath.

He turned back to the table, picked up the bowl of cold tea, and drained it in one gulp, yet the knot in his heart refused to loosen.

After a moment, he shook his head, let out a self-deprecating laugh, cast aside all those distracting thoughts, and sat back down cross-legged on the couch, closing his eyes to regulate his breath.

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