The Weasel Pays His Respects to the Hen

As the sun climbed higher, Lin Qing did not head straight back to town.

Instead, he made his way to a secluded stream at the foot of Azure Cloud Ridge, where few people ever went.

He found a flat, greenish rock and sat down, carefully washing the dried blood and mud from his body.

Only after making sure not a trace of grime remained did he finally feel a little more at ease.

The stream was icy cold, yet it could not match the chill in his heart.

On the way back, he deliberately took a winding path.

It was a little longer, but it let him avoid the crowds on the main road.

He traveled through woods and across streams until the low, mottled outline of Qingping County's walls appeared in the distance.

Only then did Lin Qing's taut nerves ease a little.

The city gate was as noisy as ever. Vegetable sellers and traveling merchants waiting to enter formed a long line.

Several guards wore their hats askew and leaned on their spears, picking through the common folk as they passed. Every so often, they barked at someone, shaking loose a few petty bribes.

When it was Lin Qing's turn, a gate guard with a scar at the corner of his eye spotted the bulging herb basket on his back and lazily tapped its rim with his spear.

"Gathering herbs?"

"Please understand, sir. I work for Benevolent World Hall in town," Lin Qing explained.

It seemed the guards on duty today had been replaced.

They weren't as easy to deal with as before.

"I don't care who you are. Open the basket and let me take a look."

The scar-faced guard waved impatiently.

Lin Qing did as he was told, lifting one corner of the rag to reveal a jumble of ordinary herbs inside.

The guard reached in and rummaged around with practiced ease, stuffing a few better-looking pieces of Dichondra and Pinellia into his robes.

His movements were smooth and effortless, clearly the work of long habit.

He weighed the small handful of herbs left in his hand. Seeing there was nothing more to squeeze out of him, he waved Lin Qing on. "All right. Get lost."

Lin Qing dared not show his anger. He could only hurry through the gate.

In this world, officialdom had two mouths.

The common folk at the bottom were nothing but dough, ready to be kneaded at will.

By the time he returned to Yongning Street, the sun was already high overhead.

Benevolent World Hall's front door was still firmly shut.

It stood in stark contrast to the surrounding streets, which were gradually growing livelier.

Just as he approached the door to his backyard, the neighboring gate creaked open.

He Xiaoya, the daughter of the He family next door, came out carrying a wooden basin to throw out some water.

The young girl looked about fourteen or fifteen.

She wore a floral cotton jacket patched in several places, and her features were delicate.

When she saw Lin Qing, her eyes lit up a little.

Then her face turned bashful, and she greeted him timidly. "Brother Lin Qing, you're back? Was the mountain easy to walk through?"

"Mm, I'm back. The path was all right."

Lin Qing stopped and managed a faint smile.

"Wait here a moment."

Xiao Ya set down the basin, wiped her hands on her apron, and hurried back inside.

Before long, she came back out with a steaming white-flour bun in her hands and stuffed it into Lin Qing's palm without giving him a chance to refuse. "Brother Lin Qing, you've been out all morning. You must be hungry. It just came out of the pot. Try some..."

"How can I accept this?" Lin Qing protested.

"Just take it!"

Xiao Ya insisted, her voice as faint as a mosquito's buzz.

"Your family's having a hard time, Brother Lin Qing. My mother always says that close neighbors are better than distant relatives. We ought to help each other..."

She trailed off, her ears already red. Too shy to look at Lin Qing again, she lowered her head and hurried back into her courtyard.

Before closing the gate, she stole one last glance at him.

Holding the warm bun in his palm, Lin Qing felt a long-forgotten hint of warmth pass through his heart.

He tucked the bun into his robes, raised his hand, and knocked on his own back door.

"Who is it?"

Lin Wan's wary voice came from inside, with a faint tremble that was hard to notice.

"Older sister, it's me, A-Qing."

The bolt slid back. Lin Qing slipped inside sideways, then quickly shut and latched the door.

Lin Wan was standing right behind it, her face pale. She had clearly been worried for a long time.

She stepped forward and anxiously looked him over. "Why were you gone so long? Did you run into any danger?"

Seeing her gaze pass over his torn sleeve and scraped hand, Lin Qing turned slightly aside and put on a casual air. "I'm fine, older sister. I just walked around the edge of the mountain. The path was steep and slick with moss, so I fell and scraped myself a little. I picked some ordinary herbs. Not many, but at least I didn't come back empty-handed."

He set down his basket and took out the ordinary herbs one by one to sort them, careful to keep his real prize hidden.

Lin Wan brushed the dust and bits of grass from his clothes. Looking at the herbs, none of them particularly rare, she sighed softly and asked no more. "You're safe, and that's what matters. Rest your feet. I'll warm up the food."

"Mm."

They ate a simple meal of coarse rice and plain dishes.

Lin Qing took a few bites, then casually asked, "Older sister, which martial halls in Qingping County have a good reputation and teach a proper style? Which ones can be trusted?"

"That Iron Thread Fist Martial Hall you mentioned before—can Master Hong be trusted?"

Lin Wan put down her chopsticks and looked at him. "Why are you suddenly asking about that?"

"It's nothing. I just feel the world isn't peaceful. With no pillar of support in the family, we need to find some way to protect ourselves."

Lin Qing nudged the rice around in his bowl. "Besides, if we had ties to a martial hall, perhaps the shop would have an easier time too."

Lin Wan thought for a moment. "Master Hong of the Iron Thread Fist Martial Hall in the inner city should be trustworthy. After all, Master Hong was Dad's senior fellow disciple when he studied martial arts. Dad also trained there for a few years when he was young, to build up his strength."

"And didn't I tell you? Dad used to bring Blood Strengthening Powder and bruising ointment to that martial hall."

"But after Dad was conscripted, someone from the hall came by once. Maybe they thought things were difficult for us, or maybe they found another source of herbs. Either way, they haven't come much since."

She paused, then looked at Lin Qing with a keen glint in her eyes and lowered her voice. "A-Qing, tell me honestly. Did you find something good?"

Lin Qing thought his older sister was sharp and knew he couldn't hide it from her, so he nodded and replied quietly, "I did find something. Enough to tide us over for now. But it's better if you don't know exactly what it is, older sister. I don't want you worrying."

Looking at his steady gaze,

Lin Wan realized that after going through this, her younger brother seemed to have grown up quite a bit.

She didn't press him further, only reminding him, "If you've made up your mind, I'll support you. If you want to go to the Iron Thread Fist Martial Hall, you can give them Dad's name and mention Benevolent World Hall."

"Master Hong may do us a favor for old times' sake."

Lin Qing took her words to heart.

After the meal, he rested for a little while, then tucked the Red Blood Ganoderma into his robes and prepared to leave.

As soon as he opened Benevolent World Hall's tightly shut front door, Steward Pan from Security Hall across the street came up with a broad smile.

"Young Master Lin, I heard you went into the mountains early this morning. I imagine you came back with quite a haul?"

"Not at all. I only gathered some ordinary herbs." Lin Qing waved him off.

Steward Pan looked him up and down for a moment, smiling without warmth. "Our hall is short on fresh mountain herbs. If you're willing to part with yours, Security Hall would pay thirty percent above market price. What do you say?"

Lin Qing sneered inwardly. He knew this was the weasel paying its respects to the hen.

But he put on a troubled expression. "I appreciate the offer, Steward Pan. Your hall has plenty of sources for herbs. If something went wrong with the things gathered by a small shop like ours, we couldn't take responsibility. It's best to avoid any suspicion."

Without waiting for a reply, he cupped his hands, turned, and left.

Watching Lin Qing's retreating figure, Pan An's smile faded, and his eyes grew cold.

"Hmph. Let's see what kind of waves a little fish like you can make."