On days without business or martial arts training, she usually visited the bookstore every few days.
Lin Ting pouted:
“I’m also the owner of this bookstore. Why can’t I come? I can come every day, even stay here if I want.”
Jin Anzai scoffed, letting the dog return to the backyard:
“Suit yourself.”
She ignored him, picking up a feather duster to clean the nearby bookshelves, distracting herself from recalling what had happened in the Moonlight Pavilion.
The bookshelves in the bookstore had long been cleaned spotless by Jin Anzai, without a speck of dust or clutter, but Lin Ting kept dusting.
Jin Anzai leaned casually against the wall, one leg bent, arms crossed, watching Lin Ting’s aimless cleaning with an impulse to kick her out.
He restrained himself and called out:
“Lin Leyun.”
“What.”
He decided to ignore her chaotic cleaning:
“Did you meet someone today?”
Lin Ting tightened her grip on the feather duster, thinking of Duan Ling, and turned her back to Jin Anzai:
“What if I did?”
She wouldn’t let anyone know what they had done in the private room today.
Jin Anzai pulled out a handkerchief to clean his sword:
“You met the princess and went to the Moonlight Pavilion with her, right?”
So he was talking about the princess, not Duan Ling.
She felt slightly relieved and turned to look at him, puzzled:
“How do you know I met the princess?”
“I have my ways.”
Jin Anzai sheathed his sword, tossing the handkerchief into a basin of water in the distance, then added,
“She won’t come looking for you again. You can rest easy.”
Lin Ting held the feather duster, walking up to him:
“I see. Did you write to the princess? Did you arrange a meeting with her?”
“Yes.”
She twirled the feather duster in her hand:
“Because she took me to the brothel?”
“Not just that. Some things needed to be clarified.”
Jin Anzai hung his sword back on the wall, glancing at the ugly painting beside it—one Lin Ting had bought cheaply, an eyesore.
“Can you take that ugly painting down?”
Lin Ting pretended not to hear the last part, dusting around the painting:
“You should indeed clarify things to avoid future misunderstandings.”
Jin Anzai looked at her raised hand:
“Why are your hands so red?”
Her eyes flickered, and she lowered her hand, subtly covering it with her sleeve:
“I burned them. It’s nothing serious. They’ll be fine by tomorrow.”
He casually glanced at her:
“Burned? Doesn’t look like a burn. More like they were rubbed red by something.”
Rubbed red.
Mentioning it made Lin Ting’s palms feel numb, as if the object had returned, poking her skin:
“I said it was a burn. Why would I lie to you?”
Jin Anzai shrugged, unconcerned:
“Just a passing comment. Why so defensive? It’s like you’ve done something wrong.”
Lin Ting decided not to talk to him anymore.
Xie Qinghe walked in from the backyard, his sleeves slightly rolled up, hands a bit wet, sweat on his face, wearing an apron he only used while cooking:
“Miss Lin Qi, you’re here.”
She nodded, putting down the feather duster, hands behind her back, examining Xie Qinghe’s attire, which didn’t match his refined and handsome face:
“Young Master Xie, what’s this?”
Xie Qinghe had been staying at the bookstore for free and felt guilty, so he took it upon himself to cook:
“I just finished cooking.”
“Cooking?”
Lin Ting glanced at Jin Anzai.
Did he make Xie Qinghe cook?
Jin Anzai:”…..”
Xie Qinghe explained:
“Miss Lin Qi, don’t misunderstand. Young Master Jin didn’t ask me to cook. I wanted to do it myself.Since you’re here, would you like to stay for dinner?”
Seeing him invite her to stay, Jin Anzai raised an eyebrow:
“Young Master Xie has spoken. You might as well stay and have dinner before leaving.”
Lin Ting was a bit hungry:
“Then I’ll gladly accept.”
They moved to the stone table in the backyard for dinner.
Xie Qinghe had prepared four dishes: stewed chicken, stir-fried vegetables, steamed Wuchang fish, and crab roe lion’s head.
The dishes looked decent.
Lin Ting was satisfied, her stomach growling in response.
She went to wash her hands, using soap several times.
It wasn’t that she found the previous object dirty, it had no odor and was clean.
But Lin Ting still felt a strange sensation.
She washed her hands again, trying to rid herself of that lingering touch.
Jin Anzai, waiting behind her to wash his hands, silently watched her wash her hands repeatedly, finally snapping:
“Lin Leyun, are you doing this on purpose? You’ve used up all the soap.”
Lin Ting: “One last time.”
Jin Anzai rolled his eyes:
“Did you get manure on your hands? Washing them so many times.”
She scrubbed the foam off her hands, rinsing them slowly:
“Jin Anzai, as a former prince, can’t you speak a bit more elegantly? I didn’t get manure
on my hands. I just like to be clean, is that so wrong?”
He looked at her with disdain:
“You like to be clean? The same person who used to just rinse her hands with water before eating is now telling me she likes to be clean?”
Lin Ting was fed up with him:
“People change. I’ve become more particular about cleanliness now.”
Jin Anzai coldly watched her scrub and rinse her hands, his words sharp:
“Seems like you did get manure on your hands and are too embarrassed to admit it.”
Lin Ting thought Jin Anzai would remain single forever with that mouth of his:
“No, you’re the one who got manure on your hands. If you can’t speak properly, then don’t speak. I’ll find a way to silence you someday.”
Xie Qinghe, standing behind them, listened to their constant talk of manure.
The Xie family had strict manners, and such words were forbidden.
It was rare to hear people around him speak like this.
It was novel but also a bit strange.
Jin Anzai noticed Lin Ting trying to sneak in another wash and urged:
“This is the eighth time. Even if there was manure, it’s gone by now. Hurry up, don’t dawdle. Young Master Xie is waiting.”
Xie Qinghe: “I’m in no rush.”
Lin Ting moved aside, muttering:
“It’s not like I’m stopping you from washing. Go ahead.”
Jin Anzai glanced at Lin Ting’s reddened hands again, stepping past her to wash his own:
“You’ve been acting strange today. Besides the princess, did you meet someone else?”
Lin Ting took out a handkerchief to dry her hands, sitting down at the stone table:
“That’s none of your business. Hurry up and wash your hands. Don’t keep Young Master Xie waiting.”
Xie Qinghe couldn’t help but laugh.
Jin Anzai didn’t press further, washing his hands before sitting across from her, removing his fierce mask.
Xie Qinghe served three bowls of rice, handing chopsticks to Lin Ting and Jin Anzai:
“I’ve never cooked before, so it might not taste great.”
Before the Xie family was raided, he had never lifted a finger in the kitchen.
Lin Ting picked up a crab roe lion’s head, taking a bite, her mouth twitching almost imperceptibly:
“Young Master Xie, you’re being modest…”
It wasn’t just not great, it was downright awful.
Jin Anzai, with foresight, only ate the plain rice, deliberately not warning her.
Not long ago, Xie Qinghe had made him a bowl of noodles, and Jin Anzai had decided then to let Lin Ting experience Xie Qinghe’s “culinary skills.”
Lin Ting noticed Jin Anzai’s expression from the corner of her eye, knowing he must have been aware of Xie Qinghe’s cooking, and kicked him under the table.
Xie Qinghe looked down at the foot under the table:
“Miss Lin Qi, why did you kick me?”
She quickly retracted her foot, laughing:
“The food is so delicious, I got a bit carried away.”
Jin Anzai couldn’t help but smile.
Soon, Jin Anzai’s smile faded as Lin Ting served him two crab roe lion’s heads, a chicken leg, and a large bowl of strangely fragrant thick chicken soup:
“Such delicious food, you should have more. Joy shared is joy doubled.”
Xie Qinghe finally felt useful, his eyes shining as he looked at Jin Anzai:
“Miss Lin Qi is right. You should try some too.”
Jin Anzai slowly picked up his chopsticks, forced to take a few bites of the food Lin Ting had served.
Xie Qinghe: “How is it?”
Jin Anzai would rather starve than eat Xie Qinghe’s cooking.
He was about to honestly say it was terrible and suggest Xie Qinghe never cook again,
but his words changed: “It’s fine.”
Lin Ting gave Jin Anzai a thumbs-up.
Even he could be polite when he wanted to.
Jin Anzai put down his chopsticks, genuinely asking:
“Young Master Xie, you worked so hard to make all these dishes. Aren’t you going to try them
yourself?”
“My stomach was injured during my time in the imperial prison, and it hasn’t fully healed yet. I can’t eat meat. You two enjoy it.”
Xie Qinghe had mostly been eating vegetables and rice these days, occasionally having some plain porridge.
Lin Ting picked up some vegetables to eat.
At least they were bland, not terrible.
She finally understood why Xie Qinghe didn’t realize how bad his cooking was.
Xie Qinghe suddenly asked:
“Young Master Jin, when do you plan to send me out of the capital?”
Jin Anzai poured himself a cup of tea, avoiding Xie Qinghe’s dishes:
“The Prince of Liang has gone missing recently, and the city is under strict martial law. It’s harder to leave now than before. We’ll have to wait a while longer.”
Lin Ting paused her eating, pretending not to know:
“The Prince of Liang is missing? When did that happen? I hadn’t heard.”
Jin Anzai was unaware that she had once chased Duan Ling out of the city and even witnessed the death of Prince Liang at Duan Ling’s blade:
“This matter just came to light today, and I only found out recently. The current emperor has ordered Duan Ling, the Deputy Commander of the Imperial Guards, to investigate.”
She nearly choked on her food.
What a ludicrous situation-having the man who killed Prince Liang investigate his disappearance.
Lin Ting didn’t know how to express her feelings at that moment.
Jin Anzai couldn’t bear to look at Lin Ting:
“What’s wrong with you today? You’re so jumpy.”
“Nothing, I’m just curious about how Prince Liang could suddenly disappear.”
Lin Ting put down her chopsticks and stood up, distancing herself from the table of culinary disasters.
“I’m full. I’ll head back first. Take your time.”
Xie Qinghe stood up as well:
“You didn’t eat much. Are you really full? Why not have a bit more?”
“I’ve always eaten little.”
Jin Anzai didn’t bother to expose her:
“Right, she usually eats so little, unlike those who can devour two pig trotters, three buns, and two chicken drumsticks and still not feel full.”
Lin Ting: “……”
Xie Qinghe believed it.
The noble ladies who once surrounded him also ate very little, some claiming to be full after just one bite:
“Then next time, I’ll make something else for you.”
“Sure,” she replied verbally, but in her heart, she thought there would be no next time.
Ling Ting got up and walked out of the backyard, crossed the bookshelf, walked to the door and pushed open the door of the study.
The wind chimes on the door rang, and she looked up and saw Duan Ling.