Chapter Eighteen: Drink More Hot Water

The snow in Shen Zhou City was gradually melting.

The courtesans of the Spring Radiance Courtyard rarely rose so early, but today they were out sweeping away the remaining snow from the courtyard. Lu Zhou, the bookkeeper of Spring Radiance, couldn’t just stand by and watch the young ladies do all the work. Taking up a broom, he joined in the sweeping.

He had only just begun when Chao Jiner emerged. Her eyes were as clear and pure as a lake, fixed on Lu Zhou without blinking.

“My mother sent over some chicken soup.”

Chao Jiner placed the clay pot she’d been carrying on the stone table in the yard.

“Is it really proper for Mistress Lin to send chicken soup here?” Lu Zhou frowned. It was one thing to go home for a meal now and then, but to have chicken soup delivered to Spring Radiance itself—wasn’t that simply asking for rumors to start?

Sometimes, it was family members who made things difficult for those with connections.

“She told me to give it to you.” Chao Jiner pursed her lips.

“To me?”

Lu Zhou was taken aback. “Well, thank her for me, but she really shouldn’t trouble herself next time.”

Chao Jiner nodded, replying softly, and said nothing more.

Just then, Qu Qiniang stepped out from her room. The fragrant aroma drifting through the courtyard caught her attention, and she asked in surprise, “Oh? Where did this chicken soup come from?”

She had already spotted the clay pot on the table—and from the scent alone, she could tell what it was.

Lu Zhou hesitated a moment, glanced at Chao Jiner, then nodded and said, “Yes, I woke early this morning and made some in the kitchen. Would you like some?”

Chao Jiner’s face showed her frustration. The chicken soup had been made by Lin Suyun especially for her, remembering what time of the month it was for her daughter. She’d brought it so Lu Zhou could have a taste as well. After all, with the meager earnings at Spring Radiance, a good meal was a rare treat.

“I’d love some. I’ll fetch bowls and chopsticks,” Qu Qiniang replied with a smile.

“Jiner, would you like some too?”

Chao Jiner was even more vexed. She grumbled, “No, I don’t want any,” and turned to retreat to her room.

Lu Zhou just chuckled. A moment later, Qu Qiniang returned with bowls and chopsticks. They each filled a bowl; the soup was piping hot. Sitting together by the table, they sipped the soup and chatted.

The last mission—to hunt down Kuye—had been completed, but the result still required verification by the Thousand Oxen Guard before any reward could be issued.

Still, the Arhat’s Golden Body was real; that much was beyond doubt.

Qu Qiniang’s opinion of Lu Zhou had grown with each passing day, especially since he’d accomplished the task so cleanly without any hints, when the mission itself was well beyond the usual scope for his rank. Of course, some luck had played a part. She’d learned from Chao Lu that Lu Zhou was most skilled with matters of poison, so for him, this mission had simply been a matter of seizing opportunity.

“By the way, Dantai Mingjing has arrived,” Qu Qiniang remarked offhandedly.

“At Spring Radiance?” Lu Zhou arched an eyebrow. “When did he get here? How did I not know?”

Many of the rumors at Spring Radiance were gathered by Lu Zhou himself. If Dantai Mingjing had visited, he certainly would have heard.

Qu Qiniang shook her head. “Not here—he went to someone else’s house. The moment the monk arrived in Shen Zhou, he headed straight for the brothels, asking who knew about Huang Sanshi’s secret ailment.”

“Looks like he’s here for me,” Lu Zhou laughed. “He’s not as dim as I thought.”

Qu Qiniang gave him a measuring look. “No one in this world is truly stupid. If someone is determined to dig, they’ll find the answer. You made a mistake not killing Huang Yisheng.”

Lu Zhou shook his head. “Even if I had, Dantai Mingjing would have found his way here eventually.”

Qu Qiniang paused, then nodded. He was right. Whether Huang Yisheng lived or not, Dantai Mingjing would have traced the path here—it was only a matter of time.

No one knew of Huang Sanshi’s secret ailment, except for the Thousand Faces Poisoner. That alone would allow someone to infer the connection between Kuye and Huang Sanshi.

But where did the Poisoner get his information?

If you find the source of the intelligence, you have a chance of finding the Poisoner.

No mission can be executed flawlessly. However cautious you are, as long as someone is willing to investigate, clues will surface. Lu Zhou had been as careful as possible, but even caution can’t prevent a determined adversary. Qu Qiniang felt no need to blame him.

She took another sip of chicken soup, feeling warmth spread through her. “So what will you do?”

Lu Zhou smiled. “Let’s see how far he gets.”

“And if he gets here?” she asked.

“If he does, we’ll see what his intentions are.” Lu Zhou replaced the lid on the pot. “No matter how he searches, he’s always looking for the Thousand Faces Poisoner. And I am not the Poisoner. What do I have to fear?”

“But what if—just what if—he finds out about me?”

“Then there are only two ways to handle him. First, kill him and be done with it, but killing always brings trouble. Second... make him one of our own.”

Qu Qiniang sighed. “It would be difficult to kill him.”

“Yes.” Lu Zhou nodded. Dantai Mingjing’s martial arts were formidable—unless the difference in skill was overwhelming, it would be a hard thing to do.

“But who says you need overwhelming strength to kill someone?” he mused. “Huang Yisheng nearly succeeded in killing him. Kuye almost did as well. Strength isn’t everything. The important thing is here.” He tapped his temple.

Lu Zhou picked up the clay pot, smiled at Qu Qiniang, and then walked toward Chao Jiner’s room.

Knock, knock.

No response.

Knock, knock.

Lu Zhou knocked again.

“Come in, the door isn’t locked.”

Inside, Chao Jiner’s voice was tinged with melancholy.

Lu Zhou entered, setting the pot on the table. Only then did he realize he’d forgotten a bowl, so he called out, “Sister Qu, could you bring a bowl in for me?”

A moment later, Qu Qiniang strolled in with a bowl.

“Bookkeeper Lu, Jiner just told me she doesn’t want any,” she said with a smile.

Lu Zhou said nothing, but ladled out a bowl of steaming chicken soup. He handed it to Chao Jiner, who was sitting quietly to one side. “Have some. It’s good for you, especially at this time of the month.”

Chao Jiner looked up, her eyes rimmed with red—she might not have cried, but tears had certainly welled up.

“How did you know—”

She didn’t finish. Her cheeks flushed with embarrassment; it wasn’t the sort of thing a girl could easily ask.

Lu Zhou spoke gently, “Don’t ask questions. Drink up while it’s hot, or it won’t do you any good.”

She wrapped her hands around the bowl, feeling its comforting warmth.

“All right,” she murmured, her voice soft as silk.

She lowered her head and sipped the chicken soup. The hot broth spread through her, bringing instant relief.

Qu Qiniang sighed to herself. This girl had just insisted she wouldn’t drink, yet now she was drinking faster than anyone else. She said no, but her actions spoke otherwise.

Gulp, gulp.

One bowl was gone in no time.

Lu Zhou filled another, saying as he poured, “Drink as much as you can while you’re home. Once you’re out on missions, chicken soup will be hard to come by.”

“But it doesn’t matter—you can always drink hot water.”

Chao Jiner paused, then asked, “Does hot water really help with...”

She didn’t finish the sentence—after all, it wasn’t easy to say those words.

“Of course,” Lu Zhou replied, pushing the filled bowl toward her. “Drinking hot water wards off chills, purifies the body, even lifts your spirits. In short, drink more hot water—it’s a cure for all ills.”

There’s no ailment that a simple “drink more hot water” can’t cure.

Well, except perhaps losing your sweetheart.