The east was turning pale. The snow that had fallen all night lay thick across the streets, and the folk of the lanes were out with brooms, clearing the drifts from their doorsteps.
In the empty courtyard, Ning Qingye came out wrapped in a snow-white fox-fur cloak, watched the goose-feather flakes driving in on the north wind, and softly breathed out a plume of white mist. Coming to the capital for revenge looked to be a lost cause: Zhang Xiang of the Investigation Bureau was worthy of the name of grandmaster—she had never even gotten close to him. Still, getting her mother's sword back counted as something gained...
Ning Qingye lowered her head to look at the sword beneath her cloak. The cold wind cut in; her wounds had not yet healed, and she quickly pulled the fur closed again. Stroking the soft fur, she found herself thinking of that foolish young master again. Strikingly handsome, but not much going on upstairs—who ever heard of a man who gets kidnapped and then turns around to rescue his kidnapper... Maybe that was the difference between a gentleman and a jianghu man...
Jianghu folk set store by loyalty and feeling; a drop of kindness is repaid by braving knives for the one who gave it.
With the sword recovered, she ought to have gone straight back to Changqing Abbey and gone on keeping her master company. But she owed the man a favor, and a debt like that had to be repaid somehow...
At that thought, Ning Qingye turned her head and looked at the courtyard gate.
She had expected Xu Buling to come again—after all, that line about everyone loving beauty had carried a hint of purpose, and by rights he should have come running over to play the gallant; she had even wondered whether she ought to find somewhere else to hide.
Yet she had waited a day and a night, and the man showed no sign of coming at all. So the line had only been a joke. That left her feeling rather strange.
Hmm... women and petty men really are hard to deal with—get close and they get fresh, keep your distance and they resent you...
Not sure why that line had come to mind, Ning Qingye smiled at herself, fetched a cape from the house to replace the fox fur, put on her bamboo hat, and went out the courtyard gate toward the Sun family's shop in Daye Ward.
A debt of gratitude had to be repaid, no matter what.
She knew Xu Buling had the Dragon-Locking Gu in him and needed wine to hold down the cold poison; he came for a jug of Broken Jade Fire every day. She ought to run into him at the Sun family's shop.
Threading streets and lanes, she reached the tavern in the bluestone alley well after full daylight. The shop had thinned out; only a few servants from wealthy households were queued at the door, buying wine for their masters.
Ning Qingye went in wrapped in her cape, sat down at an empty table, and after a few glances around said:
"Shopkeeper Sun, just you today?"
"That's right. My apprentice ran off."
Shopkeeper Sun came over carrying a dish of small eats and a warmed jug, his smile as warm as ever, and set them on the table:
"You're early today, miss. A little later and this old fellow wouldn't have been able to keep up."
Ning Qingye nodded slightly and picked up her chopsticks, eating and drinking in small bites. She had not waited long before the talk of the other drinkers reached her:
"Sancai really is a piece of work—an ungrateful wolf..."
"Old Sun gave him a meal, and the bastard turned right around and stole half a lifetime's savings. Two hundred taels..."
"Since when was a gambler ever any good? I knew that little shit Sancai would bite the hand that fed him..."
"Forget it, forget it. It's done and over. What's the use of talking..."
Ning Qingye blinked. She could guess well enough what had happened. A glance sideways showed that Shopkeeper Sun was taking it remarkably well. For a merchant to lose his money was no small thing—no less than an official losing his post, a martial man being crippled, or a scholar losing his good name. That he could take it and let it go was really rather admirable.
Ning Qingye sat at the table until the sun was high overhead, and Xu Buling never came. Customers kept coming in and turning around again at the lack of seats; no one hurried her, but she was growing embarrassed to hold a table, so she took a silver draft from the purse at her waist, laid it on the table, weighed it down with her wine bowl, picked up her longsword, and left the shop.
That was what a jianghu man was: see an injustice, draw your blade and help—only then were you worthy of the name of xia.
But she had not gone far when a call came from the tavern behind her: "Miss, wait..." She turned and saw Shopkeeper Sun, a towel over his shoulder, jogging toward her with the silver draft in his hand and a flicker of anger in his eyes:
"You young thing—I've kept a wine shop all my life. If a customer enjoys his drink and tips a few coins extra, that's courtesy, and I take it gladly. You hand over this much in one go—are you trying to buy out my tavern?"
Ning Qingye stopped, standing tall and graceful in the wind and snow, and took a moment to compose herself. "I heard just now that the boy in your shop stole your savings... My father made his way in the capital once, and he liked to drink here too. When things were at their worst, he stayed with you for half a month. That debt, I'll repay it for him."
Shopkeeper Sun frowned at that, tilted his head, and thought back a moment. "Stayed half a month... From your age, you'd be seventeen or eighteen... Your father was a xiucai, wasn't he? I do recall a down-and-out scholar who failed the examinations three years running and in the end couldn't even feed himself..."
At the mention of her father, Ning Qingye's face showed nothing at all; she only nodded slowly. "That's him."
Old Sun looked wistful. "That sour old pedant had his head in the clouds all day long, but he did raise a fine daughter... Take this money back. Back then he wiped my tables and poured my wine every day while he stayed with me; he paid that debt off long ago."
Ning Qingye glanced at the silver draft. "I'm not short of money. You're an old man, and a thief has made off with a lifetime's savings..."
Old Sun waved a hand at that. "Miss, I can see you're a jianghu sort, so how come you don't know the rules? It isn't a question of whether you can spare the money. When customers come to a shop to drink, they talk about family this and neighbors that—happy talk, sad talk, all of it's a story to drink by. If you feel sorry for this old fellow, say a kind word or two, come in for an extra cup; that sets my heart at ease. Losing my savings won't starve me.
But you toss out two hundred taels just like that—you feel good, you think you've done a great charitable deed, and this old fellow's been handed a huge favor he never asked for, one he'll remember all his life and can't ever repay. After that the wine doesn't taste of anything. Wouldn't you say that's the way of it?"
Ning Qingye hesitated. "I never expected you to remember it as a favor..."
"Then wouldn't I be just like Sancai—an ungrateful wolf?"
Shopkeeper Sun shook his head and held the draft out to Ning Qingye. "I've kept a wine shop in this alley all my life, and I've laid eyes on just about every famous name under heaven. Your father may have been a good-for-nothing, but he knew how to handle people better than you do..."
Ning Qingye's brows drew together slightly. She reached out and took the draft. "This time I didn't think it through. But he's a worthless sort too—he's nothing compared to me. Goodbye!"
With that she pulled her cape tight, turned, and walked quickly out of the alley.
It looked as though she had gotten a little angry.
Shopkeeper Sun watched Ning Qingye go, thought for a moment, then shook his head and let out a soft sigh:
"What a fine girl—and she's gone and joined the jianghu. Out there, dying in the street counts as a good end and a scattered family is ordinary business... Pity the girl, with a father whose ambitions were bigger than heaven. Ai..."