"Steward Meng, look at our Hall Master—doesn't she look like a resentful wife waiting for her philanderer of a husband to stumble home?"
Crouched behind a flowerbed, Miss Not-Worth-Mentioning peeked out with bright, nosy eyes, quietly spying—while teasing her boss's little expressions.
Steward Meng was fighting a smile. The Hall Master clearly cared a lot, yet insisted on acting indifferent—right now she was puffing her cheeks at a line of ants beneath the eaves.
"Consultant Zhongli, didn't I say the Hall Master has feelings for that boy?"
Unexpectedly, Zhongli was here too. They'd told him to "come watch a good show," and he'd assumed that meant a performance at Heyu Tea House by Master Yun Jin—but no, it was this show.
Even Zhongli, magnanimous as he was, looked a touch helpless. He shook his head gently.
"Speaking generally and rationally, I judge that the Hall Master is merely angry—upset that Mr. Ji Ming rented a house by Wangsheng without telling her."
"That's all? Why be angry about that? I thought she hated him. She said so herself!"
Miss Not-Worth-Mentioning's eyes sparkled with gossip.
"Then in what capacity is she angry, Mr. Zhongli?"
He did not take the bait.
"As a friend. If a friend becomes your neighbor and tenant and says nothing, annoyance is reasonable."
Steward Meng and Miss Not-Worth-Mentioning traded a look. She sighed.
"So old-fashioned at such a young age—and zero romance. Sir, I worry for your marriage prospects."
Zhongli had no words. He stood quietly, watching Hu Tao watching ants.
Footsteps sounded outside the courtyard. Miss Not-Worth-Mentioning and Steward Meng yanked Zhongli's sleeve and dragged him behind the flowerbed.
Hu Tao heard it too. She puffed up, stood, and turned toward the gate, ready to scold—only to freeze in surprise.
Ji Ming's face was flushed red—very drunk. He wobbled through the door.
"Ehehe… Hu Tao?"
Ignoring the weird laugh, Hu Tao frowned and hurried over to support him.
"Where did you go? Why do you reek of alcohol?"
Behind the flowerbed, Miss Not-Worth-Mentioning vibrated with glee and jabbed Zhongli with her elbow.
"Look, look! Is that a 'friend'? No! It's the resentful wife whose drunk husband just came home—so worried she forgot to scold! I ship this couple to the moon!!"
Wangsheng's guest consultant Zhongli—100% elbow damage taken.
He edged away from the jabs. Of course he knew Ji Ming's past—from street waif to jianghu rat, from nine sworn brothers to standing alone, to slowly weaving new bonds. For ten years, Zhongli had noticed.
Those scars were Ji Ming's imprint—and his treasure to carry through life.
A pity old friends could not watch their children grow… No. If they'd lived, they would never have wished this suffering on their child.
"To buy cassia wine and share it again…"
If only old friends—when will we meet again?
He drifted through nostalgia while the two behind the flowerbed kept peeking at the courtyard.
Hu Tao guided Ji Ming toward the main room. The furniture inside she had personally ferried over—no way she'd let him sleep on the floor.
His body was loose and heavy; his tone, soft.
"My… my brothers are back… so I drank a little."
"How much?"
"Eight… jars…"
Hu Tao's mouth tilted open, a flash of little tiger teeth.
"Eight jars? Hmph. You think you're immune to wine?"
Ji Ming wriggled. Her grip slipped and he staggered free—then began shadowboxing like a drunken master, looking… surprisingly legitimate.
Seeing he could still stand, Hu Tao stopped trying to hold him up. She leaned on the doorframe, chin in hand, amused.
"Ay-yo—turn, turn. Not bad. Has a form to it."
"'Course! I'm Liyue Harbor's greatest martial arts grandmaster—hic…"
"Sure, sure. Men and their bragging after drinks."
Not a fan of his drunk side, Hu Tao wrinkled her nose, pushed him onto a stool, and then sat at the bed's edge, studying his eyes.
Those eyes held too many stories. She thought of a sunlit day eight years ago. She'd gone, hand in hand with her grandfather, to find Xiangling. That was the first time she saw Ji Ming.
She and Xiangling had been eight; Ji Ming, ten—freshly reunited with Xiangling. He had only watched from afar and hadn't joined their play.
Back then, his eyes were cold. She'd never forgotten that look. She had always assumed Ji Ming disliked her—because she was of Wangsheng, an omen of inauspicious things.
Today, Hu Tao wanted answers. Did he truly dislike her back then? If so, why deceive her later—and why rent a house by Wangsheng now?
They say wine loosens tongues. Hu Tao bit her lip and tested the waters.
"Ji Ming… why didn't you play with me back then—with Xiangling?"
"…Why would I play with you?" His voice was muzzy; he stared at her plum-blossom eyes and swallowed, suddenly thirsty. "You're… you're a grand young lady. Would you be missing me as a playmate?"
"If you said no, and I insisted on tagging along—wouldn't I look like a clown?"
Hu Tao blinked—then pointed at herself, incredulous.
"You really thought that? In your eyes, I was always… a dignified lady?"
"Hu Tao, did you get stupid? No wonder you got scammed by me. If I'd known, I'd have swindled more mora…"
Her teeth clicked. A pillow smacked into his face.
"You think I was truly fooled? I just wanted a reason to approach you again! Don't flatter yourself!"
"Zzz—"
"Hey—stinky Ji Ming? Bad Ji Ming?"
She bit her lip again, hoisted him, dumped him onto the bed (the thick mattress ensured no brain cells were harmed), tucked the pillow, pulled up the quilt, and slipped out, closing the door. She'd come back tomorrow to talk properly.
She wanted to ask: three years ago, when her grandfather passed, why had a fifteen-year-old Ji Ming stepped forward to quietly teach those rude men a lesson—he had no ties to Wangsheng then.
Turning to leave, Hu Tao froze mid-step—then, cheeks warming, glared at the two lurking in the courtyard.
"What are you two doing?"
Zhongli had already vanished—Heyu Tea House might still be open; with luck he could catch Yun Jin on stage.
Miss Not-Worth-Mentioning pounced, eyes starry.
"Hall Master, Hall Master, what were you doing in there with Mr. Ji Ming?!"
"Just chatting. He's drunk. If you're worried, go in and help clean him up."
"Really? Then I'll go—thank you for the gift, Hall Master!"
Hu Tao paled.
"Hey—hey! You actually dare? Watch me dock your pay!"
Miss Not-Worth-Mentioning snickered.
"Just teasing. Let Steward Meng do it."
"Better." Hu Tao turned to Meng. "Old Meng, I'm leaving this to you, alright?"
Steward Meng said nothing—only smiled at the corner of his mouth.
Enemies in a past life, lovers in this one. He approved of the match.
Only… the Hall Master was sixteen. Best to let it breathe a couple of years, hm?
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