As soon as Shu Rui stepped out through the front entrance, he saw that the thief had had the black cloth pulled from his face. He had a somewhat broad, square face and looked close to thirty. There was a black mole on his left cheek.
Two constables were escorting him, preparing to take him to the yamen. It was night, and with a fire breaking out here, there likely would not be time to interrogate him just yet.
“Scum! Black-hearted bastard!”
Yang Chunhua and her son had also hurried out with their belongings. When they saw the thief being taken away and heard the whole story, they pointed at his nose and cursed him loudly.
“Oh my! Shao-ge’er, are you all right? Were you frightened?!”
When Yang Chunhua turned and saw Shu Rui, she rushed over and grabbed his hands. “I heard Brother Lu caught that thief in your shop. It scared me half to death. Everything’s already such a mess, and then you get these rotten pests adding to the chaos.”
Shu Rui had calmed down by now and reassured Yang Chunhua. “As soon as the thief came in, Lu Ling caught him. I’m fine.”
“Oh my, thank goodness Brother Lu was there. I’ll say something unpleasant—if he hadn’t been caught and had searched your shop, the next place would have been mine. On a whole street like this, there’s hardly a household he wouldn’t have tried.”
Granny Zhang the shaman heard the commotion and came running over, joining in with the scolding.
After that, she glanced a couple of times toward the retreating constables and the thief. “I took a look earlier and thought that scoundrel looked kind of familiar, like I’ve seen him somewhere before.”
Hearing that, Yang Chunhua said, “Maybe there are just a lot of people with that kind of face. I also feel like I’ve seen him before.”
The two of them talked back and forth, suspicion rising as they wracked their brains trying to remember where they had seen the thief.
Shu Rui heard the crackling roar of the fire and saw the oil workshop engulfed in flames. He had no mind to figure out who the thief really was and said, “Now that the constables have taken him away, once the officials interrogate him, they’ll beat him if needed, and he’ll spit out whatever he should.”
“Let’s hurry and help put out the fire. If it can’t be stopped, this whole street will suffer.”
“Yes, yes! Even if we don’t rush to the front, we can still help by carrying water.”
With that, they grabbed tools and went to fetch water.
Shopkeepers who lived on the street and residents from the back alleys all poured out, each carrying buckets or basins. With the heavy rain, it was easy to draw water from the channels everywhere.
With many hands helping, and with the authorities dispatching specialized fire crews, they struggled through more than half the night before finally extinguishing the blaze.
Only the oil workshop was left half-collapsed, its roof burned down on one side, a blackened shell remaining. The couple who ran the shop clutched each other and wept in the rain. Relatives, neighbors, and officials all tried to console them. After a long while, they were finally persuaded to go find a place to rest.
Shu Rui had helped carry many buckets of water and was exhausted. Together with Lu Ling, he returned to the shop.
Though he wore a straw hat and a raincoat, the hems of Shu Rui’s trousers and his shoes and socks were still soaked. He needed to boil water and wash up. Shu Rui tended the fire under the stove, keeping the water hot, while wringing the water out of his pant legs.
He patted the crumpled hems and felt a particularly intense gaze on him. Raising his head, he saw Lu Ling looking straight at him.
“Why are you staring at me like that? Exhausted yourself?” Shu Rui asked.
Lu Ling saw him lift his face, the same familiar cheek. While putting out the fire outside, Lu Ling had glanced at him several times, yet he hadn’t seen that same expression as before, which left him a bit confused—like he had misseen something. Really, he had only seen a profile.
Standing before Shu Rui, Lu Ling blinked. “There’s some ash on your face. I’ll wipe it off for you.”
Shu Rui instinctively covered his face. “That must’ve come from the fire outside. The soot just makes it dirtier the more you wipe. I’ve got water; I’ll wash up properly inside. I’m tired.”
He propped himself up on his legs, lifted the pot lid, and went to fetch water. Seeing him looking exhausted, Lu Ling grabbed a ladle and helped carry the water into the house.
Shu Rui washed up and, lying on the bed, fell asleep quickly. Lu Ling, meanwhile, had taken a shower but could not sleep, his mind filled with thoughts of Shu Rui.
The next morning, the rain from the previous night had finally stopped. Shu Rui, hidden behind the curtain, felt the post-rain coolness and tried to sleep in, having stayed up late the night before. Only after three or four knocks on the door did he start to wake.
“What is it~?”
Lu Ling, outside, heard the sleepy voice and quietly said, holding a water basin, “I boiled water for you to wash up.”
Shu Rui, still half-asleep, didn’t want to move. He thought, hazily, that Lu Ling was unusually considerate today—usually he just washed haphazardly with well water, ignoring instructions. Today, however, he had even taken the trouble to boil water for him.
“Just leave it at the door. I want to sleep a bit longer.”
Still groggy, Shu Rui added, “Breakfast might not be ready in time. You eat outside first—don’t be late for the martial arts school.”
Lu Ling looked at the basin, paused, and poured the water back into the pot. Before leaving, he said at Shu Rui’s door, “I warmed the water in the pot. Sleep as long as you need. The weather’s cool, so the shop will be closed today; we won’t sell drinks.”
Shu Rui mumbled a response. Though he didn’t catch all of Lu Ling’s words clearly, once Lu Ling left, the courtyard was quiet. Shu Rui slept for a long stretch until Qing-ge’er came looking for him.
Qing-ge’er had risen early, hearing that a shop ten streets away had been flooded the night before. Concerned, he came to check if Shu Rui’s shop had caught fire.
Houses in the city were mostly wooden. A fire could be disastrous, and since it had started at the oil workshop, it was frightening even for those who didn’t live nearby.
“I was up late last night. Most residents and merchants nearby probably slept in. I decided not to deliver meals from the academy today, which is why I slept in longer.”
Shu Rui got up, his eyes slightly puffy. He offered tea to Qing-ge’er and drank a couple of cups himself to wake up.
“This morning I saw Brother Lu eating noodles at the street stall. I guessed you wouldn’t have gotten up yet,” Qing-ge’er said.
Yang Chunhua saw him and brought over four freshly steamed meat buns. “Still warm—have these first to fill your stomach.”
Shu Rui felt a warmth in his chest, accepted the buns without hesitation, and invited Qing-ge’er to eat. Qing-ge’er declined, having already eaten.
The three chatted briefly about last night’s events. Qing-ge’er, alarmed to hear that a thief had entered Shu Rui’s shop, advised Shu Rui to keep a dog in the backyard. If he wanted, he could fetch one from his countryside relatives. Rural dogs were loyal and protective.
Shu Rui had grown up with dogs in the Bai household and wasn’t afraid, though he worried about a dog barking unnecessarily. In the city, houses were close together, and a noisy dog could easily cause disputes at night. He thanked Qing-ge’er and said he would consider it.
After some more casual talk, Yang Chunhua returned to the shop to work, and Shu Rui decided not to open the shop for drinks. He wanted to take advantage of the free time to visit a woodworking shop in town, and if he found something suitable, hire a craftsman to repair his shop. Qing-ge’er offered to accompany him.
As they left, they walked past the front street and glanced at the oil workshop that had caught fire. Already, the noise was significant.
“You should’ve watched the stove more carefully. Careless sparks caused this disaster. Might as well have thrown yourself in the river—would’ve been simpler,” the oil workshop’s husband wailed. His eyes were swollen and red, probably from a sleepless night, with dark circles beneath them.
“You still have the nerve to complain! Cooking takes careful attention. Everyone’s womenfolk and sons take care of it, and now you blame me? You deserve to be divorced. This shop burned down because of your cursed luck!”
“Bah!” the wife spat on her husband’s face. “Divorce me if you must, it’d be straightforward, so I don’t have to clean up this mess with you. Look, your mistress outside sees your ruined shop—do you think she’ll still give you a good face?”
“You’re the worst!”
The man shoved his wife away.
“You dare to fight me? Coward! You’re only brave in the nest. What else can you do?”
“You first move away!”
Amid curses and shoving, the couple began to wrestle, their tempers rising. Onlookers only offered mild words, too tired to intervene after seeing this routine morning quarrel repeat several times.
Shu Rui saw the shop: broken tiles and charred wood littered the ground, the walls blackened in large sections. The losses were immense—not just oil and household items, but repairing the shop would take considerable effort. Fortunately, the fire hadn’t spread to neighboring shops, which were his own. If the shop were rented out, there could have been lawsuits over damages.
“During summer, even a little carelessness can cause fires. You need to be more careful,” Shu Rui said to Qing-ge’er.
They didn’t linger long, moving on toward the woodworking shop. They arrived at the southern market’s workshop, where they saw workers carrying a newly built eight-immortal table outside, exquisitely crafted with lifelike figures. The wood was excellent.
Both were impressed. Once the table was moved, Shu Rui asked casually about the price.
The young carpenter glanced at Shu Rui but ignored him, continuing to plane the wood, turning his head as if Shu Rui were blocking the way.
Noticing Qing-ge’er, his expression changed. “That’s walnut, made by our Master Liang. Four guan per table.”
Shu Rui and Qing-ge’er both gave a small sigh at the price.
“Are you here to have something made, or to buy a finished piece?” the young carpenter asked, speaking only to Qing-ge’er.
“I know everything about woodworking,” Shu Rui said, so he didn’t speak further. Qing-ge’er asked, “If you repair interiors, hire a craftsman, or buy wood, what are the prices?”
“That depends on the type of wood and the level of craftsman you want,” the carpenter replied lazily.
“For common woods like poplar, pine, or elm, a plank costs three to five qian. Rare woods like huanghuali or sandalwood are out of reach for ordinary people. Craftsmen are ranked in three tiers. First-tier earns 380 qian per day, but that’s just a nominal price; it’s hard to hire them at that rate—they pick jobs carefully. Second-tier is 260 qian per day, third-tier 200. Others, unskilled, earn 120–180, depending on negotiations.”
Seeing Qing-ge’er counting, the young carpenter raised an eyebrow slyly. “If you need, I can handle it for you. Since it’s you, I’ll give a price others can’t get.”
Qing-ge’er felt uncomfortable with his cheeky tone and shrank back. Shu Rui moved slightly ahead of him and said softly, “Little master, how long have you trained? Which tier are you? How much work have you done, and do you have any good finished pieces to show?”
The young carpenter snorted awkwardly. “You’re asking about such a big job.”
Shu Rui said, “Even ordinary folks ask carefully. A noble household would be more cautious. If a craftsman wants work, being cheap isn’t enough; they need to practice their craft properly.”
Shu Rui then pulled Qing-ge’er away. Laughter rose from the workshop. The carpenter’s master came out and scolded him: “You’ve trained for two years and all you do is slack off. Now someone asks, and you can’t answer. Shouldn’t you feel ashamed?”
After leaving the woodworking shop, Shu Rui and Qing-ge’er visited several more shops, both large and small. Compared to the more expensive ones, there were quite a few pricier pieces, but bargains were hard to find—most were around standard market prices.
Shu Rui found the cost of materials acceptable; it was the labor that was staggering. At their shop, Lu Ling had already looked and said that repairs would take at least ten days. Unlike roofing, laying shop boards was delicate work, consuming significant time. How many boards would be needed depended on what the master carpenter assessed.
“Some rural carpenters are skilled, too,” Qing-ge’er said. “They just haven’t come to the city for work, preferring village jobs. Their rates aren’t as high as here.”
“I’ll ask my mother to help you inquire if there are good carpenters back home. If you’re not in a rush, we can search carefully. That way, we can find quality work and save money.”
Shu Rui thanked him and invited Qing-ge’er to the inn to rest a bit. They had been wandering outside most of the day, stopping for pork-filled wontons at a small stall in the east market around noon.
Qing-ge’er declined, wanting to go home. “It’s the Ghost Festival today. I need to help my mother burn offerings for our ancestors.” Shu Rui realized it was already the fifteenth day of the seventh lunar month. He, too, planned to buy offerings for his parents. Not wishing to keep Qing-ge’er, they parted ways on the main street.
Shu Rui returned to the inn, then went to Zhang the fortune teller’s house to get incense, candles, and paper money for offerings. She was busy with many visitors, yet patiently helped him prepare everything and reminded him of various taboos.
Back at the inn, Lu Ling had finished work and returned from the martial arts school. They met in the alley and entered the yard together. Lu Ling hooked Shu Rui’s hand into his and held it in his palm.
Shu Rui raised his head, pursing his lips. “Why so clingy?”
“This is the first time I’ve seen you today,” Lu Ling said. Shu Rui guessed it was because Lu Ling was annoyed at his late rising and let him hold his hand. If he hadn’t gone to the woodworking shop and post office earlier, he would have brought Lu Ling lunch at the school.
“On the bridge this morning, people were telling ghost stories,” Lu Ling said. “During the Ghost Festival, the veil between the living and the dead thins. Wandering spirits with no family to honor them love to play tricks. Some even take the form of beautiful people, attaching themselves to the living to drain their energy when they’re off guard.”
Shu Rui raised an eyebrow. “You’re afraid of the Ghost Festival?”
“Why can’t I be?”
“Well, then just get Zhang’s talismans for protection—one to wear, one under your pillow. That’ll keep you safe.” Shu Rui’s eyes flickered. “But you can rest assured. At home, there are no beauties around. Look at my face—it’s solid and dependable.”
Lu Ling shook his head. “Still can’t be sure. If a spirit sees your honesty, it might attach to you—easier to lower your guard. I need to see how you differ from usual.”
Shu Rui gazed at him. “You can look as you please. I’ll also see what’s troubling you today.”
The two teased each other a bit. Shu Rui looked into the cold yet gentle eyes that only seemed warm when looking at him, and felt his heart race. His ears reddened, and he tried to look away. Lu Ling said, “Not right.”
Shu Rui frowned. “What’s wrong?”
Lu Ling squinted, raising a finger. “Near the bridge of your nose, under your left eye, seems like a freckle’s missing.” He tapped his forehead twice.
“You’re not right either.”
Covering his head, Lu Ling asked, “Where?”
Shu Rui smiled gently. “There’s a bump on your forehead.”
Lu Ling tightened Shu Rui’s hand. “Never seen a fiercer little brother than you.”
“You should’ve gone to the oil workshop this morning. You’d see someone fiercer than me.”
Lu Ling’s eyes narrowed. “Clearly it’s missing.”
“Can’t keep count? Tell me how many there were and where each one was,” Shu Rui challenged. Lu Ling didn’t respond but smiled, deciding not to continue the debate. “Go light the fire and cook.”
Watching him go into the kitchen, Shu Rui felt Lu Ling was acting oddly today, seemingly testing him. Clever and perceptive, Shu Rui already had his suspicions. This silly boy—he probably already knew.