“A bargain?”
Xue Miao leaned against his wheelchair beneath the moon, narrow eyes studying an unexpectedly interesting intruder.
“What do you possess that could serve as a bargaining chip?”
Cen Sheng heard the contempt. The black-clad guard still held his sword. If she misspoke, she might never leave.
But she could not retreat. Obedience had gotten her buried alive.
The man before her had been the only one to defend her and was the only person who knew the truth about her father.
“I have three things.”
She raised one finger. “First, the imperial censor has reached Qingping County. Wang Guizhi will conceal the past, while I am Cen Wangshan’s only surviving blood. My testimony can be a blade or a shield. Since you hate the Xue family, you can decide how to use it.”
Xue Miao lifted one brow.
“Second, you have only one guard. The Xue household is a deep pool. You need another ally.”
She looked at his knees.
“Third—your legs may still be cured.”
Silence swallowed the courtyard. Wind stirred the weeds and candle flame. The guard’s hand tightened on his sword.
Xue Miao laughed softly, with equal parts mockery and weariness.
“Five years ago, I fell from a horse. Every physician for miles examined me, including famous doctors from the prefectural city. All said my meridians were severed and I would never stand. Where did Sister-in-law acquire miraculous medical skill?”
“I have no medical skill,” Cen Sheng said. “As a child, I gathered herbs on the rear mountain. I saw one that, when soaked in medicinal wine and applied, could reconnect broken bone.”
It was half true.
The herb existed, but her real hope was the spiritual spring.
In her first life, the spring space awakened only after she drank the poison. Grief kept her from understanding it, and only as she suffocated in the coffin did its power surround her—too late.
It had returned with her.
When she touched it with her mind, words appeared:
Spiritual Spring, First Rank: nourishes plants and accelerates growth.
She did not know whether it could heal Xue Miao. She had no road left but to gamble.
Xue Miao tapped the wooden armrest.
“What does Sister-in-law want in return?”
Finally.
“The full truth about my father. And a tailoring shop.”
“A tailoring shop?”
“The vacant storefront at the east end of Qinghe Village: two bays facing the street and a small courtyard behind. I want a three-year lease. Nothing else.”
Her embroidery had once been famous throughout the village, but every coin had gone to Xue Wenyan. She would not ask Xue Miao for money. Too much debt would turn alliance into dependence.
After relying on Xue Wenyan for twelve years, she would stand on her own.
Xue Miao’s gaze changed from dismissive calculation to genuine appraisal.
“Very well. If you can restore even a trace of feeling to my legs, I will arrange the shop.”
“Words leave no proof. Write an agreement.”
The guard bristled, but Xue Miao stopped him with one hand.
“Interesting. Ling Mo, bring paper and ink.”
The guard returned with writing tools. Xue Miao laid paper across his knees and wrote in vigorous, lean strokes.
“Is this satisfactory?”
The contract promised a three-year lease and further compensation if she healed him. He signed and pressed his fingerprint.
“Thank you.”
She folded it into her sleeve and turned away.
“Wait,” Xue Miao said. “The rear gate is barred and a matron watches the front. Ling Mo, escort Miss Cen through the broken western wall.”
Miss Cen.
Not Sister-in-law.
She noticed the change. Xue Miao had already returned to his book as though nothing had happened.
“Thank you.”
Ling Mo led her silently to a hidden gap.
In the alley beyond, Cen Sheng leaned against the wall and exhaled. Her back was soaked.
Their bargain had never been equal. Xue Miao knew more and planned farther. Her only card was a spring she barely understood.
But she had gambled correctly.
He had not asked how she knew so much or why her nature had changed. He needed only to know that her hatred of the Xue family was real.
The enemy of an enemy was a temporary ally.
Dawn colored the sky when she returned to her miserable room. The roof leaked in summer and admitted winter winds. She slept half an hour before fists hammered the door.
“Open up, Sister-in-law!”
Xue Lan’er kicked the door inward.
“Something terrible happened! Eldest Brother was taken by officials.”
“When?”
“At dawn. They said he was involved in last year’s river-dike corruption and took him to the county office. Mother is frantic. She wants you.”
Cen Sheng lowered her eyes to hide the cold light within.
The censor’s people had come sooner than Xue Miao predicted. Wang Guizhi would need a scapegoat.
That scapegoat had always been Cen Sheng.
“I’ll change and come.”
From beneath her pillow, she took Xue Miao’s contract.
Last night she had asked why he helped her. He did not answer.
Now she remembered something else from her death.
Bloodied in the snow, he had said more than “She is innocent.” Through her fading awareness, she heard one broken phrase:
“Five years ago…the steamed bun…”
The only bun she had ever given him was when she was seventeen. Soon after his fall, the family left the starving boy in the rear courtyard without even water. Cen Sheng secretly placed a bun on his threshold, called him Second Uncle, and ran.
Only once.
She pressed down the emotion rising in her chest and stepped outside.
Morning light stabbed her eyes.
From the main courtyard came Wang Guizhi’s wailing.