Chapter 158: Myriad Aspects Converge

Infatuation entwines night after night, tender words comfort you.

This realm of rivers and mountains cannot bear a single night.

When Du Shanü awoke again, Chinu had clearly been awake for a while, propping his head and staring at her without blinking.

On that face which she could not bear to forget even in her dreams, a trace of satisfaction remained......

But more than that, there was a faint, hidden resentment.

Du Shanü couldn't help cursing again at last night's petty swindler of the martial world, then she pulled Chinu close, cheek to cheek, and whispered:

"Too tired......"

"Will you help me get dressed?"

Chinu always loved doing this, so he hummed and huffed, burying his head in Du Shanü's embrace to inhale her fragrance a few times before still getting up to attend to her washing up.

In their haste to find an inn last night, perhaps the shopkeeper noticed something amiss, assuming they had sneaked out to 'play,' and stubbornly charged them the price of two rooms for just one.

But the room was clean and comfortable.

The sun was warm, streaming through the window, and faintly one could hear the birds chirping outside.

Good.

Everything is fine.

Du Shanü sat up, her hair spilling over one shoulder.

Chinu went to wring out a cloth, warm and damp, and handed it to her.

She took it to wipe her face, then he went to pour a cup of warm water and brought it over.

As Du Shanü drank water, Chinu stood behind her again, took out a wooden comb from his sleeve, gathered her hair, and began to comb it slowly.

His fingers were light, the comb's teeth gliding from scalp to tips, gently, unhurried.

Du Shanü narrowed her eyes, her shoulders relaxed, and her whole body leaned against his front.

Chinu's breath brushed her crown, warm and carrying a hint of soapberry freshness.

She reached back to touch his cheek, her fingertips sliding from his cheekbone to his jaw, and Chinu lowered his head to lightly kiss her fingertip.

After dawdling for about half an hour, they finally finished dressing.

As Du Shanü spoke of where they were going, her steps slowed, and Chinu led her to open the door.

But who would have thought that as the bolt was pulled back and the door swung inward, something would tumble in with the door's motion and land squarely against Chinu's leg.

This sudden movement startled both of them inside the room.

Du Shanü looked down to see a young man in his twenties curled on the floor, wearing grayish-brown hemp clothing, his hair messy, and a red imprint from sleep still pressed on his face.

The man, dazed from the fall, blinked open his eyes, first looked at his own hands, then lifted his gaze to the two pairs of feet before him, gave a sudden start, and tried to jump up and flee out the door.

Chinu reacted instantly, stepped forward, twisted the man's arm behind his back, pressed his knee into the man's waist, and pinned him firmly to the ground.

The man let out a muffled grunt, struggled twice, then went still, and said urgently:

"It's a misunderstanding! I got the wrong door!"

Du Shanü frowned, poked her head out to glance both ways down the hallway, saw no one, then retreated, closed the door, and bolted it.

She walked over to the man, squatted down, pointed at her own nose, raised an eyebrow, and said with a smile:

"You look like an idiot to me?"

Du Shanü—whether she smiles or not, each carries its own terror.

The man felt his scalp tingle under her gaze, his lips trembled a few times, and his voice grew weaker:

"I—I..."

Chinu, probably also annoyed, added a bit more force; the man winced, could no longer endure it, and said with a trembling voice:

"I'll speak, I'll speak. I'm Chen Er, a clerk at the East City Prosperous Source Pawnshop. Usually... I also do some odd jobs."

"Yesterday, when the two of you came to pawn something at the shop but didn't complete the transaction, my boss sent me to follow you, to see if I could sneak in at midnight to pilfer a few things—who would have thought, who would have thought..."

He said this, his voice suddenly caught, a strange expression flitted across his face—like regret, like embarrassment.

Du Shanü narrowed her eyes and asked:

"Who knows what?"

Chen Er swallowed, his eyes avoiding Du Shanü's gaze, fixed on the floor, his voice like a mosquito:

"Last night I kept watch for half the night, waiting until the later hours, but the room... the room was still creaking from the incessant rocking of the bed."

"I was so exhausted I couldn't stand it, so I thought to lean by the door and nap a bit, waiting for things to quiet down before acting—but who knew, a single nap lasted until dawn, and so, so..."

Suddenly the room fell silent.

Du Shanü's smile froze for a moment, leaving her momentarily dumbfounded—

I'm convinced.

Truly convinced.

How, after finally shaking off Afang's shadow, did I still get overheard by others!

It can't be their fault for making too much noise, can it?

Definitely not!

Otherwise I'd have no face to stay at this inn tonight!

Chinu loosened his grip on Chen Er's hand, straightened his waist, his gaze fell on Du Shanü then quickly darted away, his ears quietly flushing red.

Du Shanü cleared her throat, trying to maintain the earlier solemnity on her face, but her voice was a little lower than before:

"Enough, get up and talk."

Chinu released his hold, Chen Er crawled up from the floor, rubbing his arms, shrinking his neck, standing in the corner like a mouse cornered by a cat.

Du Shanü pulled over a chair, sat down, clasped her hands on her knees, paused a moment, then suddenly spoke:

"Let's not talk about last night; I just want to ask you—"

Incense burners have been set up all over the city, everyone venerates the Celestial Master, donating money to ward off disaster—what on earth is going on with all this?

Chen Er blinked, obviously not expecting her to suddenly ask about this.

He blinked his eyes, seeing Du Shanü's serious expression, not like a casual question, so he answered honestly:

"This… everyone in the city knows."

"The Celestial Master's name is Fúcùzǐ; he is a guest of honor to the Prefect. The Prefect listens to and follows him, holding him in great esteem. Once the Prefect esteems him, which of the subordinate officials, gentry, or merchants would dare not follow?"

"Over time, the whole city began offering incense, building a Daoist temple for the Celestial Master, donating money—each household contributing anywhere from a few taels to several hundred taels. I work at a pawn shop and have seen many families pawn their heirlooms to raise money for donation to the Celestial Master."

Du Shanü frowned slightly:

"So these incense burners, talismans, and Dharma assemblies are all because of the Prefect?"

"Exactly."

Chen Er, seeing the question wasn't about his theft, relaxed a bit and began to speak more:

"The Prefect said, Fúcùzǐ the Celestial Master has vast supernatural powers; whenever there is a fallen hexagram, it is surely efficacious—he must be an immortal from heaven descended to earth!"

"Thus, a single word from the Celestial Master makes the subordinates more attentive than receiving an imperial edict. Last time, the owner of a silk shop donated too little; the Celestial Master said nothing, but the Prefect grew displeased first, having his advisor pass along a message, and for half a month no one dared to enter that shop to buy anything. Only after the owner made up the donation with fifty taels did things calm down."

Speaking of this, the man curled his lip:

"Actually, no one knows whether the Celestial Master truly has any power, but since the Prefect believes in him, it's as firm as iron—who dares to say no?"

Du Shanü fell silent, her gaze landing on the wood grain of the table.

Chinu stood at her side, hand resting on the back of her chair; the earlier awkwardness had faded, leaving only calm on her face.

Chen Er glanced sideways at their expressions, then spoke cautiously:

"Sirs, I've said all I needed to say; could you… let me go? I promise I won't dare do it again."

Du Shanü lifted her eyes to look at him, then suddenly smiled—a smile neither salty nor bland—that made Chen Er's heart jump again.

She slowly said:

"The matter of your theft we'll settle later. First, tell me, where does this Fúcùzǐ usually stay?"

?? Fúcùzǐ: taken from the Guanzi·Renfa, "Officials cultivate and extend fuscu to serve their lord; the people harmonize and obey orders, following the Dao and law in their affairs."

? Here the usage is to describe a person or thing destined to gather, just like spokes converging on a wheel hub.