Chapter 70: Let's Consummate Tonight

Chen Wuji did not refute Shen Youwei's words, but he actually did not agree with them.

It cannot be denied that the Censors truly are the group in Officialdom that values feathers the most; they pride themselves on being noble, and regard their reputation and honor as more precious than life.

But that is only the surface.

It is the label they wear, or rather the label that this office bestows upon them.

The surface is something you just hear; anyone who takes it seriously is a fool.

Moreover, their so‑called valuing of feathers is also selective.

If the people are of equal status, they will certainly cherish those few feathers.

But if they face Chen Wuji, a lowly little hunter whose life is cheaper than grass, their feathers will be harder than a hyena's claws.

"There's nothing to regret, as long as there's no future trouble," Chen Wuji said.

What he feared was the aftermath of having offered the condition of murder to Censor Zhang, not regretting that he didn't seize the chance to raise the stakes; dealing with these people is no different from bargaining with a tiger for its skin, and one must never overestimate oneself.

Shen Youwei's delicate little hand lightly propped her chin, cooing softly, "But there's still some regret…".

"Youwei, we are just humble commoners!" Chen Wuji reminded.

Shen Youwei's mouth twitched, and she said irritably, "My husband's future office will definitely be bigger than his, definitely!"

Chen Wuji smiled; the silly girl was clearly still half‑asleep.

Huo Sanniang's head peeked out from the cramped kitchen doorway, "Dinner's ready."

"I'll fetch the dishes." Shen Youwei immediately scurried over, hopping like a goose.

Chen Wuji suddenly felt a little flustered.

If not for the earlier conversation, he would have almost forgotten that Shen Youwei is the Deputy Censor‑in‑Chief's daughter.

She is truly a lady from a high‑ranking Court family, a proper gentlewoman.

"This world is both absurd and fragmented…" Chen Wuji muttered.

Who could have imagined that a little hunter from beneath Shenxian Ling would become entangled with two Censors, one of whom is a senior Court official who heads the Censorate—a genuine high‑ranking official.

The dishes were placed on the simple Eight Immortals Table.

Tonight's fare was still snake soup, briefly reheated, with a bit of oil and salt added to the mountain vegetables.

The stomach could finally be satisfied, but Chen Wuji, looking at such repetitive meals, was indeed getting a bit tired of them.

He missed the taste of stir‑fried dishes.

Now he had a little over thirty taels of silver in his pocket, and thought it was time to consider getting a cast‑iron pot.

The housing situation could be made do for now, but the food side was truly unbearable.

The thing used at home for cooking is called a cauldron; it is the main household item for meals.

This item looks rather unusual, with a round open top and something like a flying saucer attached underneath.

It lacks a stir‑fry function; it can only boil.

Therefore, in Da Yu's time, boiling all food into a porridge‑like mush was the norm.

"Wuji, did you really kill someone?" Huo Sanniang asked suddenly between bites.

Chen Wuji nodded.

He knew what Huo Sanniang was worried about; for ordinary folk, this truly is a shocking matter, even though in these times death has become a commonplace occurrence.

Huo Sanniang remained silent for a while, then said, "Come back tonight and wash up properly."

"Hmm, indeed I need to get rid of the bad luck," Chen Wuji obediently agreed.

In truth he wanted to say that he might not be able to return tonight.

But he promised anyway.

Huo Sanniang's courage was rather small; soaking in mugwort‑infused water was only a psychological comfort for her.

After dinner, Chen Wuji handed the twenty taels of silver awarded by the Xianya to Huo Sanniang for safekeeping.

He had eleven taels of Five Spirit Fat on him, which should be enough to have a blacksmith forge an innovative, single‑stroke iron pot.

In the past, whenever Huo Sanniang earned silver she would beam with a shallow dimpled smile, but this time her demeanor was very flat, even seeming to find the silver a bit too hot to hold.

While Chen Wuji was putting away his knife and bow, she suddenly slipped up behind him and whispered, "Wuji, tonight when we get back, let Youwei and I share a room with you?"

Chen Wuji's heart jumped hard, and his mouth tightened more than an AK's bolt.

But thinking of why Huo Sanniang said that, he could not smile; turning around, he pinched Huo Sanniang's slender shoulder and seriously said, "Madam, rest assured, I won't get into trouble; unless absolutely necessary, I won't risk charging forward."

"I trust you, but I'm still worried," Huo Sanniang said with full concern, "Besides, we should consummate soon; I want to leave you an heir early."

Chen Wuji had long wanted to consummate, but doing so under these circumstances made his heart feel clogged.

Yet some things he must do.

In this age, if he does not fight for a chance, he will never have a way to rise.

After a silent pause, he nodded heavily, "Alright! Wait for me tonight."

He leaned down and bit her soft, pliant lips, then hefted the family's Puke Knife.

Just before leaving, he gave Shen Youwei another quick visit.

Rain and dew must be shared equally.

Chen Wuji left, but Shen Youwei and Huo Sanniang were left dumbfounded in the courtyard.

That brief moment was over quickly, just a bite of the lip, but to them it felt like being struck by lightning; their heads buzzed.

"I… I'll go boil water." Shen Youwei blushed and fled in panic.

Huo Sanniang pursed her lips, savoring the earlier feeling, and spat, "You dead girl, what did you call me? I'm the Main Wife now."

……

Chen Wuji rushed to the village entrance.

Many of the village's Young Strongmen returning home for dinner, just like him, were also arriving in groups of two or three.

At the village entrance, several bonfires were lit. Bored villagers, just like the refugees outside, plucked wheat stalks from the fields and roasted them over the fires, hoping to fill their stomachs—probably needing to roast a bundle of wheat to be enough. Everyone was simply killing time, looking for something to do.

Chen Wuji wandered around the area, found Chen Luozi's group, and sat down by the fire.

Chen Bushi had returned, and, just as Chen Luozi said, he brought back delicious roasted goose.

"Really, coming early is no match for coming at the right time!" Chen Wuji shifted his body, precisely located the goose leg and removed it.

Chen Bushi snapped angrily: "You really aren't being polite at all."

"Being polite with you lot, I'm afraid I won't get to eat this meat." Chen Wuji laughed.

The few people by the fire laughed, and the dark‑skinned lad beside them quietly handed Chen Wuji a bowl of wine: "Brother Wuji, have a drink to warm your body and boost your courage. I've secretly stashed this away; the other wine has already been drunk by these uncles."

"Wuwei is still the best!" Chen Wuji laughed as he took it.

This lad is no one else—it's Chen Wuwei, whom the Yuan Family took in soybeans, yet ended up getting beaten for half a month. He's talkative, but his nature is somewhat shy.

"Your brother Wuji's courage—you'd better not let it grow any stronger, or I'll worry he'll pick up a knife and dare to slash at us before long." Chen Bushi scoffed with a laugh.

Having said that, he turned his head toward Chen Wuji: "The feud between you and Yuan Chen, Lao Jiu told me about it. As long as the knife bestowed by the Xianya is there, put your mind at ease—nothing will happen. Moreover, you could take the opportunity to write a bit more; any ideas?"