“I’m not, I didn’t, young master, please listen to me, this Su… this Su, it… I didn’t mean to curse you, it’s just an expedient measure, just to get an identity at customs, they don’t hire unmarried women… yes, it was Hede’s idea, he said he didn’t mind, he arranged it all…”
Su Minguan squinted at her, his fingertips gently caressing the smooth wood of the crew bed post.
Wasn’t she still attached to remaining unmarried? Had she suddenly changed her mind?
Lin Yuchan lowered her voice, swearing and vowing, when she suddenly remembered something: “Oh yes! I even fooled a government officer—the one who took money for ransoming people. He recognized me, but saw I was widowed and thought you were dead! I even saw him draw an X on the wanted poster! Young master, I’ve rendered meritorious service…”
Su Minguan patiently listened to her rambling before slowly saying: “Is that so? There are so many people surnamed Su in the world, I thought you had such an unlucky husband’s family.”
Lin Yuchan: “…”
That was true! How had she confessed without being asked?
Su Minguan sighed deeply, set down his teacup, stood up, and looked at her tenderly.
He had grown a circle thinner, with fine new wounds scattered across his exposed arms and neck, stubble sprouting from his chin, and several long and short tears in his clothing, making him look quite disheveled. His voice was also more hoarse than usual, like a dissolute and unrestrained traveler.
But he was in good spirits, his face bearing rare color, and though his movements were slow, they remained powerful.
“Since A’Mei is so graciously insistent, then Su has no choice but to reluctantly marry you, lest you bear this false name in vain.” His tone was quite regretful as he said bashfully, “Sigh, I originally planned to stay single for life, but now I must break my vow…”
Lin Yuchan initially thought he was joking, but looking at those eyes that seemed tender as water yet didn’t quite seem so, she shivered all over and quickly stepped back: “No no no need, no need, it’s very troublesome—three matchmakers and six ceremonies, matching birth charts, hiring sedan chairs and masters of ceremony, renting clothes and setting off firecrackers, everything costs money. Oh yes, you’re legally dead right now, so we’d need to hire someone to call back your soul…”
The darker Su Minguan’s expression grew as he listened, until he finally couldn’t bear it anymore and cornered her against the wall in one step, covering that little mouth spouting bizarre theories.
Lin Yuchan: “Mmph…”
The little girl’s face was pointed and small, with rosy cheeks that he could cover with one hand, her black eyes blinking desperately with an aggrieved look of being at a loss for words.
A smile of unclear meaning crossed Su Minguan’s eyes as he suddenly pulled out a thin white foreign cloth napkin from under the egg tart, folded it cleverly a few times, bit out a loose thread with his teeth, wrapped it around, and tied it into a small clustered flower.
He lowered his eyelids and surveyed the top of her black little head, selected an auspicious spot, and carefully tied the napkin flower in her hair, knotting it firmly.
The young girl’s beautiful hair was soft yet resilient. She washed it frequently, so it felt a bit rough with a soapberry fragrance.
“Now that’s more like it,” Su Minguan said coolly. “No matter how much you dislike your deceased husband, you must keep up appearances. Understand?”
Seeing her dazed, the foreign cloth flower trembled gently, black and white contrasting in small, delicate beauty, adding three parts charm.
In these days on the ship, she had finally escaped the life of drudgery and had time to arrange her hair in a lively braid style, and seemed to have trimmed her eyebrows too, appearing clean and refined.
“By convention, it’s three years. But I can be merciful—twenty-five months will suffice. Ending mourning early would invite gossip. Oh.”
He spoke slowly, watching her tongue-tied, angry but not daring to speak appearance, the corners of his mouth curving in an almost-smile.
Satisfying. Gratifying.
Lin Yuchan touched her head, not believing he’d let her off so easily, asking in confusion: “Is there more?”
She vaguely realized this was also a warning—even in a progressive, cutting-edge place like customs, she couldn’t be too casual in appearance. A widow must look like a widow.
But she didn’t need to wear full mourning. A traditional virtuous widow in full mourning wouldn’t volunteer to work at customs, bringing shame to her family.
Su Minguan smiled: “This will do for now. If there are further instructions, I’ll notify you in dreams.”
This was her life-saving emergency measure, a matter of life and death—what couldn’t be done?
However, defeating the enemy cost her eight hundred while she killed a thousand—let’s see how she’d explain herself later.
He’d even been willing to cut off his queue, so naturally, he didn’t mind this kind of unlucky prank.
Just teasing her.
Of course, with his life currently at stake, he’d still put on a fake queue and worn a cap, looking human-like—the very image of feudal remnants.
“Where are my things?” the feudal remnant put on airs, saying in low tones: “Give them back.”
Lin Yuchan, seeing he was no longer fixated on the widow matter, breathed a sigh of relief and smiled: “You forgot to ask me for them.”
She reached behind her neck, carefully untied a section of red cord, and pulled out that gold-inlaid jade longevity lock from her collar.
She’d removed it when treating his wounds, then during the chaotic flight for her life, fearing poor care, had simply worn it herself.
This item clearly wasn’t cheap—if it hadn’t been damaged, it could probably buy a hundred servant girls like Lin Yuchan, and couldn’t be lost.
Now? Lin Yuchan wasn’t good at appraising luxury goods, but thought it could probably buy ten or twenty little girls… that should be enough.
She weighed the closeness of their relationship and boldly asked: “Is this something left by your family?”
Su Minguan didn’t speak, just nodded slightly in acknowledgment, but said no more, extending his hand to receive it.
The gold lock carried the little girl’s scent and body temperature, reminding him of the night he was shot.
He felt a bit embarrassed to wear it directly and held it in his hand for now, using his other hand to grab an egg tart and thrust it, steaming hot, to her lips: “Thank you.”
He wouldn’t take from her for nothing.
Lin Yuchan involuntarily opened her mouth to bite—crispy and fragrant, the taste lingering, as caramel and egg custard filling flowed into her mouth, burning her tongue.
She rarely ate such delicious food in the Qing Dynasty and momentarily short-circuited, actually reluctant to spit it out, sucking air while savoring it. Cook Sun’s skills were no joke. There was a reason Su Minguan had eaten these egg tarts for so long without getting tired of them.
Su Minguan expressionlessly watched her lick her lips.
Lin Yuchan now completely understood where all the missing ingredients had gone.
There was a big rat ready-made in this hold.
Only then did she remember to ask: “How are you here? Do others know?”