On the morning of the second day, Shen Zhuxi set out with Li Wu into the town’s main street to return goods to the cloth shop.

Many breakfast stalls had already set up at this hour. After asking her preference, Li Wu chose a noodle stall called “Old Mao’s Warm Noodles” and headed over. The stall’s modest awning sheltered six tables, all occupied. Without a second thought, Li Wu walked straight toward the table with the best ventilation.

The three people already seated there, without waiting for a word from him, silently picked up their bowls and dispersed to other tables.

Li Wu dropped into a seat and glanced back at Shen Zhuxi. She made her way over slowly; to this day she had still not quite gotten used to Li Wu’s domineering ways.

“Old Mao, two bowls of warm noodles,” Li Wu called out.

“Coming right up!” the proprietor called back without lifting his head from the stove.

The water in the pot rolled and bubbled, steam and the fragrance of noodles wafting outward in waves. “Coming right up” proved to be exactly that — the proprietor set aside the table that had ordered before them, placed two steaming bowls of warm noodles in front of Li Wu, and went back to his stove. The customers who’d been served later than usual took this in stride and paid Li Wu no mind.

“Enjoy, dear guests!” The proprietor casually wiped his hands on the towel at his waist and returned cheerfully to his station.

Shen Zhuxi’s attention had been entirely captured by that oil-stained towel. The beautifully presented warm noodles on the table had failed to attract her notice at all.

“Eat while it’s hot.” Li Wu passed her the bamboo chopsticks.

Shen Zhuxi took them hesitantly and stared down at the noodles, the image of that filthy towel still floating before her eyes.

Li Wu could tell exactly what she was thinking without needing to ask. He picked up his own bamboo chopsticks and began separating the noodles, saying offhandedly, “Just close your eyes and eat. It won’t kill you.”

Shen Zhuxi worked through her reservations internally, then shut her eyes tight, furrowed her brow, and with the expression of a warrior making a final sacrifice, lifted the thin, long noodles toward her mouth.

Her tongue touched the noodles. Her teeth met the broth. Shen Zhuxi’s eyes flew open.

Li Wu, like a worm living in her stomach who knew all her thoughts, said, “I didn’t lead you wrong, did I? These warm noodles are what I loved most as a child.”

Shen Zhuxi stared at the perfectly ordinary fine noodles in her bowl in disbelief and picked up another chopstickful. This time she deliberately let them soak in the broth first, then gripped both ends of the chopsticks and twirled the noodles around.

“…What are you doing?” Li Wu said.

“Eating noodles,” Shen Zhuxi said.

Li Wu had never in his life witnessed such an unusual technique for eating noodles. If Li Kun or Li Que tried something like this in front of him, he’d have shoved their heads into the bowl and told them not to bother. But when Shen Zhuxi did it, no such inclination arose. This foolish woman was foolish, yes — but somehow foolish in a way that wasn’t irritating.

One chopstick’s worth of noodles had been twirled into a neat coil by Shen Zhuxi. She blew on it carefully, again and again, then placed it in her mouth with great deliberateness.

The springy texture of the noodles, the savory depth of the broth — this time she tasted them fully and completely.

Just plain noodles. So why did they taste this good?

“These are no ordinary plain noodles. If he tried to charge me ten copper coins for a bowl of plain noodles, he wouldn’t live to see sunrise tomorrow.” Li Wu said. “These are noodles cooked in a broth made from seasonal fresh mushrooms and stewed chicken. When they come off the stove, a ladle of aged braising sauce is poured over the top.”

Shen Zhuxi stared at him in surprise. “How did you know what I was thinking?!”

“Anyone who isn’t blind can tell what you’re thinking,” Li Wu said.

Shen Zhuxi touched her own face. Were her thoughts truly that easy to read?

Shen Zhuxi had a particular weakness — she grew tired of things quickly when she ate. In the palace, her dining table had always been laden with a wide variety of dishes for this reason. Out here in the countryside, meals were nearly always just flatbread or broth, the selection so monotonous it was almost frightening. Each meal, Shen Zhuxi left the table unsatisfied. Each meal, she couldn’t finish what was in front of her.

These warm noodles she found delicious — but only for the first half of the bowl. Halfway through, she grew bored again and set down her chopsticks.

“Full again?” Li Wu said.

Shen Zhuxi shook her head. “I’m full.”

“If you’re full, why are you shaking your head?” Li Wu fixed her with a look. “Are you full or not?”

She knew she had likely caused this commoner to spend a small fortune yesterday. It felt wrong to ask for anything more. She nodded. “Truly full.”

“What a sparrow-sized stomach.” Li Wu muttered, and reached for her unfinished bowl, finishing the noodles in a few quick bites and draining the broth in one long pull.

When only two empty bowls remained, Li Wu stood up, and Shen Zhuxi stood with him. Seeing him walk toward the exit without paying, she hurried after him. “You forgot to pay.”

“I settle at the end of the month,” Li Wu said.

The proprietor, who had heard this, smiled pleasantly. “That’s fine by me.”

Once outside the noodle stall, Li Wu said, “In Yutou County, I never carry money when I go out.”

“Why not?” Shen Zhuxi asked, puzzled.

“Money is too heavy.”

What kind of reason was that?

Shen Zhuxi looked at the pouch at his waist. “Then what’s in there?”

Li Wu glanced at her. “All sorts of things. Just no money.”

The two arrived at the cloth shop where Shen Zhuxi had ordered her gossamer silk lampshade. The moment Li Wu stepped inside, he called out, “Proprietress! I’m here to cancel the gossamer silk order.”

A woman of elegant, mature bearing came out from behind the curtain. When she saw Li Wu and the downcast Shen Zhuxi behind him, she smiled. “What lucky wind has blown you here?”

“She placed an order for gossamer silk here yesterday. We don’t want it anymore,” Li Wu said.

“The gossamer silk?” The woman smiled. “Since you’ve come personally, I’ll do you the favor. The silk can be returned.”

Li Wu nodded. “The silk’s cancelled, but I’d like some other fine fabric. Have your seamstress make a large red wedding quilt for me — embroider something festive on it.”

“I heard the rumors yesterday but didn’t believe them — you really are getting married.” The woman smiled and glanced at Shen Zhuxi. “A handsome groom and beautiful bride. I’ll make that wedding quilt as gorgeous as can be.”

“Thank you.”

“Think nothing of it. The cloth shop has received plenty of your patronage over the years.”

The gossamer silk cancellation was handled with ease. The woman then smiled and said, “I heard the young lady returned quite a few items from the Jin Yin Lou clothing shop yesterday. Why not take a look at what we have here today? We may not have the name recognition of the Jin Yin Lou, but our fabrics are all of excellent quality. Just yesterday, my second brother brought a seamstress back from the capital who used to work in the Imperial Garment Bureau — her embroidery is exceptional. The young lady’s timing is perfect — if you place an order now, I can arrange it immediately. Wait a few more days, and who knows how far back the queue would be.”

Shen Zhuxi was tempted by what she heard, but thinking of Li Wu’s circumstances, she was just about to decline when Li Wu spoke first. “Let’s take a look, then. Where are the designs?”

The woman led them both to the back of the shop and gestured to a rack full of hanging garments. “These are all the newest styles. Whatever cut the young lady likes, we’ll have it tailored to your measurements immediately. If you’re in a hurry, the seamstress can also make alterations to an existing piece.”

“No hurry.” Li Wu looked at Shen Zhuxi. “Choose what you like.”

Shen Zhuxi hesitated. “But… yesterday…”

“The Jin Yin Lou is the kind of place that bleeds you dry. Ordinary clothes shouldn’t cost that much.” Li Wu said. “Yesterday I sent back seven outfits. Today I’m compensating you for seven. Limited offer — pick quickly.”

At the words “limited offer,” Shen Zhuxi stepped forward without further delay. Li Wu, that infuriating man — when he said “limited offer,” he meant it. Since he’d opened the door, what was there to hesitate about?

The garments at the cloth shop were, in both style and material, slightly below those of the Jin Yu Lou — though this difference would be invisible to anyone without a discerning eye. Shen Zhuxi carefully selected pieces in classic, timeless cuts, with a focus on the quality of the fabric. After much deliberation, she managed to choose seven outfits she could tolerate.

“Young lady chose all dark colors — why not pick a few bright ones to wear in rotation?” The woman offered helpfully.

Shen Zhuxi glanced at the vivid garments on the rack and quickly averted her eyes.

“No need…”

“You don’t like bright colors?” Li Wu asked.

“It’s not that…”

“If you like them you like them, if you don’t you don’t — what do you mean ‘it’s not that’?” Li Wu walked to the rack displaying bright-colored skirts, picked up a pomegranate-red one, and held it up. “Go try this.”

The woman smiled. “Brother Li truly has an eye for these things. Every bolt goes into the same dye vat, but this particular piece came out exceptionally well — the color gradient runs through the fabric like a branch heavy with ripe pomegranates.”

Shen Zhuxi’s mind flashed to Fu Xuanmiao’s cold gaze. She shook her head sharply.

“…I don’t want it.”

“You don’t like it?” Li Wu asked.

“I…” Shen Zhuxi couldn’t find the words.

“All this dithering — just try it and you’ll know if you like it.” Li Wu pushed the skirt into her hands. “Go try it on.”

The woman gently guided her behind the curtain. Shen Zhuxi, thoroughly outmaneuvered, was made to change into the pomegranate-red skirt.

The skirt was on. But she couldn’t bring herself to step out. The copper mirror was too small — she had no way of knowing what she looked like. After a prolonged silence, Li Wu’s impatient voice came from the other side of the curtain. “Shen Zhuxi, are you shedding your skin?”

She finally shuffled out, reluctance in every step.

“How… how does it look?” she said, stumbling over the words.

Shen Zhuxi watched Li Wu’s expression with anxious intensity, dreading that he might freeze over in an instant the way Fu Xuanmiao always had.

Li Wu looked at Shen Zhuxi standing before him and genuinely could not understand why she had chosen nothing but dark, muted colors. She had the face of an innocent — an oval face, bright almond-shaped eyes, luminous skin, and eyes that lit up radiantly when she smiled, like a willow in early spring moonlight.

The pomegranate-red skirt on her was vivid as flame, utterly captivating.

“…D-does it not look good?” Shen Zhuxi’s confidence crumbled further. Her voice dropped to a near-whisper. “I said I didn’t want it — you made me…”

“It looks good,” Li Wu cut her off, meeting her anxious eyes directly. “Very good.”

“…Really?” Shen Zhuxi was stunned.

“Much better than what you were wearing before.” Li Wu said. “Pick a few more you like. Try them on — if they look good, buy them.”

The answer was nothing like what she had expected. Shen Zhuxi’s face flushed with heat. She walked to the garment rack and rummaged through the bright-colored dresses with barely concealed excitement.

After selecting each piece, she turned to look at Li Wu. “What about this one?”

“As long as you like it,” Li Wu said the first time.

Later, Li Wu said, “These clothes are being bought for you, not for me. What matters most is that you like them, so why do you keep asking me?”

“…It’s enough if I like them?”

“Whether you look good or not is your affair. Whether you look terrible or not is still your affair. What does it have to do with me? Of course what matters is that you like them.” Li Wu paused, then fixed her with a perceptive look. “…Who said something to you?”