Manager Sun had inherited his father’s business. Since his youth, he’d followed his father managing Muxin Tower, and now could be considered half an old hand. Over twenty years of exposure, though he couldn’t touch wood himself, he could still distinguish whether those who went on stage to challenge had ability or not. But today he was confused. Moreover, he wasn’t the only confused one. In his eyes, Young Master Song and the other two at his table all seemed puzzled and perplexed.

“Haha, excellent!” Zeng Hai upstairs had the loudest voice of all, laughing wildly and arrogantly. “Manager, our table’s wine is free, right?”

Manager Sun was startled. He’d only been dazed for a moment, and that effeminate young master had already guessed five woods correctly? He quickly looked over. Both people on stage were delicate and beautiful, not like big burly men, but he’d seen plenty of good-looking scholars and students, so he wasn’t particularly surprised. However, the young master surnamed Ye was really quite obviously feminine. Just now before coming downstairs, the way he covered his mouth—truly excessively delicate.

“Why doesn’t Manager Sun answer me? Could it be you want to renege?” Zeng Hai was someone who haggled over every bit of advantage and wouldn’t let the slightest benefit slip away.

“Boss Zeng, my Muxin Tower has a golden reputation. Rest assured, not only will we not renege, I’ll send your table a jar of Seven Mile Fragrance as well.” Manager Sun called for a server to deliver the wine while watching the stage again.

Young Master Ye had gotten five out of five correct, but the one called Brother Mo had submitted five blank papers.

He couldn’t understand—even randomly guessing one would be better than writing nothing at all. But what he understood even less was that though Brother Mo had submitted blank papers, Young Master Ye’s face showed not a trace of happiness. Instead, his face was as pale as a dead person’s. The day was somewhat humid and stuffy, but not hot enough to sweat. Yet that slender figure now had beads of sweat forming on his forehead—where was any confidence?

In contrast, Brother Mo wore a faint smile, touching the wood and immediately releasing it, as if truly as he’d said—going up alone would be embarrassing, but with two people there was company.

Manager Sun couldn’t figure it out no matter how much he wracked his brains. The winner looked like he’d lost miserably, while the loser looked like he’d certainly won.

At this moment, the storyteller’s particularly attention-grabbing call rose again: “The sixth wood—”

Everyone thought the outcome was already decided, feeling the situation completely one-sided and far less interesting than the beginning. They began to lose interest and returned to eating and chatting amongst themselves.

“Brother Mo guessed correctly—Young Master Ye guessed correctly—” the storyteller announced.

Chouyu tapped the table with two index fingers. “Did Brother Mo get lucky, or what? Ugh, I can’t figure this out anymore.”

Zan Jin had been paying attention to those two sword-carrying people behind Zeng Hai, but he’d also heard Chouyu’s words and replied, “Brother Mo won’t lose.”

Chouyu gave a laugh. “Zan Jin, you fellow may not be as foolish as before, but you’ve always had absolute confidence in Brother Mo.”

Zan Jin pursed his lips, his dark face handsome and bright, eyes burning as he slowly scanned the surroundings, saying nothing more.

Chouyu thought to himself that being kidnapped once seemed to have greatly affected this fellow, making him much more steady. His gaze was sharp, not missing any suspicious spots, and his speech wasn’t so nagging anymore. Earlier, though he’d never sparred with Zan Jin, he’d had confidence he could exchange twenty or thirty moves. Now, with Zan Jin beside him, if he didn’t look with his eyes, he could barely sense Zan Jin’s presence. This clearly meant his internal energy flowed endlessly and powerfully—his skill had risen another level.

Originally a rare martial arts prodigy, but naturally carefree with a playful nature, easily distracted, and lacking real combat experience. But following Mo Zi through continuous trials and tribulations, now he’d make people look at him with new respect.

“Brother Mo can’t afford to lose either.” Minsong ignored his surroundings, only watching the stage. “A thousand pine logs—for her, that’s an astronomical sum.” Not even having the capital to build a two-thousand-stone river boat, with less than a thousand taels of silver left in hand, if she lost these thousand pine logs, Hongyu’s future would truly be bleak and hopeless.

As the three spoke, the answer to the seventh wood was already revealed. Mo Zi and Ye’er turned their papers.

“Brother Mo correct—” The storyteller paused slightly. “Young Master Ye—incorrect.”

“Oh, correct again!” Chouyu bounced up, then sat back in his chair.

Minsong couldn’t quite say why, but he felt Mo Zi’s first five blank papers were deliberate, and now the real show was beginning.

Indeed, as he’d anticipated, on the eighth wood, Mo Zi was correct while Young Master Ye remained incorrect.

When the tide was no longer completely one-sided, some people’s attention was drawn back, while others remained indifferent. However, by the eleventh wood, no one could spare attention for their own conversations anymore.

Mo Zi: six correct. Ye’er: six correct.

“Hey, the two of them actually tied!” Someone with a louder voice, extremely interested, said, “I thought that Brother Mo didn’t understand wood-touching at all, which is why the first five woods all missed. Turns out he’s evenly matched with Young Master Ye. What a pity, what a pity—can’t avoid the wine bill.”

Evenly matched? Laypeople truly couldn’t see clearly. Minsong raised an eyebrow and looked up, seeing Zeng Hai wiping his forehead with a handkerchief, and gave a cold smile. It seemed Zeng Hai wasn’t completely stupid. The first five weren’t very difficult—common types of wood. Starting from the sixth wood, they were respectively huali, xiangsi, chenxiang, zitan, jinsi, and huangyang. Being able to get all six of these correct—any expert could tell at a glance that Mo Zi’s ability was far above that Young Master Ye.

“Ebony.”

“Brother Mo correct—” Ye’er incorrect.

Seven to six.

Everyone’s eyes widened. The tense ones even swallowed.

“Rouge wood.”

“Brother Mo correct—” Ye’er incorrect.

Eight to six.

This moment was most delicate. Clearly, Zeng Hai understood this point too.

“Young Master Ye, don’t panic. As long as you get the last two woods correct, there’s still a chance to tie.” A tie—neither side losing or winning, and face wouldn’t be lost either.

However, such a tie was built on the foundation of Mo Zi not guessing correctly.

Minsong suddenly saw Mo Zi smile.

That smile—brilliant and radiant, eyes shining. That smile—victory in her grasp, her heart moving as she wished. That smile—struggle is useless, surrender and be captured.

“Peachwood.”

“Brother Mo—” The storyteller was about to say “correct” when he hastily stopped—a blank paper appeared again.

The crowd erupted in noise.

Zeng Hai roared with laughter, slapping the railing. “I said that brat couldn’t do it! Even peachwood, which is so easy to guess, he got wrong. Young Master Ye, it’s up to you now.”

“Young Master Ye, please turn your paper.” The storyteller saw Ye’er completely motionless.

Zeng Hai shouted urgently: “Young Master Ye—”

Ye’er looked up and coldly ordered, “Make him quiet.”

Someone emerged from the shadows and dragged Zeng Hai to the back.

“Young Master Ye’er has such grand airs.” Mo Zi, separated by the black curtain, didn’t withdraw her brilliant smile.

The storyteller couldn’t wait any longer. He stepped forward to help Ye’er flip the paper. Seeing there were characters, thinking it was better than a blank paper, he opened his mouth to announce, “Dragonbone—dragonbone?” His mouth twitched. Guessing dragonbone for peachwood—worlds apart.

Dragonbone wood had legends of taking a thousand years to mature, growing in the deepest parts of southern forests thick with swamp gases, nearly extinct. The wood sank when meeting water, a single tael worth a thousand in gold and hard to buy. Only in imperial palace treasuries could one find one or two rare treasures of this kind.

“Young Master Ye also incorrect,” the storyteller announced.

Mo Zi only smiled. “Young Master Ye’er, you should have gotten this peachwood correct. What a pity your memory has always been just that bit lacking.”

Having said this, she walked around the table and jumped off the stage.

The storyteller hurriedly said, “Brother Mo, there’s still the fifteenth wood—”

“Victory and defeat are already decided. No need to continue guessing.” If she guessed again, she’d just produce another blank paper.

Everyone thought about it—true, regardless of whether Young Master Ye could guess the fifteenth wood correctly or not, Brother Mo had already won. They applauded the victor. But carefully savoring and reflecting on it, they felt unsatisfied, wanting more.

Some clever ones whispered privately: “That Brother Mo submitted six blank papers. Mostly it wasn’t that he didn’t know, but that he had it all calculated. Look at his manner—whether he saves this table’s wine and food money or not, he doesn’t care at all. Clearly he’d calculated his own side accurately and anticipated the other wouldn’t get it right. Truly amazing!”

Ye’er came down with head lowered, actually walking to Mo Zi’s table.

Everyone looked—could there still be more to the show?

“Young Master Ye’er, do you have further instruction?” Mo Zi picked up chopsticks and had just picked up a piece of spicy chicken.

“…” Ye’er’s bewildered gaze instantly cleared. She’d lost focus for a moment, actually thinking it was still the old days, habitually following this person’s figure.

“Please convey a message to Boss Zeng. Those thousand pine logs—he needn’t trouble himself to deliver them. I’ll send someone to collect them.” Did Zeng Hai know Ye’er’s identity as a person from Daqiu? If he knew, then this Zeng Hai— A flash of light passed through Mo Zi’s eyes and vanished.

In the past, she’d responded with “yes” to this woman before her eyes countless times. She’d thought her current status was different from the past, but who knew—before this person, she still couldn’t help bowing her head. In the end, what she’d stolen and learned could only make this person laugh at her. Eight to six—this was this person’s disdain for her.

Head lowered, Ye’er didn’t even dare raise her head to look at those beautiful eyes that had already seen through everything. She turned and went upstairs. Couldn’t help it—halfway she turned back. That woman was laughing and joking with the three men beside her, ha ha ha, so very happy.

That’s right—wherever this person was, there was always laughter. This person’s, and also that of those surrounding this person. Back then, although everyone guarded their own tasks, at least the laughter and happiness were real. However, now when this person looked at her, there was only disdain—that kind of dismissive disdain that filled her heart with immense sorrow.

“Brother Mo, do you know him?” Zan Jin was extremely clever by nature. Now, once he’d straightened things out, everything flowed smoothly. From his thinking to his speech, nothing could be faulted.

“Yes.” Denying the past would be erasing herself. “Someone I knew very long ago. Seems to have changed quite a lot.”

“You two have a grudge, right? As soon as you met, you competed over winning and losing.” Minsong saw Zeng Hai and that woman-disguised-as-man Young Master Ye hurriedly leave Muxin Tower.

“Deep hatred wouldn’t quite describe it. It’s just that some things she did made me really detest her.” Detest her to the point of not wanting to meet again.

“Past matters, past people. Who gives a damn about them?” Chouyu was also perceptive. “Drink!”

“Right, drink!” Mo Zi discovered her alcohol tolerance was gradually increasing.

The four didn’t mention what had just happened, eating and drinking, thoroughly enjoying themselves.

Having eaten their fill and drunk their share, Mo Zi insisted on settling the bill. After pushing back and forth with the polite Manager Sun for quite a while, they finally got out the door, only to see rain falling from the sky, fine as ox hair, a thin misty drizzle.

Chouyu went to drive the carriage. Minsong led the horse.

Mo Zi said a line: “With rain falling now, can we still admire the moon?”

Zan Jin was busy surveying the surrounding movements and didn’t respond.

“Zan Jin, although you’re very dedicated and determined not to let me fall into enemy hands again, with you not nagging me at all like this, I feel quite disappointed and lost.” That silly, straightforward Zan Jin, existing like an adorable bear cub, had suddenly grown into an adult. Mo Zi didn’t know if this was good or not.

Zan Jin looked at Mo Zi seriously and said, “Outside there’s much trouble—can’t relax. When we return, I can nag you.”

So that Zan Jin was still there, but he’d learned to distinguish timing and environment.

“Brother Mo, that effeminate fellow hasn’t left yet.” Zan Jin stepped forward, blocking half of Mo Zi’s figure.

A peach blossom umbrella, a graceful silhouette, deeply curtseying at the bottom of the steps.

“Miss Zi, would you allow this maidservant to tour Rain Lake with you?”