Chapter 48 — Two Roads

“Stop staring at your hands and answer me,” ordered Shen Yue. “We’re not even married yet. What gives you the right to be in my home?”

Lin Che was taken aback. Yes, he’d been shouted at by Shen Yue before, but it was always out of concern for himself, for example, when he accidentally started signalling to the entire city that he was a cultivator. This time, however, there was so such thing,

It was pure hostility, and, honestly, he wasn’t sure why.

“Look, Shen Yue,” he said, softly. “We’re getting married soon and I was given a key to the house. Your uncle said it was so we could get to know each other a little better.”

“Well, you could have at least messaged me in advance,” she argued back. “You and Shen Bowen do not have the right to mess with my life without at least consulting me. Not in the car, and especially not in my home.”

“You’re right,” said Lin Che. “I should have messaged. I’m sorry.”

This appeared to land differently than she had anticipated. The momentum of the argument had clearly been building up towards a counter-argument, but instead Lin Che folded.

Was he really that spineless?

If so, her task was much easier than she had expected.

In fact, Shen Yue had already received notice that Lin Che was to live with her — it had been decided to be that way from day one of the currently-postponed wedding ceremony. She had already cleared out an extra room for him and doubled up on towels and toiletries in preparation for his arrival.

In the wise words of Katy Perry, she was planning to be hot and then cold to him. Well, cold and then cold, so not really in her wise words. She just wanted to make the Katy Perry connection.

There was a chance that Lin Che was already at least somewhat enamoured with her, given as he still insisted on having a wedding despite having a way out of it, but, simultaneously, there was a chance that he wanted to marry her to get closer to a certain goal of his. Perhaps he wanted information out of her.

She would first earn his trust with correct information, before slowly tweaking a couple of unimportant details and working up from there.

“Where did you get that core?” she probed, pivoting the conversation.

“Actually, whilst I was walking over here, I ran into something near the hill on Hongshan Road. It was some sort of mannequin that tried to attack me and a little girl.”

The kettle popped, indicating that the water was done boiling. Lin Che stood up and poured the water into the two prepared mugs, before handing one over to his soon-to-be wife.

“That’s… strange. I’ll ask around to see whose it was, because that’s definitely not one of ours,” she said. “Was the little girl alright?”

“Now here’s the strangest part. The little girl turned out to be Elder Wong.”

The teacup in Shen Yue’s hand trembled slightly, causing a small amount of tea to spill onto the floor.

“Don’t worry,” said Lin Che, reaching into a cupboard and bringing out a paper napkin to wipe the liquid with. “I’ll get that for you.”

Shen Yue’s eyes narrowed, but she remained silent.

“Oh, by the way, Hu Baolin said your prescription’s ready.”

“Yes, I received a text alert for it.” A pause. “You know Hu Baolin?”

“Vaguely,” shrugged Lin Che.

The conversation ended there, mainly because Shen Yue wasn’t sure how to continue a conversation with a stranger she knew almost nothing about and seemingly knew everything about her. From her constitution down to where she kept the mugs and napkins.

“I’ll prepare you a room down the corridor,” she said, leaving the kitchen. “Then I’ll be in my study all night, so please don’t disturb me. Feel free to make yourself at home.”

“Goodnight,” said Lin Che, still sitting down and sipping on his mug.

He decided to leave the core alone on the table instead of fiddling with it, at least until he figured out what exactly to do with it.

***

Old Wen’s bookshop was not how Lin Che had envisaged it.

This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.

Lin Che had been expecting something akin to Xu Fang’s antique shop with cramped shelving and the smell of old paper in the room. Instead, the shopfront on Jianshe Road was modern and the internal lighting was warm. There was even a small cafe inside for people to sit down and read with a cup of coffee and a relaxing ambient jazz playlist.

Lin Che walked in and made his way to the counter at the back.

Behind it, stood a young woman, perhaps in her late teens or early twenties, who looked up from her phone once she sensed Lin Che approaching. She noticed him so quickly that he suspected she was a cultivator, but concentrating on her signature revealed only emptiness — this was a mortal.

“Welcome,” she said, pleasantly.

“Is Old Wen in?” asked Lin Che.

“She’s just off in that direction,” she said, pointing helpfully. “Is there something I can help you with?”

“I’m fine, thank you.”

He followed the direction of her finger past a shelf of historical fictions and towards a corner where the jazz got a little quieter.

Old Wen was perched on a step stool with reading glasses on, reorganising a section of art history with magazines and old books layered on the floor across from her. She was a small woman, perhaps seventy, with shoulder-length grey hair, and she licked her fingers to flick through the pages.

“Hello,” said Lin Che.