Chapter 11: You Got the Better Deal

Yanfan looked where Chenxue pointed. He knew that rockery; she had once made him climb it to catch a cat. Behind it lay a narrow patch of ground, screened on three sides by stone and in front by thick osmanthus trees. Though they weren’t flowering, their foliage was dense enough to hide anyone inside.

He began calculating again. Last time had been indoors; this was outdoor work, with different conditions and a different level of difficulty. There had been a bed before, but here there wasn’t even a place to sit. The conditions were worse and the risk greater. He would have to keep her back from scraping the stones, too, or any injury would be blamed on him.

Even so, he bent and slipped one arm behind her shoulders and the other under her knees, lifting her. Chenxue instinctively looped her arms around his neck. The skin beneath her fingers was warm and dry, and he smelled faintly of wood shavings. His arms held her steadily.

The space behind the rockery was narrow, as expected. He turned sideways to enter, leaned against the stone, and settled her on his lap, placing a hand between her back and the rock. Looking down at his thoughtfulness, she was both amused and annoyed.

His new collar had fallen slightly open, revealing a little sun-bronzed skin beneath his collarbone. She caught his lapel and tugged it down.

Soon the leaves rustled in the wind, mingling with their hushed murmurs and soft, intermittent sounds. A stray cat jumped onto the rockery, peered down, then flicked its tail and leaped away.

“Chen Yanfan.”

“Mm?”

“What is dual cultivation?”

After a pause, he explained quietly that cultivators used a particular method to exchange spiritual power during intimacy and advance their cultivation. Without that method, it was ordinary intimacy, not dual cultivation.

Leaning against his shoulder, her hair half loose and her pin askew, Chenxue blinked. “Have you cultivated?”

“No.” The answer came swiftly, without a hesitation.

“Then what good would it do to be with a cultivator?”

Holding her close, he considered the question. “Spiritual energy leaks from powerful cultivators. If a weaker cultivator can absorb it, it’s like getting a cultivation-accelerating formation for free. For a mortal, a longer life is the least of the benefits. Someone with a strong constitution might even open their spiritual channels. That would be worth more than any rare treasure.”

Looking at her face so close to his, he added, “You got the better deal.”

She stared, then slapped his chest. “Didn’t you say you weren’t a cultivator? What better deal?”

“I said if,” he replied, perfectly straight-faced. “It was a hypothetical question, so I gave you a hypothetical answer.”

“Enough hypotheticals…” She yawned against his shoulder. “Hurry up. I’m almost asleep.”

He paused and looked down. Her eyes were half closed; she was genuinely sleepy. A subtle irritation rose in him. He was making an effort, at least, and she found him so slow she was nearly dozing off.

“All right,” he said, holding her a little closer. “I was worried you couldn’t take it, Miss.”

“Who couldn’t take it?” she muttered, though her sleepy voice carried little conviction.

The branches swayed softly. Some time later, Chenxue sat against the rock with her hair as disheveled as if she had just crawled out of bed. Her pin had fallen to the ground, and loose strands clung to her cheeks. She watched Yanfan crouch before her and awkwardly gather her hair, more slipping between his fingers than he caught.

“Do you know how to do this?” She winced when he tugged her scalp and glared at him.

“No,” he admitted, gentling his hands. “I’ve never combed anyone else’s hair.”

That sounded surprisingly pleasant to her. She turned her head and let him continue without further complaint.

He used his fingers as a comb. Her hair was fine and soft, unlike his own coarse, rope-like locks, and it kept slipping away. It took three tries to gather it into a crooked, miserable-looking ponytail. He picked up the white-jade pin and held it against her hair, unable to decide where it belonged.

“Enough. I’ll do it.” She snatched the pin, twisted her hair into a loose bun, and secured it in a few quick movements. After straightening her clothes and brushing grass from her skirt, she looked more like a respectable young miss again.

She produced a heavy little cloth bag from her sleeve and tossed it to him. He caught it in one hand, his eyes brightening at its weight.

“Those twenty are from last time,” she said lightly. “As agreed.”

Without counting, he tucked the bag into his robe and looked up. She took out a smaller purse, picked out five spirit stones, and slapped them into his hand.

“For this time.”

Five. He stared at the lonely stones in his palm, his mouth twitching. “Miss,” he said, unusually aggrieved, “you’re so stingy.”

She stopped on her way out and turned in disbelief. “I’m stingy?”

“Twenty last time and five this time.” He counted on his fingers. “That’s a seventy-five percent reduction. And this was outdoor work, with harsher conditions and more risk. I had to protect your back from the rocks the whole time. If payment reflects effort, I should get more, not less.”

Furious at his twisted reasoning, she pointed at his nose. “You’re a servant, bargaining with your mistress about this! Have you no shame?”

“Shame can’t feed me.” He put the five stones away but refused to give up. “Miss, could we go back to the original price next time? Twenty, no less. If you want to retain my services, I could offer a discount—eighteen…”