Of the twelve steamed buns, Yan Huanglou had only eaten three.

Chen Changsheng asked, “You were devouring them so heartily earlier. Why stop at just three?”

Yan Huanglou answered, “Mind if I bargain? I ate three. Can I give the other three to someone?”

“Give to someone?” Chen Changsheng asked.

Yan Huanglou nodded. “When things got tough a couple years back, grain prices in the city went sky-high. I was starving half to death. Wang Sanniang gave me some wheat bran—that’s how I survived. Can’t forget one’s roots, you know.”

Chen Changsheng nodded. “I’m full after just two myself. You can have two more if you like. Take the rest to whomever you wish.”

Yan Huanglou smiled. “Much obliged.”

Yan Huanglou placed the buns in a bowl and went next door.

Wang Sanniang lived with her daughter and son. When Yan Huanglou offered them the buns, she seemed reluctant to accept.

“Uncle Lou, two are plenty. We don’t need so many.”

“There are extras. Please take them,” Yan Huanglou urged.

Wang Sanniang absolutely refused. In the end, she only took two.

Even Yan couldn’t persuade her. He returned to the courtyard with the remaining four buns.

Chen Changsheng saw this and asked, “Why bring them back?”

Yan Huanglou explained, “She only took two. Wouldn’t touch the others.”

“Oh?”

“She took them for the little ones. She can bear hunger herself, but those children can’t. Honestly, if not for them, she wouldn’t have taken any buns at all. It’s not that she doesn’t crave it, but she dares not.”

Yan Huanglou sighed. “Times like these, even simple buns become treasures.”

Chen Changsheng looked at the buns in the bowl and shook his head secretly too.

Qingshan City—it only seemed peaceful on the surface.

“Will you go to your Tea Stall later?” Chen Changsheng asked.

Yan Huanglou nodded. “Yes. Can’t keep mooching off you, can I?”

Chen Changsheng said nothing more.

That was Yan Huanglou for you. Having prized money all his life, he hated owing anything to anyone.

Just like that time he kowtowed so determinedly long ago.

Yan Huanglou went to the Tea Stall.

With nothing else to do, Chen Changsheng sat resting in the courtyard. Old as it was, the place felt tranquil, free of noise.

Chen Changsheng opened his eyes slightly. His gaze suddenly shifted to the gate.

Someone seemed to be peeking through the crack.

The little girl outside saw no one. She soon knocked.

Knock knock.

“Grandpa? Grandpa?”

Chen Changsheng rose and opened the door.

The girl took a step back. Seeing a stranger, she looked scared.

“Who… who are you?” she asked nervously.

Chen Changsheng thought for a moment. “A friend of your Grandpa Lou’s. Staying here for now.”

Afraid of strangers, she held out what she carried.

“What’s this?” Chen Changsheng asked.

“Artemisia greens. Mama told me to give it to Grandpa,” the girl replied.

Once Chen took it, she ran back to her courtyard, frightened.

“Mama! Mama!”

Chen could still faintly hear her cries.

He glanced at the greens in his hand, then returned to the house and placed them in the kitchen.

He’d barely sat down again when another knock came.

Chen opened the door once more.

A woman barely past twenty stood there, dressed simply in patched clothing.

Wang Sanniang blinked in surprise at the sight before her.

Men like this—so refined and imposing—were rare indeed in Qingshan City.

Chen Changsheng asked, “You must be Wang Sanniang?”

Wang snapped back to attention. “Ah, yes… How should I address you, your honor?”

“Your honor?”

Startled by the title, Chen shook his head. “Chen is no noble, Madam. Just an ordinary man. No need for nerves.”

“Oh… Then may I call you Elder Brother Chen?”

“That’s fine,” Chen Changsheng smiled.

“Ruyi, come here.”

Wang Sanniang brought her daughter forward. “Ruyi has never seen outsiders. I hope she didn’t offend you just now.”

“Not at all,” Chen assured her.

Ruyi still hid timidly behind her mother.

Chen Changsheng knelt down. “Your name is Ruyi?”

“Yes,” came the tiny whisper.

“And how old are you?” Chen asked.

Wang Sanniang answered, “Just past five.”

“She’s tall for her age,” Chen noted with a smile.

Ruyi lifted her eyes. “Mama says I take after Papa. Tall.”

“You’ll grow taller still,” Chen said.

Ruyi nodded. “Yes.”

Wang knelt too. “Ruyi, this is Uncle Chen.”

The girl hesitated, then murmured, “Uncle Chen.”

“So good!”

Chen studied the child’s face. Though tall, she looked lean, perhaps from lack of food.

“Is your grain store sufficient?” Chen quietly asked Wang.

“It’s enough for us,” she answered quickly.

Chen stood. “Growing children need their food. Come inside, I have something for you.”

Wang waved her hands. “No, no! Elder Brother Chen, please don’t trouble yourself!”

She shifted nervously. “Ruyi’s laundry needs washing. We must go.”

“Just a little something,” Chen insisted.

Wang shook her head firmly and led Ruyi back toward their own courtyard.

Chen sighed but did not press them. He returned to his resting spot inside.

To him, sharing grain meant nothing. He’d just buy more in town—silver was easy enough to come by.

Wang Sanniang was simply too decent. Taking anything extra would have shamed her.

…

Meanwhile, inside the Prince’s Mansion.

A scholar sat before a desk scattered with silver fragments.

Frowning, he waved a hand, expelling the Yin Energy clinging to the slivers. They became ordinary money again.

But because of the previous owner, their history made them unique.

The scholar hesitated a long while before finally acting.

Clack.

A pair of Yin-Yang fish discs landed beside the silver coins.

The scholar’s hands flashed through precise mudras. Golden Light filled his eyes. On the table, the fish discs stirred.

The black and white pair seemed to come alive, twisting and turning like real fish swimming through air. After a few moments, faint golden sparks drifted around them.

“Hmmm…”

The scholar suddenly grimaced. The discs kept circling aimlessly. How odd.

Then his eyes widened.

A backlash surged from within him!

Pah!

The scholar snatched up the fish discs.

The Divination ceased.

He staggered to his feet. Three mouthfuls of blood spattered to the floor.

Immediately, his presence noticeably diminished.

The scholar’s head spun. It took him several moments to gather himself.

Panting weakly, dread filled his heart.

That one casting… had nearly taken his life.