Xie Miao’er was born with a silver spoon in her mouth and had never worried about money.
As a result, the very first time she uttered the word “borrow,” it was directed at the person she admired the most in her entire life.
After speaking, Xie Miao’er didn’t hear any response from Lu Huaihai for a long time. Her heart, already hanging in suspense, became even more uneasy.
They hadn’t known each other for long—had she been too forward?
Xie Miao’er cautiously lifted her eyelids, trying to gauge his expression. However, he stood very close to her, so when she sneaked a glance, all she could see was his shoulder.
But she had already said it…
Clenching her palms tightly, Xie Miao’er attempted to explain, “I truly have an urgent matter, which is why I spoke to you so abruptly. Young Master, don’t worry, I won’t fail to repay you. I receive five taels of monthly allowance, and I can embroider too. I asked Yue Chuang to check for me, and they said my skills are quite good. A single pouch can sell for—”
Before she could finish, Lu Huaihai couldn’t hold back any longer and interrupted her rambling.
“This is what you wanted to say?”
So, he’d waited all this time for her to prepare that?
Xie Miao’er nodded vigorously, then raised her head in confusion, her wide eyes looking expectantly at Lu Huaihai.
For a moment, Lu Huaihai forgot the subtle disappointment he had felt earlier. He hesitated briefly and then asked, “How much do you need?”
Xie Miao’er slowly stretched out one finger. “Ten taels.”
She even added earnestly, “I’ll repay you on the second day of next month.”
Without a word, Lu Huaihai reached into his lapel and pulled out a silver banknote.
It was from Jinlin Trading Company, the largest exchange house in the southeast, with a face value of fifty taels.
——Getting into a fight with his father and then lying low for a couple of days to let the storm pass was routine for Lu Huaihai, so he always kept some runaway funds on him.
Of course, he wasn’t about to explain this to Xie Miao’er. Instead, he slapped the banknote down on the small table with a hint of magnanimity.
Xie Miao’er saw the amount and couldn’t help but frown slightly. “I only need ten taels. This is too much. I’ll exchange it for silver at the bank tomorrow and return the rest to you.”
Lu Huaihai was at a loss for words, feeling as though something was stuck in his throat, neither going up nor down.
He said, “No need to return it. Use it for your emergency.”
On this matter, Xie Miao’er was unexpectedly stubborn. She said, “Shaoye, I can’t do that. Paying back debts is a matter of principle. If you won’t take it back, I won’t dare to accept it.”
Alright, this was never going to end. Lu Huaihai sighed. “Fine, do as you wish.”
Only then did Xie Miao’er happily put away the banknote, treating it as though it were a precious treasure.
General Lu truly was a kind and generous man!
It was getting late. Neither of them was talkative by nature, so they didn’t linger in conversation and retreated to their respective bedding.
Lu Huaihai touched the corner of his quilt—it was gradually getting warmer, and his blanket had been thoughtfully switched to a lighter one.
Due to some old family matters, his mother, Madam Su, had devoted most of her attention to her mentally impaired daughter, Lu Baozhu, neglecting her son. Now that Lu Huaihai was growing into adulthood, Madam Su had only recently begun to show concern for him, trying to mediate between him and Lu Paizhang.
Of course, as an elder brother, Lu Huaihai didn’t see the need to compete with his sister for their mother’s affection. From the age of eleven, he had muddled through on his own—using the same quilt year-round, sleeping fully dressed in winter, and kicking off the covers in summer. Anyway, he prided himself on being a tough man, and such minor inconveniences were nothing to him.
Other family members naturally cared about him too, but apart from his grandmother, their concern felt like a massive web of intertwining vines, suffocating him.
As a result, Lu Huaihai sometimes even disliked the feeling of being cared for. Yet, surprisingly, he didn’t mind Xie Miao’er’s attentiveness.
Her concern wasn’t ostentatious; it was like the solitary gardenia flower tucked behind her ear—leaving only a faint and subtle aftertaste.
This sensation was novel. As Lu Huaihai touched the light quilt and prepared to sleep, he got up and blew out the lamp.
But his vision was still bright.
The candlelight cast Xie Miao’er’s petite shadow onto the bed curtains.
She was curled up on the bed, legs tucked under her, holding something round in her hands as she threaded a needle.
Lu Huaihai was exhausted but managed to ask, “Xie Miao, what are you doing?”
Xie Miao’er let out a soft “ah,” put down her embroidery frame, and rubbed her eyes. “I’m embroidering a pouch.”
“Is it that urgent?”
Well, to be honest, it wasn’t really that urgent. But since this was her first time owing someone money, she felt uneasy and wanted to repay it as soon as possible.
Xie Miao’er glanced regretfully at the half-finished pouch, then turned and blew out the candle.
“It’s not urgent. I’ll continue tomorrow.”
Lu Huaihai was left speechless, his drowsiness completely gone. The candles he had sent over just a few days ago had apparently been used for her to stay up late embroidering.
Did she not worry about setting the bed on fire?
He asked again, “Earlier, when I was practicing my swordsmanship, were you also embroidering?”
Xie Miao’er nodded, then realized she was inside the canopy where he couldn’t see her nod. She quickly said, “Yes.”
Now Lu Huaihai couldn’t sleep at all.
Just to embroider that pouch to sell for money, she missed his spectacular finishing move when sheathing his sword.
Annoyed, he said, “Go to sleep. I’ll take your pouch, and you don’t need to sell it.”
Xie Miao’er was momentarily stunned, not understanding what he meant.
The shop had consulted the embroidery workshop owner on her behalf and found that, due to her fine craftsmanship, each pouch could fetch two qian of silver. To earn five taels, she would need to embroider more than twenty of them.
What did he want with so many pouches?
But the room was already silent. It seemed he had fallen asleep, and Xie Miao’er didn’t want to disturb him, so she hugged her knees and pondered.
After a long while, she finally figured it out.
This must be debt repayment through goods! He understood that it wasn’t easy for her to send things out for sale, so he simply decided to take them himself.
Then tomorrow, she would start working hard and make sure to give him all the pouches as soon as possible.
With this thought resolved, Xie Miao’er finally went to sleep at ease.
—
The next day, Xie Miao’er, unusually, got up early together with Lu Huaihai.
After washing up, she skipped breakfast and immediately picked up her embroidery frame to get to work without wasting a moment.
The anxiety of being in debt loomed over Xie Miao’er, leaving her so distracted that she didn’t even have the heart to watch Lu Huaihai’s morning practice.
Lu Huaihai: …
Fine, he thought. Considering that the pouch she was working on was meant for him, he decided not to say anything.
Before leaving, Lu Huaihai said to Xie Miao’er, “The situation outside has been tense lately. A lot of Wokou have arrived along the coastal areas, and the curfew has been moved up by an hour. Don’t leave the residence. If you need anything, let the servants handle it.”
The situation was real, and using it as an excuse to keep her from going out was also real.
Xie Miao’er agreed and said, “Shaoye, you must also be careful while you’re outside.”
Lu Huaihai gave a vague acknowledgment and left.
Today, he went out unusually early.
Li Chenglan had invited him to a gambling den.
Li Chenglan had said, “Out of all my brothers, you’re the luckiest. You don’t even need to gamble—just stand next to me, and my luck improves when I draw cards.”
Having trained in martial arts with him and owed him some favors, Lu Huaihai wouldn’t refuse such a trivial request.
That didn’t stop him from thinking Li Chenglan’s logic was absurd, though.
Usually, when it was time to train, it was always Lu Huaihai who had to drag Li Chenglan along. But when it came to this kind of nonsense, Li Chenglan was the one waiting for him early in the morning.
When he saw Lu Huaihai arrive, Li Chenglan quickly walked over to greet him. “Come, come, come! This morning, Lankang District is opening new bets. New bets bring good luck. If we don’t hurry, we’ll miss our chance.”
These places always liked to use elegant names. A brothel might be called “Yanman Pavilion,” while a gambling den was named “Lankang District,” as if slapping on a respectable name would somehow cleanse the shady activities within.
“What good luck? It’s all just a scam to lure people in,” Lu Huaihai said. “They’ll make everyone lose big on the first day. Who would come back after that?”
He understood the logic, but Li Chenglan didn’t care. “Whatever. As long as we win, that’s all that matters.”
This carefree attitude was just who Li Chenglan was. Lu Huaihai didn’t bother to persuade him because it would be useless anyway.
Outside Lankang District, a continuous stream of people surged toward the entrance.
Lu Huaihai frowned slightly.
He didn’t like this kind of atmosphere. Occasionally indulging was fine, but if Li Chenglan wanted to drag him here every day, he wouldn’t agree.
There were many gamblers like Li Chenglan, hoping to strike it rich with the new bets and turn their lives around. A young servant at the door was squeezed against the wall by the crowd, his feet nearly leaving the ground, yet he still waved his arms and shouted enthusiastically.
“Gentlemen, please come in—horse betting, promotion games, leaf cards… we have it all!”
In the crowd, someone asked his companion, “Zhang Duan, are we playing ‘reveal (揭)’ or ‘pig’s nest (猪窝)’ today?”
“Pah, neither! Today is the new bet. If we’re going to play, let’s play ‘guanpu1 (关扑)’—go big or go home!” Zhang Duan replied.
As Lu Huaihai brushed past them, he overheard their casual chatter.
He turned his head thoughtfully, glancing at the man addressed as Zhang Duan.
The man was short, with narrow eyes and a long nose, his complexion sallow and tinged with green. His face alone betrayed a life of indulgence in alcohol and lust.
Oh.
So, this was Zhang Duan.
The man responsible for driving that young girl’s father to his death.
Li Chenglan called out to him, “Come on, stick close. It’s crowded—don’t get separated. We’re heading upstairs.”
Lu Huaihai withdrew his gaze, his expression calm and unreadable, and followed Li Chenglan upstairs.
On the first floor, the stakes were small, and the games were simple. Most of the gamblers were common folk—peddlers and laborers.
The second floor had a more refined atmosphere. Only those with a bit of wealth or influence could come up. The games had an air of sophistication, and the stakes were higher. However, unlike the first floor, where people gambled until they hit rock bottom, the gamblers here seldom reached such extremes.
But, in the end, gamblers were gamblers—there was no true distinction between elegance and vulgarity. When gambling, everyone’s eyes turned bloodshot. The only difference was that those with more money could afford to lose.
Lu Huaihai sat behind Li Chenglan, his calm demeanor starkly out of place in the raucous atmosphere.
Sitting there as if he were a lucky charm, he even asked a servant to bring him a stool and didn’t forget to request a cup of tea.
Lu Huaihai tossed a small silver coin to the servant and beckoned him closer.
He said to the servant, “I want some information on someone.”
The servant, fearing he was seeking revenge, waved his hands repeatedly, refusing. “Sir, we don’t…”
Another, larger silver coin was tossed his way.
The servant’s face lit up with a bright smile. He leaned in closer and lowered his voice. “Who do you want to ask about?”
Lu Huaihai’s eyes were sharp. He raised his right hand and pointed toward a specific direction downstairs.
Following his finger, the servant saw a middle-aged man wearing a blue net headscarf and dressed in a brown robe with bordered edges.
“I want to know what games he usually plays and when he comes here to gamble,” Lu Huaihai said.
Downstairs, Zhang Duan, engrossed in his gambling, had no idea he was already being watched.
—
Footnotes:
- Guanpu(关扑): A traditional Chinese gambling game. The specific rules vary, but it typically involves cards or tiles.