Lu Jianwei casually dropped potato slices into the pot and added fish balls, noticing Yue Shu’s odd expression but choosing not to comment.
It was A'Nai who couldn’t hold back. "What did it say?"
Yue Shu handed the letter to Uncle Zhang and replied, "My uncle says that if I’m willing to go to Liangzhou, he’ll raise me."
He had never met this uncle before—only heard that he served as a military officer in Moonview City. After his family’s manor was destroyed, with nowhere else to turn, he’d followed Uncle Zhang’s advice to seek refuge in Moonview City.
But his uncle had already been transferred away, leaving them stranded. They’d stayed at the inn ever since.
Though they’d only lived there for a few months, Yue Shu had already come to think of it as a second home.
Secretly, he didn’t want to leave for Liangzhou. He’d rather stay at the inn—if only the proprietor wouldn’t find him a burden.
"Liangzhou is a borderland, even more remote than Fengzhou. You really want to go?" Xue Guanhe interjected. "My father’s been there—said there isn’t even a decent tavern in the whole place. The wind kicks up sand so bad you’ll choke on it, and winters are bone-dry and freezing. Nothing like here."
A'Nai was even blunter. "You’ve never even met this uncle—what kind of bond could you have? If you go, you’ll just be living under someone else’s roof. Better to study hard and make your own way."
Yue Shu had been thinking the same thing. He glanced at Lu Jianwei.
"Proprietor, what do you think?"
"Where you go is your choice," Lu Jianwei said mildly. Seeing his crestfallen expression, she relented and added, "But don’t forget—you’ve already signed yourself over to this inn. You’re bound here as a lifetime servant. You’re not going anywhere."
Yue Shu’s eyes lit up instantly. "Good! I’ll stay a servant forever!"
He turned eagerly to Uncle Zhang, who chuckled and placed a meatball in his bowl. "This old man’s too lazy to move. I’m grateful the proprietor’s taken me in—I’ll keep troubling her from now on."
"With you managing the inn, I couldn’t be happier," Lu Jianwei said, raising her teacup. "From today, we’re family. No need for formalities."
Everyone lifted their cups, toasting the falling snow with tea in place of wine.
After a few warm cups and bites of food, the heat spread from their bellies to their fingertips.
Han Xiaofeng had never imagined that one day, he’d sit at a table with these martial artists, sharing a pot of food—even fighting over dishes.
His stern features softened in the rising steam.
But one matter still weighed on him. When the broth had boiled down halfway and Xue Guanhe refilled it, he finally spoke.
"Song Xian and Song Fu died in prison. I didn’t get the mastermind’s name. My apologies."
Yue Shu swallowed a mouthful of cabbage and said solemnly, "Officer Han, I know you did your best. After my father died, no one in the martial world sought justice for the dozens slaughtered in our manor. That’s just human nature—I don’t blame them. Only the Mystic Mirror Bureau pursued this case. I won’t forget that kindness."
Han Xiaofeng filled his cup to the brim. "Young Hero Yue, I salute you."
The martial world had always resented the Mystic Mirror Bureau’s "interference" in their affairs. Han and his colleagues faced mockery, obstruction, even ambushes and assassinations.
Sometimes, he questioned whether their work meant anything.
Now, he understood.
There would always be victims who needed someone to fight for them.
A'Nai muttered disapprovingly, "Seems like the Mystic Mirror Bureau’s prison doors aren’t too secure if inmates die so easily."
Han Xiaofeng frowned.
"Brother A'Nai, here—your favorite winter bamboo shoots." Yue Shu hastily scooped some into his bowl.
A'Nai: "..."
He wasn’t wrong!
"You’re right. This was the Bureau’s failure," Han Xiaofeng admitted plainly.
"See?!"
"A'Nai." Wen Zhuzhi’s tone was light but firm. "Eat your shoots."
"...Fine." A'Nai obediently picked up his bowl.
Lu Jianwei remarked casually, "Uncle Zhang once mentioned that martial artists avoid the Mystic Mirror Bureau but don’t dare provoke them—because their commander is peerlessly strong, isn’t that so?"
Han Xiaofeng hesitated. "I wouldn’t presume to comment on the commander."
"What counts as presumption? Praising his skill?" Lu Jianwei laughed. "We’re just chatting. Unless your commander is hiding under this table, eavesdropping?"
Xue Guanhe snorted into his drink.
Jin Poxiao grinned. "Eavesdropping’s unlikely, but that commander’s a mystery. In all my travels, I’ve only heard of cases he’s solved—never met him."
"The commander is elusive. Even the deputy commanders rarely see him," Han Xiaofeng said quietly, reverence in his eyes.
Lu Jianwei nodded. "They say he became commander at thirteen, solving the Flower Thief case. A true prodigy. What a shame we’ll never meet such a man."
"What’s the shame?" Lan Ling cut in. "Word is he’s ugly as a demon. Best to steer clear."
Han Xiaofeng’s gaze sharpened. "Rumors also claim you killed Black Wind Fort’s Elder Chai, fled from Chai Hou and Chai Zhong after they wounded you, and only survived thanks to Proprietor Lu’s skill."
"An elite Mystic Mirror agent believes baseless gossip? Is this how you investigate?" Lan Ling bristled.
Han Xiaofeng countered, "The Thousand Miles Tower boasts of knowing all under heaven. So tell me—how did Chai Kun really die?"
Lan Ling sneered. "Was I wrong about his face?"
"Miss Lan, spreading unverified claims is reckless. Even eyewitnesses can be deceived. Given your own predicament, you should understand that better than anyone."
Lu Jianwei thought: Perfect!
What’s a hotpot meal without arguments? The longer they bickered, the more gossip she’d hear.
Lan Ling didn’t disappoint. "If he’s not hideous, why hide his face?"
"If you’re innocent, why run?"
"They framed me! Why wouldn’t I flee?"
"The commander’s might is unmatched. Who’s worthy of seeing him?"
"Ridiculous! I heard he’s qi-deviated, half-dead. What ‘unmatched might’?"
"Lies!"
Lan Ling’s anger melted into a smirk. "Oh? Our Agent Han is rattled. If he’s truly fine, why so defensive?"
"If you didn’t kill Chai Kun, why cower here?" Han Xiaofeng shot back. "The Tower claims omniscience, yet can’t name his real killer or clear your name. You’d better focus on proving your innocence."
Lan Ling blinked. "Wait—are you saying you know I didn’t do it?"
"No comment." Han Xiaofeng’s face was stone.
Ever adaptable, Lan Ling raised her cup. "My apologies, Officer Han. This lowly woman misspoke. A man of your stature surely won’t hold grudges. The Mystic Mirror commander’s prowess is renowned—as is his peerless beauty. And you, sir, are likewise brilliant in both wisdom and skill."
"Hmph."
"Today’s feast is all thanks to Proprietor Lu. Won’t you forgive me for her sake?"
Han Xiaofeng had no choice but to raise his cup. “I’ll honor Proprietor Lu’s request. Miss Lan entered the tomb chamber before Chai Kun appeared near the Prince of Liang’s mausoleum.”
“Since you’re already honoring Proprietor Lu’s request, why not do it once more and clear my name?” Lan Ling’s eyes sparkled, the bells on her wrist tinkling softly.
Han Xiaofeng remained unmoved. “This is a matter between your Thousand Miles Tower and Black Wind Fort. The Mystic Mirror Bureau will not intervene.”
“Proprietor Lu,” Lan Ling tugged at Lu Jianwei’s sleeve, “won’t you put in a good word for me?”
Lu Jianwei scooped a meatball and placed it in her bowl.
“Be good and eat your meat.”
Lan Ling: “……”
Lu Jianwei then shifted the conversation. “Young Master Wen has a remarkable talent for commerce, building such a prosperous enterprise. I’ve always had a few questions I’d like to ask.”
“You flatter me, Proprietor Lu,” Wen Zhuzhi replied with a faint smile. “Please, go ahead.”
The steam from the hot pot had warmed his usually pale complexion, adding a touch of vitality. His lashes, damp with condensation, softened the sharp angles of his features, making him appear less aloof.
A man who seemed gentle yet guarded his heart most fiercely.
But at this moment, he seemed a little more… human.
Lu Jianwei asked, “How do you think I should run this inn to make even more profit?”
“Proprietor Lu, you’re already doing exceptionally well,” Jin Poxiao interjected. “In just one month, you’ve earned what a merchant caravan makes in half a year.”
“Brother Jin is right,” Wen Zhuzhi said. “Proprietor Lu possesses extraordinary skills and treats guests with kindness. Your business will surely flourish. As for me, I merely inherited my family’s trade—hardly a master of commerce.”
Lu Jianwei sighed. “Fine, I was being presumptuous. Trade secrets aren’t meant to be shared lightly. Young Master Wen, pretend I never asked.”
“You’re too modest,” Wen Zhuzhi replied smoothly. “You’ve purchased land spanning five miles—clearly, you already have a vision. There’s no need to jest at my expense.”
Lu Jianwei inwardly scoffed: *Slippery as an eel!*
The meal concluded amid lively chatter, the snow outside now ankle-deep. Yue Shu dragged A’Nai into the courtyard to build a snow lion, soon joined by Xue Guanhe.
Lu Jianwei and the others watched from the covered walkway.
The bitter wind howled, but none of them felt it—except Wen Zhuzhi, who coughed lightly.
Though bundled more heavily than the rest, he still couldn’t withstand the cold. The flush from the hot pot had faded, leaving his face pale and austere once more.
Annoyed, Lu Jianwei unfastened her fur-lined cloak and draped it over him, wrapping him snugly from front to back before tying the silk ribbon securely behind him.
“I should send you inside to avoid the chill, but the snowscape is rare, and this childlike joy is something we seldom see. Wouldn’t it be a shame to miss it?”
Wen Zhuzhi froze.
The cloak carried her scent—hints of sandalwood, serene and calming, mingled with lilac, quiet and distant.
Enveloped in the thick, warm fabric, the cold no longer reached him. His chilled hands gradually regained warmth.
After a pause, he lifted his gaze to Lu Jianwei and smiled. “Thank you, Proprietor Lu. But this isn’t quite proper—men and women shouldn’t…”
“Since when do I care about propriety?” Lu Jianwei shot him a glance. “Unless you’re disgusted by it?”
“Of course not. I merely…”
Lan Ling teased from the side, “Young Master Wen, have you never been close to a woman before? To blush so easily—how will you ever marry?”
Wen Zhuzhi stiffened.
“Wait, was I right?” Lan Ling’s eyes widened in delight. “You’ve *never* been involved with a woman?”
Jin Poxiao, betraying no loyalty, exposed him further: “In all the years I’ve known Brother Wen, I’ve never seen him keep company with any woman. He’s been too busy searching for medicine to consider marriage.”
“True,” Yan Feicang confirmed with a nod.
Lan Ling burst into laughter. “The way you two say it, it’s as if *you’ve* had lovers before.”
The two men: “……”
Lan Ling laughed harder.
The commotion drew the attention of the trio building the snow lion. A’Nai glanced up and froze at the sight of his master wrapped in Lu Jianwei’s cloak.
“A’Nai, what’s wrong?” Yue Shu tugged his sleeve.
A’Nai snapped out of it and glared at Lan Ling. “What’s so funny?”
Lan Ling arched a brow. “Your master—so old, yet he’s never even held a girl’s hand.”
“And what’s it to you?” A’Nai huffed. “You’re even older than him!”
Lan Ling: “……”
*I should’ve known better than to argue with A’Nai.*
Lu Jianwei, however, studied Wen Zhuzhi until his discomfort neared its limit before murmuring two vague words:
“Good for you.”
Wen Zhuzhi: “……”
The others: “……”
Compared to the modern snowman, their snow lion was more like a work of art. Neither Xue Guanhe nor A’Nai had the skill, but Yue Shu, accustomed to woodcarving, adapted easily. The other two shoveled snow while he sculpted.
“Done yet?” Xue Guanhe pressed.
Under his urging, Yue Shu’s hands became a blur. “Almost!”
With the final stroke, a lifelike snow lion emerged.
“Perfect!” Xue Guanhe clapped excitedly.
Snow was scarce in Jiangzhou, often mixed with rain, never thick enough for such a creation. And in Nanzhou? A’Nai had never built a snow lion before.
“Master, look!”
Wen Zhuzhi’s expression softened. “It’s lovely.”
“But something’s missing,” Xue Guanhe mused, studying their creation.
Lu Jianwei said, “It lacks vitality. A cloak would help—red, preferably.”
“Right! Who has a red cloak?”
Yue Shu and A’Nai shook their heads.
Xue Guanhe turned to Lu Jianwei.
“Fine.” She chuckled. “Today, I’ll make a sacrifice.”
She headed upstairs, pretending to fetch one from her room but instead selecting one from the system shop. Returning, she draped it over the snow lion, enhancing its majesty.
“Amazing!” Xue Guanhe cheered. “Proprietor, you’re incredible!”
Lu Jianwei laughed.
*Even this earns praise?*
It had been years since she’d played like this. Who’d have thought a few youngsters in another world would rekindle childhood memories?
Patting the snow lion’s head, she smiled.
Snowflakes dusted her hair, a striking contrast—like ink on paper, darkness against white.
Wen Zhuzhi’s gaze lingered on her lashes, where a snowflake perched before dissolving with a blink, vanishing into the pristine ground.
Beneath the cloak, his grip on the jade flute tightened.
He lowered his eyes, only to see the embroidered plum blossoms on the fabric—crimson petals on brown branches, a vivid splash of color in a monochrome world.
“A’Nai, let’s go inside.” He coughed again.
A’Nai hurried over, shaking off snow, and wheeled him back to the shared quarters.
Inside, the brazier kept the room warm as spring.
Wen Zhuzhi removed the cloak, snow melting into puddles at his feet.
“Return this to Proprietor Lu.”
As A’Nai reached for the door, Wen Zhuzhi spoke again.
“Wait.”
“Yes, Master?”
Wen Zhuzhi turned the wheelchair away, his back to him.
**Romance of the Snowy Inn**
“The snow just now soiled my cloak. I’ll return it after the weather clears and it’s been washed.”
“Oh.” A’Nai muttered in confusion, “But it’s just a bit of snow and mud—it’s hardly dirty.”
The snow fell heavier as Lu Jianwei returned to the main hall.
Lan Ling went upstairs to practice her martial arts, while Jin Poxiao and Yan Feicang retreated to their rooms. Uncle Zhang and the others busied themselves cleaning the inn.
Only Han Xiaofeng remained seated in the hall.
“Lord Han, perhaps you should book a room and rest?” Yue Shu suggested.
“Thank you for the suggestion, but—” Han Xiaofeng spoke plainly, “I have one more request. Innkeeper Lu, I’ve heard you once deciphered the ‘Beauty’s Envy’ poison. Is that true?”
Lu Jianwei had already pocketed his “gratitude”—five banknotes of a thousand taels each, totaling five thousand.
This was all extra, separate from the inn’s ledger, lining her own purse.
For the sake of five thousand taels, she was willing to humor him.
“Yes.”
Han Xiaofeng’s expression brightened. “I’ve come to Moonview City for two reasons: first, to personally thank you, and second, regarding the recent string of poisonings.”
“Oh?”
“So far, five people have died from poison, but upon examination, it isn’t ‘Beauty’s Envy.’ Instead, it’s a new, peculiar toxin. Our Mystic Mirror Bureau has a specialist skilled in antidotes, but this poison is unlike anything seen before—no cure has been found.”
Xue Guanhe gasped, “Not ‘Beauty’s Envy’?”
If someone in his family were accidentally poisoned, wouldn’t they be doomed?
Lu Jianwei asked, “Do the victims die immediately, or…?”
“From what we’ve observed, the poison doesn’t kill instantly. The victims suffer two hours of agony—their organs burning and rupturing—before succumbing.” Han Xiaofeng’s face darkened with shame. “Were it not for the poison’s cruelty, I wouldn’t impose on you like this.”
Lu Jianwei: “…”
How deep must the hatred run?
Her tone remained cool. “I have the antidote formula for ‘Beauty’s Envy,’ but that doesn’t mean I specialize in poisons. If this toxin is as sinister as you say, I may not be able to counter it.”
Han Xiaofeng straightened. “Regardless of success, the Mystic Mirror Bureau will owe you a favor.”
“Fine.” Lu Jianwei didn’t refuse. “The storm is still raging. Once the snow stops, I’ll accompany you to Moonview City.”
“Thank you.”
She nodded. “I’ll retire to my room now. Make yourself at home.”
Upon reaching the third floor, she immediately pulled out books on toxicology, flipping through their contents.
She could have refused Han Xiaofeng—but she didn’t want to waste this opportunity.
Whether in medicine or poisons, true mastery came from hands-on experience, from diagnosing countless ailments and refining one’s knowledge.
Lu Jianwei *could* hide in her inn forever, relying on tools to intimidate enemies.
But where would the money for those tools come from?
Her current defensive artifacts were seventh-tier, her offensive ones sixth—yet the world’s strongest warriors surpassed even that. Danger would find her eventually.
She needed wealth—vast amounts of it.
The Divine Physician Valley sold a single antidote for a fortune. She couldn’t afford to lag behind.
The Moonview City poisonings were a rare chance.
What poison could incinerate organs and shatter them from within?
Her foundational toxicology studies hadn’t covered anything like this.
A compound poison, perhaps?
Certain mixtures could trigger chemical reactions, birthing new toxins with unique symptoms.
But such poisons usually had a primary agent, the rest merely auxiliary—far easier to counteract than the five poisons in Wen Zhuzhi’s body, each maintaining a delicate equilibrium.
Lu Jianwei pored over every toxicology text, forgetting sleep and meals, until she glimpsed a clue.
Yet she needed to see the victims’ bodies to confirm.
The next morning, the storm had passed. Sunlight bathed the courtyard, though snowdrifts still swallowed the steps and narrowed the walkways.
Uncle Zhang wielded his *Crosswave Palm* to “sweep” the snow—powerful gusts blasting the slush from the corridors.
Far more efficient than brooms or shovels.
“I thought Uncle Zhang practiced *Gale Palm*,” A’Nai remarked from the eaves, cracking melon seeds. “They say it’s mid-tier at best, but look at that force.”
Yue Shu, shoveling nearby, huffed, “It’s not *Gale Palm*.”
“Huh?”
“It’s *Crosswave Palm*—a new technique. Much stronger.” Yue Shu beamed with pride.
A’Nai gave a thumbs-up. “Impressive! Where’d he get it?”
“The palm—”
“A’Shu.” Uncle Zhang beckoned. “Finish this side first.”
“Right away!” He scurried toward the stables.
A’Nai smirked. No need to ask—it had to be Innkeeper Lu’s doing.
He returned inside, finding Wen Zhuzhi already dressed. “Master, the porridge is simmering. It’ll be ready soon. The sun’s out—should I wash your cloak?”
“Melting snow brings the coldest chill. Washing it now would only freeze it stiff. Leave it.” Wen Zhuzhi changed the subject. “What were you discussing outside?”
“Oh, just Uncle Zhang clearing snow with palm strikes. I thought it was *Gale Palm*, but turns out it’s something new.”
Wen Zhuzhi sipped warm water, then wheeled himself to the porch to observe.
Sunlight glared off the snow as palm winds sent slush flying like yesterday’s flurries.
“Well?” A’Nai asked.
Wen Zhuzhi nodded. “Sharp eyes. It *is* a new technique.”
“Bet it’s tied to Innkeeper Lu.”
“What’s tied to Innkeeper Lu?” Lan Ling approached, her crimson winter robes bright against the snow.
“None of your concern,” A’Nai scoffed.
Uncharmed, Lan Ling teased, “Innkeeper Lu and I are as close as sisters. If you speak of her, it *is* my concern.”
“When did she ever call you ‘sister’?” A’Nai sneered. “Stop flattering yourself.”
“Oh, I flatter myself? True, I can’t compete with you two—three sentences never pass without mentioning her. Grown men, gossiping about a lady in public—how shameless.”
“You—”
Wen Zhuzhi tucked his hands into his sleeves, unfazed. “Not as much as you and Lord Pingwu.”
Lan Ling: ?
After a beat, she laughed. “Yesterday, you blushed just hearing about holding hands—I thought you were pure as snow! Turns out you’ve got a naughty streak. Delightful.”
Jin Poxiao emerged just then. “Never tasted pork, but seen pigs run? Sister Lan, you’re the expert here—spare Brother Wen your teasing.”
“Breakfast is ready!” Xue Guanhe announced, carrying trays of steaming food.
Noodles, steamed buns, pastries, pickles—the spread was lavish.
After the meal, Lu Jianwei directed the inn’s four helpers to clear snow indoors and out, with Jin Poxiao and Han Xiaofeng pitching in.
Slush melted into muddy ice, slick underfoot—but none present were ordinary folk. Their martial skills made light work of it.
The group was working fervently when a figure came speeding from the direction of Moonview City, treading effortlessly across the thick snow-covered road.
Xue Guanhe was the first to notice.
"It’s Envoy Feng—he’s come too?"
Feng Yan rushed breathlessly to the inn, not even stopping for water, his voice hoarse as he reported, "Chief Envoy, another person was killed in the city last night."
The incident had already sparked panic among the populace. If the killer remained at large, the pressure on the Mystic Mirror Bureau would only intensify.
At this, Han Xiaofeng turned to Lu Jianwei.
"Proprietor Lu, would you accompany me to Moonview City?"
Lu Jianwei frowned. "With snow this deep, how are we supposed to get there?"
"Naturally, by using qinggong," Han Xiaofeng replied, puzzled.
Lu Jianwei thought of her modest fifth-level internal energy—if she attempted light-footed travel, her limitations would be exposed.
How could she perfectly maintain the demeanor of a master?
Just then, Wen Zhuzhi spoke up. "Traveling by qinggong leaves one exposed to the biting wind. Why not take my carriage instead?"
"The snow is too thick for a carriage," Han Xiaofeng argued skeptically.
Wen Zhuzhi smiled and glanced at Uncle Zhang. "One person can clear the snow from the driver’s seat, while another steers the carriage."
That way, a certain innkeeper could lounge comfortably inside the cabin and even take a nap.
The group: "…"
Lu Jianwei: *As expected of the richest man—his mind works fast.*
She made the final decision. "Then it’s settled—we’ll follow Young Master Wen’s suggestion."
