Chapter 56 Part 3

Mu Qian Tan paused and looked further into the box. It was neatly packed with all sorts of wound medicines, meticulously categorized—enough for her to use for a long time. It really didn’t seem like that dog’s handiwork.

Shang Shan said, “What did you all talk about today? That annoying hall master came, the sect master came, the Feng Ling Immortal came, and there was also some white-clothed sister I didn’t recognize. I told them all you were very tired and resting, so they didn’t disturb you. They just left the stuff.”

Mu Qian Tan pondered. Panxiang Yin sending her things was probably because of her aggrieved performance at the Grading Pavilion earlier that day to escape quickly. It made Panxiang Yin, as her godmother, feel guilty and send these as compensation.

As for Jiang Zhouyao, she must have overheard the conversations and thought Mu Qian Tan was seriously injured, so she wanted to help her nourish her body. How thoughtful—a real good person.

But the one in white… Shen Xin had come too?

What was she doing here?

Looking deeper into the food box, sure enough, there was another piece of paper. Opening it revealed a line of elegant handwriting:

Your heart is broken, and my name has a “heart” too—what a coincidence. Let me take a look at your heart.

“…” Mu Qian Tan crumpled the note into a ball and threw it off the cliff.

It was clear Shen Xin loved tricky cases. To diagnose her body, she could even produce such cheesy internet-generated puns from her own pen.

Truly deep and unexposed talents.

She was the unluckiest, targeted by a pair of weirdos.

Hunger gnawed at her stomach again, and her head spun slightly. Mu Qian Tan bent down, steadied herself against the food box, composed herself, stopped thinking about it, and planned to get something to eat first.

Shang Shan, having finished laughing, had gone off to find wood for the chair and wouldn’t be back anytime soon. Mu Qian Tan looked around; she didn’t have the energy to hunt. She might as well just eat a few raw radishes to tide her over.

Just as she picked up a radish to wash it, passing under the tree with the shack, she spotted a simple stone stove and a medium-sized iron pot that had been cleaned spotless and placed on it, gleaming brightly.

Seeing this scene, had that Brain-Damaged Dragon really made this her home?

She had gone out for two months and come back even more attached?

Incomprehensible.

With a pot, she could eat cooked food—definitely better than raw. Mu Qian Tan rummaged through the food box and found a jar of lard. Further down, she had to admit Jiang Zhouyao was thoughtful enough to even include matches.

She lit the fire, scooped half a spoonful of lard into the pot, washed some vegetables, and put them in. Mu Qian Tan stir-fried for a moment with chopsticks. Perhaps from excessive blood loss making her dizzy, or because she wasn’t used to this primitive stove, she didn’t pay attention to the heat. By the time she realized, the vegetables in the pot were half-black and half-yellow, greasy-looking, and utterly unappetizing.

She stood in silence for a moment, debating whether to destroy the evidence, pot in hand and hesitating. Meanwhile, Shang Shan pushed through branches and leaves with her back, dragging a large stone toward her with all her might. “I found it!”

Mu Qian Tan looked over. What she called “found” was a two-palm-thick slab of stone, shaped somewhat like a lounge chair with a natural depression perfect for lying in. It dragged along the ground, leaving a deep trail.

Shang Shan was drenched in sweat, muscles taut, huffing and puffing as she inched it along until she finally shoved the big stone into the courtyard. The moment she let go, she collapsed from exhaustion, lay on the ground looking up with a grin. “I found a natural chair! Try sitting on it—see if it’s comfortable.”

It had only been a casual remark on a whim from Mu Qian Tan, but Shang Shan had actually hauled back a chair—of stone.

Mu Qian Tan set down the pot and walked to the chair, touching it with her hand. The texture was pleasantly warm. Though hard, the shape fit perfectly—it really seemed suitable for resting. However, she said, “This doesn’t rock.”

Shang Shan rolled over from exhaustion, her long hair spilling onto the woman’s boot. She looked up from below with wide eyes. “I don’t know how to make a rocking chair. Just sit on this one—it’s pretty comfortable too.”

Mu Qian Tan said, “Fine.”

Shang Shan said, “People should have manners. I helped you—shouldn’t you say thank you?”

Mu Qian Tan wiped the dust off the big stone with a cloth and sat down, shifting a bit. “Say what?”

“Is it comfortable?” Shang Shan propped herself up on her elbows, raising her upper body. “Say thank you.”

Leaning back against the stone just as a breeze blew through, it was hard to say how comfortable it was. Mu Qian Tan sighed. “It’s comfortable. No need for thanks.”

Shang Shan huffed in dissatisfaction. “Hmph, sooner or later I’ll teach you manners! Say thank you and sorry every day!”

“Hm?” Mu Qian Tan rested her head on the chair back, turning her face to reveal most of a countenance bathed in pristine moonlight. Her skin was coldly pale yet showed a rare softness. “Give it a try, then.”

The voice was hazy too, its ending soaked in the night wind and thinned out. It suddenly reminded Shang Shan of the small alley during the day, where she had seen that face through the smoke wall—cheeks slightly flushed from pain, dotted with fine sweat, and the woman whose wrist was grabbed, slumped powerlessly.

Anger flared up at first, but after subtracting the annoying image of that Hall Master left behind afterward, it inexplicably made her lick her lips.

Today had been fighting, building a wooden hut, moving stones—she was exhausted and starving. Shang Shan clutched her stomach and chalked up that itchy, strange feeling to hunger. She sniffed the air and looked ahead. “Did you cook?”

With her fist pressed to her lips, Mu Qian Tan coughed lightly twice. “Cooked a bit.”

Shang Shan was delighted. “Wow! I get to eat your cooking!”

She jumped up hurriedly and rushed to the stove. When she clearly saw the food in the pot, she fell into brief hesitation, which soon turned to determination.

Maybe it was too dark at night, but this pot of vegetables absolutely was not black.

She picked one up to taste and swallowed it. The hesitation appeared on her face.

She shortened the chewing process, swallowed it down, and after a moment, said, “Pretty good.”

It was utterly baffling. Mu Qian Tan chuckled softly with her qi. “Talking nonsense with eyes open.”

Shang Shan said, “It is—better than Qin He’s.”

Mu Qian Tan said, “You’ve forgotten your manners? Talking bad about someone behind their back.”

Shang Shan picked up the pot. “I’d say it to her face too.”

She dumped all the vegetables from the pot into her stomach, chewed with gusto, and ate every last bit clean before wiping her mouth.

Mu Qian Tan lazily glanced at her. “You ate it all. What am I supposed to eat?”

“You’re so picky—you definitely wouldn’t like this.” Shang Shan prepared to wash the pot and casually asked, “Want me to teach you how to cook?”

Mu Qian Tan ignored her.

Ridiculous. Of course she knew how to cook, but that was at home. Even in tougher times later on, there had been electric pots and gas stoves, and no shortage of seasonings—far better than these crude conditions. She didn’t lack cooking skills; she just lacked the equipment.

Shang Shan saw the back of her head as she refused and carried the pot off by herself. She scraped off the dried black vegetable leaves stuck to the bottom, then returned to heat up some oil.

When she had lived alone in the village, aside from mooching meals, she had basically cooked for herself. Something like this—simply building a fire to eat—was second nature to her.

Li Biyuan said, ‘Sister Tan, I’ve never seen a transmigrator who enslaves the protagonist like you do.’

Mu Qian Tan’s eyes were half-open, half-closed, looking slightly dazed. ‘She might kill me someday. What’s wrong with using her now?’

‘Mm… very good.’

Before long, four small dishes were served.

There was no table here—hers was still back at Cliff Mountain, uncollected—so the two of them ate on another rock. Shang Shan said, “It’s definitely not as good as Feng Ling Immortal’s cooking, but it’s better than yours and better than Qin He’s too. I guarantee it.”

Mu Qian Tan took the chopsticks and tasted a bite. It had a proper vegetable flavor—much better than hers. She said offhandedly, “Not bad.”

Shang Shan said, “See? You say that again. That’s why I want to talk to you about something.”

They had been talking for days and still weren’t done. Mu Qian Tan said, “What is it this time?”

Shang Shan said, “I hope you’ll start telling the truth from now on.”

Mu Qian Tan’s expression didn’t change. “I always tell the truth. I never lie to anyone.”

“I’m serious,” Shang Shan said as she set down her chopsticks. “Tell me—why did you clash palms with me today?”

Mu Qian Tan said, “Didn’t I say? To check your spiritual power.”

“No.” Shang Shan was firm. “You were angry because the night before last, I said I wanted to get stronger to protect you. But today, I hesitated between you and Qin He, unsure who to help. So you used the palm clash as an excuse just to beat me!”

“…” Mu Qian Tan’s chopsticks paused. She glanced at her. “You’re overthinking it.”

Li Biyuan said, ‘Uh-oh, Sister Tan. You beat her smart.’

‘Scram.’

“I’m not overthinking. That’s the reason.” Shang Shan sank into recollection. “Before, I didn’t think enough, so I could never see you clearly. I used to think things just happened—no need to wonder why, so I didn’t understand. The people around me weren’t complicated; they weren’t the type to puzzle me. Good or bad was obvious at a glance, like Qin He and Fu Li—one good, one bad.”

She raised her head. Those deep black eyes were brighter and clearer than the starry sky behind her. “But Master, I’ve never met anyone like you.”

Her hand on her knee twitched slightly. Mu Qian Tan said, “You’d be the weird one if you had.”

Shang Shan shook her head. “Sometimes you’re really interesting—I smile just thinking about you. Sometimes you’re really bad—bad to your core! It makes my teeth itch with hate; I want to beat you! But sometimes you’re kind too. Don’t frown! Don’t deny it! I can give examples—like how you saved the White Rabbit from the Big Gorilla before. I saw it.”

Mu Qian Tan said, “So much talk during a meal. Are you using chit-chat as a side dish?”

Shang Shan said, “Before, I only knew how to catch mice. Now I have to understand you—it’s hard. You’re too multifaceted. I can’t see through you, and I don’t want to guess recklessly…”

“You’re already guessing recklessly.”

Shang Shan cut in, “This isn’t reckless—it’s what I came up with after observing you!”

The table fell quiet. Mu Qian Tan tossed her chopsticks aside. “I’m going to rest.”

“Don’t.” Shang Shan grabbed her sleeve and took a deep breath. “I won’t say anything else. Eat.”

Once she sat back down properly and began picking at the food sporadically, Shang Shan muttered softly, “Master won’t face me.”

Mu Qian Tan re-established the rule. “No talking while eating.”

“You’re not willing to face me, not willing to tell me the truth, and not willing to learn cooking from me.” Shang Shan lowered her head, her fingers scratching at the stone surface.

“Some problems can be solved just by facing them head-on. Some things succeed if you just try again. But one failure knocks you down. Master is a liar, and also a coward.”