Chapter 79: East-West Inn (Part 2): Master, Do You Think I Look Good?

Shang Shan lay in the soft feathers, subconsciously rubbing her chin gently against the hand gripping her neck. The moment that form of address slipped out, the woman’s gaze flickered as if she’d been poked, and her fingers twitched slightly.

No one knew if she liked it or not, but she was definitely not calm. Shang Shan grew delighted as well and called out a few more times in succession. “Sister, sister!”

Mu Qian Tan jerked her hand back as if scalded, her face shrouded in dark energy. “Shut up.”

It was the first time Shang Shan had seen such a reaction, and she found it amusing. She rolled over and crawled up. “Sister, sister, sister…”

She clearly didn’t know when to quit. Ignoring the woman’s increasingly foul expression, she called out more and more smoothly, more and more happily. Her master, who usually exploded at the slightest provocation, was exceptionally tolerant today and didn’t beat her. Elated, she grew reckless. Her face bloomed with a brilliant smile as she crawled right up to the woman on all fours, leaned close to her ear, and whispered as if sharing a secret. “Sister.”

“…” Mu Qian Tan’s eye twitched slightly.

That snapped her back to reality. Her dear little sister never called her “sister” so gently—it was always a booming shout that echoed through the entire alley, like a banshee wail.

Besides, she had reached her limit with this stupid dragon’s provocations. There was no more need to hold back!

Mu Qian Tan swept a cold glance at her. Before Shang Shan could react, she grabbed her collar. “Call me that again?”

Shang Shan’s smile vanished. She realized they were too close and tried to retreat, but it was too late—she’d already been caught. She instinctively begged for mercy. “I was wrong, Master.”

Mu Qian Tan sneered. It hadn’t been long since her last beating, and this one’s skin was itching for it again, shoving herself right in her face to get pummeled. She clearly needed a lesson to remember.

With one hand braced below, Mu Qian Tan dragged Shang Shan off the crane’s back with the other, leaving her dangling over the edge. Without a wind-blocking formation for protection, the frigid gales of high altitude sliced toward the girl like knives.

Mu Qian Tan gazed at her coolly. “Go on, call me.”

Shang Shan let out an “ah!” Wind instantly filled her mouth, billowing her wide sleeves and flapping her hem, exposing her long, slender legs.

Directly below was a sheer drop of thousands of feet. Clouds brushed past her legs. One glance made her dizzy; a fall would shatter her to pieces! She gulped, clutching the hand on her collar, and yelled. “I was wrong, Master! I really know I was wrong now!”

The woman above sneered disdainfully. “No backbone at all.”

Shang Shan clung to that hand as the wind whipped her long hair across her face, quickly turning it red. She shook her head. Pitifully, she pleaded. “I was wrong. Pull me up, please.”

Amid the vast blue sky, a crane flew on with a girl dangling from its neck, swinging back and forth, yet it didn’t hinder their journey at all. If anyone passed by, they would probably find the sight utterly unique.

Ignoring the increasingly desperate cries of apology, Mu Qian Tan held on, eyes fixed ahead. Only when the voice faded did she look down. The once-pristine girl had been battered by the wind into a total mess. She clutched her mask with both hands and coughed for ages, unable to speak.

Mu Qian Tan pulled her arm back and hauled her up, tossing her aside.

Shang Shan tumbled twice and ended up face-down, motionless for a while before lifting her head. “Why can’t I call you that?”

Mu Qian Tan picked up her book. “You’re not worthy.”

“Hmph.” Shang Shan brushed her hair—now a tangled mess like weeds—behind her ears. “I am worthy. Totally worthy! No matter what, I’m worthy!”

The woman fell silent again.

Shang Shan gnashed her teeth in frustration and rolled around on the spot. She lay there staring at the sky for a bit until she calmed herself, then asked. “So what should I call you?”

Mu Qian Tan said. “Don’t call me anything. Pretend I don’t exist.”

Shang Shan said. “Impossible.”

Mu Qian Tan said. “Then I’ll pretend you don’t exist.”

Shang Shan cried out. “That’s exactly what you always do!”

The woman fell silent yet again.

This time, Shang Shan couldn’t calm down. She rolled several more times, still fuming. She hugged Zhengchun and muttered darkly. “Flapping Moth won’t let me call her sister? Fine, I’ll call her by name then. Mu Qian Tan! Mu! Qian! Tan!”

Zhengchun caught the key phrase, poked its head from her arms, and screeched at the top of its lungs. “Mu Qian Tan! Big liar!”

The instant the first word left its beak, Shang Shan knew what was coming. It was the first phrase Zhengchun had learned last year—worth commemorating, but not at a time like this. She tried to stop it but failed. Once the words reached the woman’s ears behind her, Shang Shan went rigid and widened her eyes. “…I’m in trouble.”

Mu Qian Tan slowly raised her head, closed her fingers together, and snapped her book shut with a smack.

For the remaining days of travel, Shang Shan and Zhengchun earned prime spots under the crane’s claws—one girl and one bird on either side. They dangled there all the way to the next rest stop: the East-West Inn.

This was where the male and female protagonists would meet again.

They landed in a grassy area. Mu Qian Tan stored the crane and strode ahead on her own. Shang Shan clutched her disheveled Zhengchun. Having slept poorly on the crane’s back, she trailed behind, nodding off bit by bit.

The sky was growing dim. Green willows swayed in the breeze, carrying a dry scent in the air, with faint yellow dust on the road.

Mu Qian Tan walked with her arms crossed, her robes swaying lightly as she crossed a small bridge and passed a few poplars. Inns appeared on either side of the road—similar in size, similar in decor, even their names formatted alike. One was called East Host, the other West Lane Guest.

Each inn had a waiter standing out front by the roadside. Bored with nothing to do, they argued over the flowers and grass. With no centerline on the avenue, they spoke with absolute authority. Those wildflowers are ours; you pull the weeds on this side. Over something so trivial, they argued red-faced and neck-veined, deadlocked.

As the two drew near, the bickering stopped. Both waiters beamed welcoming smiles. “Esteemed guests! Staying the night or just passing through?”

They crowded over, openly and covertly shoving each other to lure the customers their way—elbows jabbing, shoulders bumping, just short of outright pushing.

With the inns directly opposite each other, there must have been plenty of friction and rivalry on normal days. The waiters’ sidelong glares and snubs made it obvious. And along the road stood signs for each:

For lodging, choose East Host—wise ones shun the West.

West Lane Guest brings gold and silver riches—head east for empty pockets.

It was outright slander!

Shang Shan stood there, glancing between them, unable to decide. Offending either would feel awkward. Mu Qian Tan didn’t hesitate and headed right. The right-side waiter perked up triumphantly, grinning ear to ear. He bowed repeatedly and ushered her inside with big strides. The left one deflated, tongue pushing at his cheek. He yanked the towel from his shoulder and slapped it against his knee.

Escorted into West Lane Guest, the waiter briskly wiped a table, poured tea, and asked what they wanted to eat. Mu Qian Tan glanced at the menu hanging behind the counter, sat down, and said curtly. “The first five items.”

Shang Shan sat across from her and quickly added. “Five plates of each!”

As she spoke, she removed the evil mask, revealing a dazzlingly radiant face that gleamed even in the dim light.

Her wavy long hair was a wind-ravaged tangle like wild grass, resembling a ferocious black-maned lion king, yet it only enhanced her charm with a touch of endearing goofiness. Paired with those round, glossy black eyes, it stirred the soul and won hearts on sight.

The other guests in the shop stared in stunned silence. The waiter paused too before saying. “Whoa, miss, you’re young but already a heavenly beauty.”

Shang Shan was grooming Zhengchun’s feathers and looked up with a grin. “Thanks. I think so too.”

“…” Mu Qian Tan glanced at her, then dropped her gaze.

Normal people, when praised, might think whatever but would modestly deflect on their lips—not so, not so. She accepted it outright, naturally, as if she truly believed it from the bottom of her heart. A rare type indeed.

The waiter hadn’t expected that either. He blanked for a second, then recovered smoothly. “Miss, you’re a fun one.”

He turned to the other side. “This miss has great taste too, choosing West Lane Guest. No wonder you’re so beautiful—you’re bound for even greater beauty and endless wealth!”

Shang Shan said excitedly. “Yes! My mas… definitely has great taste, or she wouldn’t have chosen me as her disc…”

Remembering the command not to call her master in front of outsiders, she stuttered midway, unsure how to continue. Mu Qian Tan lifted her eyelids slightly. “Go serve the food first.”

The waiter chuckled and agreed, heading off to prepare it.

Once he was gone, Shang Shan whispered. “If she had bad taste, how could she have chosen me as a disciple?”

Mu Qian Tan poured a cup of tea, her tone cool. “I never knew you had such a narcissistic streak.”

Shang Shan shook her head vigorously. “This isn’t narcissism. I’m just stating facts.”

Mu Qian Tan tapped the rim of her teacup with a fingertip. “Can’t you at least be humble?”

Shang Shan said. “But I really am that good-looking. I even wear a mask—how much more humble do I need to be? Should I smear stuff on my face?”

Mu Qian Tan said. “At least when someone compliments you to your face, don’t agree so readily.”

Shang Shan said. “That makes even less sense. Everyone wants to be praised. It makes you happy, so why pretend otherwise?”

Mu Qian Tan sipped from her cup, paused, then said. “Not all compliments are sincere. Sometimes people praise to demean. If you accept it alone, you end up the fool.”

Just then, the waiter brought the food—a full table steaming with heat. Shang Shan had more questions, but the aroma drew her in. She dove into the dishes and polished off an entire plate in moments.

Mu Qian Tan rubbed her teacup, finished her tea, and gazed at the fading sunlight on the floor by the door until the bricks showed their true color. Only then did she look away.

After dinner, they headed upstairs to rest. Pot City had many arrivals that day, leaving only one room, which they booked. When they entered, the inn had already prepared a bath barrel with hot water. Mu Qian Tan tested the temperature with her finger—perfect.

Shang Shan had just stepped over the threshold when Mu Qian Tan shooed her out. Before she could fret, she heard it was for bathing and crouched by the door to wait.

After a moment by the door, a faint floral scent wafted from the crack. Shang Shan was prodding Zhengchun’s forehead when she twitched her nose, turned toward the smell, and caught it stronger, steaming with warmth. The hallway remained barren, but her mind conjured another scene.

Grape-purple hair clinging damply between silken strands, neck and ears flushed red from the heat. Amid pained, labored breaths, hands gripped her robes with white-knuckled desperation.

Lost in a daze, the door creaked open. Looking up, the woman wore only a thin undergarment, towel-drying her damp hair. Her skin glowed rosy from the hot water. Maskless, her face remained coldly aloof, but her usually pale lips now held a fuller flush, brimming with vitality.

Her sudden appearance made the imagined scene real, leaving Shang Shan entranced and frozen in place.

“Go get water from the waiter if you want to bathe.” Mu Qian Tan glanced sideways at the candlelight flickering on the door panel, tiny water droplets trailing down her neck. “I suggest the river—I’m going to sleep.”

The candle flames danced, but no reply came. She looked down. The girl squatted there, staring blankly, her eyes dark pools like twin springs—deep enough to see one’s reflection.

“What are you spacing out for?” Mu Qian Tan shifted her gaze slightly but had no interest in asking why. She returned to the room alone, stood by the bed drying her hair, a sliver of light peeking from the corner of her eye to her back. “Get in or I’ll close the door.”

Shang Shan’s throat went dry, her voice sticking. She swallowed hard, pushed off the ground, entered, and shut the door behind her. Hands clasped behind her back, she leaned against it with her back for several deep breaths before approaching the bath barrel.

The water remained warm, crystal clear with rippling light—spotless. Shang Shan said. “No need for fresh water. I’ll bathe here.”

Mu Qian Tan said. “Oh.”

This stupid dragon never minded such things. A roll in a stream counted as a bath for her, so using someone else’s bathwater was no surprise.

Mu Qian Tan dried her hair, lay on the bed, propped herself against the headboard, and read a few pages. Her gaze slid up from the top of the book to see Shang Shan sinking into the barrel gingerly, as if afraid to break something, peering around curiously inside.

Mu Qian Tan tucked the book against her chest and narrowed her eyes. “Hurry up and finish. Get out and come up here. Don’t waste time.”

Shang Shan said “oh” and plunged fully into the water with a splash.

After a few pages, drowsiness seeped from the text into her eyes. Mu Qian Tan closed them and dozed lightly. Mindful of errands later that night, she didn’t sleep deeply. When she opened her eyes again, she saw Shang Shan squatting by the bed, cradling her face and beaming at her.

“…” Mu Qian Tan rubbed her nose bridge, rolled onto her back, and felt a tug on the quilt—somehow covering her now.

Shang Shan said, “How did you wake up? Keep sleeping.”

The candlelight flickered on her cheek, making those eyes sparkle with exceptional brightness—practically brimming with enthusiasm. Mu Qian Tan almost felt like she was interested in her sleeping posture, but the idea was too absurd, so she didn’t dwell on it. She put away the book and tucked it into her bag. “Not sleeping anymore. I have things to do soon.”

Shang Shan glanced at the sky. “Eh? What else is there?”

Mu Qian Tan sat up a little straighter, her long hair brushing against her back. “Who knows? Maybe a heavenly decree.”

As she spoke, she tugged at her lips in a smile. Then the girl by the bed said, “Master.”

That sweet, cloying call spelled trouble at first listen. Sure enough, she asked, “Master, do you think I look good?”

She had probably been complimented by the waiter and gotten all happy about it, now wanting more praise. Mu Qian Tan had no intention of indulging her. “Whether you look good or not is none of my business.”

Shang Shan scooted forward two steps and rested her chin on the bed. “Lots of people say I look good, but you never have.”

“Do you want to hear my answer?” Mu Qian Tan pulled out the disguise mask, pressed it to her face, and fitted her fingers along the edges. Casually, she said, “Not bad.”

Shang Shan had just finished bathing, her long, curly hair draped softly over her shoulders, her face fair and radiant. She thought she looked pretty good herself. After fiddling around for a while, she squatted by the head of the bed, only to receive a mere “not bad” in response. Disappointment welled up in her heart, and she sighed. “Then I’ll wait a few more years. Once I’m fully grown and look good, I’ll ask Master again.”

Mu Qian Tan said, “Don’t bother asking. You’ll get the same answer later.”

Shang Shan replied, “Fine. Then what kind of looks does Master think are good? Like Feng Ling Immortal?”

Mu Qian Tan was just about to get out of bed when she heard this, and a flicker of doubt rose in her heart.

Recalling the recent events, this stupid dragon had seemed off ever since returning from Jiang Zhouyao’s place—asking about food, then about looks, all at an unusually high frequency, and all of it related to her. This was nothing like before.

Sensing something amiss, Mu Qian Tan asked, “Lately, haven’t you been paying a bit too much… attention to me?”

Shang Shan opened her mouth to reply. Suddenly, a sharp scream came from outside the window: “There’s a dead person!”