Please, I beg you—just let it out.

Chapter Title: 084 Beg You, Just Spit It Out

This was a pleasure boat decorated with such extravagance and opulence that, at first sight, Zhu Xishi couldn’t help but feel her legs go weak. Fang Rulai quickly reached out to steady her. He was about to tease her for being so easily impressed, when he caught sight of Zhu Xishi’s eyes lighting up like a dog spotting a bone.

With such a generous display, have you really not considered turning this pretense into reality?

If you can guarantee they’ll let you live after they get what they want, then perhaps it’s worth considering.

Zhu Xishi silently straightened herself.

“Ladies, this way, please,” Boat Dasha greeted them on the deck with a courteous bow.

Behind him lay the already prepared banquet hall. At its center stood a long dining table laden with delicacies from both mountain and sea, with a crowd of guests seated beside it. The guests included those who had just vied to propose marriage, as well as some unfamiliar faces. Fang Rulai guessed those were likely the elders and relatives of the Boat family. When they glanced over, every one of them curved their brows and lips in a warm, welcoming smile.

Yet Zhu Xishi felt an inexplicable chill and covertly nudged Fang Rulai’s waist: Are we really going? The moment we board, the ship will undoubtedly set sail. Then, isolated from the world, if they throw any trouble at us, we’ll have no one to call for help.

Fang Rulai turned slightly, and under the pretense of straightening her wind-tousled monk’s robe, she quickly pointed at a bubbling spot below the boat: Don’t worry, we don’t need to call for help from heaven or earth. Someone will appear at the critical moment, like a god descending to save you from fire and water.

Zhu Xishi began to wonder if their presence here was even necessary. Since everyone on the boat was already within their sights, and Fang Rulai held the legitimate token of the Salt Route, why not just reveal it publicly and assert their authority?

Fang Rulai smiled, offering no explanation—not because she was unwilling, but because there was no time. In the Kingdom of Yaotian, illicit salt was rampant. Anyone with the technique could harvest, sun, and sell salt from the coast. But the Zhao family’s methods were so superior that they controlled at least eighty percent of the market, spawning an entire industry behind them: the Yan family, who leased salt fields; the Boat family, who transported salt across the land; even the Shijia village, which merely supplied labor.

While Master Zhao was still in charge, all the powers naturally followed the technical emperor’s lead. But now the Zhao family was ruined overnight, the last old master bedridden and said to be breathing his last. Over years of cooperation, the other families had gradually stolen bits of the salt-making techniques, and with the authorities now eyeing the monopoly, they were eager to seize the salt route token before it could be used against them.

And she, if she truly wanted the support of the salt route’s network, needed not only the right of the token, but the hearts of the people behind it as well.

Marrying them? From the start, it had been nothing but a mutually understood ruse.

“Cousin, let’s go,” Fang Rulai affectionately linked arms with Zhu Xishi, and together they walked up the gangplank to the pleasure boat.

Boat Dasha remained bowed courteously at the side, his smile unwavering.

But the instant their feet touched the deck, he straightened abruptly, barking, “Weigh anchor!”

At that command, the ship began to move, and all the previous warmth aboard cooled and withdrew.

Zhu Xishi immediately felt as though she and Fang Rulai, standing at the bow, were slabs of pork on a butcher’s block, being scrutinized and picked over from every angle.

“Hmm, the looks are passable, height acceptable, and the figure seems good for childbearing,” an elderly white-haired lady spoke first from the head of the table, her voice dripping with the superiority of one who looks down on all others. “But that bald head is rather undignified. Here’s what we’ll do: let her stay in our Boat family’s outer quarters for a while. Only when her hair grows to her waist will she be allowed a proper entrance.”

Zhu Xishi’s gaze instinctively followed from Fang Rulai’s head, where there was no trace of hair, down to her waist. Ever since she’d known Fang Rulai, she’d never seen the woman grow even a single strand. Hair to the waist? That’d take an ordinary person seven or eight years. A grand entrance then? Who are you kidding! It’d be like slaughtering the donkey after it’s done with the millstone—they wouldn’t even wait that long.

As if she could read Zhu Xishi’s thoughts, Fang Rulai slid her hand down to grasp Zhu Xishi’s, and with her index finger, quickly wrote in Zhu Xishi’s palm: I won’t be the donkey!

Pfft—Zhu Xishi nearly laughed aloud. Fair enough; for someone constantly called a “bald donkey,” her earlier thought was a bit much.

“Insolence!” came a sharp rebuke.

Fang Rulai looked up; it was a young woman seated beside the white-haired matron.

Her looks were passable, her height so-so, and her figure, while sturdy, barely fit the standard for childbearing. As for her hair, from this angle it was impossible to tell if it reached her waist, but it was yellowed and dry as straw. As if afraid no one would notice, she’d crammed her scalp with twice as many hair ornaments, all golden. At a glance, the dazzling array of hairpins, combs, and dangling ornaments made her look like a walking trinket shop.

Fang Rulai struggled to keep a straight face. She could almost understand the Boat matron’s longing for a bald head. With hair like that, better to have none at all.

Noticing their attention, the yellow-haired woman raised her brows in pride and stood up. “Hmph! People from small families have no sense of occasion. How improper to show such a toothy smile in this setting.”

“Lier, you must work harder to teach them proper restraint in the future,” the white-haired lady sighed, oozing the benevolent worry of an elder.

“Yes, Aunt, your niece will remember.” The matron’s niece, Zhou Lier, replied with perfect decorum, making Fang Rulai worry that one of her many hair ornaments might fall off with a sudden movement. Well, if she picked it up, would it count as hers?

“What are you staring at? Meeting such generous elders is a blessing your ancestors must have accrued! Hurry and pay your respects to the lady!”

That same patronizing tone, looking down from on high.

Zhu Xishi glanced at Fang Rulai: Forgot your pig-sticking knife.

Fang Rulai scratched her ear: Even if I brought it, I couldn’t just chop them all down.

Zhu Xishi eyed the pillar behind Zhou Lier: But I could use the knife to saw the wood beside her. Let’s see whose voice is more grating!

“Hey, you two!” Zhou Lier, never before so blatantly ignored, slammed the table, ready to explode, but the white-haired lady quelled her with a look.

Fang Rulai didn’t even glance over, simply pulled Zhu Xishi forward and seated them at the two empty chairs at the end of the table. There was another empty seat just below the head, but she doubted it was meant for a bald monk without the required long hair.

The white-haired lady’s voice rang out again, “Lier, country folk are easily tempted by the flavors of rare delicacies. You’ll need to spend more time teaching them proper restraint.”

Everyone could hear the veiled insults.

Zhou Lier, mollified, returned to her haughty composure. “Servants, bring rinse water for the ladies.”

Two maids stepped forward, one carrying a tray with two teacups, the other with a rinsing basin. As they approached and were about to offer their service, Fang Rulai snatched both cups, overturned them, and poured the water into the basin.

“Cousin, wash your hands.”

“You…” Zhou Lier tried to protest, but Fang Rulai cut her off.

“It may not be spring water, but it’s surely the cleanest water country folk can provide. When we travel, we make do.”

Zhu Xishi solemnly washed her hands. “What shall we use to dry them?”

Fang Rulai deftly pulled the kerchief tucked into the maid’s collar. “Ah, at times like this, I especially miss the thousand-thread brocade at home. Why didn’t I think to bring one along?”

Suddenly, bubbles gurgled from beneath the side of the boat.

Zhu Xishi took the kerchief and wiped her hands. “Cousin, bear with it. This is the finest brocade the country folk have to offer.”

With “country folk” left and right, Zhou Lier’s temples began to throb. “Hey, you two…”

“Lier, sit down!” This time it was Boat Dasha who interrupted. He’d been silently observing Fang Rulai and Zhu Xishi, but after hearing them mention washing hands with spring water and drying with brocade, his eyes darkened.

If these two truly used thousand-thread brocade at home, then the rest of them—who’d heard of it but never seen it—really were the country bumpkins.

The two maids, carrying their trays, felt stifled as well. The kerchief had been prepared especially for today, hoping to impress the young masters. And now, used as a towel and dismissed as the best the country could provide? They dared not retort, could only turn and withdraw in anger.

“Wait.” Fang Rulai stopped them.

They turned back, bewildered, to see Fang Rulai picking up two bowls of bird’s nest from the table, handing one to Zhu Xishi. “Cousin, rinse your mouth.”

“That’s top-grade imperial swallow’s nest!” Zhou Lier could no longer sit still.

Pfft, pfft—Fang Rulai and Zhu Xishi rinsed their mouths and spat back into the basin.

The maids’ eyes nearly popped out as Fang Rulai waved her hand with practiced ease. “Alright, you may go.”

“You, you…” Zhou Lier was so angry her finger trembled as if she had a seizure, only for Fang Rulai to ask with mock concern:

“What is it? Do you need to rinse as well?” Fang Rulai picked up the remaining half bowl and offered it forward. “Here!”

Zhou Lier was so furious she could only mouth wordlessly. That imperial nest had been brought out specially for today, rare and precious. The bowls before her, the old lady, and the guests were all filled with common white swallow’s nest. Yet Fang Rulai had used the best for rinsing and spat it out—how could she not be driven mad?

Fang Rulai suddenly affected a look of realization. “Ah, I forgot—country folk use bird’s nest as a tonic, not as a mouthwash. Oh dear, what to do? Sisters with the basin, bring it back, maybe we can salvage some.”

The water outside the boat bubbled even louder.

Zhu Xishi, feigning suppressed laughter, turned bright red—her expression now exuded the same haughty superiority as those who looked down on all.

Boat Dasha sat beside the white-haired lady, picked up his bowl of bird’s nest, took a mouthful, swished it, then spat it back into the basin. “Miss Fang misunderstands us. Here, too, we use it for rinsing.” For the sake of the salt route token, he would endure!

Fang Rulai looked at his taut face with innocent eyes. “Really? Then why isn’t Miss Lier…” rinsing?

Lier! Boat Dasha shot her a look.

Zhou Lier’s face was pained— even ordinary white swallow’s nest was a rare treasure for most, and to use it as mouthwash? She just couldn’t.

“Lier—” Beg you, just spit it out.

The white-haired lady called her, and then, just like Boat Dasha, rinsed her mouth with it.

Boat Dasha’s eyes swept the table. One by one, the guests picked up their bowls and followed suit.

The atmosphere turned solemn—this simple pre-meal rinse now felt like a mournful ritual before a tombstone, the epitaph reading “Bird’s Nest.”

Fang Rulai was roaring with laughter inside, but kept her gaze fixed on the bowl before Zhou Lier, her meaning clear: Aren’t you going to rinse? If you don’t, you’ll lose your aura.

“Lier!” Boat Dasha’s voice darkened. If she dared cost him face now, she’d regret it.

Cousin. Zhou Lier’s lips quivered; in the end, she dared not defy him. She lifted the bowl to her lips. Just as she took a mouthful, debating whether to swallow half to avoid waste, Fang Rulai spoke again.

“At home, I only use red-blooded imperial swallow’s nest for rinsing. This so-called top-grade imperial nest really is several grades inferior, don’t you think, Miss Lier?”

Gulp—Zhou Lier swallowed the entire mouthful.

Fang Rulai gave a magnanimous smile. “Well, swallowing it is fine. Country folk being able to afford bird’s nest as a tonic is already impressive.”

“Lier!” Boat Dasha roared, exasperated. Useless!

Tears welled up in Zhou Lier’s eyes. “Cousin, it’s not that—I wanted to spit it out, but she kept talking about red-blooded swallows… Don’t be angry, I’ll spit it out, I will…” She started poking her throat with her finger, wanting to vomit.

But she’d forgotten the occasion. Where she’d previously thought even Zhu Xishi’s smile was a breach of decorum, here she was crying and gagging, utterly disgracing herself without even realizing.

Fang Rulai and Zhu Xishi propped their cheeks and watched openly, enjoying the spectacle, while Boat Dasha, sitting opposite Zhou Lier, was so furious his muscles knotted with tension.

Round one, the battle of auras: Fang Rulai victorious.

Thanks for the flowers and encouragement! By the way, weren’t you planning to stockpile chapters? Reporting in every day—are you hinting that my story is captivating after all? Understood, happy, mua!

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