A pure heart in a jade pot

Chapter 157

Seeing Ning Jin nod slightly, Wu Zichu quickly withdrew. Only Mo Yan and Ning Jin remained in the tent.

"Lord Yelü? Which Lord Yelü?" Mo Yan asked curiously.

"Yelü Pusa Nu is the Liao envoy who came to receive the annual tribute this time."

Upon hearing this, Mo Yan smiled and said, "So it was him. What a coincidence."

"You recognize him?"

"Yes, he helped me and the princess a lot before. Although he was cold, he wasn't a bad person."

Ning Jin shook his head and laughed, "If I had known you knew each other, I should have let you meet him earlier. That man really is cold and aloof. Zichu said he's one of the top experts in Liao, is that true?"

"His kung fu was indeed excellent. When we first arrived in Liao, he had an archery contest with my elder brother, and he lost." Mo Yan recalled the scene as clearly as if it were yesterday.

Ning Jin didn't reply, but just looked at her quietly for a long time before saying, "I remember you said yesterday that there was a small courtyard here where you used to stay. Why don't we go and see if that courtyard is still there?"

Mo Yan was stunned. After a long pause, she still shook her head: "I don't want to go." That courtyard might already be dilapidated, or someone else might already be living there. Things have changed, and going there would only add to the sadness.

“I can go with you,” Ning Jin paused, “how about it?”

"No."

Mo Yan refused decisively, turned her head away, and suddenly started coughing violently.

Ning Jin looked at her cheeks, flushed from coughing, and sighed softly, ultimately unable to bear forcing her. "Then you should rest well," he said, and slowly walked out of the tent.

Listening to the sound of wind and snow outside the tent, Mo Yan lay limply on the couch, coughing intermittently. She had slept for a long time in the carriage during the day, and although she was still feeling unwell, she couldn't fall asleep. She didn't know how much time had passed, but she felt the wind gradually subside. Thinking that the snow had stopped, she wrapped her robe tighter, lifted the tent flap, and looked outside. The snow was falling in a flurry, no longer like the previous snowflakes, but snowflakes, the largest of which were as big as a baby's palm.

Looking out from here, beyond the yamen (traditional government office), one could vaguely see the banners fluttering over the town's winery. Mo Yan used to always pass by the winery when she went out to buy groceries. She thought to herself, "Walk forward for about the time it takes to burn an incense stick, then turn east into the alley. A dozen steps further, and you'll reach that small courtyard."

Since she couldn't sleep anyway, she might as well go for a walk, just like a stroll. After hesitating for a while, Mo Yan was still trying to convince herself, but she had already taken out her black fox cloak, put it on, pulled up the hood, lowered it low to half-cover her face, and stepped out of the room.

Most of the guards were at the place where the tribute was being paid, so there were relatively fewer guards on this side. They recognized Mo Yan, asked her a few questions, and did not make things difficult for her.

Snow fell, blanketing the sky and the earth.

A thin layer of grime had accumulated on the road, making a crunching sound underfoot. Mo Yan walked slowly, passing the winery and the street corner, then involuntarily turned into the alley, stopping a few feet away from the courtyard without going forward.

Sure enough, people lived there; she could see the light shining through the small courtyard, warm yet unfamiliar.

Despite wearing a fox fur coat, the chill of the snow still penetrated to her bones. She stood there, occasionally coughing lightly, but unwilling to move.

After a long while, a slight noise seemed to come from the courtyard, creaking and groaning like wheels rolling over the ground. Mo Yan was still guessing when the courtyard gate was opened from the inside, and a wooden wheelchair appeared in the doorway. A pale and handsome young man sat in it, looking in Mo Yan's direction.

Mo Yan stared at him blankly, unsure of what to say.

The two stared at each other for a while. Seeing that Mo Yan was coughing again due to the wind, the young man suddenly smiled and said, "I kept hearing someone coughing in the house. It turns out it was you."

Mo Yan remained silent. Although the young man had a blanket on his lap, she could still see that his left knee was empty.

"It must be cold. I just brewed some tea. Would you like to come in and have a sip?" the young man asked with a smile.

"Thank you... Who are you?" she asked hesitantly, taking a step forward.

The young man turned his wheelchair and walked inside on his own, saying with a smile, "My surname is Su, and my given name is Zui."

Mo Yan gave an "oh" and then fell silent, her eyes fixed on her surroundings, unable to speak—the objects and furnishings in the courtyard were almost identical to those when she lived there. She turned to look at the house where Zhan Zhao had lived, but unfortunately, the room was dark and she couldn't see anything.

Su Zui seemed oblivious to her surprise, and wheeled himself into the main house, the same house where the princess had lived.

Sure enough, tea was brewing on the stove in the outer room, the tea bubbling and gurgling, indicating that it had been boiling for some time.

"Please sit down, young lady."

"Thank you, Young Master Su."

Although she knew it was impolite, Mo Yan shook the snow off her cloak and couldn't help but look around. After a while, she found that the house was still simple but very clean. A faded blue cloth was hanging on the door leading to the inner room, so she couldn't see inside.

Su Zui poured the tea, then produced a jar of cinnamon powder from somewhere, sprinkled some into the tea, and the aroma immediately filled the room. "Drink up, it'll warm you up," he said with a smile, handing the cup to Mo Yan.

As she took the cup, Mo Yan noticed the thick calluses on his hands and became suspicious. She simply held the cup in her hands and did not drink the tea for the time being.

"What, are you afraid it's poisoned?" Su Zui said half-jokingly, taking a sip himself first.

Mo Yan looked up and saw his composed demeanor, then asked, "You... are you a martial artist?"

“It used to be, but it’s not anymore.” He glanced at his leg. “My leg is broken, and my kung fu is useless now.”

"Have you run into your enemies?"

Mo Yan asked, based on her years of experience in handling cases, that crippling someone's entire martial arts skills and breaking a leg was most likely something someone seeking revenge would do.

Su Zui smiled and shook his head: "Don't make wild guesses. Things in the martial arts world are never that simple."

"That's true," Mo Yan chuckled self-deprecatingly, took a sip of tea, peered at the roof, and asked abruptly, "Does this house leak?"

“I haven’t leaked for a long time.” He stared at her intently for a moment, then asked slowly, “It sounds like you used to live here?”

Mo Yan coughed a few times before saying softly, "I lived here for a while a few years ago. Back then, the house was leaking. I suppose the landlord fixed it for you."

"This courtyard has no owner; I bought it."

"You bought it?..." Given his physical limitations, the fact that he would live in such a remote and harsh place must be to avoid his enemies, Mo Yan secretly guessed.

"The owner was moving back to the Central Plains, so I sold it cheaply. It didn't cost much silver," Su Zui said casually, acting as if she were a complete stranger to her. "You're from the Central Plains too, aren't you? What brings you here?"

"I came with the tribute escort team and just happened to be passing through the town."