Chapter Eighty-Eight: How Could the Martial World Know of So Many Grievances? A Single Cup of Wine Dissolves Both Laughter and Sorrow

How can the martial world know so many feuds and grudges? One cup of wine dissolves joy and sorrow.

By the time Han Moyi finished telling Mu Ruoxue what had happened in the town of the Three Banners, night had fully fallen, and moonlight and starlight were scattered across the courtyard.

Although Han Moyi had concealed much of the truth, the massacre that had wiped out an entire household still left Mu Ruoxue standing rooted in place, unable to speak. She did not know how to comfort the thin-looking man before her.

Neither of them spoke. After a while, Mu Ruoxue was the first to light the candlestick in the room with a fire starter. The dim yellow glow instantly filled the darkness, and only then did a little warmth return between them.

“Are you hungry?”

At last, it was Mu Ruoxue who broke the silence first.

Han Moyi was about to wave a hand and say he was not hungry when a low rumbling sound came from a belly. Naturally, it was from Mu Ruoxue’s side.

“You stay here. I’ll go find something to eat.”

After saying that, Han Moyi turned and went out the door.

“Wait, take this.” Mu Ruoxue stopped him and handed him something.

Han Moyi took it on instinct, only to find it was the fire starter she had just used to light the candlestick.

He nodded and stepped outside. In the lamplight from the room, a faint flush appeared on Mu Ruoxue’s pretty face, rare and fleeting.

By moonlight, Han Moyi could barely make out the path. He made straight for the main hall of Azure Hawk Fortress, remembering that there had still been plenty of wine and dishes left there from the bandits’ celebration.

When he reached the hall, it was, as expected, empty. Using the fire starter he had borrowed from Mu Ruoxue, he lit the candlesticks in the hall. Sure enough, the tables were still covered with dishes and wine, many of them barely touched.

Han Moyi picked out a few clean plates: beef, roast chicken, and a roasted lamb leg. After thinking it over, he also took a wine jar from the table that had not yet been unsealed.

Considering that Mu Ruoxue might not be used to cold food, Han Moyi fumbled his way to the kitchen of Azure Hawk Fortress.

The kitchen was not far from Mu Ruoxue’s room, and with the tall chimney typical of the desert, Han Moyi found it without much trouble.

Before he had even stepped inside, faint movements drifted from within. Han Moyi’s heart lurched, and he could not help suspecting there were bandits hiding inside, having escaped the slaughter.

“Who’s there?” he called in a low voice.

“Don’t kill us, don’t kill us!” came a burst of frightened female cries from inside. It sounded like more than one voice.

“You?”

When Han Moyi went in to look, he could not help frowning.

The women inside were in utter chaos, screaming. Even in the faint moonlight, Han Moyi could see that they were none other than the coquettish women he had already sent away earlier.

“Why are you still here?” Han Moyi said with undisguised disgust, setting down the food and wine in his hands.

Before Han Moyi could even react, the women all began whining and crying about their misfortunes, their voices overlapping into a racket that gave him a headache.

“Enough. One person speaks at a time.”

Han Moyi let out a cold snort, and the women, to their credit, promptly fell silent.

After Han Moyi fumbled about and lit the candlestick in the kitchen with the fire starter, someone among the coquettish women finally spoke again.

“Sir Han, you may not know this, but the four of us are pitiful women too. We used to make a living in Red House in the town of Yellow Sand in the northern desert, singing little tunes for passing merchants. Life was poor, but we more or less got by.” A woman stepped forward as she spoke.

Han Moyi knew of Yellow Sand Town in the northern desert. It lay along the Silk Road, and merchants from the western regions would often come through carrying furs and camels, while merchants from the central plains would travel west to sell cloth.

Because of the constant flow of traders, Yellow Sand Town had become prosperous. As for the so-called Red House, it was nothing more than a place where traveling merchants sought pleasure and amusement. To put it bluntly, it was a brothel.

Han Moyi looked over the woman who had spoken. She was clearly older than him, though only by a few years, perhaps twenty-five or twenty-six. Her willow-like brows, cherry lips, and rouged cheeks gave her the vivid allure of a desert beauty.

Tall and full-bodied, her wanton clothes showed off her stunning figure to the fullest. Among the four women, the one who had spoken first was indeed the most alluring; perhaps she was the one the Demon Saber Immortal favored most.

Han Moyi nodded to signal that she should continue. She was a woman who had long lived by her wit and charm, so she needed no further hint to read the room. Seeing that Han Moyi was not nearly as savage as he had seemed in the day, she finally let down the stone in her heart.

“A few days ago, an old merchant surnamed Hu, who was traveling west to sell cloth, bought the four of us sisters. We thought we had at last escaped the Red House, and even if we became his concubines, it would still be some kind of support in these chaotic times.”

She sighed before continuing, “But our lives are so bitter. We reached this place and fell into bandits’ hands. Old Master Hu was slain by that Demon Saber Immortal with a single stroke, and because the four of us had some looks and knew how to please people, we somehow survived.”

When she finished, perhaps thinking of the sorrowful past, the four women burst into tears, clutching one another’s heads.

“All right, enough.”

Han Moyi waved a hand to stop them. The four coquettish women feared him deeply and immediately clamped both hands over their mouths, not daring to make a sound.

Looking at their terrified expressions, Han Moyi did not know whether to laugh or curse. Of course, he would not believe everything the woman said. In fact, he could feel that the woman who had spoken was not nearly as frightened as she pretended to be.

“If you already left, why did you come back?” he asked in a low voice.

Before the woman who had been speaking could answer, one of the others cut in first. “We couldn’t just run out like that, could we? Our money and jewelry are still here.”

“Cui’er!” The woman who had spoken earlier hurried to stop the one called Cui’er, while sneaking a glance at Han Moyi.

The moment her eyes fell on his face, her heart turned cold. Sure enough, Han Moyi’s expression had already frozen over, and his gaze toward the four of them was utterly indifferent.

“As expected, people die for wealth and birds die for food. Are you not afraid that your money and jewelry are stained with blood?”

Han Moyi gave a cold snort and said icily, then no longer looked at the women.

“Sister Mu, what did I say wrong?”

The woman called Cui’er clearly realized she had misspoken, and looked at the woman beside her with a face full of regret.

“Forget it.”

The woman Cui’er addressed as Sister Mu was the same one who had spoken first.

Han Moyi ignored the four coquettish women beside him and, on his own, used the fire starter to kindle the firewood, hoping to warm up the cold dishes. In truth, Han Moyi had never done such things before, and no matter how awkwardly he fumbled, he could not do it properly, drawing amused little laughs from the women beside him.

At their laughter, Han Moyi grew anxious and angry, yet he could not lash out. His face darkened even more.

“Let me help you.”

The woman called Sister Mu rolled up her sleeves and, without waiting for Han Moyi’s agreement, skillfully helped him heat the dishes.

Han Moyi wanted to refuse, but since he truly was helpless at this sort of thing, he could only let her do as she pleased.

Before long, the dishes were heated through.

Looking at the lamb leg, roast chicken, and beef before him, Han Moyi could not help hesitating. Glancing at Mu Ruoxue, who had been helping all along, he seemed to want to say something but held back.

Mu Ruoxue was perceptive enough to notice at once that Han Moyi had something on his mind, and she spoke first. “Sir Han, is there anything else I can help you with?”

After hesitating again and again, Han Moyi finally said, “Could you make me a bowl of noodles?”

Mu Ruoxue covered her mouth and smiled, then nodded. “Of course. Please wait, Sir Han.”

Han Moyi had already received so much help from Mu Ruoxue that he could not keep his tone cold any longer. After thinking about it, he said, “Don’t call me Sir Han anymore. Just call me Han Moyi.”

Mu Ruoxue first froze, then smiled. Only then did Han Moyi notice that when she smiled, there was not the slightest trace of coquetry. It was clean and pure.

“All right, Sir Han—no, Han Moyi.”

She teased him lightly, then turned away.

Han Moyi stood there watching as Mu Ruoxue kneaded the dough, cut the noodles, and finally boiled them. The whole process flowed without the slightest pause. It was obvious that she was not a pampered woman; in this chaotic age, she understood survival better than anyone.

When a bowl of steaming noodle soup was set before him, Han Moyi finally felt something for the first time.

He was hungry.

He looked at the bowl of noodles, then asked, “Mu Ruoxue, is your name simply Ruoxue?”

Mu Ruoxue only smiled faintly, then said with sudden seriousness, “Clouds. Mu Ruoxue.”

Han Moyi nodded, found a tray, and set the noodle soup and heated dishes upon it. Naturally, he did not forget the wine jar that had not yet been opened.

Just as he was about to step out the door, he suddenly turned back and said, “Mu Ruoxue, could you make one more bowl of noodles?”

Mu Ruoxue nodded, and Han Moyi walked out.

When Han Moyi returned to the room where Mu Ruoxue was staying, he saw from afar, because the door had been left open, that she was sitting at the table, staring blankly at an empty teacup. No one knew what she was thinking.

“Have something to eat.”

Only after Han Moyi set the tray on the table did Mu Ruoxue come back from her thoughts. Seeing him place the noodle soup before her, she said, “Thank you.”

“It’s nothing. Eat.”

As he spoke, Han Moyi felt a chill breeze blowing in from the open doorway. The desert was not like the central plains; no matter how bright and sunny the day was, the nights were biting cold.

“Not used to it? That’s just how the desert is,” Han Moyi said, standing to shut the door behind him. Then he sat back down and was about to take up his chopsticks when he noticed that Mu Ruoxue was a little unnatural. She had not touched her chopsticks, and when he looked up, he saw that her gaze toward him carried a trace of wariness.

Although Han Moyi did not say anything, he still felt a little disappointed. It was one thing for those coquettish women to fear him, but Mu Ruoxue’s guarded look somehow pierced him.

“I’m right next door. Call me if you need anything.”

Han Moyi stood, picked up the tray again, and walked out.

Mu Ruoxue’s lips moved, but in the end she said nothing.