Knowing the Warmth of Southern Tea (GL) - Chapter 3

Chapter 3

“Young master, I am admittedly limited in experience,” the waiter said with a polite smile. “How about this—our shopkeeper has stepped out on business. When he returns, I’ll ask him. If we do have it, I’ll have him personally deliver it to you. Would that be acceptable?”

This was a distinguished guest—there could be no negligence.

“That will do,” Nan Nuan replied. “For now, bring me a full set of your food.”

She could see the waiter’s unease and did not wish to make things difficult for him, allowing him to leave at ease.

“Understood. Please wait a moment.”
The waiter bowed repeatedly, took a few steps back, and only then turned to leave.

Though Ji City could not compare to a major metropolis, it was small yet fully equipped—sparrow-sized, but with all vital organs intact.

The waiter served Nan Nuan five dishes and one soup, six items in total, chosen for the auspicious meaning of smoothness. At that moment, Nan Nuan genuinely considered taking this waiter along with her. After all, not everyone knew how to speak appropriately to different people—and the dishes were light in flavor, well-suited for those who traveled rough.

After eating, Nan Nuan arranged her lodging. With daylight still remaining, she went out to stroll the streets.

Ji City did not have a night market tradition. By now, only a handful of people remained outside—faces solemn, no one lingering. It seemed this small city truly upheld the policy of prioritizing agriculture over commerce.

She had not walked far when she noticed a small crowd by the roadside—five or six people at most, already more than elsewhere on the street. At the center knelt a woman, crying bitterly. The sun was setting, casting a desolate glow.

Beside her lay a sign:

“Selling myself to bury my father.”

Nan Nuan let out a quiet laugh and paid it no mind, preparing to detour around them.
If one were truly desperate, would one really choose such a scene…?

But the woman suddenly lunged toward Nan Nuan.

She had spotted her instantly among the crowd—an outsider, a young gentleman, clearly traveling. The clothes alone were of exceptional value.

“Please, young master, save me,” the woman cried, bowing repeatedly. “I am willing to serve you as an ox or a horse in repayment.”

Nan Nuan felt she had stumbled into trouble for no reason at all. Dressed in men’s clothing, she looked exactly like an inexperienced young noble—easy prey.

Smiling faintly, Nan Nuan crouched down and used her folding fan to stop the woman from kowtowing.

“Since you’ve knelt to me, I’ll give you a way out. I’ve heard Ji City’s Yihong Courtyard is quite famous. With your looks, you’d earn plenty there.”

She did not take the bait. People like this were not worth her time. Those who fancied themselves hunters often ended up blinded by the very eagle they pursued.

“If you don’t wish to help, just say so. Why humiliate me?” the woman sobbed. “Though I am poor, I would never do such a thing!”

After all, prostitutes were considered the lowest of the low. Few families would willingly send a chaste daughter to a brothel.

“In that case, I’ll take my leave—lest I insult the lady further,” Nan Nuan said calmly, standing up.

She turned away. The woman, sensing that this young master was not someone to provoke, prepared to withdraw as well. In the past, Huo Sanniang would have stripped this young man of everything—but rumors spoke of an impending distinguished guest. Caution was required.

“Little beauty, why don’t you follow me?”
A fat, round-faced man stepped out of the crowd. “I’ll pay for your father’s burial—so long as you agree to become my concubine.”

“Since someone else is willing to help, all the better,” Nan Nuan said, ready to leave.

“So long as you save me, I don’t mind becoming your concubine,” the woman said tearfully—pear blossoms in the rain, truly a beauty.

“Excellent!”
The man stepped forward, eager to steal a kiss.

A classic case of beauty and beast.

The crowd whispered among themselves. This man was the county magistrate’s son—a notorious bully. He already had eighteen concubines. Such a woman being paired with him was a tragedy.

Yet no one dared intervene. They only sighed, again and again, how unfortunate.

Suddenly, a woman in red robes leapt out of the crowd.

She must have arrived later—Nan Nuan had not noticed her at first. Red silk robes were impossible to ignore.

“Miss, I’ll pay,” the woman said, pulling the kneeling woman aside and tossing her more than ten taels of silver.

Huo Sanniang took the money, crying. “Thank you, benefactor, for saving my life!”

“A little girl like you—why not come home with me instead?” the fat man said with a grin, unbothered. After all, beauties enjoyed privilege. Taking two at once would be bliss beyond compare.

The red-robed woman drew her sword.

Swish, swish, swish.

In a blink, the man’s trousers fell to the ground.

“Go home and put your pants back on,” she said.

Laughter erupted from the crowd. Everyone felt she had done the right thing. She had no intention of killing—after all, in the Great Rui Dynasty, murder meant execution. It wasn’t worth catching a case over someone like him. Rui Dynasty constables could chase a criminal to the ends of the earth.

“You just wait!” the man snarled as he fled with his attendants. This humiliation would be repaid.

“I’ll be waiting,” the woman laughed—utterly unapologetic. Practically begging to be beaten.

“Thank you, benefactor!” the woman selling herself bowed deeply.

“No need, no need,” the red-robed woman said cheerfully. “Just call me Wen Cha.”

That man was clearly a bully—eliminating harm for the people was only right. And saving such a beautiful woman? A bargain!

“You should leave quickly,” the woman urged anxiously. “That young master earlier didn’t look easy to deal with. If trouble comes—”

“Don’t worry. You go first,” Wen Cha said. “That pig had designs on you. After burying your father, leave at once. I can protect myself.”

She turned to go.

The first person I noticed in the crowd… was you.
I don’t know who you are—but your heart is not kind.
You must be punished.

Had Nan Nuan known her thoughts, she would have lectured her thoroughly:

You are neither law nor magistrate. What right do you have to pass judgment on others?

“Wait—!” the woman called.

Wen Cha ignored her and left. She only wanted to save someone. Besides, traveling the jianghu—how could she bring another woman along? No matter how pretty.

“That was quite a show,” Nan Nuan murmured.

She had slipped into the crowd when the red-robed woman appeared, watching her depart before turning away herself.

There were far too many people in this world who fancied themselves righteous.

But how much true justice was there, really?

Who was whose chess piece?
In the end, it was nothing but a farce.

With her interest in strolling gone, Nan Nuan returned to the inn—hoping to encounter fewer such absurdities on the road ahead.