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Wen Daolun looked at He Lingchuan from head to toe, studying him in silence. Then he stroked his long beard and said, “Very well. In a while, you two can ride back in my carriage.”
That, clearly, was his way of agreeing.
After that, there was nothing for them to do but step aside and wait for the ceremony to run its course.
Wen Daolun had to burn seven sticks of tall incense before he was permitted to leave. By the time they were finished, the commoners’ offerings and prayers would also be mostly done.
While they waited, He Lingchuan leaned closer to Sun Fuling and lowered his voice. “So why exactly does Wen Daolun owe you a favor?”
“He occasionally visits Shumin State Academy.”
“…To teach children?” He blinked. What would Commander Zhong’s trusted counselor, a major figure in military strategy and divination, be doing in a hall full of noisy little fledglings?
“We don’t only teach kids, you know?” Sun Fuling replied with some amusement. Shumin State Academy was Panlong City’s finest academy; it educated the sons and daughters of officials as well as promising common-born students. “But he doesn’t come for classes. He comes to play chess with an old friend—my teacher, Xu Shichu. Two months ago, he came by again. My teacher was away, so I sat in and played a few rounds with him.”
“Master Wen said that if I could beat him, he’d owe me a favor. It was a best-of-three.” She gave a slight shrug. “In the end, I won two games to one.”
He Lingchuan said, feeling genuinely...
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