“What? You want to follow me?” Wanruo and Bai Chen both froze.
Wanruo’s shock melted into delight. Her very first monster-friend — how exciting! “Really?!” she blurted, eyes bright.
Bai Chen’s reaction was different. Hearing the little white thing volunteer to tail them only confirmed his suspicion: something was off. He almost wished he could swat it now and be done with it. But if he did that, Wanruo would protest. He’d have to wait for a better moment to act. Humph. Whatever this thing was, it didn’t look capable of much trouble just yet.
“By the way, I’m Wanruo. What’s your name?” she asked the white puffball.
The little blob perked up. “Then I’ll call you Miss Ruo, if that’s all right? As for my own name… I don’t remember.”
“Oh!” Wanruo pondered, delighted. “You’re a spirit, and you look like a little dumpling. I’ll call you Maru. From now on, I’ll call you Maru, okay?”
“Okay!” Maru chirped. Then, catching Bai Chen’s sharp stare, its voice tapered off into a timid squeak.
Wanruo didn’t notice Bai Chen’s expression. She was still dancing with glee. A rumble interrupted her — her stomach protesting. She hadn’t eaten all day; the rice ball she’d had earlier had fallen when she bumped into Bai Chen. Only now did the hunger catch up with her.
“I just remembered — I haven’t eaten anything all day! I’m starving…” she said in a suddenly feeble, pitiful voice.
Maru looked at her, heart-squeezing pity in its round little face. “Miss Ruo, I’ll go find you something to eat,” it offered gently.
Before Wanruo could answer, Bai Chen grabbed her wrist and tugged her into the next room. As he pushed the door open, warm light spilled out.
“This is where we taste new dishes,” he said, concern softening his tone. “Wait here for a moment. Is there anything you particularly want to eat?”
Wanruo’s jaw dropped. A whole private room just for sampling new dishes? It was far too elegant to be a kitchen corner — it looked like a private dining room. She stood there, mouth open, soaking in the unexpected luxury.
Bai Chen cleared his throat twice and she blinked back to herself. “Oh — anything will do. As long as it fills my stomach.”
“All right. Wait here,” he said, and left.
Wanruo and Maru began to explore the room. Wanruo picked up a vase like a little child admiring treasure. “This must be expensive,” she murmured, turning it in her hands.
“Look at this! Look at that!” she squealed, grabbing another ornament.
A cool voice cut through the noise. “What are you doing?”
Bai Chen was standing in the doorway, a bowl in his hands. He’d walked in quietly and come to a stop watching them.
Wanruo dropped the vase with a flustered “N-nothing!” He set the bowl and chopsticks on the table; steam rose from the food.
It smelled divine. Wanruo sank into her seat like a famished wanderer, eyes fixed hungrily on the bowl. It was a single, artful serving of noodles, tender meat and bright greens arranged on top. “Wow… can I eat it now?” she said, practically glowing.
“Wait,” Bai Chen said, and then stepped behind her. From his hair he took a white jade hairpin — translucent, carved with the likeness of a pale fox. It looked simple but tasteful, the sort of thing that cost more than most people earned in a month.
He began to gather Wanruo’s loose hair, working with careful, practiced fingers. When his hand brushed the back of her neck, she felt a jolt of electricity run through her. Color flooded her face and she went still, heart pounding so loud she was sure he could hear it.
The scene was so intimate that even Maru seemed embarrassed. “Do I need to be seeing this?” it muttered, then vanished in a blink.
“There,” Bai Chen said when he was done, sitting down beside her. He regarded the pinned-up hair with an approving, faintly pleased expression.
Wanruo stared at him, at the silver sheen of his hair framing that composed face — impossibly handsome, in a way that made her knees a little weak. The touch had been gentle and precise; she found herself flustered and unable to speak properly. “O-okay,” she managed.
Watching her, Bai Chen felt a tug of familiarity, something about the way she ate — unselfconsciously, with the desperate hunger of someone who’d been through worse. She paid no mind to manners or appearances at that moment. He couldn’t help but think, half-amused, half-admiring: the proprietor of Shan’an Inn, the head of the house, who could even exorcise spirits… and yet, his food was astonishingly good. Impressive.
“You really are trouble,” Bai Chen said softly, chin in his hand, warmth in his eyes. “If you go about being this blunt and careless outside, you’ll bring trouble down on yourself without even knowing it.”
Wanruo finished eating, gave a satisfied yawn, and then—without ceremony—clambered onto Bai Chen’s back and patted him. “Don’t worry, don’t worry,” she murmured, and in seconds she’d fallen asleep, breathing shallow and peaceful.
Bai Chen tensed. She’d startled him, and his face colored faintly, but the light thumps against his back were almost comical. He gave up trying to stay upright and carried her to her room.
Early the next morning, while Wanruo slept on, Yun Jiu came knocking to wake her. Wanruo groggily stretched and yawned, and Yun Jiu’s eyes snagged on the white hairpin twined in her hair.
“Huh? That hairpin looks awfully familiar. Could it be the proprietor’s?” he said, peering. He scoffed and then shook his head. “No, impossible. The master never lets anyone touch his things. He’d never have his hairpin on you…”
At Yun Jiu’s words, Wanruo looked down at the pin in her hand and the memory came rushing back — Bai Chen tucking her hair up that night. She swallowed, a little dizzy, then scraped herself together. “What are we supposed to do today? Let’s get going.”
Yun Jiu led her to the back of the house. In the kitchen they found a middle-aged man bustling about. Yun Jiu called out, “Uncle Qiao, is Yun Yi here?”
“Yun Yi?” Uncle Qiao shook his head. “He’s not — probably out making a delivery. Who’s this?”
Yun Jiu rolled his eyes and introduced Wanruo. “This is Wanruo. She’s come to help out. Uncle Qiao runs the kitchen.”
Uncle Qiao studied Wanruo and found it curious — a human girl pitching in here among the staff. Yun Jiu ruffled Wanruo’s hair fondly. “She’s a girl, so look after her, okay? I’ll be off.”
“Come on, I’ll show you around,” Uncle Qiao said, taking the lead. Wanruo followed, awed. Maybe it had been too dark the night before, because she hadn’t realized the Shan’an Inn’s kitchen and service area were so grand. The place she’d been in last night was far smaller; this spread was on a whole different scale. She could hardly believe she was standing there.