Part 15 – The Benevolent
On the outskirts of Yunmeng, Jin Ling and Lan Sizhui parted ways with Wen Ning. Cities were just no place for a fierce corpse like him. Still, Lan Sizhui was disappointed to see him go, and Jin Ling was disappointed that Lan Sizhui was disappointed. Despite his bold speeches to Jiang Cheng, Jin Ling held no love for that particular relic of the Wen clan.
A sly, secret part of him was even glad, to have Lan Sizhui all to himself.
But he didn’t contemplate this feeling overmuch. Together, he and Lan Sizhui set off through the city gates, and immersed themselves in the early evening bustle of Yunmeng. All of a sudden, Jin Ling felt renewed energy. Sensing this, Fairy ran in circles around him barking. It was a giddy feeling that seemed to infect Lan Sizhui as well, from the grin that bloomed across his face as he took in the lantern-lit sights around them.
Finally free from their elders, living or dead, they were at last their own men, able to do whatever they damn well pleased.
“Where should we go?” Lan Sizhui asked brightly.
Jin Ling looked around. The options along the storefront-crammed streets seemed endless, but a familiar sign at one corner caught his eye.
“How about that place?” he said, pointing. “I ate there with my uncle once, and the soup dumplings were pretty good. You like them, right?”
Lan Sizhui smiled. “They’re my favorite.”
But Jin Ling knew that already. He’d kept his tone casual on purpose to deflect from this fact.
“All right then, let’s go,” he said, starting off toward the establishment. “It’s been a while, so I can’t vouch for how good they are now. But it can’t be worse than what you’re used to eating. The food in Gusu is just plain awful.”
Lan Sizhui didn’t protest it.
The bright doors of the multi-story restaurant opened out onto the street. Famished, Jin Ling and Lan Sizhui hurried up to them. Left tersely heeled at the threshold, Fairy whimpered after them.
“Don’t cry,” Jin Ling called back to her gently, “I’ll bring you something.”
The black-furred dog gave a slight wag of tail. As he was consoling her, Jin Ling caught Lan Sizhui watching him wryly and strode briskly into the restaurant, a bit of heat coloring his cheeks.
This dumpling place seemed quite popular. Even at this early hour it was already crowded, with waiting customers queued up along benches within. However, the proprietor, spying two such exceptionally well-dressed, if unkempt, young masters rushed over to them at once, bowing his bald head like a bobbing crane.
“This way, please, honored sirs!” he said, ushering them upstairs toward a section he must keep open for wealthy prospects. “Sit back and enjoy yourselves. We serve only the best here. Finest fare in Yunmeng, and here is the best spot in the house!”
Seeing the thick greed in the man’s expression made Jin Ling all the haughtier. Sitting down at the booth, he started snapping out orders at once. The proprietor kowtowed all the more at each demand.
“And bring us some tea directly,” Jin Ling concluded with an imperious tilt of chin. “We’re thirsty from our travels.”
“Of course, young master! Of course!”
Pouncing upon a waiter headed for another table, the obsequious proprietor snatched the tea service he was carrying right from his hands to set it steaming before them instead. Jin Ling poured himself a cup and drank with relish, before he realized Lan Sizhui was sitting uneasily opposite him.
“What’s wrong?” Jin Ling asked, frowning. “If there’s something else you want, I can flag that bobbing geezer down again.”
Lan Sizhui shook his head. “No, that’s not it.” Over the balcony railing, he glanced down toward the crowded lobby, where a hungry little girl was sobbing while her mother scolded her fruitlessly. “Those people seem to have been waiting a long time for a table. It seems unfair that we jumped ahead of them, that’s all.”
Jin Ling crossed his arms, disgruntled. “We’re rich, and they’re not. The rich get to jump ahead. That’s just the way it is.”
Lan Sizhui nodded slowly. “I know,” he said, but he didn’t sound convinced.
Jin Ling glowered, annoyed that some wailing brat was going to ruin his nice time out with his friend. Lan Sizhui was too compassionate for his own good. What was he going to do, not enjoy life just because someone else had it worse? It was senseless, that sort of thinking. Jin Ling was just about to tell him so, when Lan Sizhui spoke first, with a grim twist of lip.
“When I was little, I cried because I was hungry all the time. Granny used to forage for roots for us in the dirt. Whatever she found that day, she’d give to me first, so sometimes she didn’t eat anything. Sometimes neither of us did. That was before Senior Wei saved us. If not for his and Hanguang-Jun’s kindness, I would have met a bad end long ago.”
Jin Ling’s shoulders sank. He didn’t know what to say to that. The image of Lan Sizhui as a child, miserable and starving and gnawing on tough roots in the dirt made him desperately unhappy. Guilty, even, for he knew it was the Lanling Jin clan that had oppressed the Wen clan the most.
As a waiter appeared, setting down the stacks of their dishes before them, the savory aromas didn’t reach him. Sullenly, Jin Ling glared toward the man as he bowed in retreat.
“Wait. Take these dishes down to the lobby and give them out to the people waiting there; make sure the little girl who’s crying gets her fill first. Then bring us another round.”
“Y-yes, sir!’ the waiter said, bewildered by the strange command, yet hastening to do as he was bid.
“Now,” Jin Ling said briskly to Lan Sizhui, who was staring at him in surprise, “can we just enjoy our meal already?”
Lan Sizhui smiled as he reached for the pot of tea. “You’re a kind person, Young Master Jin.”
Jin Ling scoffed, though he felt the warmth of that compliment like a glow in his chest. “If I can’t be kinder than Wei Wuxian, I don’t deserve to draw breath.”
Mo Dao Zu Shi © Mo Xiang Tong Xiu