Chapter 29 — A Letter to the Bookshop
Back at the inn, Shen Yanci ate like a man returning from battle—
not because the porridge was good, but because hunger was simple, and everything else was too heavy.
When he was finally asleep, I went to my room and pulled out paper.
Not a manuscript this time.
A note.
I’d never written one to the bookshop keeper before.
I kept it short—no pleading, no explaining.
I told him I was out of town with my husband for the provincial exam, and the next installment would be three days late.
And if he tried to cut my price again, I’d write him into my fox tale as the greediest villain in the city.
I read it once, laughed under my breath, then folded it cleanly.
When I paid an errand boy to deliver it, the coins felt different in my palm.
Control, again.
Not begging.
Choosing.