Chapter 38 -

Chapter 38: Chapter

The morning sun cast a pale, icy light over the Northern Courtyard as Yimei pulled on a heavy, deep-blue winter cloak lined with white fur. She adjusted her sleeves, keeping her posture straight and her face calm. Beside her, Qinqin hurried to fasten the silver buckles of her own cloak, shivering slightly against the morning chill.

"Young Madame," Qinqin said softly, holding a bamboo basket packed with warm teacups. "The horse carriage is waiting at the side gate."

Yimei gave a short, quiet nod. She glanced toward Zhengyu’s closed chamber doors for a brief second before turning on her heel. "Let’s go."

The carriage ride to the East Market was quiet, the wooden wheels crunching smoothly over the thick layer of overnight snow. But as they turned onto the main street of the commercial district, the usual smell of fresh morning bread and roasting nuts was completely overwhelmed by a sharp, suffocating stench.

Smoke. Thick, black, and heavy.

"Young Madame... look!" Qinqin gasped, her hand flying to her mouth as she leaned out the carriage window.

Yimei raised the window curtain. Her dark eyes narrowed instantly.

In the middle of the snow-covered street, brilliant orange flames roared into the grey morning sky. Bright red embers danced violently against the falling white snowflakes. The entire wooden front of the East Market Tea House was engulfed in a raging infern, a terrifying sight of fire amidst snow.

It hadn’t spread to the neighboring shops. The snow on the roofs of the adjacent buildings was barely melted, yet her shop was burning with unnatural, violent speed.

Someone had doused the wood in heavy lamp oil. It was an unmistakable, deliberate arson.

"Fire! Help! Bring more water!" Liu Fang’s desperate, hoarse voice screamed above the crackling flames.

She and four young tea waiters were frantically running back and forth from the public well, throwing buckets of ice-cold water onto the blazing entrance. A large crowd of onlookers had gathered at a safe distance, watching the tragic scene unfold while whispering among themselves.

Yimei stepped out of the carriage before it had even come to a complete stop.

"Young Madame! Don’t go near!" Qinqin cried out, rushing after her.

Yimei didn’t panic, nor did she scream. She grabbed a wooden bucket from the side of a water cart, dipped it deep into a trough of icy well water, and stepped directly toward the scorching heat.

"Young Madame! You shouldn’t be doing this!" Liu Fang wept, her face completely covered in black soot, her hands raw and red from the freezing water and blistering heat.

"Stop talking and keep pouring!" Yimei commanded, her voice dropping into an iron-hard tone that snapped the panicked workers back to attention.

For two long, grueling hours, Yimei, Qinqin, Liu Fang, and the staff fought the blaze relentlessly. Buckets of freezing water were tossed against the roaring wall of heat until their clothes were soaked, their hands went numb, and their lungs burned from inhaling thick ash.

Slowly, painfully, the roaring flames began to weaken. The bright orange embers died down into dark, steaming coals.

When the thick grey smoke finally cleared, nothing was left of the beautiful East Market Tea House.

The polished wooden signboards were charred black and snapped in half. The fine ceramic teacups were shattered into glowing hot pieces among the ashes. The grand entrance that had seen dozens of noble buyers yesterday was now just a pile of ruined, blackened timber sinking into polluted, muddy snow.

Liu Fang collapsed onto her knees right in front of the ruined doorway. She buried her soot-covered face in her hands and sobbed uncontrollably, her shoulders shaking with pure heartbreak. "It’s gone... everything we built... completely destroyed in a single night!"

Qinqin sank to the snowy ground beside her, clutching her knees as tears silently tracked through the black ash on her cheeks. "How could this happen? Who could be so cruel?"

Yimei stood tall in the middle of the melting snow, her deep-blue cloak stained with ash and water. She looked at the ruined shop, her face entirely unreadable, her dark eyes reflecting the quiet embers left behind.

The heavy snow continued to fall without mercy, piling so thick on the wooden beams of the surrounding buildings that the roofs groaned under the weight.

In front of the blackened ruin, a large crowd of villagers, local shopkeepers, and passersby had already gathered, staring in absolute shock at the smoking remains. The air was thick with confused, worried murmurs.

"How could a fire like this even start in the middle of a winter blizzard?" a local merchant whispered, shaking his head.

"It must be bad luck," a woman scoffed, shooting a bitter glance at Yimei. "She just opened her doors yesterday, and now look! Bringing a jinx like her to the East Market only invites disaster!"

Standing near the edge of the crowd, Master Gu, the arrogant man who had visited yesterday seemed thoroughly pleased by the devastation. Smirking under his thick fur cloak, he took a slow sip of warm wine and began to recite a mocking poem in a loud, dramatic voice:

"White snow falls on a burning floor,

A short-lived fame now seen no more.

Why blame the winter’s bitter frost,

When bad luck counts the heavy cost?"

A few petty shopkeepers snickered along with him, but Yimei ignored him completely, as if his voice were nothing more than the buzzing of a fly.

Her dark eyes were fixed on the charred front frame of the building. She walked slowly through the melting slush, stepping past the weeping staff until she reached the ruined main entrance.

Yimei didn’t care about the cold ash or the black dirt covering the wood. She reached out her bare hand and pressed her fingers directly into the burned doorframe.

She lifted her hand and rubbed her thumb against her index finger.

It was slippery, dark, and greasy. Even with the strong smell of smoke in the air, she could smell a sharp, distinct chemical scent on the wet wood.

Lamp oil.

Someone had poured heavy oil all over the main wooden beams before setting it on fire. This was not an accident, and it was not bad luck. Someone had burned down the East Market Tea House on purpose.

Yimei felt a cold anger settle deep inside her. Looking down at her oil-stained fingers, she made a silent promise: whoever poured this oil and burned down her tea house would pay ten times over. They thought this would break her, but it only gave her a reason to destroy them completely.

She wiped her hands with a clean handkerchief and turned to Qinqin and Liu Fang, who were still crying and shivering in the snow.

"Pull yourselves together. Right now," Yimei said, her voice sharp and clear over the noisy crowd.

The two girls froze immediately, wiping their dirty, tear-stained faces as they looked at her.

"Nobody goes inside," Yimei ordered, pointing toward the burned doorway. "The wooden beams are completely destroyed, and the roof could fall at any moment. Stand back and clean off your clothes."

Qinqin patted the black ash off her sleeves with shaking hands. "Y-Young Madame... where are we going?"

Yimei pulled her hood up over her head to block out the cold wind. Her eyes were completely serious.

"Clean yourselves up," she said smoothly. "We are going to the Wenlong Pavilion."