Chapter 768 --768

Chapter 768: Chapter-768

While the man mercilessly dismantled the vendor’s profit margins, Heena wasn’t even looking at the vegetables. She was staring openly at the stranger.

It wasn’t out of romantic interest. The intoxicating citrus scent radiating from his celadon robes was making her crave a bowl of chilled oranges so violently she could barely focus on the conversation.

As a sudden gust of market wind swept past them, the sheer white veil fluttered upwards for just a fraction of a second.

Heena caught a fleeting glimpse of the face beneath the hat. Flawless, fair jade skin, the sharp, elegant sweep of a jawline, and lips curved into a ruthlessly confident smirk.

Heena’s dark eyes gleamed with sudden, calculating interest. First impressions were everything. A man dressed in celadon silk who smelled of expensive citrus oils should not know how to identify day-old tomato stems, let alone haggle a street vendor down to the exact copper without breaking a sweat. Whoever this guy was, he was definitely not some fragile, locked-away noble bird.

"Fine! Fine! Heavens preserve me from cheap aristocrats!" the vendor finally groaned, throwing his hands up in absolute defeat. He snatched up several coarse paper bags and began aggressively shoving the eggplants and tomatoes inside. "Just take it, take it, and go away before you ruin my luck for the rest of the day!"

The veiled man’s posture instantly went rigid.

"Wait, wait, wait," the man snapped, his melodious voice dropping into a register of sheer, offended ice. "Who the hell told you I am a noble? Who the fuck do you think you are to compare me to some dirty, scheming aristocrat?"

The sudden, venomous hostility in his tone was completely jarring. The street vendor blinked, completely taken aback. "Oh, come on! You dress in tailored silk like that and you’re saying you’re not a noble?"

"Oh, so if I put on rags and dress like a beggar, does that automatically mean I am a beggar?" the man shot back, snapping his fan open with a sharp crack. "Are you crazy?!"

Standing off to the side, Heena crossed her arms and casually muttered, "Well... isn’t that the truth?"

The man’s veiled head whipped around to face her so fast the white gauze fluttered.

"Excuse me?!" the man demanded, pointing his fan directly at her chest. "I am standing here taking your side, trying to save your silver, and you are actually fighting with me?! Are you crazy or something?!"

For a split second, Heena was genuinely stunned. Then, an involuntary, genuine smile flashed across her pale face.

It was incredibly refreshing. Ever since she had arrived in this matriarchal empire, the men she had encountered were either timid and soft-spoken like Ren, or terrified and silent. To suddenly be yelled at in the middle of a vegetable market by a sharp-tongued, citrus-scented man in expensive silk was wildly entertaining.

She quickly wiped the smile off her face, clearing her throat to regain her cold persona. "Well, no. I mean, he is right," Heena said, looking at the vendor. "You cannot judge a person’s bloodline strictly by their clothes."

"Oh, come on, my lord! Give me a break!" the vendor groaned, practically shoving the paper bags across the burlap mat. "Just take the bags and go away! Look, I will even throw in five green chilies for free, alright?!"

The man leaned forward, his veiled hat tilting down as he inspected the vegetables. He let out a loud, theatrical scoff.

"Yeah, the five green chilies that are literally rotting at the stems, you’re giving us for free, huh?" the man sneered, utterly disgusted. "You know what? We are not buying a single thing from here."

He turned sharply on his heel, took two steps, and then paused. He looked back over his shoulder at Heena, his hands on his hips. "Well? What are you standing there for? Let’s go!"

Heena didn’t know this guy. She had literally met him thirty seconds ago, and they hadn’t exchanged more than three sentences. But between his absolute refusal to be scammed and the incredibly distracting, mouth-watering scent of fresh oranges wafting off his robes, she found herself stepping right over the vendor’s mat and following him down the lane.

"Hey! At least take the eggplants! Hey!" the vendor hollered from behind them, but Heena ignored him completely, trailing diligently behind the swishing green silk.

The man marched aggressively past three more stalls before abruptly stopping in front of a neat, organized mat run by a husband-and-wife pair who looked to be in their early thirties.

"See?" the man said, gesturing to the vibrant, unbruised produce with his fan. "These vegetables are actually perfectly good. You can buy from here. Go ahead, ask."

Heena looked down. He was right; the greens were crisp and the skins of the eggplants were taut and glossy.

"How much?" Heena asked the young couple.

"The eggplants are two coppers for one and a half jin," the woman replied with a polite smile. "The tomatoes are one and a half coppers for a full jin, and the beans are one copper for a jin."

Heena’s eyes lit up. "Perfect."

She quickly paid the coppers, accepted her woven basket of fresh produce, and turned back to the veiled man. "Thanks for bringing me here."

The man folded his arms over his chest, looking her up and down through the white gauze. "As a woman, why are you out here shopping if you clearly do not even know how to do it?"

"It is actually my first time shopping for myself," Heena replied honestly, adjusting the heavy basket on her hip. "So it is slightly different."

"And that is exactly why you were getting robbed," he scoffed, shaking his head.

"I wasn’t getting robbed," Heena defended herself smoothly. "I was about to leave that stall anyway. But I still said thank you."

"Hah! That is the problem with you women," the man lectured, tapping his fan against his palm. "If you don’t know how to inspect the roots, why didn’t you just send your husband to buy the food? You walk out here alone and you’ll just get fleeced."

"I am not married," Heena said flatly.

The tapping of the fan stopped instantly. The man tilted his head. "Wait. Not married?"

"No."

"What is your age?" he asked, his tone suddenly shifting from combative to blatantly curious.

Heena paused. She couldn’t actually remember the original Lu Heena’s exact birth year through the mental fog. Her own soul was twenty-two this year, so she assumed this body was roughly the same age, but she wasn’t about to hand her biography to a loud stranger in the street.

"I don’t think that is a question I am obligated to answer for you," Heena replied, raising an eyebrow.

The man took a slow step back. He tilted his veiled hat, clearly looking her up and down—taking in the heavy, nondescript black cloak, her pale, striking face, and the cold, unbothered way she carried herself.

"Hmm," the man hummed thoughtfully. "Not too old. But still no husband... not even a fiancé?"

"No," Heena said firmly. "Nothing."

"Interesting," the man murmured softly, the word rolling off his tongue with a strange, calculating weight.