Chapter 771 --771

Chapter 771: Chapter-771

They were supposed to be out in the world conquering trade routes or managing estates, while the men stayed safely behind the high walls of their courtyards, managing the delicate, tedious domestic affairs—like haggling over the price of a soup ladle.

To see a young woman, especially one with such a cold, imposing aura, personally lecturing a blacksmith on the edge-bevel of a fish-filleting knife was nothing short of a public spectacle.

Finally, a few of the braver customers couldn’t contain their burning curiosity any longer.

A small group of three young men, draped in modest but beautifully embroidered high-collared robes, shuffled toward the main counter. They were clearly married—their hair was pinned up in the intricate, elegant styles reserved for husbands of respectable households, and their sheer veils were dyed in soft, domestic pastels.

The bravest of the three, a youth in pale lilac silk holding a modest wooden rice paddle, took a hesitant step forward.

"Excuse me, My Lady," the young man said softly, his voice polite but laced with overwhelming curiosity. He offered a small, respectful smile from behind his veil, gesturing gracefully toward the terrifying mountain of heavy iron woks, clay braising pots, and eight razor-sharp knives stacked on the counter. "Forgive my intrusion, but... why are you needing so many utensils? Are you outfitting a new tavern? Or perhaps you own a restaurant?"

It was the only logical conclusion their sheltered minds could reach. A woman would only involve herself in the purchasing of kitchenware if it were a massive commercial enterprise.

Heena paused, pulling the strings of her coin purse tight.

She looked at the three young men. They were practically radiating nervous energy, clearly expecting her to either bark at them for speaking out of turn or confirm their theory about a grand restaurant.

Instead, the very faintest shadow of a genuine smile touched Heena’s pale lips. It wasn’t the sharp, predatory smirk she had aimed at Madam Hua, nor the cold sneer she used on alley thugs. It was just a quiet, slightly amused smile.

She gently shook her head. "No, My Lord. I don’t own a restaurant. It is simply for cooking."

The three men blinked, exchanging deeply confused glances.

"Cooking?" the youth in lilac echoed, his perfectly groomed eyebrows knitting together. "So... you mean to say you are buying all of this to cook for yourself?"

"Yes," Heena nodded smoothly, shifting her heavy wool cloak over her healing shoulder. "I have just established a new household in the East Market. The kitchen was completely bare, so I thought it best to come out and do the shopping myself to ensure everything is up to standard."

The men stared at her as if she had just announced she was planning to eat the cast-iron wok for dinner.

The youth on the left, wearing a modest blue veil, let out a soft, scandalized gasp. "My Lady, that is terribly improper! Forgive me for speaking out of turn, but a woman of your obvious standing should not be dirtying her hands with forge soot and wet-market mud. If you have just set up a new household, you should simply send your husband to do the shopping! That is what we are here for."

"Exactly," the first youth chimed in, nodding in fervent agreement. "Let your husband handle the domestic trivialities. A woman’s hands are meant for holding a ledger or a sword, not a vegetable peeler."

Heena looked at the three of them, her dark eyes completely unbothered by their well-meaning, deeply entrenched societal lecturing.

"I appreciate the advice," Heena said, her voice dry and perfectly flat. "But I’m afraid that isn’t an option. I am not married yet."

Silence.

The reaction was instantaneous, and it was entirely comical.

The three young men froze. Their eyes widened to the size of copper coins behind their veils, and the youth in blue actually dropped the wooden spatula he was holding, letting it clatter loudly against the wooden floorboards.

"What?!" the lilac-robed youth blurted out, completely forgetting his delicate manners. "Not married?!"

Heena simply stared back at them, completely unfazed by their absolute shock.

To her modern soul, being twenty-two and single was the absolute prime of life. She had a business to build, a monopoly to secure, and a fortune to amass; the absolute last thing on her mind was tying herself down to a husband.

But in the context of this matriarchal empire, her marital status was a genuine, scandalous anomaly.

Looking closely at the three men standing in front of her, Heena suddenly realized that despite their elegant up-dos and married status, they were incredibly young. The one in lilac couldn’t have been older than seventeen, and the others looked roughly the same age.

In this era, the societal clock ticked aggressively. Both men and women were typically engaged by fourteen and married by the time they turned sixteen. By eighteen, a respectable noblewoman was expected to have at least a primary husband, a bustling courtyard, and an heir on the way.

Heena was twenty-two this year.

By the strict, unforgiving standards of this empire, she wasn’t just a late bloomer—she was a certified, tragic, absolute spinster.

As the shock rippled through the young men, fragments of the original Lu Heena’s memories surfaced through the mental fog, explaining exactly why she was standing alone in a hardware shop at twenty-two.

The original owner hadn’t chosen to be a spinster. Because her birth father had fallen out of favor and passed away early, the ruthless Lu Matriarch had essentially forgotten Heena existed in the sprawling inner courtyards. While her venomous half-sisters were paraded around high-society banquets and matched with the wealthy, beautiful sons of powerful ministers, Heena had been left to rot in the shadows.

She had actually possessed a betrothal once—arranged when she was barely ten years old to the son of a mid-level scholarly family. But as the Lu Matriarch’s neglect became glaringly obvious to the rest of the capital, that scholarly family had quietly, humiliatingly cancelled the engagement years ago, not wanting to tie their son to a worthless, cast-off daughter.

After that, no one had bothered to arrange another match. The original Heena had simply aged out of the marriage market, trapped in a gilded cage until she was finally beaten and thrown into the slums.

But the soul currently occupying this body didn’t feel an ounce of the original owner’s shame or heartbreak.

If anything, Heena was utterly thrilled by the cancellation. The sheer thought of having a sheltered, crying teenage boy waiting for her back at the apothecary, demanding her attention while she was trying to run an underworld cosmetics syndicate, sounded like a literal nightmare.

"Yes. Not married," Heena repeated calmly, breaking the stunned silence. She picked up her heavy coin purse and tucked it safely into the inner pocket of her cloak. "And I don’t plan to be anytime soon. I prefer to choose my own knives."

The young men exchanged looks of profound, heartbreaking pity. In their eyes, this tall, striking woman in the black cloak wasn’t a fiercely independent boss—she was a tragic, lonely soul who had been forced to learn how to cook for herself because no man wanted her.

"Oh... My Lady, we are so sorry," the lilac-robed youth murmured, his voice softening with genuine sympathy. "We did not mean to pry into your sorrow."

Heena let out a sharp, genuine laugh, shaking her head as she turned back to the burly blacksmith.