Chapter 477: Contact

Chapter 477: Chapter 477: Contact

When Shen Hao left the house in the morning, he found a note on the seat cushion of his carriage.

The note was about a finger’s length, on ordinary letter paper, with messy handwriting: "Early noon, oil tea stall at the entrance of East Market District." The signature was a crescent moon emblem.

Shen Hao had seen this emblem before; it was exactly the same as the one in the booklets put out by the Moon Shadow Tower.

So this was a message from the Moon Shadow Tower?

"Li Tie, when was the carriage last cleaned?"

"Sir, it was washed yesterday at noon. Do you have any instructions?"

"Mm, nothing."

Washed yesterday at noon, so the note had nothing to do with the cleaning. Was it slipped in while it was parked? That didn’t seem likely either. As far as Shen Hao knew, Li Tie and Zhang Cang checked the carriage thoroughly, inside and out, every day before picking him up. They were careful not to miss anything, so they shouldn’t have failed to notice the note.

The only real possibility was that the note was put in after Zhang Cang and Li Tie had inspected it this morning.

But how did they do that?

As for his guards, Shen Hao did not suspect them. All of his guards had been chosen and vetted by Wang Jian again and again; there was no way there could be a problem.

Shen Hao frowned and put away the note. If he guessed right, this should be the reply regarding what he had discussed with Lian Xiang previously. Judging by this method, it wasn’t simple at all. At least for now, Shen Hao couldn’t figure out how they had done it—maybe this was the legendary skill of the Moon Shadow Tower?

But the note showed Shen Hao something else as well.

The meeting time was set at noon, right around when the Xuanqing Guard took their break. But the location was the real point of interest.

Oil tea... That couldn’t possibly be a coincidence. Because Shen Hao happened to really like oil tea.

Was it a hint: We’ve been watching you for a long time?

Was this meant to be "throwing down the gauntlet"?

There was another point. The other side chose to deliver the note instead of making direct contact—clearly being cautious of him, and at the same time, testing him.

If an ordinary person saw such a note, they’d probably grumble "lunatic" and ignore it. But someone with a status like Shen Hao’s would certainly try to trace how the note got there, at the very least showing there was a security loophole with the carriage, right?

The only reason Shen Hao would agree to meet was if he understood the message on the note, recognized the emblem. At the same time, he had to have a genuine personal interest in Moon Shadow Tower and was willing to bear the risk of contact.

When the carriage arrived at the entrance to the Black Banner Battalion headquarters and Shen Hao went in as usual, Li Tie, Zhang Cang, and the rest of his guards who had escorted him completed their task and each returned to the Little Banner Battalion to report in.

"Brother Zhang, since we’re free, why don’t we wash the carriage again? Clean the seat covers and everything?"

"Why?"

"Just now in the carriage, the lord asked if it’d been cleaned. Do you think he thought it was dirty?"

Zhang Cang lifted the curtain to look inside at the words, then shook his head. "No need, right? Wasn’t it just washed yesterday at noon? The seat covers are clean. Maybe it’s just been too damp lately; the carriage gets musty when shut for too long."

"That’s true. Let’s just lift the curtain and air it out. I’ll get some fragrant leaves to get rid of the smell. Honestly, it does smell a bit musty in there."

The two were Shen Hao’s personal guards and also responsible for his carriage. Just being asked about "washing the carriage," they immediately checked for problems themselves.

It was July now, the summer heat mounting, and in Fengri City the heat was always accompanied by humidity—a kind of "muggy heat." The carriage sat closed up for long and did get musty; you had to lift the curtain and let it bake in the sun a while. Adding fragrant leaves should get rid of the smell completely.

Li Tie went to get fragrant leaves, and Zhang Cang drove the carriage to a small training ground inside the headquarters, unharnessed the horse, left the carriage to air out in the sun, and then went off to rest in the shade for a bit himself.

When Zhang Cang was gone, something moved inside the carriage airing out in the sun. A four-inch-long, jet-black little rat slipped out from beneath the seat, then shot off the carriage and vanished along the base of the wall.

...

Early noon, the East Market was bustling, crowds coming and going, from hawkers and porters to the wealthy and well-dressed—you saw all sorts here. Everyone had their ways, but all for the same thing: making a living.

The East Market was a trading place, and where there were traders, there were also people who specialized in doing business with the traders.

Just inside the East Market District gate, you could see a little shop along the street, with a shade outside, taking up a small spot with three little tables. There was a sign by the entrance: East Market Oil Tea.

Shen Hao liked oil tea, and he knew this stall. Last time, when he’d gone out strolling with Hong Chou and Brocade and Silk, he’d come here to eat; the taste was very authentic.

By noon, all three outdoor tables were already crowded, and some who couldn’t find seats held their bowls, standing or squatting nearby, eating. The fragrant scent of oil tea drifted around the stall, making every passerby involuntarily swallow their saliva.

Is there anyone in this world who doesn’t like oil tea?

If oil tea has a flaw, it’s that it doesn’t fill you up. A big bowl may leave you full for the moment, but a couple of visits to the toilet, and you’re hungry quick—kind of like thin porridge.

So oil tea alone can’t be considered a meal. You need something solid to go with it—hard biscuits are best.

Before going out, Shen Hao had switched into ordinary clothes, so no one noticed him now. He went up to the stall: "One bowl of oil tea, two meat buns."

"Alright! Just a moment!"

Soon, Shen Hao was squatting by the street, holding a big bowl in one hand and two meat buns in the other, eating and drinking. No one would ever have recognized Shen Hao now—for who could imagine that the infamous Evil Star of Fengri City would be squatting by the roadside, eating?

He finished half the bowl, and one meat bun was gone; Shen Hao wasn’t in a rush. He didn’t believe his contact would stand him up—they were probably watching him right now from somewhere.

When Shen Hao still had half a bun left, a middle-aged man dressed as a peddler came over. Like Shen Hao, he was holding a bowl of oil tea and a bun, squatted down beside Shen Hao, and glanced at him.

"Lord Shen, looks like one bowl isn’t enough. How about I buy you another?"

The man didn’t raise his voice—just enough for Shen Hao to hear.

"Sure, another bowl," Shen Hao glanced at the man beside him, but didn’t refuse the offer.

The man’s face was unremarkable, but lined with the marks of travel—a man who’d roamed all over. Especially his eyes, which shone with shrewdness.

Soon, the stall owner brought Shen Hao another bowl of oil tea, steaming hot.

"Whew!" He blew on it, then swallowed the last bite of bun and freed a hand. He took out the note from his inner pocket and handed it over, saying, "This yours?"

The man took the note, rubbed it between his hands, and it crumbled to dust. He smiled, "The handwriting’s messy—sorry to make you laugh, Lord Shen."

"Tell me how you got the note into my carriage without being seen?"