[To Become a River of Stars] Dong Xiange - Chapter 30
Mianniang had been secretly feeding the “strange person” at home for quite some time.
The maids and nannies watched over her strictly, but they also cared for her deeply. Whenever she pretended to be even slightly tired, the nannies would quickly leave, afraid of disturbing her rest.
Mianniang would then climb onto the table, slip out through the small window, and deliver the food hidden in her clothes to the little woodshed.
She couldn’t quite explain why she enjoyed going there so much.
Perhaps it was because she inexplicably felt a sense of familiarity with the quiet young man.
Or perhaps it was because everyone else at home treated her like a fragile porcelain doll that needed to be carefully stored away and placed on a high shelf—even speaking to her felt like they were afraid their breath might blow her over.
But that young man wasn’t like that.
Most of the time, he remained silent, so Mianniang could freely say whatever she wanted.
She told him about how she had overfed her rabbit with too much grass, causing it to die, and how she had cried for a long time, but the rabbit still didn’t come back to life.
She confessed that while praying to the Moon Goddess, she secretly wished for the goddess to bring her mother back so her father wouldn’t always be so lonely.
She admitted she didn’t like green vegetables but loved pastries, though the nannies said she couldn’t eat too many sweets.
She listed her favorite pastries in detail: mung bean cakes, walnut cookies, fruit honey cakes, but her absolute favorite was the simplest white sugar cake.
Most of the time, the young man ignored her, simply gazing at the slivers of light coming through the wooden boards on the window. But occasionally, very occasionally, he would glance at the chattering little girl.
“There was once a little girl who loved white sugar cakes by my side too.”
Once, he suddenly spoke, but only said that one sentence before falling silent again, no matter how much Mianniang chattered and pressed for answers.
Later, it rained continuously for days. Mianniang got caught in the rain outside the window once and never came again.
In the county town, after Li Xuanci said they would “wait and watch the show,” they truly laid low, staying at an inn.
Naturally, Li Xuanci could have stayed at a government courier station—the entire county magistrate’s office should have been cleared out for him. But since he wanted to watch the show, he had to remain in the shadows.
Shiliu was delighted because she discovered an enormous benefit to this arrangement.
This way, she could put everything on Li Xuanci’s tab.
She had checked into the inn with Li Xuanci, so the waiter naturally assumed they were together.
Li Xuanci, with just a little spending from his resources, was as lavish as a wealthy tycoon. The waiter, being sharp, didn’t need instructions and proactively prepared all sorts of things to curry favor.
Shiliu reaped many benefits from this. On the second day of their stay, she slept until late morning, then drank a hot bowl of millet porridge sweetened with honey, ate a flaky thousand-layer pancake that crumbled at the touch, and enjoyed a fragrant fried egg drizzled with sesame oil.
Shiliu didn’t have much experience going down the mountain. In the past, when she went with her senior brothers, they usually stayed at the homes of those seeking help, exorcising spirits or pacifying residences in exchange for lodging—all genuine services, not scams to cheat people out of money.
But she had rarely stayed at an inn and had never experienced such treatment in the morning. After finishing her meal, she tentatively asked whether breakfast was included with the room or if it cost extra.
The waiter laughed heartily and assured her it was all on the tab.
So Shiliu indulged freely. After all, she and Li Xuanci had shared life and death experiences—his money naturally should, perhaps, count as hers a little bit too.
After that, adorable clay dolls, exquisitely crafted shadow puppets, and newly printed storybooks still smelling of ink flowed steadily into Shiliu’s room.
One was happy in heart, the other was happy in wallet—both Shiliu and the waiter smiled with curved eyes after closing the door.
When she casually asked if there were any other fun novelties, the waiter’s eyes lit up. He refused to elaborate but later mysteriously brought her a small package.
Infected by the atmosphere, Shiliu also lowered her voice and quietly accepted it.
Back in her room, Shiliu opened the mysterious little package, only to find plain, grey, thread-bound books that looked quite crude with strange titles.
Appreciating Flowers Treasures — she wasn’t a gardener from a wealthy family.
Li Weng’s Ten Operas — she wasn’t planning to retire and farm.
Zhu Lin’s Unofficial History — she didn’t care for stories about ancient figures who had been dead for who knows how long.
Frowning, she picked through them for a long time but couldn’t find a single book whose title made her want to open it.
In the other room, after the waiter knocked on the neighboring door for the fifth time that day, Li Xuanci finally felt he had been far too lenient with that idiot lately.
So, when he coldly pushed open the door to Shiliu’s room, he found her with a bun in her mouth, flipping through a dull grey book—she had just opened it to the first page.