Chapter 8: Breakfast Tomorrow

Han Yunting removed the third supper bowl before the steward could fill it.

Mingzhong put it back.

"For the sauce," he said.

Yunting put the bowl down.

He'd dealt with armed riders with less difficulty.

Shuqiao had gone to change his muddy robe.

Yunting had hoped that would leave time to decide what he wanted to say.

Instead his spouse's uncle had arrived without waiting for an invitation.

Qirong waited beside the courtyard door, dressed for a more elaborate meal.

"You understand my nephew is proud," he said.

Yunting did.

He'd been admiring the evidence all week.

"He'll need encouragement to accept a better opportunity."

The uncle wanted Yunting to help him send Shuqiao away.

He also wanted the general to be grateful for the suggestion.

Yunting picked up the unwanted third pair of chopsticks.

"Ask him," he said.

"He won't admit how much this costs him."

Yunting looked toward the upstairs window.

Shuqiao stood behind its screen, fastening his hair.

The general couldn't tell whether he had heard.

He disliked the possibility enough to open the courtyard door wider.

"He won't hear you if you keep standing in the passage," he said.

Qirong backed away from the threshold.

"These things require delicacy."

"Then don't ask me to handle them for you."

Yunting offered him the spare chopsticks.

The uncle stared.

"You came dressed for supper," the general explained.

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