A Day at the Low Market
“Argh.”
The general had punished me to my bones over that whole incident.
“...Feels like it's stabbing me from the inside.”
Sure, it was my fault, but wasn't this a bit much? Tomorrow was leg day, of all things. That doctor, though—his skill at prodding and twisting every joint was no joke.
Until now, I'd just chatted casually with him while he helped with my recovery, but at a single word from the general, he turned into a joint-lock machine without a hint of hesitation.
No ordinary guy could do that. Maybe he was some hidden master from the wilds? Groaning, I dragged my body backward, vowing to never mess up around the doctor again.
Whatever. Before I knew it, the general had stepped onto my lower back and climbed aboard like she owned the place.
“I'm heading out, so get ready quick.”
She always dropped by when she was bored, so I'd figured today was no different. Apparently not.
She suddenly announced we were going to the market and told me to gear up, then vanished in quick steps.
“...”
It had been days since my last precious break. I just wanted to hole up in my room and veg out.
I glanced around slyly, trying to burrow under the covers, but—
Creak.
The general's face stared down coldly from the window, so I slipped back out like nothing happened.
“Good boy.”
Damn, it felt like she was handling a pet dog or something. That nickname she'd slapped on me lately, the treatment—it gave off this weird vibe sometimes, like I wasn't quite human anymore.
More than that, wasn't this a labor law violation? I wanted to protest for my right to rest, but good luck with that in this era. They'd probably bash my head with an iron club and call it a day if I tried.
“If there's anything you wanna eat or buy, make a list in your head. Today we're spending money, so don't hold back!”
With that, she vanished again.
Hmm... Hard not to compare in moments like this.
Mud-crawling lowlife life vs. rich young lady's pampered pet life.
...Wait, was the balance off? Thinking it over, it was definitely the latter. And there's that saying, right? A dog's life beats a beggar's.
“Ready?”
Lost in those worthless thoughts, the general—now fully dressed up—came to fetch me.
Honestly, “preparing” just meant throwing on an outer coat and running a hand through my hair.
“Yep.” “Then let's go.”
She strode ahead briskly. Was it just us two? A quick glance around confirmed it—
Inspection Captain Wi Eokgi nodded quietly from behind, his face saying handle it yourself. What could go wrong?
I nodded back to show I got it, then hurried after the general.
*
I'd thought it was some personal errand at first, but no.
“Anything inconvenient about your daily setup? Chair or bed or whatever.” “Nah, my body's built not to feel discomfort from stuff like that.” “That's 'cause you've never seen fine furniture. Custom-made by a craftsman who takes your measurements—it's on another level.”
The market itinerary revolved entirely around my interests. It finally hit me: she was dragging me out because she actually cared.
I appreciated the thought. It'd been ages since I'd left the yamen, and breathing outside air, soaking in the vibe of real life—it was fun.
“Shall we wander a bit first?” “Sure. Speak up if you see anything you need!”
No specific destination. We just strolled through shops and stalls, browsing.
It really felt different from the northern backwater I'd grown up in. More free-spirited, sophisticated maybe? Wider variety of goods, cheaper prices too.
Word was, everything south of the Yangtze was economically richer than the central plains—maybe that explained it.
The low market was huge, rivaling the capital's bazaars, packed with sights.
Meanwhile, even with her face-obscuring hat, the general got stopped by a few who recognized her, chatting them up. Their bright faces said plenty about her reputation and character.
Lost in thought as I walked, my eyes caught a small hairpin on a stall: yellow jade carved into a water drop shape.
Familiar somehow.
Throb. Just looking at it made my head pound for no reason.
'To our beautiful ten years, and the beautiful ones ahead.'
It reminded me of the one I'd painstakingly made for Yeona. No—the shape was similar, but material, color, size all different. Why pop into my head now? Annoying as hell.
So many similar things in the world, but since that life-turning day, the gift I'd meant to give her was burned into my brain extra deep.
“...Hoo, haa.” “Yujin? What's wrong? You hurt somewhere?”
My face must've looked rough. She'd come right up, hand on my forehead, peering up with worried eyes.
“No fever... Should I grab something effective from the apothecary?”
Great, I'd worried her for nothing. It was an old grudge, ages ago. Time to get used to it, but nope.
People's hearts don't work on command.
But with my boss right here, moping over bad memories wasn't cool.
I forced a bright smile, playing it off.
“Nah, I always look like this when I'm hungry. Pale face, cold sweat, the works.” “Oh... yeah? That's a weird constitution...”
Like she'd buy that. Her face was still full of concern.
She nodded along, but I knew even dense me that she wasn't the type to ignore a subordinate's well-being. Probably just pretending for my sake.
“So what'll fix it? Five-spice pork? Fish in oil? Name it—I'm loaded today! I'll buy everything!”
She played along with my excuse, hamming it up to lighten the mood. Grateful for that.
Right, what to eat? Sure, my clan treated me like trash, but I was born a Pang. I'd sampled most fancy dishes, even if sparingly.
And honestly? Those “high-class” wuxia-world foods like five-spice pork or fish in oil? Not my taste.
Guess I was born with commoner palate. Gukbap and a plate of mandu pulled harder. Yeah, that combo rivaled any gourmet slop.
Add well-fermented kimchi and broth? Perfection. But no kimchi in the central plains, so whatever.
“Thought of something?” “More like something cheap, but separate.” “But?” “Not sure it'd suit your taste, General.”
Issue was, she looked every bit the refined lady. Would street food gross her out?
“Gukbap and mandu? Sounds good!”
Yeah, no need to worry.
I'd expected some hesitation or unfamiliarity, but she accepted right away.
Menu set, spot chosen quick: Cheonsu Inn, famous among commoners, at the fork by Hangzhou's bookstore.
“Innkeeper, two gukbap and a plate of mandu.” “Coming right up.” “Whoa, that enough for your size?” “Huh? That's all mine. Order yours now, General.” “...”
Inside, we ordered and sat—food arrived fast.
Milky broth topped with green garnish and meat chunks, alongside neatly handmade mini mandu. Mouthwatering.
“Oho, so this is the commoners' gukbap and mandu. Way different from what I'm used to.”
Hoo, hoo. She scooped some steaming gukbap, cooling it, savoring the first bite before piling on mandu.
Phew, good. I'd worried it'd miss her palate, but now I could eat relaxed.
Nom nom. As we dug in properly, talk quieted.
In the lull—
Inn noise crept in.
Passersby's chatter.
It flowed naturally into my ears.
“Heard about that?” “Who hasn't? Officials and military, all rotten to the core. Tsk tsk.” “How much they skimmed... even I, decades in trade, can't fathom.”
Ah, timeless classic: cursing politics, universal across ages, places, lives.
But tone it down this time. Our table had the yamen head herself.
One wrong word, and I'd eat the fallout.
I glanced at the petite girl across—subtly, she was listening too.
“At least our Zhejiang general cares about us. Beats the next town over, right?” “Oh, that rat bastard?”
Whew, dodged via praise.
Yeah, trash-talk everyone but my boss. I'd allow that.
“Remember what happened to the Baek family recently...”
The two shook with rage, heatedly—
“If Heaven has eyes, it should smite those bastards right now!”
...Oh shit.
Scratch that. This one's beyond me.