Chapter Five: Missions Are Not an Everyday Occurrence

Lu Zhou stretched lazily, casting a glance outside the window. At some unknown moment, snowflakes had begun to drift down from the sky.

He could never have imagined that Chao Jin’er’s relentless pursuit had only one motive: she wanted him to finish the story he had left incomplete years ago. Stories without endings always invite resentment.

Lu Zhou sighed. How could he know the fate of Xia Yuhuo? He didn’t even know where his own fate would lead.

He opened the door and sat beneath the eaves.

Snowflakes danced in the air.

He picked up a knife and a block of wood, beginning to carve a figure. The blade was thin and sharp, his fingers long and strong.

“Who are you carving?” Chao Jin’er walked over and sat beside Lu Zhou, her eyes filled with curiosity.

“Myself,” Lu Zhou replied.

“It doesn’t look like you at all,” Chao Jin’er said, incredulous.

Lu Zhou managed a bitter smile. “A man’s face is shaped by his heart.”

Of course it didn’t resemble him, for they were two different people entirely—one from a past life, one from the present.

“When did you learn to carve?” Chao Jin’er asked.

Lu Zhou’s carving skills were mediocre, barely outlining rough lines and a blurred silhouette. The only thing he carved with any precision was a strangely shaped hat.

“What you see is just carving. To me, it’s cultivation.”

“Have you heard of Little Li’s flying dagger?”

“That’s how he trained—the longer he carved, the steadier his hand became, and when he threw his dagger, it never missed.”

Lu Zhou remembered he hadn’t told Chao Jin’er the story of Little Li’s flying dagger.

Chao Jin’er tilted her head, smiled lightly. “I don’t know who this Little Li is, but I do know there’s a difference between a flying dagger and a kitchen knife.”

She glanced disdainfully at the kitchen knife in Lu Zhou’s hand.

Lu Zhou paid her no mind. The figure was finished. He stared, entranced, at the man he had carved—a man wearing a policeman’s cap. He couldn’t say how long he looked, then walked out into the courtyard.

“It’s snowing!” Chao Jin’er called out anxiously behind him.

Snowflakes landed on Lu Zhou’s head and shoulders as he dug a hole in the ground, buried the carved figure deep, and stood silently before the mound of snow.

Chao Jin’er stood behind him, her long lashes hiding the disappointment in her eyes.

…

…

Snow fell all day, leaving the Spring Beauty Pavilion’s business sluggish that evening.

No one wished to seek warmth in such bitter cold.

“This is this month’s wages. Lu Zhou provided information, and the higher-ups rewarded him with eight taels of silver. Lu Zhou worked hard, so he gets four taels.”

“The rest, Jin’er and I each get two. No objections, I hope?” Qu Qi’nian pulled several pieces of silver from her sleeve, divided them into three portions, and pushed them across the table to Lu Zhou and Chao Jin’er.

Chao Jin’er hadn’t expected Lu Zhou’s report would actually earn a reward.

Was this a joke?

If things went on like this, wouldn’t the Shuo State be doomed?

“I can’t accept silver earned from false intelligence,” Chao Jin’er refused without hesitation. Two taels of silver weren’t even enough for her usual purchase of cosmetics.

Though she’d become a Scorpion Tail for Lu Zhou’s sake, it didn’t mean Scorpion Tails had no principles or values.

“You think our intelligence is false, deceiving the higher-ups, so the money isn’t rightfully earned, and you refuse it—is that correct?” Qu Qi’nian asked.

“Isn’t it?” Chao Jin’er retorted.

“Seems Lu Zhou was wise not to choose you as Scorpion Tail,” Qu Qi’nian muttered. In just a month, she’d realized the difference between professionals and amateurs. Now even basic knowledge had to be painstakingly explained: “Each report from Lu Zhou targets the major sects of Shen Zhou City. For the Governor’s Office, their movements are crucial, so his intelligence is worth the price.”

“You call those intelligence?” Chao Jin’er scoffed.

She still remembered the reports’ contents, which seemed like mere trifles. “I think those ‘reports’ are worthless!”

Qu Qi’nian looked at Chao Jin’er. “Scorpions only collect; they don’t judge the value. Whether it’s useful isn’t for us to decide.”

Chao Jin’er opened her mouth to argue, then realized she had no grounds.

The Scorpion’s role was simply to collect intelligence and carry out missions. Whether the information was useful wasn’t for them to judge; specialists analyzed that above.

“If we could directly find useful intelligence, wouldn’t it reduce workload above?” Chao Jin’er finally found an excuse that wasn’t entirely an excuse. “A useful report would show the value of us Scorpions!”

“How can you be sure Lu Zhou’s report isn’t useful?” Qu Qi’nian fixed her gaze on Chao Jin’er, smiling as she countered, “Or are you doubting me? After all, Lu Zhou’s reports come through me.”

“If Lu Zhou reported random names, would I pass them up?”

Weren’t the reports just random names anyway?

Chao Jin’er pursed her lips. This Scorpion business was not what she’d imagined.

But fortunately, she wasn’t truly here for the role: “I don’t want the wages; my share goes to Lu Zhou.”

With that, she pushed her silver toward Lu Zhou’s pile.

Lu Zhou smiled as he accepted the money. “I’ll keep it for you. If you want it later, I’ll give it back.”

“I won’t ask for it.”

Chao Jin’er’s pocket money for tea cost more than this.

“You forget—you’re not Chao Jin’er anymore.” Lu Zhou smiled faintly. “As the accountant, Qi’nian can allocate a bit from the Pavilion’s profits each month, but apart from that, all my income is these rewards.”

“You neither work at the Pavilion nor take a share from intelligence. When your silver runs out, won’t you need cosmetics?”

Chao Jin’er frowned slightly. She’d never considered this.

“Aren’t there missions to take?” she quickly countered. Scorpion Heads and Tails usually executed special tasks besides gathering intelligence.

“There aren’t missions every day,” Lu Zhou said. He’d been at the Pavilion nearly a month and hadn’t seen a single mission.

Which was just as well—after so many years undercover, rare leisure was welcome.

As Lu Zhou finished speaking, a white-glowing paper crane drifted onto the windowsill.

Qu Qi’nian frowned, went to the window, opened it, and a cold wind swept in, carrying snowflakes to the floor below where they melted into droplets.

The paper crane landed in Qu Qi’nian’s hand. As she infused it with true energy, it slowly unfolded. She glanced at it, eyebrows furrowing, then placed the paper on the table.

“Lu Zhou’s crow’s mouth is truly unlucky.”

“Just finished saying missions aren’t daily, and now one arrives.”

Lu Zhou’s eye twitched. Chao Jin’er reached for the paper and, after reading it, was stunned.

This mission…

Was actually related to Lu Zhou’s intelligence?

The paper read:

“Yellow-level mission.

Assassinate Elder Withered Leaf of the Prajna Hall, King Kong Temple.

Mission details: The temple lost a treasured artifact, suspected stolen by Elder Withered Leaf, who visited Golden Lion Escort Agency three days ago. Pursue and kill Elder Withered Leaf, retrieve the temple treasure.

Reward: ten spirit stones, one hundred taels of silver.”