Chapter 277: Heading to Shaolin

It would be early July in two days, certainly the time for rain, yet I hadn't even considered it. How thoughtless of me.

But then again, Qing was rarely thoughtful except when killing people or eating. No amount of self-reflection would change the fact that this would keep happening.

Qing felt a little hard done by, too.

A life wandering the martial arts world. Sure, she now had a small thatched hut to return to in the Divine Maiden Sect, but hadn't she been wandering continuously?

The Central Plains were vast, and not just vast, but wildly varied in elevation. Some places had rivers, some deserts, some coastlines. The climates were all different, so she had absolutely no sense of whether it was likely to rain or be hot around this time.

Hurrying out of her room, she saw a boy who had been dozing near the entrance straighten up abruptly.

He was the boy who sold rain gear, magically appearing near the inn entrance whenever it rained. In truth, he was likely the son or daughter of someone working at the inn, part of the owner's scheme to make extra money during bad weather.

This high-class inn even had umbrellas readily available. It seemed everyone but her knew it was going to rain.

"Hey, kid," Qing said. "Give me two banggat[^Oversized Draped Rain Hat]."

"Ah! Fairy!" the boy exclaimed. "Here you go!"

The boy, jolted awake and greeted by Qing's beauty, didn't even ask for money before thrusting a large, basket-like object at her.

Qing asked, "How much?"

"Ah! Right! One nyang," the boy replied.

"For this?" Qing questioned. "Is it that well-made?"

The boy visibly shrank. "One nyang for two..." he offered.

A miraculous halving of the price, but still quite generous.

"You know my room, right?" Qing asked. "Bring a pile of drying cloths."

"The errand fee..." the boy began.

"I'm buying two banggat that should cost ten wen for five times the price, aren't I?" Qing countered.

"Yes..." the boy mumbled.

Surprisingly knowledgeable about the market rate, the boy couldn't haggle further and retreated. Of course, even children in the Central Plains could be shrewd merchants, but Qing's appearance had clearly addled his business sense.

Thus, Qing emerged wearing two banggat stacked atop each other, the rain drumming loudly against them.

A banggat was, simply put, a super-sized traditional hat. Worn on the head, it extended far forward and covered the back down past the hips, curving outward to shed rainwater. The downsides were its weight, which increased when wet, and the fact that the water running off the back flowed down like a waterfall, drenching the wearer's ankles.

But Qing's super-strong neck could easily bear the weight.

So, she stepped outside, and, hmm. Right. It's pitch black...

Torrential rain naturally came with thick clouds, and the primitive nights of the Central Plains lacked electricity. Humanity's greatest invention – boiling water to turn turbines – had yet to appear.

Qing stepped onto the street.

Her vision, surpassing human limits, slowly adjusted to the night's contours.

Where could Young Lady Seol be? Didn't she say she had a lot of experience sleeping outdoors?

As an expert in sleeping outdoors (read: being a beggar), Qing quickly checked the spots she’d noticed earlier, places near eateries, her steps urgent.

But she wasn't there.

An urgent thought struck her next.

Could her knowledge of sleeping outdoors be as flimsy as her claims? She wouldn't have crawled under a bridge to avoid the rain, would she? That's foolish.

Water levels could rise frighteningly fast, and flash floods were a far more dangerous disaster than people realized, sweeping bodies away effortlessly.

Qing dashed along the tributaries of the Henan rivers, checking under bridges.

Still no sign of her.

Seriously, if she's not in the good sleeping spots and not under the bridges, where the hell does she sleep outdoors?

Or did she just go home because of the rain?

Thinking about it, that seemed entirely plausible for someone like Young Lady Seol.

But she should have said something if she was leaving! Why worry people by disappearing without a word?

I've been running around alone in the middle of the night.

Still, it would be better if she had gone home.

Without certainty, she couldn't just go back either.

After searching haphazardly for Seol Iri for about half a shichen(1 hour), Qing finally spotted her.

Right under my nose. Huddled beneath a piece of canvas, likely put up by a permanent stall owner, against the wall right in front of Qing's inn.

In truth, because Qing had half-jokingly mentioned they might run away together during the night, Seol Iri had chosen a spot where she could watch the entrance.

Qing, despite possessing superhuman processing power thanks to her stats, hadn't thought of this possibility at all, resulting in her pointless run through the moonless, rainy night.

However, thanks to her iron constitution and having already reached a state of immunity to cold, it wasn't much of a hardship.

If your body is strong, being dumb doesn't necessarily make you suffer that much.

"Seriously, Young Lady Seol. Have you been sitting in the rain this whole time? Why are you so foolishly getting soaked? Aren't you cold?"

"The Norfern Sea is much coler."

People from the Northern Sea lived on a frozen lake year-round; summer and winter were merely gradations of cold and colder.

"This kinf of weafer is consifered hot in the Norfern Sea."

"Your voice is trembling right now."

"N-No. Not af all."

Honestly, if one had to determine whether it was cold or not, the answer was decidedly not cold. It was closer to a pleasantly cool sensation. The kind of weather where you might feel liberated enough to toss an umbrella high in the air and laugh while getting drenched in a downpour, like in the movies.

But this was prolonged exposure to a heavy, driving rain with drops so large they felt like they were pelting her body. This was entirely different from simply feeling cold or not. Human body temperature is regulated through the air; a wet body continuously hit by fresh raindrops loses heat relentlessly.

"Damn it. You said you'd slept outdoors a lot, didn't you? Do you just sit out in the rain in the Northern Sea? You'll end up a corpse like this."

"I'm fine..."

Yet, she offered little resistance as Qing pulled her up, suggesting she too felt this wasn't quite right.

Back in the room, it was just as expected. Her complexion was naturally pale, almost sickly looking, but her lips were stained a dark, lifeless shade somewhere between purple and blue.

Fortunately, the umbrella boy had brought plenty of drying cloths. Qing first scrubbed Seol Iri's face dry, squeezed out her hair, struggled with the completely soaked clothes clinging tightly to her skin, and then vigorously rubbed her down with the cloths to absorb the moisture.

After tucking her into bed and pulling the covers up, Qing felt a wave of exhaustion, thinking, Is this the hardship of raising a child? It makes me appreciate anew the great grace of my parents who taught me to be true and righteous...

"Seriously, what kind of person sleeps outdoors in the rain?"

"Me."

Now that she was dry and tucked snugly in bed, Seol Iri found her voice again.

"You could die doing that. Being cold and getting soaked are totally different things. Didn't you say you'd slept outdoors a lot?"

"It doesn't rain in the Northern Sea."

"But it snows, doesn't it? Do you sleep outdoors getting covered in snow there?"

"No."

"Then how could someone who knows better just stand there getting drenched?"

"Because it was rain, not snow."

She wouldn't yield an inch verbally.

Qing clicked her tongue and finally started drying herself off. Although she had worn the banggat, the rain was so fierce, and she had run around (uselessly), that only her head, shoulders, and back were relatively dry.

Seol Iri's gaze fixed on Qing's figure, then shifted to the towel Qing used, finally landing on Qing’s darkened arm, swollen to twice its size, where it remained pinned, watching endlessly.

Ignoring her, Qing felt mentally drained after the night's commotion, and a sense of relief washed over her, making sleep feel imminent. (Her body, however, felt perfectly fine.)

Having roughly dried herself, Qing slipped under the covers.

Then, Seol Iri spoke.

"Um."

"What?"

"I can't sleep if someone else is in the room."

"Then stay awake. You wouldn't have slept outside in the rain anyway, right? Isn't it better to be awake in a warm, comfortable bed without getting rained on?"

"..."

Seol Iri clamped her mouth shut, looking almost indignant.

Is she unexpectedly prideful?

Since there was no reply, Qing figured that was that. But then... why was her breathing so deep and rhythmic?

"Young Lady Seol?"

Silence answered, punctuated only by the sound of soft, even breathing.

Qing frowned deeply.

Seriously? Didn't she just say she couldn't sleep with someone else in the room? How can she fall asleep the moment she says something like that?

There's a saying: if you suspect something, you're usually right.

And indeed, Seol Iri had caught a cold.

"Seriously, how does a martial artist even catch a cold?"

"Ah'm nof," Seol Iri mumbled.

"Your nose is completely blocked," Qing pointed out. "You're sniffling right now."

"Nof sniffling," Seol Iri denied, wiping her nose with the corner of the blanket.

Qing sighed, "You're really something else..."

Martial artists can catch colds. It's remarkably difficult, but possible. For example, if one stands directly under a torrential downpour without using internal energy to protect their body, it's no different than a slightly healthier-than-average person getting soaked.

And so, Seol Iri had caught a head cold. A very bad one, at that.

"Were you not circulating your internal energy while getting rained on?"

"If was hoooot," she explained.

According to her, even during the summer in the Ice Palace, there were maybe ten days of bright sunshine. On such days, everyone would say, "Ah, it's cool today," and go outside to enjoy the sun.

Even the coldest day in the Central Plains was far warmer than that. The oppressive late June heat felt like a fiery hell or a boiling bath to Seol Iri. Thus, she had been diligently circulating her Ice Arts to maintain coolness. Her routine was to recover her energy by circulating Qi during the slightly cooler nights and continuously use Ice Arts during the day.

Qing asked incredulously, "You used up all your internal energy just to stay cool, leaving your dantian empty at night?"

"Yesh," Seol Iri confirmed. "Anf stop using infomal speech wif me."

"Ha," Qing scoffed. "Trying to draw lines with that nasal voice just sounds ridiculous, you know? Can you even pronounce things properly?"

Seol Iri glared fiercely at Qing.

Qing retorted, "Maybe wipe your nose before glaring? Honestly, you look hilarious right now, and I'm trying hard not to laugh."

Seol Iri clicked her tongue. "Tch."

"Anyway, I'll buy you a hearty breakfast, so eat up and go back. No, wait. I'll get you a room and cover your meals so you can rest properly for a day and get over the cold."

Martial artists catch colds, but they recover quickly. A simple head cold would vanish overnight with proper rest and Qi circulation.

"Don wor reh," Seol Iri mumbled.

She tried to enunciate clearly by speaking slowly, but that didn't magically clear her blocked nasal passages. It was a pathetic attempt.

"Seriously, what stubbornness. So you're still going to follow me? It's the rainy season now, it'll keep raining. You don't even have money or a change of clothes?"

"Yesh," Seol Iri replied stubbornly.

Stubbornness was one thing, but this was getting tiresome. Besides, there was a limit to being unprepared. Qing wasn't about to bestow infinite motherly mercy, nor did she have any reason to look after a woman who insisted on keeping her distance. If she were at least a little friendly, maybe, but other than being pretty and having cute mannerisms, there wasn't much else...

Hmm? If someone is pretty and acts cute, maybe it is worth the trouble to look after them? Isn't that what people usually call pets?

Qing shook off the stray thought.

Anyway, she's suffered a bad experience now, so she must understand how scary the rain can be.

"Hmph," Qing sniffed. "Fine, do whatever you want then. I'm leaving. Young Lady Seol can stay here."

"Waif," Seol Iri protested. "Fhat's unfai."

Seol Iri had no change of clothes. The rain had poured continuously and was still coming down coolly now, in the morning. There was no way her clothes could have dried in that time.

Startled, Seol Iri scrambled out of bed, grabbing her damp undergarments and hesitating. Meanwhile, Qing, the expert wanderer, had already changed into spare clothes and finished her preparations to leave.

"I'll leave the spare banggat," Qing said. "Use it or throw it away, suit yourself. Well then. See you later, or maybe not."

Qing waved casually over her shoulder and briskly headed out.

Let's see. What should I eat for breakfast? Since it's raining, I'm seriously craving pajeon...

Thankfully, being dropped into the ancient, primitive Central Plains instead of some Western world had the advantage that similar foods often existed. And there was indeed a dish similar to buchimgae (Korean savory pancakes): jeonbyeong.

Where Qing came from, jeonbyeong was like a kimchi dumpling with a buckwheat crepe wrapper, but the original jeonbyeong was actually a general term for any kind of thin batter, usually wheat flour, cooked on a griddle. It was also a common and popular breakfast item for people in the Central Plains.

Maybe I should grab a bottle of yellow wine too. Pajeon really needs some makgeolli (white rice wine) alongside it. A sweet one.

While Qing briefly pondered, the sound of a door sliding open was followed by hurried footsteps, and then a nasal sigh of relief, all in one sequence.

Seriously, she's actually following me.

What a leech, a clingy one at that.

Qing sighed deeply and turned around—

Perhaps because the Central Plains were hot, Seol Iri's attire was a single, thin robe that served as both a jeogori top and a skirt. It was made of a light, gauzy material. But the still-damp cloth clung tightly to her body, making the protrusions on her upper chest, one on each side, exceptionally prominent.

<Stay tuned for more at Celestial Pavilion>

Qing shrieked, utterly aghast, "Damn it, what the hell! In that state...! Get back inside right now!?"

(T/N: There are quite a few Korean food terms flying around here. I tried to weave enough context into the story itself so you don’t need to wade through seven footnotes...)