month record rogue 5 2 1

The man in the field still does not answer, continuing to plow the field under the scorching light of the sun.

'What, does the girl you fancy want you to work her family's fields? You got an evil aunt and uncle forcing you to work here?'

As she speaks, the woman suddenly gives herself a slap on the head: 'I know! That mandarin who came by the other day might've had a nice smile, but he probably told you that if you didn't dig those furrows—no, you probably just couldn't stand how evil he was, so you cracked open his head, and now you're digging a hole for the corpse! What a great story, I should write it down and find some actors later—'

'Ridiculous.'

'So what are you actually doing, then?'

'I recently thought of a new way to forge iron that would save charcoal. I wasn't sure if the iron it made would be good, so I was testing it in this abandoned field. Looks to be more or less the same.'

'Tch, lame.'

The woman huffs in disappointment, but does not leave. A while later, she slaps her head again.

'So you're a blacksmith? How about trying my pickaxe then?'

The woman throws a piece of metal overflowing with light at the smith's feet. The doubtful smith presses the metal onto his pickaxe's handle, then gives it a swing before yelping in fear: 'What the devil is this?! How's it able to dig out even the stones?'

'So, what d'you think? It's light, so it's not so hard to swing, it won't go rusty for a long long time, and you can smash a mountain into gravel with it. Good pickaxe, yeah?'

Only after a long while does the smith spit out a 'Yeah' before returning it to the woman.

'Don't want it?'

'No.'

'Why not?'

'Because I'm a fool who can't make sense of this thing of yours.'

'Would a fool think up of a way to smith better?'

'My back hurts.'

'If you've got backache, why didn't you rest instead of coming here to play with furrows?'

'...It took me so much effort to think up of a better way to work iron, and before I could even give it a proper test, here you come with something much better. Pisses me off.'

The woman cannot help but laugh: 'That's it? Just too stubborn?'

'That's right, just too stubborn. Wait until I'm old and gray, then come find me.'

'Old and gray?' The woman furrows her brow for a moment before coming to a sudden realization. 'Look at you, you rough little smith you! Never saying what you mean, and always giving people a headache! You wanna improve your skills, so you want to have a little head-to-head with me, but you've got no confidence so you say some kinda nonsense about being 'old and gray' first, right? Just say you want to be self-reliant! I've seen lots of people like you all across Yan, but you're the most awkward of them all!'

The smith blushes and turns away from the woman, packing up his pickaxe before silently returning to work.

'How 'bout I treat you to a meal? I just learned a new recipe for Shangshu pepper and cornel hotpot, and hell, forget you, not even that mandarin from a few days ago has tried it!'

The woman conjures up a cauldron, some beastmeat, peppercorns, and bright-red oil of cornel. Before long, a tantalizing smell wafts through the air.

'Which manor did you sneak out of, miss?'

'What does it matter? I'm asking you, you wanna eat or not?'

Only after a few mouthfuls slick with hot oil and a few goblets of unfiltered wine is the smith finally ready to heft his pickaxe. Once he fades away into the distance, the woman suddenly gives herself a third slap on the head:

'Crap, it's always been others begging me for help, but today I'm the one having to beg and help someone else?!'