AUBTN -Chapter 354 Not an Eastern Islander

Su Hewan’s expression sharpened. Without hesitation, she pulled Yu Qing back to a nearby tea stall draped with cloth curtains.

Using the stall’s wooden pillars and the crowd as cover, they found an excellent vantage point and sat down.

“Boss, two pots of tea.” Su Hewan casually tossed over a piece of broken silver, her gaze fixed firmly on Xiang Du.

“Don’t panic. Let’s first see what he’s trying to do.”

Her tone was steady and composed.

Time passed second by second.

Within the span of an incense stick, Xiang Du did not speak to anyone, nor did he look around. He didn’t even lift his head. He truly looked like a starving scholar who had only come out to eat a bowl of noodles.

“Did we get it wrong? Is he really just a bookworm who got hungry from reading?” Yu Qing frowned, chewing on a lamb skewer.

“No.” Su Hewan suddenly leaned forward slightly. “Look at his hands.”

Hearing this, Yu Qing immediately widened her eyes and stared at Xiang Du’s right hand holding the chopsticks.

“The chopsticks… what about them? Isn’t that just a normal way to hold them?”

“That’s not how a scholar holds chopsticks,” Su Hewan said coldly, her voice like ice.

“Eastern Island people are particular about etiquette. When they hold chopsticks, their fingers are like orchids, wrists suspended, movements light and gentle. But look carefully at Xiang Du’s hand.”

Yu Qing narrowed her eyes.

His wrist was completely rigid. When he picked up noodles, his entire forearm was engaged, and his elbow unconsciously flared outward.

“This posture… why is it so stiff?”

“Because that’s a knife-holding stance.”

Su Hewan stated sharply, “And not a normal single-handed sword either. It’s the wide, heavy style of a two-handed long blade! Only someone who has trained in heavy slashing for years, forming deep muscle memory in their tiger’s mouth and forearms, would unconsciously use a blade-gripping motion even when eating!”

Yu Qing shivered all over. The lamb skewer in her mouth suddenly didn’t taste good anymore.

At that moment, the noodle stall owner’s wife walked over loudly.

“Sir, would you like some old vinegar added to your noodle soup?”

Xiang Du nodded slightly, his voice low. “Much obliged. Add more.”

The woman handed him a large black ceramic vinegar pot.

What happened next made both Su Hewan and Yu Qing freeze.

Xiang Du took the vinegar pot, tilted his wrist, and poured the dark brown liquid into his bowl like a waterfall.

He poured in at least half the pot.

The originally clear bone broth instantly turned into a thick, murky dark brown. A pungent sour aroma drifted on the cold wind, reaching the tea stall more than ten steps away.

After finishing, Xiang Du remained expressionless. He picked up the bowl—now practically “vinegar-soaked noodles”—and began eating large mouthfuls. He even seemed to be sweating slightly, showing a look of long-lost satisfaction.

Cough cough…

Yu Qing choked on the sour smell, coughing violently, her face full of disbelief.

“Is he crazy? Is that even food? Won’t his teeth fall out from the acidity?”

“Didn’t Eastern Islanders prefer sushi and raw fish? Light, almost ascetic tastes? When did they start eating so intensely sour food? This feels more like someone from Shanxi in our modern world!”

Her remark suddenly jolted Su Hewan.

“Shanxi… locals…”

Su Hewan’s pupils contracted sharply. She tightened her grip on her teacup until her knuckles turned white.

A bold hypothesis surged into her mind.

“Qingqing, do you remember what the Great Wei Geography Records said about Eastern Island cuisine?”

Her voice trembled slightly.

“Ah?” Yu Qing paused and quickly recalled.

“It said… living by the sea, eating mostly seafood, light flavors, very little sourness or spice?”

“Exactly!” Su Hewan cut her off decisively.

“The Eastern Islands are surrounded by sea. Salt is easy to produce, but they lack the crops and climate needed for brewing strong vinegar. A native Eastern Islander would never prefer consuming large amounts of aged vinegar!”

She stared at Xiang Du’s back as he drank the sour broth in large gulps, enunciating each word:

“Dietary habits are the hardest physical memory to disguise. Among all the surrounding nations of Great Wei, only nomadic tribes living in extremely cold regions—who rely heavily on gamey meat—would need large amounts of strong aged vinegar to ward off cold and aid digestion!”

Yu Qing took a sharp breath, the chestnuts in her hand slipping and falling onto the table with a thud.

“You mean…” she widened her eyes, her voice trembling like a sieve, “he’s not from the Eastern Isles?”

Su Hewan suddenly stood up, grabbed Yu Qing’s wrist, and turned to head straight toward the Yu Garden.

Her steps were extremely fast—each one steady and decisive—as she frantically connected all the clues in her mind:

The Northern Barbarian second prince who acted arrogantly at the Longevity Festival but was defeated by Lu Yan in just three moves.

Xiang Du, the Eastern Isles envoy who presented the “Thousand Mechanism Box,” appearing refined on the surface but whose hands were covered in calluses.

And the urgent report from the Western Regions stating with certainty that “foreign envoys are plotting regicide”…

“Not from the Eastern Isles…” Su Hewan lowered her voice, her tone carrying a bone-chilling coldness and a startling clarity.

“Qingqing, we’ve all been deceived. Shen Jue and Lu Yan have both been deceived!”

“That Northern Barbarian second prince who provoked everyone in the Tahe Hall was just a decoy to draw all the fire! The real killing move has been hidden in the most inconspicuous corner all along.”

Su Hewan turned her head and looked at the horrified Yu Qing.

She delivered a conclusion so unsettling it made one’s scalp tingle:

“This Xiang Du… he’s not an Eastern Isles warrior at all. He’s a Northern Barbarian disguised as an Eastern Isles scholar!”

Yu Garden.

Inside the study, sandalwood incense curled in the air.

Shen Jue leaned lazily in a purple sandalwood armchair, idly toying with a white jade thumb ring.

He looked at Su Hewan, who had rushed in breathlessly, with a faint, half-smiling expression.

“Running so fast—got a ghost chasing you?”

His voice was low, slightly hoarse with laziness.

Su Hewan couldn’t even catch her breath, pressing one hand against the edge of the desk.

“Shen Jue! Xiang Du is suspicious! He’s not from the Eastern Isles—I suspect he’s from the Northern Barbarians!”

Shen Jue’s fingers, which were playing with the ring, paused almost imperceptibly.

He lifted his gaze, a sharp glint flashing in his eyes.

“Explain.”

Su Hewan swallowed hard and recounted everything she had seen at the East Market noodle stall, along with her deductions, without leaving anything out.

Shen Jue’s eyes turned cold in an instant.

“What a clever act of shedding one skin for another.”

He let out a cold laugh and slowly stood up.

“If he likes wearing a mask so much and putting on a performance, then I’ll give him a stage—and let him perform properly!”

“What are you going to do?” Su Hewan’s eyes lit up.

Shen Jue looked at her and smiled.

“What the Northern Barbarian dogs can’t stand the most, aside from the schemes of the Central Plains, is the taste of their own homeland.”

The next day, side hall of the Golden Luan Palace.

A seemingly casual small imperial banquet quietly unfolded.

The young emperor sat at the top, his gaze appearing naïve, yet already faintly edged with sharpness.

On the left sat Lu Yan, his Embroidered Spring Blade at his waist, face cold.

On the right, Shen Jue sat in a round chair, relaxed in posture.

“Envoy Xiang Du,”

The young emperor’s voice rang out—childlike, yet carrying authority.

“Have you been getting used to living in the Great Wei these past few days?”