The Amusing Adventures of a Directionally Challenged Dad and Daughter

Seeing Silver Wolf's reaction, Chang'an knew the mask was a good one—definitely worth buying.

Then she bought a small rabbit mask for Old Gu Six.

The hairpins at the old woman’s stall nearby were exquisitely made—simple and elegant, without the excessive intricacy of those in the shops.

The shops did carry simpler hairpins, but even those were still too ornate, more suited for noble ladies or wealthy young women who valued propriety and appearances.

Besides, her space already had plenty of expensive jewelry, so there was no need to browse the shops.

The items at this old woman’s stall, however, struck Chang'an as perfect—ordinary yet far from cheap.

Even a simple wooden hairpin was carved with delicate patterns, crafted from fine sandalwood.

The old woman herself was neat and tidy, full of vitality, sitting gracefully behind her stall with poised and elegant movements.

Perhaps she had once been a woman of status.

Chang'an picked up a wooden hairpin, then compared it with a silver one before settling on the wooden one.

"Granny, how much for this hairpin?"

The old woman smiled. "It’s a gift."

"Huh?" She hadn’t bought anything yet.

"The man selling masks next to me is my husband. You bought two masks, so I’ll give you a hairpin. Or, if you buy two hairpins here, you can pick a mask from his stall."

The old man at the mask stall gave Chang'an a knowing nod. She understood—this was a clever bundle sale. The old woman was sharp.

She picked up another wooden hairpin, this one for men. Old Gu Six usually tied his hair with a cloth strip or just grabbed a random twig—crude, to say the least.

Getting him a proper hairpin was long overdue. Honestly, she’d prefer to just chop it all off, but that wouldn’t fit the times.

The old woman glanced at the men’s hairpin—made of rosewood. Chang'an had unknowingly picked a fine one.

She said, "I’ll give you the men’s one as a gift. For the women’s, you can pay me one tael of silver."

Chang'an didn’t ask further. Getting one for free was already a bargain—no need to question the reasoning.

Still, the old woman added as she took the silver, "Only things of value can truly please oneself. For men, the thought counts more than the price."

"Granny, this is for my father. A freebie might not be appropriate?" The old woman probably thought she was buying it for a sweetheart.

Chang'an pointed at Old Gu Six, who stood waiting for her not far away, holding the mule’s reins.

The ​​‌‌​‌‌​​​‌‌‌​​​​​‌‌​​‌​​​‌‌​‌​​​​‌‌​​​​​‌‌​​‌​‌​‌‌​​​‌​​​‌‌​​‌‌​​‌‌​​‌‌​​‌‌​​​​​‌‌​​​​‌​​‌‌​‌‌​​‌‌​​​‌‌​‌‌​​‌​‌​​‌‌​‌‌​​​‌‌​​​​​‌‌​​‌‌​​​‌‌​‌‌​​‌‌​​‌​‌​​‌‌​‌‌‌​​‌‌​‌‌​​‌‌​​‌​‌​‌‌​​‌‌​​‌‌​​‌​​‍old woman lazily glanced over—a somewhat scruffy man, handsome but a bit simple.

"It’s fine. This hairpin suits your father well," she said plainly, meaning exactly that.

After bidding the old woman farewell, Chang'an returned to the mule cart and handed the hairpin to Old Gu Six. "Father, this is for you."

Old Gu Six took it and examined it closely—a wooden hairpin carved with cloud patterns, exuding a faint woody fragrance, about eighteen centimeters long. Perfect for doubling as a weapon.

Then he carefully tucked it into his robe. "Thank you, daughter."

"Father, should we find an inn first before continuing to explore?"

"No need. Go enjoy yourself. I don’t mind."

Ahead, street performers drew a large crowd, spectators clapping and cheering at the exciting acts.

A child circled the audience with a copper tray, offering blessings in exchange for tips.

Chang'an wasn’t fond of such spectacles—especially ones that expected payment. Sure, it was voluntary, but once you stood there watching and they came asking, could you really refuse to give a coin or two? After all, they had performed for you.

Passing by a pastry shop, the aroma wafting into the street lured Old Gu Six straight inside.

He wanted to buy a lot, but the shop had a purchase limit.

Even after offering extra silver, they could only get three portions—normally, just one would’ve been allowed.

Chang'an marveled at the ancient merchants’ shrewdness—first the old couple’s bundle sales, now this pastry shop’s scarcity tactic.

Still, she didn’t find the pastries particularly special. They were smoother than the crumbly kind, but compared to the modern treats she’d enjoyed in her past life, they held little appeal.

Maybe it was because she hadn’t yet reached the upper echelons of this world’s society, leaving her ignorant of the heights its culinary arts could achieve.

In short, she was still a small fish in a big pond.

"Father, do you think these pastries are delicious?"

Old Gu Six shook his head, then nodded. "Not amazing, but not bad. Still better than the sweet potatoes you grew."

Chang'an: "..."

Well, if that was the comparison, she had nothing to say.

A rattan ball rolled to Old Gu Six’s feet. Without thinking, he kicked it—whoosh—sending it flying far away.

The child chasing the ball froze for a second, then burst into loud, dramatic tears.

Old Gu Six stiffly looked down at the little boy, who barely reached his knees, wailing up at him miserably.

The two of them, the wolf, and the mule just stood there, watching him cry—neither approaching nor leaving.

Finally, the boy grew embarrassed under their stares, wiped his tears and snot with his sleeve, and with a tiny clenched fist, feigned fierceness. "You’re bad!"

He turned to leave, but just then, a young man approached with the retrieved ball.

Kneeling before the boy, he scolded firmly, "Didn’t I say no playing with the ball on the street? This is a public space, not our home. Strangers aren’t obliged to indulge you."

The boy fidgeted, head bowed. "S-sorry, Papa… Little E was wrong."

The man handed the ball back but warned, "No next time, or I’ll take it away—even at home."

"Little E understands."

The man stood and apologized to Old Gu Six. "My deepest apologies for my son’s disturbance."

Old Gu Six blinked. He was the one who’d kicked the ball. "I should apologize to your son. I didn’t mean to—my foot moved before my brain caught up."

How to explain?

Eyes: It’s a ball.

Foot: Kick it.

Brain, belatedly: Wait—

Too late. Already airborne.

After parting ways with the father and son, the pair continued strolling through the streets, picking up various trinkets.

At a clay figurine stall, they had four wolf figurines made—gifts for Silver Wolf and his pack.

The street vendors were a motley crew, but the busiest was the scribe offering letter-writing services.

Next to him sat a fortune-teller, his banner proclaiming Iron-Mouthed Divine Oracle—likely a fraud.

Passing a tailor’s shop, they noticed it was crowded, mostly with noblewomen and their maids.

Old Gu Six decided they’d return later—it never crossed his mind to let Chang'an shop alone.

Chang'an couldn't be bothered to buy new clothes—she had no particular requirements for what she wore, as long as she wasn't running around naked.

When they were about fifty or sixty meters away from the inn, their mule cart was stopped by someone.

Chang'an looked up and recognized the person. Well, well—an acquaintance.