Chapter 3

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Scholar Huang recited a few lines, then whispered with Shopkeeper Hua. Both shared a knowing laugh, and after about the time it took for half an incense stick to burn, they left with smiles on their faces.

Huang Shiyu had been sitting nearby the entire time, eyes lowered, gazing intently at the teacup before her, where tender green leaves floated in the water.

In the blink of an eye, the next day arrived.

In the backyard of the Huang family shop, the crabapple blossoms had fallen, piling like a fragrant snowdrift upon the ground.

The little maidservant attending Huang Shiyu as she rode the donkey bustled about, clumsy yet earnest in expression.

Her name was Liu’er, not yet eleven years old, seemingly a bit slow-witted but honest and loyal.

Because she was weak, unattractive, and not very bright, the local pawnshop figured raising her to sell would likely result in a loss, so they half-sold, half-gave her to Madam Huang.

Madam Huang then passed Liu’er onto Huang Shiyu as compensation for taking away Amber, leaving Scholar Huang speechless.

Trading a useless little maid for a personal handmaid—Madam Huang was indeed a shrewd woman.

Huang Shiyu, however, uttered no complaints.

Whenever Amber sneaked back from the main house to care for her, she would bear fresh whip marks. Seeing her good maid beaten into such a sorry state, she forbid Amber from returning.

The cane lashes from Madam Huang hurt terribly, and Huang Shiyu, having endured them many times herself, felt deeply sorry for Amber.

Without a maid, Huang Shiyu could still take care of herself.

The journey home was nearly twenty li, and riding the donkey took at least an hour and a half. Along the way, she enjoyed the splendor of spring—rhododendrons blooming across the hillsides—and felt quite content.

Jian Xun’s carriage waited at a grassy pavilion one li away. Fusheng sat at the rear, and upon spotting Huang Shiyu, waved vigorously, calling, “Second Miss Huang, this way, this way!”

Huang Shiyu’s eyes curved into a smile as she urged the donkey forward to greet them, assuming they were traveling the same route and following the carriage behind to watch out for each other. Unexpectedly, Fusheng hurried over, tied the donkey to the carriage pole, and set out a stool, urging her to get in.

“Second Miss, please. When we near Longquankou, you can get off. We’ll return one after the other, keeping some distance to avoid gossip,” Fusheng said brightly.

Jian Xun lifted the curtain, adding, “Don’t tell anyone about this, understand?”

Huang Shiyu obediently nodded and climbed into the carriage as instructed.

Jian Xun had roughly figured out what kind of person Huang Shiyu was: a little slow.

Though they were neighbors and not strangers, it was strange that she accepted a ride without a hint of suspicion after only a few words...

But this was for the best, avoiding wasted words and lost time.

The carriage interior was as neat and pleasantly scented as his own retinue’s quarters. Jian Xun sat by the east window, holding a book.

At fifteen, she had reached the age of modesty. Sitting on another’s territory, Huang Shiyu dared not act recklessly, instead sitting properly without meeting Jian Xun’s gaze.

“No one ever taught you that girls shouldn’t go out alone?” Jian Xun asked calmly.

“My mother said I’m ugly, so it’s safer...” Huang Shiyu hesitated.

That was true—Madam Huang’s words were meant to ridicule her.

But Madam Huang was wrong. Huang Shiyu was not only not ugly, she was quite beautiful.

Her father, Scholar Huang, somewhat homely, and his first wife had a plain-looking eldest daughter. Yet with the second daughter, Huang Shiyu, something changed drastically.

Each of her features was unremarkable on its own, but set against her lotus-like cheeks, they became extraordinarily captivating, a subtle radiance shining through.

Especially those beautiful, delicate double-folded eyes—perfectly shaped, neither too large nor small, sharply contrasting black and white.

Madam Huang mocked her ugliness only because Huang Shiyu was growing increasingly extraordinary.

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Girls who were excessively beautiful, unless of noble birth, were rarely seen as proper young ladies.

In Madam Huang’s eyes, Huang Shiyu was a filthy little fox spirit—both enviable and detestable—which is why she often mocked her.

Madam Huang had cast the little fox spirit out to fend for herself three years ago, yet Huang Shiyu was still living well, with no mishaps.

Meanwhile, Jian Xun was somewhat surprised by Huang Shiyu’s stepmother’s claim equating ugliness with safety. He pondered, “Even if you’re ugly, you’re still a girl. It’s inconvenient to travel alone. Besides, do you think you’re ugly?”

Huang Shiyu shook her head. “I think I’m quite pretty.”

Jian Xun paused, then looked away. “Why don’t you bring Amber along?”

As a neighbor, he was merely offering her a ride this time, or maybe a few more times—he wouldn’t always be nearby.

Huang Shiyu lightly replied, “Amber has her own duties. My father will soon buy me a senior maid.”

Jian Xun nodded slightly.

Every family had their own troubles; he understood, but there was nothing to be done.

She was not foolish, nor would she accept rides from just anyone.

She simply trusted him naturally.

At Longquankou, before stepping down, Huang Shiyu produced a small trinket from her sleeve and lightly placed it in his hand, leaving before he could fully see it.

It was another Shaoxi ceramic tumbler doll—this time a little rabbit figure.

She knew Jian Xun liked it.

Jian Xun opened the window. “Thanks.”

“No, I should be the one thanking you,” Huang Shiyu smiled brightly.

Jian Xun’s lips curved, and as the carriage sped away, he leaned out the window once more to look at the lovely Huang Shiyu. “I leave the academy early on the twenty-fourth. Shall we go together?”

“Sure! I’ll wait for you here,” Huang Shiyu quickly agreed.

Walking alone was hardly enjoyable; she was delighted Jian Xun offered to accompany her.

“All right,” Jian Xun said.

The carriage sped off swiftly, disappearing in the distance. Huang Shiyu’s little donkey was exhausted and refused to run any further, plaintively heading home.

Eventually, she barely made it back inside.

At this hour, lunch had surely not been served yet, but Madam Huang busied herself picking through the snacks Huang Shiyu brought back, handed two pieces to the maid, chatted happily, and left without instructing the servants to cook some hot dishes.

Huang Shiyu was used to this. Washing her face, she went to the kitchen to find food.

The cook smiled warmly, bringing out two hot dishes. “Master said you were coming home today. I figured you’d miss lunch, so I secretly cooked these for you, still warm.”

“They’re all my favorites,” Huang Shiyu said sweetly. “Thank you, Granny.”

Granny had once been favored by the late Madam Huang and had watched Huang Shiyu grow up. Though she dared not openly defy Madam Huang, she often took care of Huang Shiyu in secret, sparing her from hunger and cold.

Huang Shiyu sat at the small table by the kitchen window, nibbling to fill her stomach.

Meanwhile, Jian Xun, attended by maidservants and footmen, had already bathed, changed into casual clothes, and gone to pay respects to his mother.

Jian Xun’s birth mother, Mrs. Cheng, was only thirty-three but appeared no older than twenty-six or twenty-seven. She was ethereally beautiful, usually dressed in simple linen, with delicately arched brows shadowed like faint smoke.

Though she looked frail, she was skilled in music, chess, calligraphy, and painting—a woman of considerable talent and renown. Suitors flocked to her, but she returned to the old family estate in Zehe to avoid the turmoil of the capital.

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The senior maid Xin Yi had long waited outside Qingyuan Gate, smiling as Jian Xun approached in measured steps. She bowed and said, “Young master, madam is still receiving guests in the east wing. Please dine with me first in the west annex.”

“Thank you, Sister Xin Yi,” Jian Xun nodded.

Xin Yi was Madam Jian’s chief personal maid, a woman of great dignity whom even Jian Xun respected.

With a smile, Xin Yi led the way into the west annex, where the kang table was neatly set with cups, bowls, plates, and chopsticks. Two maids stood ready to serve.

More than a dozen of the Jian family’s home-cooked dishes—all Jian Xun’s favorites—were laid out, with several stews and desserts yet to be brought in.

Before the meal, Jian Xun asked, “Is the visitor from the capital?”

Xin Yi whispered, “She is the young madam from the Duke of Anguo’s household.”

The Duke of Anguo’s estate was the foremost aristocratic family of their era, the main branch of the Jian clan. The “young madam” Xin Yi mentioned was Jian Xun’s cousin’s wife, Jian Xinlan, the Duke’s youngest legitimate daughter.

Jian Xinlan’s husband, Minister Song, and Jian Xun’s father were fellow successful candidates of the imperial examinations and close friends. Their families were intimately connected.

Years ago, Minister Song had even carried six-year-old Jian Xun through his garden gate to choose a cousin as a future bride.

A child that young didn’t know better, and somehow he picked Song’s cherished daughter, Song Yuan.

The two families understood this tacitly, laughing heartily and exchanging their children’s birth records on the spot.

Minister Song teasingly said, “Such a sharp little one, he took my precious jewel.”

This betrothal, known only to the two families, faded into silence after Jian Xun’s father passed away.

No one expected to see Song Yuan again, yet now Jian Xinlan had brought her to Zehe to visit her mother.

In the east wing, Jian Xinlan held Mrs. Cheng’s hand, wiping tears from her eyes. “Dear sister, since you moved to Zehe, we hardly see each other. I should have visited sooner. Sister Yuan’s grandmother suddenly fell ill and passed away, and the household was in turmoil. I hope you don’t blame me.”

Mrs. Cheng squeezed Jian Xinlan’s hand gently. “How could I? We all have families to care for. It’s not easy managing a household.”

Hearing this, Jian Xinlan’s expression softened. “It’s not just me who’s been thinking of you. Yesterday, upon hearing I was coming, Mother specially sent for wild ginseng and bird’s nest. You’re too thin—you must nourish yourself more.”

Jian Xinlan’s mother was, of course, the Dowager Lady of the Duke of Anguo’s household.

While the adults spoke, Song Yuan quietly sat at the head of the room, graceful and poised, her dark eyes bright, occasionally smiling softly.

Though two months younger than Jian Xun, she had already blossomed into a slender, elegant beauty with an ethereal charm—a future peerless beauty destined to captivate all.

Mrs. Cheng understood Song Yuan’s exceptional looks and the intentions behind the Song family’s visit. Unable to let go of Jian Xun’s remarkable talents nor the capital’s aristocracy, she remained indecisive.

Their visit to Zehe was to maintain ties.

Bringing Song Yuan along, so striking and betrothed, would surely test the young Jian Xun’s resolve.

Xin Yi entered with a smile to announce: “Young master has arrived.”

Song Yuan blushed and tried to look away, but her mother pressed her gently, “What is there to fear from your own brother? Within our family, there is no need for such formalities.”

Mrs. Cheng furrowed her brow slightly. Though Xin Yi had likely been instructed beforehand, seeing it in person was another matter.

Instinctively, she did not want her son to be ensnared by this temptress but dared not offend Jian Xinlan.

Fortunately, Jian Xun was admirable. Knowing his cousin was present, he kept his gaze steady and respectfully greeted the elders.

The Song family mother and daughter, however, were taken aback upon first seeing Jian Xun.