The flower banquet was over.
As Shen Jin stepped out of the gates of Marquis Yongning’s residence, the setting sun spilled across the eaves, painting the entire street in gold. The carriage was already waiting at the entrance. Bi Tao, Madam Zhou’s maid, lifted the curtain. Inside sat Madam Zhou, her expression restored to its usual gentle composure.
Shen Mingzhu climbed in first, Shen Jin followed. Just before boarding, she glanced back—Xiao Heng was standing under the veranda, speaking with Su Qingyin. Su Qingyin smiled, nodded, and cast Shen Jin a look that clearly said: *Don’t worry, everything is arranged.*
Xiao Heng’s gaze met hers as well. He didn’t approach; he only gave a slight nod. Shen Jin withdrew her gaze and entered the carriage.
The curtain fell, shutting out the world. Inside, silence reigned. Madam Zhou leaned back with her eyes closed, as if resting. Shen Mingzhu sat beside Shen Jin, head lowered, nervously twisting her handkerchief.
None of them spoke.
The wheels rumbled over the stone-paved road, each crunch of the carriage echoing in the stillness.
“Jinshu,” Madam Zhou suddenly opened her eyes, her voice warm, “the flute you played at the banquet today was lovely. When did you learn?”
Shen Jin looked at her and smiled. “Recently.”
“With whom did you study?”
“I taught myself.”
Madam Zhou’s smile did not waver. “To play so well self-taught—Jinshu, you are truly clever.”
“Thank you for the praise, Madam.”
Madam Zhou closed her eyes again. Shen Jin did the same.
Though less than three feet separated them, Shen Jin felt the distance was wider than a thousand miles.
Back at the General’s Manor, Shen Jin had barely entered Jinse Pavilion when Chun Tao brought out the bowl of bird’s nest porridge from the food box. It was completely cold now, a thin film congealed on the surface, making it look unpleasant. “Miss, what should we do with this porridge?”
Shen Jin studied it for a moment. “Divide it into two portions.”
“Two?”
“One to be tested by a physician. The other, keep it. It may be useful later.”
Though Chun Tao didn’t understand why one portion should be saved, she obeyed. Half was sealed in oiled paper and stored in the cabinet. The other half she placed in a clean porcelain vial, corked tight.
“Tomorrow morning, take it to Doctor Li. Have him examine what was added to this porridge. But let no one else know.”
“Yes, Miss.” Chun Tao hid the vial away and went to fetch water for Shen Jin’s wash.
Shen Jin sat by the window, replaying the day’s events in her mind. The zither strings had snapped. The flute had saved the performance. The bird’s nest porridge had been tampered with, but she hadn’t drunk it. A trap had been set by the rockery, yet she had pushed Lin Wanqing into it instead.
Madam Zhou had lost two rounds today, but she would not let it rest. A loser has two choices: withdraw—or strike harder. Which kind was Madam Zhou?
Shen Jin recalled the look Madam Zhou had given her earlier. It wasn’t anger, nor resentment—it was caution. The kind of wariness a hunter shows when the prey suddenly turns into the predator. From today onward, Madam Zhou would no longer treat her as a fool. That meant the battles ahead would only grow more difficult.
Shen Jin drew a deep breath, rose, and walked to the bed. Yuanbao was already curled up asleep, snoring softly, his belly rising and falling. She lay down, scooped him into her arms. “Yuanbao,” she murmured, “your master helped me a great deal today. How should I thank him?”
Disturbed, Yuanbao gave a disgruntled meow, wriggled free, and padded off to the corner of the bed to continue sleeping.
Shen Jin watched his round little back and laughed. “You and your master are alike—neither of you plays by the rules.”
The next morning, Chun Tao went to find Doctor Li.
Doctor Li lived in a small courtyard behind the General’s Manor, hired to serve as the resident physician. He had treated Shen Jin before and knew her temperament, so when Chun Tao arrived, he asked no questions. He simply took the porcelain vial and went into his inner chamber. About half an hour later, he emerged, his face grave.
“Miss Chun Tao, where did this porridge come from?”
Following Shen Jin’s instructions, Chun Tao replied, “It was bird’s nest porridge from the kitchen. My lady felt unwell after drinking it, so she asked me to have it tested.”
Doctor Li was silent for a moment, then lowered his voice. “Something was added. Safflower.”
Chun Tao’s mind buzzed. Safflower. A blood‑invigorating herb. For pregnant women, it causes miscarriage. For ordinary people, it may not be fatal, but if taken during certain times, it can trigger severe hemorrhage. Her lady had not yet married. If she had consumed it, the consequences would have been disastrous.
“Doctor Li, are you certain?”
“Certain. I’ve practiced for thirty years. The scent of safflower—I can recognize it instantly.” He handed the vial back. “Tell your lady never to drink this. And…warn her to be cautious of those around her.”
Chun Tao nodded, hid the vial, and hurried back to Jinse Pavilion.
Shen Jin was sitting in the courtyard, basking in the sun, Yuanbao sprawled across her lap. When she saw Chun Tao return pale‑faced, she did not panic. She simply set Yuanbao down and stood up.
“Come inside.”
Once the door was shut, Chun Tao repeated Doctor Li’s words exactly as he had said them.
Shen Jin listened in silence for a long time. Safflower? Madam Zhou had put safflower in the porridge.
Shen Jin’s hand slowly moved to her lower abdomen. Suddenly she remembered—her monthly cycle seemed delayed. Since crossing over into this world, nearly a month had passed, and her period had never come. At first she thought it was just the disruption of transmigration, a bodily imbalance, and hadn’t paid much attention. But what if—it wasn’t imbalance? Her face went pale.
“Miss? Miss, what’s wrong?” Chun Tao was alarmed.
“I’m fine.” Shen Jin drew a deep breath. “Chun Tao, go back to Doctor Li.”
“Again?”
“Yes. Ask him—if there’s a way to test for pregnancy without pulse‑taking, some other method.”
Chun Tao froze, then her cheeks flushed crimson. “Miss, you—you couldn’t possibly—”
“Don’t ask. Just go.”
Chun Tao swallowed her words and ran off.
Shen Jin sat on the bed, hand pressed to her belly, her mind in chaos.
Pregnant? Impossible. It was only once. Only once! Could Xiao Heng’s… be that strong? One time and it worked? No, no—nothing was certain yet. A late period could come from many causes: stress, irregular routines, poor health. And she had been under enormous stress lately—transmigration, Madam Zhou, the flower banquet—each had drained her completely. So it might not be pregnancy.
Might not. She repeated this reassurance to herself ten times, but still she couldn’t sit still. She rose and paced the room.
Yuanbao crouched at the doorway, tilting his head, puzzled.
“What are you staring at?” Shen Jin glared at him. “It’s all your master’s fault.”
Yuanbao mewed innocently.
Chun Tao returned, paler than before. “Miss,” her voice trembled, “Doctor Li said there is a way. Use morning urine, mix in a special solution—if the color changes, it means pregnancy.”
“The solution?”
“Doctor Li gave it.” Chun Tao pulled a small porcelain vial from her sleeve. “He said he made it himself. There isn’t much—only enough for one test.”
Shen Jin took the vial, her hand shaking slightly. “Tomorrow morning,” she said, “we’ll test.”
That night, Shen Jin barely slept. She tossed and turned, her mind filled with just two words: *pregnant*. If she truly was—what then? The child would be Xiao Heng’s. Would he acknowledge it? He should. He fought over her cooking, doted on her cat, even intervened when she was followed—surely he would.
But after he acknowledged it… then what? Marriage? Marrying Xiao Heng?
At the thought, Shen Jin’s heartbeat pounded like a drum. It wasn’t that she had never considered the possibility of being with him. From the very first day she crossed into this world, she knew—Xiao Heng was the best man in this book. Handsome, well‑born, capable. Toward her—at first only curious, but later truly helpful. He helped her shake off pursuers, investigate Madam Zhou, and even maneuver at the flower banquet.
Every time she needed support, he was there. Even things she hadn’t thought of, he had already planned for her. A man like this—if he were modern—she would have leaped into his arms long ago. But this was in ancient times. Marriage wasn’t just between two people; it was between two families. As the daughter of a general’s household, marrying the heir of Marquis Dingyuan was a proper match. No problem there. The problem was—she didn’t want to marry. Not that she didn’t want to marry Xiao Heng, but she didn’t want marriage itself.
Marriage meant tending husband and raising children, serving in‑laws, managing household affairs, endless social obligations. She would have no time left for herself. Opening a restaurant, experimenting with new dishes, traveling the world—all the things she longed to do would be dismissed as “neglecting her duties.” In this era, women had no concept of “career.”
Their lives were divided into three stages: obeying father at home, obeying husband after marriage, and obeying son after widowhood.
Shen Jin did not want that life. But if she was pregnant, she would have no choice. Here, premarital pregnancy was a capital crime. Even as the general’s daughter, even if the child’s father was the marquis’s heir, it would still be a scandal beyond measure. Then she would either marry Xiao Heng—or die.
At that thought, Shen Jin pulled the quilt over her head and muttered, muffled, “Xiao Heng, you’ve ruined me.”
Before dawn the next day, Shen Jin rose.
Chun Tao was already up, holding a clean porcelain bowl at the bedside.
“Miss, it’s ready.”
Shen Jin drew a deep breath, took the bowl, and went to the privy. When she returned, Chun Tao poured Doctor Li’s solution into the bowl. Both of them stared at the liquid.
One moment.
Two.
Three.
The color changed.
From pale yellow to a faint pink.
Shen Jin’s heart sank to the bottom.
Chun Tao’s tears spilled instantly. “Miss…”
Shen Jin gazed at the pink liquid for a long time. Then she set the bowl down, inhaled deeply—and smiled. “It’s fine,” she said. “Why cry? It’s just a pregnancy.”
“Miss, how can you say it so lightly? You haven’t even married yet—if anyone finds out—”
“Then don’t let anyone find out.”
Chun Tao wiped her tears. “But your belly will grow.”
Shen Jin lowered her head, looking at her flat stomach. For now, nothing showed. But in a few months, it would. She needed time.
Time to think of a way.
Time to make a decision.
“Chun Tao,” Shen Jin said, “this matter stays between us. No one else must know.”
“I understand.”
“And Doctor Li—”
“Doctor Li won’t speak. I gave him silver, he promised to keep it secret.”
Shen Jin nodded. Chun Tao might be simple at times, but when it mattered, she was reliable.
“Miss,” Chun Tao asked carefully, “what do you plan to do?”
Shen Jin leaned against the bed, hand resting on her belly. “Think first.”
It wasn’t that she hadn’t thought—it was that she hadn’t decided. Marrying Xiao Heng was the simplest solution. But also the one she resented most. She didn’t want to marry just because she was pregnant. She wanted to marry because she loved. And though she did like Xiao Heng—it was the kind of liking that thought *he’s a good man*, not the kind that said *I want to spend my life with him*.
After a long silence, Shen Jin finally spoke words that left Chun Tao stunned. “Don’t tell him yet.”
Chun Tao’s eyes widened. “Not tell Young Master Xiao? Why?”
“Because I need to be sure of one thing.”
“What thing?”
“That if I marry him, it’s not because of the child—it’s because I truly want to.”
Chun Tao opened her mouth, then closed it again when she saw Shen Jin’s expression. Her lady wasn’t being petulant or stubborn—she was serious. She had thought long before making this decision. And if she decided, she must have her reasons.
“Then… Miss, what will you do next?”
Shen Jin thought. “Keep steady. Do what I should do. Don’t let Madam Zhou suspect.”
“But your body…”
“It’s only about a month. Nothing shows yet. There’s still time.” Shen Jin rose and walked to the window. “Chun Tao, from today, you’ll handle the kitchen matters. The smoke and grease—I can’t be around it too long.”
Chun Tao nodded. “Yes, Miss.”
Shen Jin gazed out at the courtyard. The locust tree leaves were greener, sparkling under the sunlight. Yuanbao chased butterflies, delighted.
Everything looked the same as yesterday. But everything was different. Inside her was a tiny life—Xiao Heng’s child.
Shen Jin placed her hand gently on her belly, as if afraid to disturb it. “Little one,” she whispered, “you’ve come at the worst time.”
At Marquis Dingyuan’s estate, Xiao Heng did not go to Tianshui Lane for a meal today. Not that he didn’t want to, but court business kept him. The Crown Prince had summoned him to discuss affairs, and the meeting lasted all morning. By the time he returned, it was already past noon.
“Steward Chen, what did Miss Shen do today?”
Steward Chen handed over the report. “She did not go out. Spent the morning sunning herself in the courtyard, then stayed indoors all afternoon.”
“Stayed indoors?” Xiao Heng frowned. “Is she unwell?”
“I don’t know. The watchers reported no complaints of illness, but she was unusually quiet all day. Quieter than usual.”
Xiao Heng tapped his fingers against the table. Quiet? When she was quiet, it usually meant she was thinking. Thinking about what? The flower banquet was over; Madam Zhou’s schemes had been foiled—she should be pleased. So why was she so quiet?
“Keep watching. Any anomaly, report at once.”
“Yes, sir.”
Xiao Heng leaned back in his chair, eyes closed. He recalled her at the banquet yesterday, sitting beside him, sipping tea. When nervous, she always drank tea. But yesterday, she wasn’t just drinking—she was thinking. Thinking about what?
Xiao Heng opened his eyes, staring at the ceiling. Shen Jinshu, what exactly are you thinking?