Shen Jin stared at the character “Heng” for a full ten seconds. Then she closed the card and drew a deep breath. “Where’s the gift?” she asked.
“In the outer hall,” Chun Tao replied. “The steward of the Marquis’s household brought it himself, saying it must be handed to you in person. The General has already sent word for you to hurry over.”
Shen Jin ground her teeth. Xiao Heng, Xiao Heng… are you afraid my life is too peaceful? She quickly washed and dressed, her mind racing over how to respond.
If she claimed, “I don’t know Xiao Heng,” that wouldn’t hold—her original self did know him, if only slightly. If she said, “We’re not close,” then why would he send an apology gift? What offense would he be apologizing for?
Her thoughts spun, and at last she decided—play dumb. Pretend to know nothing. After all, the original Shen Jin was a scatterbrained troublemaker; acting clueless fit the role.
When she and Chun Tao entered the main hall, Shen Chongyuan and Madam Zhou were already present.
In the center stood a middle-aged man in a blue robe, about forty, dignified and composed—clearly a steward of a great household.
Seeing Shen Jin, he bowed: “Greetings, Miss Shen. I am Chen, steward of Marquis Dingyuan. By order of the young lord, I bring these small gifts as an apology.”
“An apology?” Shen Chongyuan frowned. “Why should the Marquis’s heir apologize to Jinshu? What happened between them?”
Shen Jin’s heart gave a jolt. Here it comes.
Steward Chen smiled smoothly: “The other day, at the Crown Prince’s birthday banquet, Miss Shen drank a few cups too many and fainted in the rear garden. The heir feared it unsafe for her to return alone, so he arranged a guest room at the Marquis’s residence for her to rest overnight. Later he felt this was improper—since Miss Shen is unmarried, staying at the Marquis’s estate might invite gossip. Thus he sends these gifts today, hoping Miss Shen and the General will forgive him.”
Shen Jin nearly applauded. What a flawless explanation. It accounted for her overnight stay, shifted responsibility onto Xiao Heng—he was only concerned for her safety, and later regretted the impropriety. Every word was true, yet none revealed the truth.
Shen Chongyuan’s expression eased. “So that’s how it was.” He glanced at Shen Jin. “Why didn’t you say so earlier?”
Shen Jin lowered her head obediently: “I feared Father would worry, so I kept silent. Truly, I only slept off the wine—nothing happened.”
“As long as nothing happened.” Shen Chongyuan nodded, then turned to Steward Chen. “The heir’s kindness is appreciated, but these gifts are unnecessary. Jinshu lodging at the Marquis’s estate was our imposition; how could we accept compensation?”
Steward Chen replied warmly: “The General is too polite. The heir insists—if the gifts are refused, it would mean he failed in courtesy, and the Marquis’s household would seem remiss. Please, you must accept.” He clapped his hands.
Four servants entered, each bearing a redwood tray.
– On the first lay a set of gold hair ornaments, gleaming in the candlelight.
– On the second, a bolt of cloud brocade in rare moon-white, embroidered with silver lotus vines.
– On the third, a pair of fine white-jade bangles, smooth and precious.
– On the fourth, a sandalwood box neatly filled with four bottles of medicine.
“What is this?” Shen Chongyuan asked, puzzled.
Steward Chen explained: “The heir heard Miss Shen was unwell, so he asked Imperial Physician Wang to prepare four bottles of Nourishing Elixir for weakness and fatigue. The physician assures it is gentle and safe.”
Shen Jin’s gaze fixed on the bottles. Nourishing Elixir? Her eyes narrowed. Last night, Xiao Heng had her contraceptive medicine taken away. Today he sends ‘tonics’? What is this man playing at?
Madam Zhou spoke softly: “These are far too generous. We appreciate the heir’s thought, but such gifts—”
“Madam need not be modest,” Steward Chen interrupted. “The heir said Miss Shen is an honored guest. The Marquis’s estate failed in hospitality; if even the apology is refused, it would be an insult.”
The words carried weight.
Shen Chongyuan had no choice but to nod: “Very well. Please thank the heir for us.”
Steward Chen bowed, task complete, and departed with his men.
Shen Jin stared at the trays, her mind buzzing. One thing was now certain—Xiao Heng was watching her. Not casual interest, but surveillance. Otherwise, how would he know she was “unwell”? Only she, Chun Tao, and Doctor Li knew the exact diagnosis. Yet Xiao Heng knew even the detail of “fatigue.” Which meant—there was a spy in the General’s household. And that spy was close to her. Cold sweat prickled down her back.
Back in Jinse Pavilion, Shen Jin called Chun Tao over.
“Chun Tao, I have a question. You must answer honestly.”
Chun Tao, startled by her solemn tone, stammered: “Yes, Miss…”
“These past two days, have you noticed anyone hanging around near our courtyard?”
Chun Tao thought for a moment. “Hmm… not really.”
“Think again. Any unfamiliar servants, or someone who keeps passing by our gate?”
Chun Tao recalled carefully, then shook her head. “I didn’t pay attention. But… yesterday evening, when I went to the kitchen for supper, I did run into a sweeper boy who looked unfamiliar. I assumed he was new.”
“What did he look like?”
“Seventeen or eighteen, tall and thin, with a mole under his right eye.”
Shen Jin memorized the three details and nodded. “From now on, watch carefully when you go in and out. If you see him, tell me.”
“Yes, Miss,” Chun Tao agreed, then couldn’t help asking, “Has something happened?”
“No.” Shen Jin picked up the four bottles of Nourishing Elixir, uncorked one, and sniffed. The scent was faint, with a trace of sweetness. She had no intention of drinking it. Whatever Xiao Heng’s purpose in sending medicine, she would never casually swallow something given by a man in this era. What if it contained something else?
Even if the novel painted Xiao Heng as a “positive character,” that was in the book. Now that she was living inside it, who knew if the plot might veer off course?
“Chun Tao, put these away,” Shen Jin said, sealing the bottle. “Don’t throw them out, but don’t take them either.”
“Yes.”
Shen Jin lay down on her bed, staring at the canopy. She faced several problems:
1. Why was Xiao Heng watching her?
2. What did he want from her?
3. How could she escape this surveillance?
After much thought, she reached one conclusion—she couldn’t.
Xiao Heng was the heir of a marquisate, with resources and men at his command. Watching someone was easy. She, on the other hand, was a general’s daughter under house arrest, unable even to leave her courtyard. How could she fight back?
Since resistance was impossible— She’d keep “lying flat.”
Shen Jin rolled over and pulled the quilt over her head. Forget it. If the sky falls, taller people will hold it up. As long as she didn’t court death, she wouldn’t die. As for Xiao Heng… let him watch. She had nothing shameful to hide. Well, except for one thing. She wasn’t really Shen Jinshu. But that secret would never be discovered.
Marquis Dingyuan’s residence.
Steward Chen was reporting to Xiao Heng. “Miss Shen accepted the gifts, but her expression… was subtle.”
“Subtle?” Xiao Heng raised his eyelids.
“Yes. Not happy, not angry—more like… puzzled.”
Xiao Heng’s lips curved faintly. “Puzzled?”
“Exactly. She seemed unsure why you suddenly sent so many gifts.”
“And then?”
“She returned to her quarters. Our men report she stored the Nourishing Elixir away, but didn’t take it.”
Xiao Heng lifted his teacup and sipped slowly. Not taking it? Reasonable. If it were him, he wouldn’t swallow medicine from someone else either.
“Anything else?”
“Miss Shen suspects she’s being watched. She asked her maid Chun Tao if she’d seen any unfamiliar faces.”
Xiao Heng’s brows twitched slightly. What a sharp observation. Sharper than he expected.
“Tell the hidden posts to pull back for now. Don’t get too close.”
“Yes.”
After Steward Chen withdrew, Xiao Heng went to his desk, spread paper, and wrote four characters: “Nourishing Elixir – Do Not Take.”
He finished, then chuckled at himself. Whether she took it or not—what did it matter to him? Since when had he become so fussy?
He crumpled the paper and tossed it into the basket. Then picked it back up, smoothed it out, folded it, and tucked it into his sleeve. He couldn’t even explain why he kept it, just as he couldn’t explain why he’d sent those gifts.
By rights, his entanglement with Shen Jinshu should have ended—she said to treat it as if nothing had happened, and he agreed, so they should go their separate ways. But he couldn’t let go, not of that night— but of her.
The woman who said, “It was just a dream.”
The woman who wore her dudou inside out.
The woman who tied her sash backward.
The woman who said, “A rotten life needs no explanation.”
In twenty-two years, Xiao Heng had met countless noble daughters—gentle, dignified, spoiled, clever. But never one like her. She was like a gust of wind from another world, carrying a scent utterly unfamiliar to him.
And that wind had only brushed past him, then vanished without a trace.
He hadn’t even had time to catch it.
Xiao Heng stood at the window, gazing at the old locust tree in the courtyard. Moonlight filtered through the leaves, scattering mottled shadows across the ground. He suddenly recalled her words that morning: “Let’s treat it as a chance encounter, a fleeting bond. When dawn comes, we go our separate ways.”
He had agreed then. But now, he found himself regretting it.