On the third day of confinement, Shen Jin was startled awake by a commotion. It wasn’t Chun Tao’s voice this time but an argument outside the courtyard.
“Let me in! I’m here to bring something to my sister!”
“Second Miss, the Eldest Miss hasn’t risen yet. Please come back later.”
“How can she still be asleep at this hour? Is Sister unwell again? Then I must go in and check!”
Shen Jin rolled her eyes. Was Shen Mingzhu treating her place like a marketplace, dropping by every morning without fail?
“Chun Tao!” she called out.
The maid hurried in. “Miss, you’re awake?”
“What’s going on outside?”
“Second Miss brought osmanthus cakes she made herself. I said you hadn’t risen, but she insists on coming in.”
Shen Jin rubbed her temples. This younger half-sister really had too much time on her hands.
“Let her in,” Shen Jin said, sitting up against the bedframe. “I’m awake anyway.”
Shen Mingzhu entered, carrying a food box, her face lit with a sweet smile. “Sister, I made osmanthus cakes early this morning, just for you.”
Shen Jin glanced at the box, then at her sister. “You made them yourself?”
“Yes! I learned from Madam Wang in the kitchen. It took three tries to get them right.”
Inside lay six cakes, unevenly shaped, some edges a little burnt. The presentation was rough, but clearly handmade. Not her stepmother’s scheme—this was Shen Mingzhu’s own idea. Interesting.
“Thank you.” Shen Jin picked one up and took a bite. The taste was fine, just overly sweet.
“How is it?” Shen Mingzhu asked eagerly.
“Not bad,” Shen Jin replied, setting down the half-eaten piece. “Next time, use less sugar.”
Shen Mingzhu blinked, then smiled and nodded. “Alright, I’ll remember.” She sat by the bed, making no move to leave. “Sister, your confinement ends today. Tomorrow you can go out, right?”
“Mm.”
“Where will you go? I’ll accompany you.”
Shen Jin studied her. This was different. Before, Shen Mingzhu’s visits were probing, her words full of hidden questions. Today she brought handmade cakes and offered companionship. So—changing tactics? From “testing” to “pleasing”?
“Tomorrow’s tomorrow,” Shen Jin said with a yawn. “Go back now. I’ll sleep a bit more.”
Shen Mingzhu hesitated, but seeing Shen Jin’s eyes closed, she had no choice but to leave. “Rest well, Sister. I’ll come again later.”
At the doorway, she turned back, watching Shen Jin’s steady breathing as if she were truly asleep. Shen Mingzhu bit her lip and left.
Chun Tao returned, whispering, “Miss, Second Miss seemed strange today.”
“How so?”
“She’s never made anything herself before—always had servants do it. Suddenly, she cooks for you? It feels off.”
Shen Jin opened her eyes, smiling. “She’s testing my boundaries.”
“Testing?”
“She wants to see if the sister who once ignored her is now easier to approach. If I’m too kind, she’ll push further. If I scold her like before, she’ll run to Father. So the best way is—”
“What way?”
“Neither warm nor cold, neither near nor far,” Shen Jin said. “Keep her guessing, and she won’t dare act rashly.”
Chun Tao nodded uncertainly. “Miss, how do you suddenly know so much?”
Shen Jin only smiled. She couldn’t exactly say it was five years of surviving office politics in the modern world. Workplace scheming was far more sophisticated than ancient household rivalries.
That afternoon, the news she’d been waiting for finally arrived.
Chun Tao rushed in, breathless. “Miss! The General says your confinement ends tonight! Tomorrow you may go out!”
Shen Jin sat up from her lounge chair. “Truly?”
“Truly! He said it himself! And tomorrow you’re to join him for breakfast in the main hall—he has something to tell you.”
Her mood instantly lifted. Tomorrow she could finally step outside. And once outside, she could test her cooking skills. She began planning. Hotpot base was too complicated—too easy to fail on the first try. Spicy broth with skewers was simpler: chili oil, bone stock, assorted meats and vegetables. Hard to go wrong. But she’d need a kitchen. The General’s kitchen was out of the question—too many eyes, and Madam Zhou’s people were everywhere. Anything she did there would spread like wildfire.
She needed an outside kitchen. Where? Then she remembered: her late mother’s dowry estate in the eastern quarter of the city. It had stood empty for years. She’d been there as a child.
Perfect. The estate had a kitchen, and since it had stood empty for years, it was quiet enough.
“Chun Tao,” Shen Jin asked, “do you know where my mother’s dowry house is?”
Chun Tao blinked. “Of course. It’s in Tianshui Lane, east of the city. Why do you suddenly ask, Miss?”
“Tomorrow we’ll go take a look.”
“Huh? What for? That place hasn’t been lived in for ages—it’s covered in dust.”
“Then we’ll clean it up.” Shen Jin smiled. “I have use for it.”
Chun Tao didn’t know what her mistress was planning, but seeing her smile so brightly, she couldn’t help smiling too.
The Eldest Miss’s smile was beautiful. In the past, her smiles were always tinged with calculation, leaving people uneasy. Now, her smile was clear and genuine, the kind that made others want to smile along.
At Marquis Dingyuan’s residence, Xiao Heng sat in his study with a map of the capital spread before him.
Steward Chen stood nearby, cautious. “Young Master, what are you looking at?”
“Tianshui Lane in the east. Whose estate is there?”
Steward Chen thought for a moment. “Tianshui Lane… I believe that was Lady Shen’s dowry house. It now belongs to Miss Shen.”
“Shen Jinshu?”
“Yes.”
Xiao Heng tapped the map. “Her confinement ends tomorrow. She may go there.”
Steward Chen blinked. “How does Young Master know?”
“A guess.” Xiao Heng folded the map. “She’s been too quiet these past days—either sunning herself or reading miscellanies. Too quiet for her. When someone suddenly grows quiet, either they’ve figured something out or they’re plotting something.”
“You think Miss Shen is plotting?”
“I don’t know.” Xiao Heng rose. “But when she goes out tomorrow, it won’t just be for a stroll.”
Steward Chen looked at his master’s curious expression and sighed inwardly.
Young Master, Young Master… you’re the heir of a marquisate. Shouldn’t you be busy with court affairs instead of tracking a young lady’s movements? But he dared not say it aloud.
“Shall I send men to watch Sweetwater Lane?”
“No need,” Xiao Heng said. “I’ll go myself.”
Steward Chen hesitated. “…Young Master, that may not be proper.”
“What’s improper?”
“You’re a grown man, secretly following an unmarried girl. If word spreads…”
“And if it does?” Xiao Heng lifted his eyelids. “I’m not watching just anyone. I’m watching my future—” He stopped.
Steward Chen’s eyes widened, waiting for him to finish.
But Xiao Heng said no more. He turned to the window, voice cool.
“Make the arrangements. Quietly.”
“…Yes.” As Steward Chen withdrew, his mind was in turmoil.
The Young Master had said “future”—future what? Future wife? Future lady of the house? Was he planning to marry Shen Jinshu? That notorious troublemaker who once drugged the Crown Prince, who stirred up scandal across the capital?
Steward Chen felt his brain wasn’t enough to process this.
Night.
At the General’s residence, in Jinse Pavilion, Shen Jin lay in bed, planning tomorrow.
First, check the Tianshui Lane estate and see if the kitchen is usable.
Then head to the market—no, in this era it was called a wet market. Buy ingredients, come back, cook a meal, and test whether her skills worked in this world. If the food turned out well, then she’d think about the next step: how to turn cooking into income.
Opening a restaurant required capital—she had none. Partnering required connections—she had none. So start small, like setting up a stall.
A general’s daughter selling street food—people would laugh themselves silly. But Shen Jin didn’t care. Her only rule in this world was: don’t court disaster. Selling snacks wasn’t courting disaster. At worst, she’d be mocked. No harm done. And with her status, if she really set up a stall, it might even become a gimmick, drawing more customers.
“General’s daughter cooks with her own hands—one of a kind in the capital!” She composed the slogan in her head and chuckled.
“Miss, what are you laughing at?” Chun Tao, on night duty, asked sleepily.
“Nothing.” Shen Jin turned over. “Just thought of something happy.”
“What happy thing?”
“Tomorrow I’ll cook for you.”
Chun Tao jolted awake. “Miss, are you serious?”
“Serious.”
“…Should I find a doctor in advance?”
Shen Jin hurled a pillow at her. “You little imp, mind your tongue!”
Chun Tao laughed and dodged. Shen Jin laughed too. But after the laughter, another thought struck her.
Xiao Heng. Would he send people to follow her tomorrow? Of course he would. That man seemed to have a tracking obsession. Ever since she left the Marquis’s estate, he hadn’t stopped watching. But it didn’t matter. Let him follow.
She’d cook her food; he could watch his play. As long as he didn’t interfere, she could pretend he didn’t exist.
Satisfied, Shen Jin closed her eyes. Tomorrow will be a new day. She would begin living her own life in this world.
Under the same moonlight, at the Marquis’s estate, Xiao Heng lay awake, staring at the canopy. He was thinking. Why had Shen Jinshu put away those four bottles of Nourishing Pills without taking them?
Did she not trust him? Or did she simply not need them? She said she was “healthy.” Doctor Li said she was “healthy.” She truly didn’t need them.
Then why had he given them? He thought long and hard until he understood. He hadn’t given them because she needed them. He’d given them because he wanted to. He wanted an excuse to connect with her. Even if it was just medicine or a plate of pastries, he wanted her to know that Xiao Heng still remembered her. Realizing this, he turned over, burying his face in the pillow. For the first time in twenty‑two years, he felt a little ridiculous.
The heir of Marquis Dingyuan, the capital’s most admired young man, praised by the Emperor himself as a “promising talent”—losing sleep over a woman. If his colleagues knew, they’d laugh themselves sick.
Xiao Heng drew a deep breath, shut his eyes, and forced himself to sleep. Tomorrow he had to rise early. He needed to reach Tianshui Lane before she did.
Not to stalk. But because— Forget it. It was stalking.
He closed his eyes, lips curving despite himself.