Wen Ning had thought Shen Zhou would not return until the next day. Unexpectedly, after only half an hour, he came back.
Wen Ning was a little surprised—so soon?
Seeing her expression, Shen Zhou realized she clearly had not been waiting for him.
Wen Ning neither quarreled nor interfered with his dealings with Qiao Yanxin. Wasn’t this exactly what he had wanted from the start? Yet now, seeing Wen Ning’s calm demeanor, he suddenly felt restless. Somehow it seemed wrong, though he could not say why.
“The Heir has returned?” Wen Ning said considerately to Xiao Tao. “Bring another couch into the room.” She hesitated, then added softly: “The Heir must be tired.”
Shen Zhou listened, but something about her words felt strange.
The next morning, Wen Ning and Shen Zhou were accompanying Duchess Xu at breakfast when Feng Xing entered carrying a box.
Shen Zhou felt his temples throb—again?
Feng Xing bowed respectfully: “This is pearl cream from Miss Qiao, sent to the Young Madam. It is said to beautify the complexion.”
Wen Ning remembered: in her previous life, Qiao Yanxin had also sent pearl cream to Wen Qing. At the time, Wen Qing thought it was a deliberate gesture of flattery, so she used it.
But unexpectedly, after only a few days of use, Wen Qing’s entire face broke out in sores. Wen Qing had always loved beauty and had a fiery temper. To be tricked by Qiao Yanxin in this way—how could she possibly endure it?
So she stormed into Baihua Pavilion, dragged Qiao Yanxin out, and slapped her hard several times, swelling her whole face. When Shen Zhou arrived, he saw Wen Qing furiously clutching Qiao Yanxin’s hair, refusing to let go. Qiao Yanxin’s eyes brimmed with tears, looking pitiful, as though wronged but not daring to cry.
Wen Ning did not know the details of what followed—roughly, Shen Zhou quarreled with Wen Qing, and Wen Qing packed her belongings to return to her parents’ home for a time. In the end, Duchess Xu personally went to the Wen household to bring Wen Qing back.
Now, Wen Ning looked at this hot potato in her hands, momentarily unable to react. “For… for me?”
Feng Xing nodded. He had been surprised when he first heard of it—never before had he seen a mistress send gifts to the official wife.
Wen Ning glanced at Shen Zhou, hesitating, unsure how to refuse. Suddenly, Duchess Xu spoke up from across the table: “Perfect timing. Over the past few days, your father has been complaining of dry, cracked hands. I’ll take it back for him to use.”
Wen Ning was stunned—so that was possible? She stole a glance at Shen Zhou. His expression was calm as he picked up food, as if the matter had nothing to do with him.
Only then did Wen Ning feel relieved.
The afternoon was bright. Wen Ning, having studied business with Duchess Xu for several days, suddenly felt the urge to visit her own shop.
Duchess Xu summoned the coachman, reminded her to be careful, and did not interfere further.
Being a woman of feeling and fond of Wen Ning, Duchess Xu naturally did not restrain her. She even gave her a banknote worth one thousand taels, telling her to buy whatever she liked.
Wen Ning was stunned—after all, Shen Zhou’s monthly allowance was barely a hundred taels. Duchess Xu truly valued her.
Wen Ning thought: if she and Shen Zhou were destined to have no bond, perhaps she should let him take Qiao Yanxin as a concubine. The Shen family could not be left without heirs. To take so much money and do nothing—her conscience would ache.
She left the house and, following Duchess Xu’s teaching, inspected the shop. She told the servants not to follow—she wanted to see for herself.
Inside, she did not reveal her identity, but the shopkeeper and clerks were warm and respectful. Clearly, Duchess Xu’s way of managing people was effective.
When she came out, Wen Ning hesitated at a fork in the road—had she gone left or right before? In the end, she tossed a coin to decide. She had just stepped into a narrow alley when a mocking voice sounded: “Where did this little lady come from? Lost, are you?”
Wen Ning saw a middle-aged man before her. She cautiously stepped back, intending to run.
But the man blocked her path first.
“Why run?” His eyes were greedy. “So beautiful! That figure, that face… tsk tsk, today’s my lucky day!”
Wen Ning was truly frightened now. Pressed against the wall, her voice trembled: “You… what do you want?”
The man advanced step by step, leering: “Of course—to have some fun with you.”
He grabbed her collar. Just as despair overwhelmed her, the man was kicked away.
Before Wen Ning could react, she was pulled into a warm, dry embrace. A faint cool fragrance lingered at her nose—familiar, reassuring. The hand gripping her wrist was cold, even trembling slightly.
Wen Ning looked up, tears choking her voice, and threw herself into Shen Zhou’s arms, crying in grievance.
“Don’t be afraid. I’m here.” Shen Zhou clumsily comforted her.
The man on the ground cursed: “Who are you? Daring to ruin my fun!”
Shen Zhou snorted, eyes dark, and stepped forward. His foot pressed hard into the man’s abdomen, making him cry out in pain.
Shen Zhou pressed Wen Ning’s head against his chest, glaring down fiercely. “Who gave you the courage to touch her?”
In his arms, Wen Ning trembled—so this was what it felt like to be protected.
Shen Zhou called Feng Xing: “Take him back.”
Feng Xing glanced at the man, unable to resist kicking him. “Daring to bully the Young Madam—you must be tired of living.”
Only then did the man realize he had provoked someone dangerous. Panicked, he cried: “Spare me, noble sir! It wasn’t my idea—someone paid me to ruin her!”
Shen Zhou’s face grew darker. If not for Wen Ning’s presence, he would have crippled the man on the spot. His voice carried murderous intent as he ordered Feng Xing: “Interrogate him thoroughly!”