By the time Gu Zhao left Fu’an Hall, Zhu Qingyu had already walked out of the Duke Ding mansion’s main gate.
The snow was falling harder now, the biting cold rushing to meet her face.
Zhang Shen’s carriage had been waiting for her. Seeing her emerge, he lifted the curtain, stepped down, and hurried over with an umbrella, calling out:
“My lady.”
Zhu Qingyu thanked the attending matron, then hurried toward Zhang Shen, reaching for the umbrella in his hand as she said:
“Why did you come down? Get back inside—the snow is too heavy, and you can’t afford to catch the wind.”
Zhang Shen nodded a greeting to the matron as well, then wrapped his arm around Zhu Qingyu and helped her into the carriage.
Though it was only a few short steps, the wind and snow were fierce enough that cold had crept into his collar by the time he climbed in. No sooner was he seated than he leaned against the carriage wall and coughed several times in succession.
Zhu Qingyu quickly poured him hot tea and took out a handkerchief to wipe the snow and moisture from his neck and hair. As she dabbed, she asked:
“Weren’t you supposed to be hosting a dinner for the new Salt Commissioner, Lord Dai, today? I thought you wouldn’t be back until midnight—how is it you had time to come fetch me?”
The charcoal brazier in the carriage burned bright and warm. After drinking the hot tea and shaking off the chill, Zhang Shen recovered somewhat. He looked Zhu Qingyu over from head to toe and said:
“The dinner fell through. With the Ministry of Revenue undergoing reforms, the newly appointed Vice Minister Gu has been tightening official discipline—he just dealt with several of the ministry’s secretaries yesterday. Given the sensitive climate, Lord Dai naturally wanted to keep a low profile, so the gathering was called off. We’ll simply hold it once the Salt Commissioner arrives in Yangzhou to take up his post—same thing either way. I figured with the snow coming down so hard today, you’d likely not have brought an umbrella, so I came to pick you up.”
Noticing that her boots were splattered with mud and snow and the hem of her skirt was soaked through, Zhang Shen quickly handed her his own hand warmer:
“Don’t fuss over me—warm yourself up too. Change your clothes as soon as we get back. You’re dressed far too plainly today. Anyone who didn’t know better would think the Zhang family business was failing. We’re a chief merchant household, after all—surely we can afford our own lady’s cosmetics, clothing, and jewelry.”
Zhu Qingyu tucked away the handkerchief and took the hand warmer, cradling it in her arms with a smile:
“I went to see a patient, not to pay a social call—why would I bother with all that fuss? Besides, what would be the point of dressing up so brightly? Better to avoid stirring up trouble.”
At the thought of something, Zhang Shen let out a sigh:
“While it’s good to be cautious, there’s no need to be overly skittish. The Gu family is, after all, the emperor’s maternal kin, and their reputation has always been upright—not the sort of household given to impropriety. By the way, how is Old Madam Gu? Will you need to go again?”
Zhu Qingyu’s visit to the capital to treat Old Madam Gu had come about through the recommendation of Lady Yang, wife of Lord Yang, the Transport Commissioner of Yangzhou.
Old Madam Gu had injured her lower back some time ago and had never fully recovered. There were no skilled female physicians in the capital, and male doctors would require her to disrobe for acupuncture, which was hardly appropriate. So they had searched far and wide, and somehow the search had led them to Zhu Qingyu.
As it happened, Zhang Shen was due for his routine trip to the capital to deliver “winter coal gifts” to his superiors, so Zhu Qingyu had accompanied him to treat Old Madam Gu. Today marked her third visit—the medicine had worked, and the old lady was now out of danger. Zhu Qingyu said:
“It’s all settled. No need to go again.”
Zhang Shen breathed a sigh of relief:
“Good. While it would be nice to forge a connection with the Duke Ding household, the capital isn’t like Yangzhou. You’re out here on your own, and I can’t keep an eye on you—I can’t help but worry.”
During dinner conversation that evening, Zhu Qingyu found herself thinking back to the Gu family’s young heir she had seen that day. Curiosity got the better of her. After all, it was said that one’s body and hair are received from one’s parents—such things were highly taboo in this era. How could the young heir of a ducal household wear his hair in such an unconventional manner? She asked Zhang Shen:
“Jingyan, have you ever met the Gu family’s young heir?”
It was rare for Zhu Qingyu to take the initiative to ask about a person, yet Zhang Shen wasn’t surprised—because the first time he himself had laid eyes on Vice Minister Gu, he too had been startled. He lowered his voice and said:
“Did you see him today? That’s my fault—I thought you wouldn’t run into him in the inner quarters, so I should have told you earlier to prepare you. I’ve made inquiries. Vice Minister Gu was previously a monk at Huangjue Temple—he’d been living in seclusion as a Buddhist for several years. Even when the emperor ascended the throne and summoned him to court, he refused. In the end, the emperor had to go in person and drag him back. After all, he’s the emperor’s own maternal cousin—upon his return, he was directly appointed Vice Minister of Revenue.”
So that was it—he had been a monk. Zhu Qingyu thought to herself, so he really wasn’t a fellow time-traveler after all. Good thing she hadn’t foolishly gone up to strike up a conversation.
Still, under imperial power, all things were as ants before a giant. Even the emperor’s cousin—a member of the imperial family, a prince among nobles—had no freedom to remain a monk.
The imperial family’s private affairs were not something one dared discuss at length, so the two changed the subject and moved past the Gu family’s young heir.
In the capital, where land was worth its weight in gold and powerful families crowded every corner, the Zhang family—despite being chief merchants of Yangzhou with vast wealth—conducted themselves with considerable discretion. They traveled in a plain blue-cloth carriage and resided in a modest two-courtyard compound.
It was hardly comparable to the Zhang family’s grand estate in Yangzhou. Zhu Qingyu, being a modern person, didn’t mind in the least, but Zhang Shen—a young master raised in luxury from childhood—found the cramped quarters rather constraining.
With Zhu Qingyu’s business taken care of, and Zhang Shen’s gift-giving nearly complete, the capital was simply too cold. After washing up at night and blowing out the lamp, lying in the bed-curtains to share private words before sleep, Zhang Shen discussed with Zhu Qingyu that once he finished checking the accounts of the capital’s shopkeeper, they would return to Yangzhou in a few days.
Zhu Qingyu was somewhat drowsy and replied vaguely:
“Alright, I’ll start packing tomorrow. Also, Third Sister asked me to buy some jewelry from the capital to bring back for her…”
Mid-sentence, warm breath sprayed against her ear. Zhu Qingyu fell silent, not daring to move a muscle.
When she had first married Zhang Shen, it had been more of a mutual arrangement of convenience—Zhang Shen needed someone to cover for him, while Zhu Qingyu needed a status to serve as her protection.
After all, an adult man who never married always invited suspicion, and a beautiful single woman without backing always invited covetousness.
But as time passed together, it seemed Zhang Shen wanted more than just a cover.
The warm breath drew closer, reaching her ear, then falling to her neck. Zhang Shen’s body leaned in, half-pressing against her. Seeing no objection from her, he went to undo the buttons at her chest.
As he drew near, a faint, bitter medicinal scent emanated from him.
A few days prior, Zhang Shen had somehow obtained a packet of medicine, secretly hiding it in his clothes chest to keep it from her—it was this very smell.
Zhu Qingyu didn’t want to hurt his pride, yet worried he might harm himself with those dubious medicines, so she had quietly inspected it while he was out.
It was essentially a medicine with no real effect and no real harm—aside from being swindled of some money, there was no downside.
So Zhu Qingyu pretended not to know and put it back exactly as it was.
Sure enough, after only holding her and kissing her a few times, before his clothes were even fully undone, Zhang Shen suddenly let out a muffled groan and leaned against her ear, panting.
After a moment, Zhang Shen turned over to the side, silent.
Zhu Qingyu dared not move even more, not daring to say half a word, not even daring to breathe loudly, afraid that if she did anything wrong, he might take it as mockery and be hurt.
It was Zhang Shen who spoke first in the darkness:
“Qingyu, I have some regrets.”
Zhu Qingyu deliberated for a moment before asking cautiously:
“Regrets about what?”
Zhang Shen let out a laugh, one tinged with bitterness:
“Regretting that back then, I didn’t prepare a dowry for you and find you a proper husband. In the end, it was I who held you back.”