In early summer, the weather was as fickle as a child’s moods—changing in an instant. Though it was only mid-afternoon, the sky had already grown dim, heavy with the promise of rain.
Just three miles from the capital’s Chongwen Gate, a shabby two-wheeled carriage trundled along the post road. Its walls were painted black, but the lacquer had long since peeled and mottled. From within, a wrinkled hand with knobby joints lifted the curtain.
The hand belonged to an elderly woman dressed in plain blue cloth, her hair neatly wrapped in a simple kerchief. Though her attire was modest, she carried herself with a clean, capable air—clearly no rustic commoner.
This was Nanny Zheng, the old servant of the Prefect of Huzhou. Earlier that year, Master Xu had passed away, leaving the Xu household in chaos. His two children were suddenly without protection, their uncles scheming against them, and even the dowry left by the original wife was on the verge of being swallowed up.
Remembering the dying instructions of the second madam, Nanny Zheng consulted with fourteen-year-old Xu Shuyao and hastily decided to seek refuge at Duke Cheng’s mansion in the capital.
But Huzhou lay a thousand miles from the capital—no easy journey.
Nanny Zheng glanced at the darkening sky, then turned to look inside the carriage. The two young masters leaned against each other, and Xu Shuyao had just stirred awake, her dewy eyes half-open, gazing at her.
Startled, Nanny Zheng quickly lowered the curtain and asked with concern: “You’re awake? It’s still early before we reach the city. Why not rest a little longer?”
Xu Shuyao looked at her younger brother sleeping soundly beside her and shook her head gently. She pulled Nanny Zheng to sit at her side and whispered: “It’s fine, I’ve slept enough. It’s you who has suffered.”
Nanny Zheng, nearly seventy, had endured great hardship escorting the siblings to the capital. They had traveled by water through the Tiao River and Tai Lake, then along the Grand Canal to Tongzhou—a journey of more than a month.
At first, Nanny Zheng was seasick, vomiting and weak, but after taking medicine, she slowly adapted. Then came floods along the canal, leaving her anxious day after day, until she had grown gaunt and frail.
The siblings, however, fared better—the younger slept peacefully, while the elder remained alert throughout. Though only fourteen, Xu Shuyao carried herself with the maturity of an adult.
Hearing her considerate words, Nanny Zheng felt both guilty and tender.
At her age, such a long journey was ill-suited, but with the children so young, she could not abandon them. She remembered the second madam’s dying wish, and the illustrious Duke Cheng’s mansion in the capital, and pressed on.
Fortunately, the journey had been mostly smooth, and Nanny Zheng now allowed herself a small sigh of relief.
The decision had been made in haste. One day, the young lady returned from a trip to Huzhou city and suddenly ordered the trunks packed.
Her reasoning: “We don’t know when Aunt’s people will come. Better to leave early.”
The Xu family’s main branch had already sent for them several times, determined to bring the siblings under their roof. Both mistress and servant knew well what that meant. The wife from the main branch had already arranged for her nephew to appear before Xu Shuyao repeatedly, with obvious intent. Though Xu Shuyao saw through her aunt’s schemes, she had no way to resist. With no elders left in the second branch, if the siblings remained in Huzhou, they would surely be devoured—bones and all.
Xu Shuyao’s aunt had married years ago into Duke Cheng’s household, becoming the second wife of one of the duke’s younger sons born of a concubine. Before her death, Mother Xu had instructed that if her children were left without support, they should seek help from this aunt in the capital.
At first, Xu Shuyao hesitated. But thinking of her younger brother’s future—and with the main branch of the Xu family pressing them ever harder—she had no choice but to bow to reality.
Duke Cheng’s mansion had risen from military merit and was now in its third generation, each producing capable men. The household was known for its strict family discipline, and the still-living Madam Xiao carried a reputation for fairness and uprightness.
As an orphaned girl, Xu Shuyao hoped to find shelter there, so she could guide her younger brother in his studies. If he achieved success, and she herself later found a gentle husband, she would not have failed her father’s solemn charge before his death.
The sudden decision to depart traced back to what she had seen one morning in Huzhou city.
Wang Shaowei, a close minister of the emperor and a scion of Marquis Qingyuan’s family, was kin to Duke Cheng’s Xiao clan. When such a figure unexpectedly appeared in Huzhou, Xu Shuyao heard that his party was returning to the capital. She immediately thought to follow along the same route.
Her plan was simple: she and her small, vulnerable group could trail behind his boats and thus travel safely all the way.
At first, Nanny Zheng doubted, but now, sitting securely in the carriage bound for Chongwen Gate, she believed the young lady’s foresight.
Still, glancing at the distant entourage, she worried aloud: “Miss, we’ve followed them all this way. Young Master Wang must have noticed by now, yet he hasn’t driven us off. Should we greet him when we enter the city?”
She expected the ever-polite Xu Shuyao to agree, but the girl shook her head without hesitation: “No need.”
How could a noble son like Wang Shaowei care about such harmless behavior from them? Their identities were worlds apart—she might know of him, but he would not know her. Better to remain unentangled than risk seeming to cling and earn disdain.
Xu Shuyao believed this was exactly what Young Master Wang preferred.
As they spoke of him, Wang Shaowei himself was discussing them. He glanced at Chongwen Gate ahead, then nimbly dismounted and approached a luxurious carriage. Inside, a refined young man was absorbed in a book, not even raising his brows at the intrusion.
“Come on—those people behind us have followed the whole way. You said ignore them, but do you know them?” Wang Shaowei asked suddenly.
At last, Xiao Mo frowned briefly, then returned his gaze to the book. “No.”
Only after a pause did he reply so curtly.
Wang Shaowei was used to such treatment. He didn’t argue, simply sat boldly opposite. His eyes wandered idly until they fixed on a book on the side table. He snatched it up, astonished.
“You actually have this? You…” His hands flipped through the pages quickly, disbelief on his face.
Xiao Mo finally lost interest in his own text. He tossed aside the military treatise, pulled the book from Wang Shaowei’s grasp, and skimmed it himself. “Not bad artistry,” he commented coolly. Then he cast a faint glance at his cousin’s strange expression.
Wang Shaowei could only marvel—this man looked every inch the upright gentleman, yet here he was leafing through an erotic picture book without a flicker of emotion.