Xiao Mo’s gaze swept over the noble ladies gathered in the lakeside pavilion and the winding path up the hill.
The pavilion at the foot of the hill was now empty—the laughing youths who had been there earlier had already gone elsewhere.
A guard returned: “Master!”
“Speak.”
“Just now, aside from Miss Liu, there was no one else here. Seeing you speak with the Shen girl, I did not interrupt…” The guard looked up, only to meet the heir’s eyes filled with disdain, and faltered.
Xiao Mo did not look at him again, only asked: “Was that Fourth Brother at the foot of the hill?”
“Yes.”
“Go.”
Meanwhile, Xu Shuyao left the pavilion. She did not rejoin the crowd of noble girls but wandered the garden quietly. She had Qiaowei and Huixiang with her. She sent Qiaowei ahead to deliver Xiao Jinwen’s study notes back to Jiyun Hall and strolled slowly with Huixiang.
Though it was mid‑autumn, the garden showed no sign of decline—especially the chrysanthemums newly planted for the wedding.
On the path she walked, one side bloomed pure white, the other golden yellow, their fragrance filling the air.
Xu Shuyao paused by a bright yellow chrysanthemum. Raising her eyes, she saw a man standing nearby. His pale‑blue brocade robe fluttered in the wind. He was so thin that he seemed almost desolate.
A line of poetry came to her mind: *“When autumn comes on the eighth of September, my bloom will outshine a hundred flowers.”* She tilted her head to the blazing sun above, amused by her own sudden sentimentality.
Who was this man wandering here?
She turned to leave, but a voice called: “Miss! How do I reach the outer court from here? Could your maid show me the way?”
It sounded like the start of a casual approach. Xu Shuyao, though seldom out, had encountered such things in Huzhou before. She looked again at the man by the chrysanthemum. His eyes were clear, his manner sincere. She prided herself on reading faces, but could not tell if his words were genuine.
Glancing at her lone maid, she said indifferently: “Just follow us.”
She herself was heading back to Jiyun Hall, and by following them, he could find the way out.
The man was tactful, asking no further questions. They parted at the gate of Jiyun Hall. She thought he would leave after thanking her, but after a few steps, he turned back: “You are not of the Duke’s mansion, are you? May I ask your family’s origin?”
Huixiang grew anxious, nearly spitting at him. To walk with a strange man was already improper. But with so many guests at the wedding, it was not unusual to meet someone lost. Helping him find his way was harmless. Yet this man pressed further, clinging shamelessly.
“You should go! How can you chase after a young lady with such questions?” Huixiang scolded, pulling her mistress toward the gate.
Xu Shuyao saw that the man did not grow angry. He looked embarrassed, even a little hurt.
“Huzhou,” she said directly.
His eyes dimmed at once. Xu Shuyao did not understand why, and quickly entered the gate.
Huixiang ordered the servants to bolt it, as if afraid he might intrude.
Xu Shuyao shook her head, dismissing the matter.
Outside, the man looked up at the plaque reading *Jiyun Hall* before leaving. His servant hurried from afar: “Master, where have you been? I searched the chrysanthemum garden but saw no trace of you.”
This “master” was Shen Shaoyu, eldest grandson of Grand Preceptor Shen. The Shen family of the capital had four branches.
Shen Shaoyu’s father, Shen Xinian, was the second son of Grand Preceptor Shen, currently serving at court as *Right Vice Censor-in-Chief*, a fourth‑rank official. Above him was an elder half‑brother. The Shen family had always been strict in its household rules, yet this half‑brother’s birth was peculiar. When Madam Shen first married into the family, she remained childless for years despite consulting the best physicians in the capital. Finally, her mother‑in‑law arranged for a concubine. After the concubine bore the eldest son, Madam Shen herself suddenly conceived and produced three sons in succession.
The Shen family excelled in scholarship. Though the third son passed the imperial examinations, he had little interest in office and instead taught children at the Shen clan school. The fourth son now served as the Head of the Imperial Academy.
This was why so many noble families sought to send their sons to the Shen clan school: not only did the family boast Grand Preceptor Shen, the emperor’s tutor, but also officials like Head Academy Shen who oversaw education.
Shen Shaoyu did not answer his servant. He was thinking of the young woman he had just met. At first sight, she had seemed strangely familiar. Thus, though he rarely lied, the Shen heir had lied to her without blinking.
The Shen and Duke’s mansions were so close that he had wandered between them since childhood. He could find his way blindfolded—how could he truly be lost? Earlier, he had avoided mingling with the noble youths. Hearing that rare chrysanthemums had been planted in the inner court, he slipped in to look. He knew no women would be there. Yet soon after arriving, he encountered that young lady. She was strikingly beautiful. But his attention was not on her looks—it was the inexplicable sense of kinship. Her appearance reminded him of his sister. If she were still alive, she would be about this age. That was why he had stubbornly asked her origin, hoping against hope.
For years, he and his parents had searched tirelessly but found only faint traces. The man who abducted his sister had fled west. Huzhou lay in Jiangnan—how could she be his sister?
Shen Shaoyu shook his head, laughing bitterly. He must be deluded, seeing his sister’s shadow in every girl.
His servant, watching his distracted state, sighed. He knew the young master was thinking of the lost girl again.
For years, whenever she came to mind, the heir fell into this lifeless trance. Poor boy—he had been only five when his sister was taken, yet he bore the guilt of losing her all his life.
The servant, unsure how to comfort his frail master, followed silently, waiting for him to recover.
As they walked, a figure suddenly blocked their path.
Shen Shaoyu stumbled, nearly colliding, but Xiao Mo caught him with a swift hand. “Careful.”
Shen Shaoyu regained himself. “Thank you.” He continued forward, ignoring him.
“What were you doing in the inner court?” Xiao Mo’s sharp gaze fixed on him.
“Looking at chrysanthemums.”
Xiao Mo did not stop him. The Shen and Xiao families were well acquainted, and he knew Shen Shaoyu’s temperament. But recalling what he had seen earlier—Xu Shuyao walking with this man, parting at Jiyun Studio’s gate—his mind also replayed the image of two laughing youths in the pavilion.
He sneered inwardly.