In the third month of the year, the capital was filled with willow catkins drifting like snow.
Shen Ying sat in a private room on the second floor of the Spring Breeze Pavilion, holding a cup of tea that had long gone cold.
She listened as her sister-in-law Lady Jiang chatted with someone, her expression betraying nothing, though a sense of unease gradually crept into her heart.
Today, her sister-in-law had, for the first time ever, brought her out for tea, claiming that she hadn’t been out in a long while and worried Shen Ying might be bored at home.
Shen Ying had found this strange at the time—in the three years since her sister-in-law had married into the family, she had never once shown concern for whether Shen Ying was bored… But she couldn’t very well call this out, so she had changed her clothes and come along.
Shen Ying wore a plain white dress today, draped with a light cyan gauze overdress, yet somehow the outfit did nothing to make her look plain.
Her hair cascaded like a waterfall of black silk, her skin fairer than snow, her features vivid and striking. Her almond-shaped eyes were exceptionally clear and bright, her pupils jet-black like ink jade soaked in spring water, lending her resplendent face a touch of unconscious innocence.
She sat by the window, sunlight enveloping her like a peony in full, glorious bloom—lush and radiant, drawing every gaze that fell upon her.
The Spring Breeze Pavilion saw a steady stream of patrons, and those passing by the private room couldn’t help but steal a glance inside, then turn back for another look.
Lady Jiang sat across from her, stealing a sidelong glance at her profile, and sighed inwardly.
With looks like these, any family would have treasured her like a pearl in the palm, waiting to marry her off to a worthy household. Unfortunately, that engagement hung in limbo—no matter how beautiful she was, she was being dragged into spinsterhood.
Just then, Madam Zhou happened to ask with a smile, “How old is Miss Shen this year?”
Shen Ying looked up at the sound and answered honestly, “Twenty.”
“Twenty…”
Madam Zhou’s smile faltered for a moment, her gaze lingering on Shen Ying’s face a beat longer before she couldn’t help but remark, “When I was your age, my child was already walking.”
The moment she finished speaking, Lady Jiang interjected, “Yingying is still two months shy of her twentieth birthday, so by proper reckoning, she should be nineteen.”
Madam Zhou glanced at Lady Jiang with a knowing smile. “Nineteen is a fine age too—right in her prime. No wonder her standards are high; I imagine ordinary families wouldn’t catch this young lady’s eye.”
She turned back to Shen Ying, her words carrying a hint of weight. “This is a matter of a lifetime for a young lady—you mustn’t let yourself be wronged.”
Shen Ying smiled but didn’t respond.
Lady Jiang chimed in with a feigned complaint, “Isn’t that so? Yingying is far too picky. Her brother has gone to no end of trouble, arranging meetings with countless families, and she hasn’t taken a liking to a single one.”
At this, Shen Ying’s hand, which had been raising her teacup, suddenly paused.
Meetings?
She looked up at her sister-in-law, who was still chatting with Madam Zhou, smiling naturally as if making idle conversation.
It dawned on her then—today’s outing wasn’t about taking a stroll at all.
Her heart sank.
She was already betrothed. That marriage contract was locked in a small box by her mother, the key kept close to her person—everyone in the household knew it. But since her sister-in-law hadn’t said it outright, she couldn’t ask. To ask would be to seem ungrateful.
So she sat there obediently, swallowing all her doubts, a forced smile fixed on her face.
“Speaking of which,” Madam Zhou suddenly lowered her voice, a perfectly measured look of delight spreading across her face, “my nephew from my natal family happens to be in the next room having tea with some friends. He’s usually so busy and rarely gets out—why not… let the young people meet?”
Lady Jiang’s gaze swept over Shen Ying, noting how she kept her head bowed in silence, then withdrew her eyes and smiled. “That sounds lovely. Let the young ones get acquainted—it never hurts to make a new friend.”
Shen Ying’s fingers tightened around her teacup.
Madam Zhou rose and left the room.
Before long, footsteps and low voices sounded from outside the door.
The door opened.
But Shen Ying didn’t look up.
She only heard a man’s voice—clear, warm, and refined—address Madam Zhou as “Aunt,” then offer greetings to her sister-in-law.
Then the voice paused for a moment.
“And this is…” he asked.
“Miss Shen,” her sister-in-law said with a smile.
“Miss Shen, a pleasure.” The voice carried just the right measure of courteous distance—neither presumptuous nor cold.
Only then did Shen Ying lift her head, a beat too slow, and look at him.
Before the door stood a young gentleman, tall and slender, dressed in a pale blue scholar’s robe that made him look like a fresh bamboo shoot. His brow was relaxed, his nose straight, and he exuded an air of clean, scholarly refinement.
One glance, and Shen Ying hastily dropped her head again, her heart pounding wildly—not from shyness, but because this man’s bearing and appearance resembled the image she had traced in her heart a thousand times by a full eight parts!
He looked uncannily like her betrothed, whom she had never met.
When she was twelve, her mother had first told her about this childhood engagement. Back then, she had been too young to understand much, only knowing that the Marquis of Zhenbei’s household was a family of great prominence, and that this marriage had been bought with her father’s life.
Her father and the Marquis of Zhenbei had been brothers-in-arms who would die for each other, having fought side by side on the battlefield for over a decade. In the battle at the southern frontier, when the two led their remaining troops in a desperate breakout, her father gave his last strength to protect the Marquis and died in the effort. The Marquis, overcome with grief, immediately settled a betrothal between his six-year-old heir and seven-year-old Shen Ying, writing out the marriage contract on the spot and declaring that when the children came of age, he would send proper betrothal gifts and welcome her into the family with full ceremony.
“Your father was a hero,” her mother would say, wiping her tears every time she brought it up. “He earned this marriage for you with his life. Yingying, this is the path your father paved for you.”
From then on, that marriage contract became the most treasured thing in her mother’s heart. Every year on the young heir’s birthday, she would personally prepare a gift and send someone to deliver it to the northern border.
When the Marquis’s household sent back a brief reply, she would read it over and over until the paper grew soft and frayed at the edges.
Those eight words—”a modest gentleman, gentle as jade”—Shen Ying had heard her mother recite them no fewer than a thousand times. Her ears were practically calloused from it.
She’d heard that her betrothed had spent a few years in the capital as a child—fair-skinned and delicately featured, smiling at everyone he met, soft and sweet as a fresh mound of snow. Now that he was approaching twenty, she imagined he must have grown into a striking young man with sharp brows and bright eyes, carrying himself with grace and distinction.
Perhaps… much like this young Master Zhou before her?
Shen Ying quietly lifted her lashes and stole another quick glance.
Yes, he really did resemble that image.
But as she silently compared, she couldn’t help feeling… it shouldn’t be just this.
He was the only son of the Marquis of Zhenbei, after all—a scion of a military family.
There ought to be something more in his bearing. He should stand a couple of inches taller than Master Zhou, with broader shoulders and a straighter back. As for his brows and eyes, they should be like the midday sun in early spring—the kind that made it impossible to look away once you’d seen them…
Lost in these thoughts, her gaze unconsciously drifted into the distance.
Suddenly, Master Zhou’s voice came from beside her again. “Miss Shen, what do you enjoy doing in your spare time?”
Shen Ying snapped back to attention, her lashes trembling slightly as all those private comparisons about height and shoulders scattered away in an instant.
She looked up and met Master Zhou’s smiling gaze directly. Her heart inexplicably faltered, as if he could see right through her thoughts.
So she steadied herself, forced a composed air, and raised her teacup for a sip. But in her fluster, the words tumbled out before she could stop them:
“Waiting for someone.”
The moment the words left her mouth, even she was stunned.
The room fell suddenly silent.
Master Zhou was clearly taken aback as well, but then he smiled—still that gentle expression, with not a trace of mockery. “Waiting for someone? For whom?”
Shen Ying’s fingers tightened imperceptibly around her teacup, her ears burning a moment too late. After a long pause, she lowered her head and said in a voice barely audible:
“…No, no one in particular.”
Her sister-in-law gave a soft cough beside her, her expression barely holding together.
It was Madam Zhou who laughed and patted the table edge. “What young lady doesn’t have a few little secrets in her heart? Yanqing, no more questions now.”
Zhou Yanqing indeed did not press further, smoothly changing the subject to ask what books she liked to read.
Shen Ying had no choice but to answer honestly: “The Book of Songs.”
“What do you like to eat?”
“Roasted chestnuts.” Each answer was more straightforward than the last, almost artlessly simple—yet with every word, she looked at him with such earnest eyes that it seemed almost solemn.
Zhou Yanqing regarded her with a warm, unhurried gaze, his eyes lingering on her features for a moment.
After a while, he lowered his eyes and stirred the floating leaves in his cup. When he looked up again, the smile in his eyes remained clear and untroubled. “Good.”
They sat for a while longer, then Lady Jiang rose to take her leave.
Once they were out of Spring Breeze Pavilion, Lady Jiang took Shen Ying’s arm, her tone carrying a hint of probing. “Yingying, what do you think of Master Zhou…?”
Shen Ying tilted her head in thought. Zhou Yanqing’s gentle, smiling face floated before her eyes—there was truly nothing to fault.
So she nodded and answered honestly, “He’s a very fine person.”
But…
“Sister-in-law.” She stopped in her tracks, meeting Lady Jiang’s eyes with complete seriousness. “I am betrothed.”
The smile on Lady Jiang’s face froze for a moment, then she quickly glanced around and lowered her voice, urgent and hushed. “That engagement… Yingying, the Marquis’s household hasn’t given any definite word for years now. Don’t you understand? They said the Marquis died in battle and the young heir needed three years of mourning—but it’s almost the fourth year now. You—”
“That was bought with my father’s life.” Shen Ying’s voice was soft, but every word rang clear. “I’ve waited all these years. I can’t… let it be for nothing.”
The two of them boarded the carriage.
They had only traveled a short distance when Lady Jiang couldn’t hold back any longer, leaning in with growing urgency. “Yingying, as for Master Zhou—you didn’t see it, but his aunt’s meaning was clear. She’s genuinely taken with you.”
She paused, then hesitated before continuing. “The Zhou family has deep roots in the capital. Master Zhou’s father serves in the Ministry of Personnel—he has real influence. You know your brother has been toiling in the Ministry of Works all these years, always lacking someone to give him a leg up…”
Shen Ying was stunned for a moment, then suddenly understood everything. Today’s outing to enjoy the spring air was a pretense—this was a matchmaking meeting. Her sister-in-law, Madam Zhou, and that conveniently present Master Zhou had all been arranged.
With this thought, a sharp pang struck her heart—what did her brother and sister-in-law take her for? A commodity to be sold to the highest bidder? Even if that Young Master Zhou were the finest man alive, a celestial being descended from heaven, she would still find it repulsive.
Waves of grievance surged up within her, but she was too weary to argue further. She only uttered a soft “Mm,” lowered her eyes, and swallowed back the rest of her words.
Seeing this, Lady Jiang gritted her teeth and decided to lay it all out plainly. “Yingying, your sister-in-law isn’t trying to force you, but you’re not getting any younger. That engagement has been dragged on for so long—who knows if that marquis’s household isn’t looking down on our family’s standing, thinking us unworthy, and that’s why they keep putting it off?
But the Zhou family is solid and real. They have influence in the Ministry of Personnel. As long as Young Master Zhou takes a liking to you, your brother’s official position moving up a notch is just a word from them.”
As she spoke, Lady Jiang clasped Shen Ying’s hand, her tone softening further, yet every word pierced like a needle. “Even if you won’t think for yourself, you should think for this family. Your brother has raised you all these years, fed you, clothed you, kept up your dignity. Now that it’s time for you to lend a hand… Yingying, one must never forget one’s roots.”
The moment those grating words fell, Shen Ying’s eyes reddened instantly.
Her sister-in-law was right—all these years, her brother had provided for her food and clothing, upheld the family’s standing, while she had only clung to that piece of paper called a betrothal, contributing nothing to the household… Was she being too selfish?
Tears swirled in her eyes several times before she lowered her lashes, her voice soft and hoarse. “Sister-in-law… let me think it over.”