The next day, Shao Zhen stood beneath the eaves, reaching out to catch the cool threads of rain. The warmth that had stirred in her heart the day before had since cooled.
She was, of course, grateful for Young Master Yun's regard. But once bitten, twice shy—she no longer possessed the reckless, all-or-nothing courage she'd had when she agreed to marry Tao Wenkan.
Shao Zhen had never had her fortune told, for that was something loving parents would arrange for their children. Shaoye regarded her as a debt-collecting enemy, and her stepmother Madam Cui could hardly be expected to show such kindness. But even without a divination, she could guess her fate: her destiny was ill-fated, her blessings thin, and she would only bring misfortune to those around her.
Her late mother and Tao Wenkan were both living proof.
Her year-plus in the Tao household stretched back in memory like an endless torment, and she truly had no desire to repeat that mistake.
Marrying into a prestigious family meant enduring endless formalities and reading others' expressions. The Yun family's standing was even higher, and Yun Cheng was the heir. A weak and incompetent woman like her, utterly ignorant of household management and unskilled at navigating social graces—how could she possibly bear the weighty responsibility of a clan matriarch?
In marrying her, Yun Cheng would gain nothing but a burden. Even if he agreed, how could the entire Yun household stand by and watch him act the fool? Marrying a friend's widow—that was a violation of human ethics. If word got out, how would the world view the two of them?
They would be drowned in the spittle of public scorn.
Moreover, she was not yet ready to open her heart to a new relationship. It would be unfair to Tao Wenkan, and unfair to Yun Cheng as well.
She was unwilling to rashly surrender her true heart, nor was she naive enough to hope for another's.
As for how she would survive after fleeing Ruzhou—paths were forged by walking them. She could find her way together with Xiaowen.
Yun Cheng had already helped her more than enough. She could not shamelessly cling to him.
Wherever she went in the future, she would remember his great kindness.
With her decision made clear, as if the clouds had parted to reveal the moon, Shao Zhen's mind settled. She only wondered how Xiaowen was faring now—whether Yun Cheng had already rescued her from the Shao household.
The three-day deadline seemed to pass in the blink of an eye. She was well-fed and well-treated in this residence with its upturned eaves, yet her heart could not let go of Xiaowen. With Shaoye and Madam Cui's viciousness, who knew how they might bully a defenseless young woman?
But Yun Cheng had not appeared for two days. When Shao Zhen inquired with the maidservant, she learned he was not in the residence.
Though anxious, she dared not interfere with his affairs.
She trusted the young master. Since he had promised to ransom Xiaowen, he must have been confident. Besides, she still owed him a final answer—he would have to return at night eventually.
When evening came and dinner was finished with still no sign of Yun Cheng, Shao Zhen found her tangled worries pressing against her chest, desperately needing release.
She told the maidservant she wished to stroll alone for a while and that no one need accompany her.
As she turned away, she failed to notice the flicker in the maidservant's eyes, nor the complexity in her expression.
The night was dark, starless—like her own murky, uncertain path ahead, and like Yun Cheng's deep, dark phoenix eyes.
For no reason at all, the thought of the words she would soon speak to him filled her with trepidation.
This was the difference between Yun Cheng and Tao Wenkan. Tao Wenkan had been frank and warm, like a wild, passionate summer breeze that brought warmth wherever it passed. Yun Cheng, by contrast, was cool and aloof, like a flawless piece of white jade to be admired from afar, never profaned.
From the very first time she laid eyes on him, Shao Zhen had felt awe.
In their earlier encounters, she had even thought he despised her. That was why she was so stunned when she heard him say he had feelings for her. Even after three days, it still seemed unbelievable.
What could he possibly see in her? She simply could not fathom it.
Shao Zhen wandered aimlessly, barely watching where she was going, until a lantern suddenly appeared in her field of vision—its dim light barely illuminating a small circle.
The young woman started, her eyes widening in fright as she collided with the cold gleam in the young master's eyes within the darkness.
How had he walked with absolutely no sound, like a ghost? He had given her quite a scare.
She looked around, unable to recognize where she had wandered to, nor how Yun Cheng had found her. After a moment, she stammered, "Young Master Yun."
"I hear Miss Shao has been looking for me these past two days?" He handed the lantern to Shao Zhen, and with eyesight far keener than ordinary men, he boldly surveyed her fair cheeks in the darkness.
He guided her back without any visible change in expression—just a bit further and they would reach the back gate of the residence.
Beyond that wall, hidden guards kept watch day and night, precisely to prevent her from taking it into her head to leave the estate.
He had indeed been away these two days, yet someone had recorded her every word and action and reported it all to him.
Surely the young woman had made her wise choice, which was why she was so urgently seeking him out, afraid he might change his mind and she would lose her support.
Once she spoke those words of consent, he thought he might kiss her, taste those lips he had coveted for so long.
At the thought, Yun Cheng's blood ran hot, and the unfilled hollow of desire gave rise to an indescribable hunger. His stomach was empty, but his appetite was ravenous.
The food that could sate his hunger was within arm's reach—if not for the shell of hypocritical restraint that bound him, he would have opened his mouth and devoured her whole.
He wanted her, wanted her so badly, wanted so desperately to eat her up—
She could hear the slight hoarseness in his voice, tinged with exhaustion. Perhaps it was because he had been running around these past few days on her behalf, too busy to rest. Shao Zhen's heart stirred with both emotion and guilt, her mouth feeling as if stuffed with cotton, the words stuck at her lips and refusing to come out.
Noticing her hesitation, Yun Cheng stopped in his tracks and asked, "Lady Shao, have you made up your mind?"
In the quiet corner, every sound seemed amplified, and his directness made her heart skip a beat.
She couldn't quite make out his expression—it was like a blind man crossing a river in the dark, leaving her even more uncertain.
There was no avoiding it; she had to lay her cards on the table. Summoning her courage, Shao Zhen said, "Young Master Yun, you deserve a better woman. I—I come from humble origins, my learning is shallow, and I've been married before. I am unworthy to be the matriarch of the Yun clan."
Her answer was completely different from what he had envisioned, and Yun Cheng felt as if a basin of cold water had been dumped over his head. His craving was seized and constricted, stuck halfway, like a fishbone lodged in his throat.
He had waited three days, and still she meant to refuse him.
Where exactly had things gone wrong? All the classics he had read in his life, all the wisdom of sages and ghosts he had learned, none of it could provide him an answer.
When he had first set his scheme to approach her, Yun Cheng had never anticipated failure.
One could say that from the moment he was born, he was destined to sail with the wind, treating many matters as easily as reaching into a bag. Writing books, establishing his learning, managing the clan, guiding the court—all had proceeded without a hitch.
He had never imagined that one day he would experience the frustration of wanting something and not getting it—and all because of a woman.
Absurd as it was, it was happening, plain and real.
How could he possibly be swayed by such a base and contemptible emotion?
Yun Cheng calmly rebutted, "But I think Lady Shao is intelligent and kind, second to none. If you are willing to learn how to manage the household, I will teach you personally. If you'd rather not learn, that's fine too—this is originally my responsibility, and I'll handle it myself."
Only he himself knew that he had secretly clenched his fingers, the tips and knuckles turning white.
His unreserved praise muddled her thoughts, and Shao Zhen couldn't help but feel a bit fortunate that they were in the dark—otherwise, her flushed, burning face would be on full display.
She tried to steer the conversation back, speaking slowly, "But this is only your wish. The elders of the Yun family may not necessarily—"
Before she could finish, the young lord spoke up: "The matriarch of the Yun clan is first and foremost my wife. As long as you're willing to nod, I will inform my family. They are reasonable people and will never tear apart a loving couple."
The grievances the Tao family had made her suffer were all because of Tao Wenkan's incompetence. He was not Tao Wenkan—he would make the entire Yun family respect and value his matriarch.
Shao Zhen was undoubtedly awed by his resolute tone, and then she heard him say, "If Lady Shao has any other concerns, you may voice them one by one."
She felt as though his mood had soured, the air around them growing thick and stagnant, much like that night when he had grabbed her arm. But when she tried to feel more carefully, everything seemed normal again.
She gently bit her lower lip and listed another reason: "I was once Wenkan's wife. If I now marry you as a second marriage, what will people who don't know the truth think?"
Yun Cheng answered without hesitation: "You are no longer a wife of the Tao family, and I did not entangle myself with you while you were still a married woman."
Of course, he now regretted that. If he had recognized his own heart sooner, he thought, he wouldn't have minded setting his scheme half a year earlier—luring her to stray beyond the bounds of propriety, watching with malicious delight as she wavered between two men, caught in a dilemma.
With her timid, quail-like nature, her reaction to such a situation would have been very entertaining.
For her sake, he wouldn't have minded playing the role of an unnamed lover for a few days.
Of course, he wouldn't have allowed her to drag things out with Tao Wenkan for long. In the end, she would have to devote herself wholly to him.
But thinking of her current refusal, he pressed his lips into a thin line, all interest gone flat. "You and I both know the truth. Gossip dies in the face of a clear conscience. You and I will live behind closed doors and pay them no mind. In time, they'll tire of it and stop their idle chatter."
What she considered an insurmountable chasm, he dismissed with a light touch, as if it were nothing at all.
Indeed—the young lord was eloquent and silver-tongued; how could she ever out-argue him?
Shao Zhen had no choice but to play her final card: "But… but my heart still holds Tao Lang."
The moment she said it, she clearly felt his breath sink.
This time, he did not answer as readily as before.
The air stiffened, growing thinner, like a tightened string hanging around her neck. The wound that hadn't fully healed a few days ago began to ache, and even swallowing became difficult.
But Yun Cheng did not touch her, nor did he even approach her. He did nothing at all.
Shao Zhen seized the opportunity to think that perhaps it was because Yun Cheng had been raised as the family heir since childhood—needing the recognition of his clan members inwardly, and facing rulers and ministers outwardly at court. It was only natural that he carried an air of authority without even trying.
She turned her thoughts back to the present.
Ask yourself: what man could tolerate marrying a wife who lay beside him with a heart elsewhere, pining for another man? She assumed Yun Cheng was no exception—why would a gentleman who had never lacked admirers and devoted hearts seek out misery with her?
But she was wrong, yet again. After a brief silence, Yun Cheng said, "I don't mind."
Had the young lady lifted her lantern even slightly, she would have seen the deep, dark storm brewing in his eyes.
He took a slow breath, reining in the faint, grinding sound of clenched teeth, and repeated himself: "I don't mind. I am willing to wait for Lady Shao to slowly move on."
"Lady Shao, Brother Tao entrusted you to me before he departed precisely because he knew me through and through, and believed I could take good care of you." Yun Cheng had no choice but to borrow Tao Wenkan's name, hoping to gain a bit more leverage.
Even though he loathed mentioning his deceased friend, the young lady could not stop thinking about him.
"I don't mind your past with him."
"I don't mind you using me, or clinging to me."
He spoke these words against his own heart, his face utterly expressionless.