The soft sensation clung to her fingertips, refusing to fade…
Once she regained her footing, she quickly stepped back from his embrace. After all, aside from Tao Wenkan, she had never been in such close contact with another man, even if his intentions had been good.
She suppressed the flush of embarrassment and turned her head, her gaze meeting an unexpected face in shock.
It was Yun Cheng, whom she had seen just a few days prior.
She hadn't dared to look closely that day, but meeting him alone today, Shao Zhen realized he was very tall—appearing even taller than Tao Wenkan. Her height barely reached his chin.
He stood before her, immediately blocking out a large swath of light. The young gentleman stood tall and elegant, yet remained silent, like a jade statue immersed in shadow, making one afraid to make a sound to disturb him.
Yun Cheng straightened his robes, which she had knocked askew, but the faint fragrance of tea blossom from the young woman refused to dissipate.
Unlike the sweet xiaolan orchid scent favored by noble ladies, Shao Zhen's fragrance didn't seem to be from incense—it was more like the natural scent of fresh flowers. At first whiff, it seemed barely there, yet like the woman herself, it managed to permeate every corner and linger around his nose.
He thought to himself that once he returned, he would have these clothes burned immediately, inside and out.
And the tips of her hair that had brushed against his chin in that split second—like a soft feather, even though they had already parted, that maddening itch spread from his chin, causing him to swallow hard, feeling utterly uncomfortable in his own skin.
And her waist.
One of his hands had nearly encompassed it entirely—the sensation both firm and soft, impossibly slender.
Did the Tao family not feed her? How could she be this thin?
In the current era, both men and women prized the delicate willow-in-the-wind figure, but many achieved that slender frame through fasting or medication. Shao Zhen was clearly not one of them—her cheeks had some fullness to them; she was simply naturally small-boned.
Suddenly realizing what he was thinking, Yun Cheng's lashes trembled as he concealed the disgust hidden in their depths.
When he saw her foot slip moments ago, he had reached out instinctively.
He shouldn't have made such an improper gesture.
"Lady Shao, are you alright?"
Hearing his voice, clear as a mountain stream, Shao Zhen's ears inexplicably grew warm: "Thank you for your assistance, Master Yun. Shao Zhen is deeply grateful."
The term "lady" could apply not only to married women but also to unmarried ones.
Given his relationship with Tao Wenkan, he could have called her "Madam Tao" or "Sister-in-law"—the former showing more respect, the latter more familiarity—but even if Yun Cheng dared to address her that way, she would never dare to accept it.
She was self-aware enough to know that she and Yun Cheng had only met twice. If not for Tao Wenkan's sake, he likely wouldn't have paid her any mind at all.
"I have matters to attend to. I shall take my leave of Lady Shao."
Seeing that Yun Cheng had no intention of exchanging pleasantries, Shao Zhen secretly breathed a sigh of relief and replied, "Master Yun, please go ahead."
As she listened to the sound of his footsteps and those of his two guards fading into the distance, she lost the desire to continue strolling and headed back down.
Having grown up in the Shao household, she was accustomed to reading people's expressions to survive, making her fairly perceptive of others' thoughts.
She hadn't missed the slight frown Yun Cheng had given when he stepped back—that kind of instinctive reaction couldn't be faked.
Perhaps as Tao Wenkan's good friend, he too felt she wasn't worthy of him.
Then again, at least he hadn't displayed his aversion to her openly—that was already more courtesy than she could have expected.
Shao Zhen's heart ached slightly, and she missed Tao Wenkan all the more.
It had only been three days since they parted, but without him, each day felt like a year.
She wondered where he was now, and whether he was thinking of her too.
Back at Qingyan Study, Yun Cheng didn't pause for a moment before ordering his servants to draw a bath.
"Burn these clothes. Burn them thoroughly." Jiu Jian acknowledged the order, knowing that his master, who kept his distance from women, was having another bout of his cleanliness obsession.
He should have had the sense to step forward and help that Lady Shao himself earlier.
Once, a maidservant with ill intentions had taken advantage of a moment of inattention, sneaked into his bedchamber, and slipped naked into the brocade covers to await Yun Cheng's return, hoping to win his favor in one bold move.
But when Yun Cheng saw her, he left the room without changing his expression and ordered the woman who had overstepped her bounds to be thrown out. Afterwards, the entire carved rosewood bed and all the furnishings in the room were discarded and destroyed, making Jiu Jian's heart ache to witness.
Only a noble clan like the Yun family, with their wealth and extravagance, could afford his wanton destruction of property and squandering of the family fortune.
From that day on, there were no more maidservants in Qingyan Study. Maids from other quarters who came to deliver messages or report matters had to stop outside the corridor. Anyone who broke this rule would be banished to the outer courtyard to do rough cleaning work.
Of course, it wasn't just women that Yun Cheng disliked being near—he fairly disliked anyone who approached him without proper boundaries.
Once, Tao Wenkan, caught up in an animated conversation, forgot his friend's habit and reached out to clap him on the shoulder. Yun Cheng sidestepped to avoid it, leaving Tao Wenkan to laugh awkwardly.
In the misty haze of the bath chamber, Yun Cheng let himself sink into the warm water, washing away the scent that did not belong to him. As if devoid of any pain, he scrubbed his right hand fiercely with a cloth, with such force that it seemed he would not stop until he had rubbed off a layer of skin from the hand that had touched Shao Zhen.
Yet that soft sensation seemed to cling to his fingertips, refusing to fade.
…
When he finished bathing, an elderly servant's respectful voice came from outside: "Young Master, the Old Master requests your presence for a talk."
"Thank you for making the trip, Uncle Zhong." The visitor was the steward who had served Old Master Yun for decades; even Yun Cheng's father treated him with deference.
A gentle breeze rose in the night, and the dark surface of the pond appeared calm and unruffled, yet ripples spread across it in layers.
The white-haired elder sat by the waterside pavilion. Hearing the slow, unhurried footsteps, he did not raise his head but said, "Come, keep this old man company for a game of Go."
Yun Cheng sat upright across from him, his slender, well-defined fingers picking up a white stone.
Before long, black and white stones were locked in fierce battle on the board. Yun Wenhu, seemingly casual, parted his lips to ask, "So you've truly decided on the Third Prince?"
The young man paused slightly in his movement, a hint of understanding flashing through his eyes: "As expected, I cannot hide anything from Grandfather."
Yun Wenhu said, "I may be advanced in years, but my eyes are not blind. Those moves you've made in court may fool others, but they cannot escape my notice."
Yun Cheng parted his lips and said, "Who would dare to underestimate Grandfather? In those turbulent times, you served as Chijie Dudu, leading troops to guard Jiangzhou, Jingzhou, Yangzhou, and Pingzhou, supporting the late emperor to ascend the throne with great merit. Though you now live in retirement, you still hold the title of Grand Commandant."
Grand Commandant—one of the Three Excellencies. How many in recorded history had received such an honor?
As everyone knew, without the Yun family, there would be no Wei dynasty as it stood today. Hence, a saying circulated throughout the streets: "Yun and Wei share the realm."
Amid their conversation, the white stones were forcefully surrounded by black stones, their retreat cut off.
The elder's other idle hand tapped rhythmically against the edge of the table as he retorted, "How could that compare to the scale of your boldness? When the refugee uprising broke out in Lucheng this time, and His Majesty requested the great families to raise grain and medicine, you were the first to set an example, letting the army take a full five thousand dan of grain from our Yun family."
"That Lucheng affair was clearly a trap His Majesty laid for the great families. To support the Third Prince, you ruthlessly extracted a total of twenty thousand dan of grain from the six major families. Guess—when the other families come to their senses, what will they think of you? Wu Jiu, are you trying to make the Yun family the target of everyone's arrows?" Seeing the white stones trapped by his own, Yun Wenhu's questioning pressed forward as relentlessly as his pieces.
Wu Jiu was the courtesy name he had personally bestowed upon Yun Cheng on the day of his coming-of-age ceremony, hoping that this grandson of his would be free from calamity and fault, leading the Yun family smoothly and steadily forward.
But his current choices truly betrayed the hopes Yun Wenhu had placed in him.
Yet the young man under such pressure showed no change in expression, consecutively placing several stones. "I am pulling them along out of regard for old ties."
"The Lucheng uprising arose from drought, but it was not merely a natural disaster. The Fan family of Luyang took the opportunity to inflate grain prices, forcing the starving dead to line the streets before their gates, driving the common folk to rise up in revolt. Those refugees, wielding firewood knives and hoes, coordinated from within with the tenant farmers who were stripped of their rations while toiling desperately on the estates. The first to be held accountable was the Fan family. That they were devoured flesh and blood—they have only their own folly and self-destruction to blame."
"Now that the great families have offered grain and declared past grievances forgiven, those among the refugees who desire stability will naturally turn back from the wrong path. The morale within the refugee ranks will collapse on its own, and the common scholars across the realm will witness our benevolence—especially the Yun family's commitment to the greater good."
In a few brief words, Yun Wenhu detected the resolve in his speech: "You are dead set on helping the Third Prince and opposing the other great families?"
"Might I ask Grandfather, where are the Wang and Xie families of old now? Throughout history, let alone aristocratic clans, how many dynasties have stood for a hundred years without toppling? In less than sixty years, the great families have already shown signs of decline. Survival of the fittest—no one is to blame. Grandfather must know that the other families are also secretly courting the various princes; everyone wants to stand alone at the top." Yun Cheng curled his thin lips, a cold, faint light flickering in the depths of his eyes.
"But how many are there in the great families, and how many in the common ranks? Can a single Yun family withstand the onslaught of ten thousand people? Without breaking the old, the new cannot be established. Grandson is considering a new path for the Yun family that can lead to a longer and more enduring future."
The elder, who had maintained a composed demeanor, held a black stone and surveyed the board. His expression suddenly turned grave.
The three stones Yun Cheng had just placed had directly revived a dead situation. The tide had turned, and the black stones had already fallen into the inferior position.
Yun Wenhu could hardly believe it, nor was he willing to concede defeat. His mind rapidly ran through multiple methods of breaking free, rehearsing them one by one—but none would work.
"Grandfather," the young man said with an air of calm detachment, lifting his eyes and pronouncing the verdict, "you have lost."
Yun Wenhu narrowed his eyes slightly, an indescribable feeling of emotion welling up in his heart.
When he had dominated the court and governed the realm alongside the emperor, Yun Cheng had still been in swaddling clothes. Yet time spares no one—today, his temples were streaked with grey, while Yun Cheng stood in the prime of his youth, radiant and full of ambition.
The old man sighed, half in lament. "How do you know the Third Prince won't one day become what the current emperor is now? When the birds are gone, the bow is put away; when the rabbits are dead, the hounds are cooked. If he turns against the Yun family once he's secured his power, what will you do then?"
"Father holds the military authority of Jianghuai, and with the several thousand private troops we've secretly cultivated, that is the Yun family's greatest leverage. If the Third Prince betrays his word to me, then however the Yun family helped him ascend the throne, we can just as easily pull him down."
The subversion of imperial authority—spoken of as casually as if it were eating a meal or drinking water.
Yun Wenhu finally looked at him with full attention. He had to admit that Yun Cheng's temperament was in no way inferior to his own younger self—if anything, he showed signs of surpassing it.
He was young and fearless, yet his sharp edges were sheathed, carrying himself with the calm certainty of one who had already won.
"I'm old after all. Very well—it's time to let you young ones carry the Yun family's name." The old man casually swept the chessboard into disarray, forced to concede to age.
Yun Cheng understood that this was his tacit approval of the plan. "Thank you for your trust, Grandfather."
"Enough of court affairs. Let's talk about you. You are the heir of the Yun family—it's time you took a wife and started a family, so I can dandle my great-grandchildren." Recalling how his old friend Shen had recently been showing off his adorable great-grandson everywhere, Yun Wenhu's face showed indifference, but his heart was sour with envy.
When his son Yun Minglang was born, he had been separated from his wife and child by war, missing all of his childhood mischief.
Later, there was Yun Cheng, but Yun Cheng was a naturally reticent child, and because of the discord between his parents, he was even more reluctant to be close to people. Thus Yun Wenhu always felt a sense of regret—he had never experienced the joy of teasing a little child.
He desperately wanted a cute great-grandson, but he would never say so outright—that would damage his dignity.
Yun Wenhu coughed lightly and advised earnestly, "Besides, you need a bedmate who knows when you're cold and when you're warm, someone to look after your daily needs and help you navigate and negotiate with the various factions."
Yun Cheng's mother, née Sui, had been plagued by illness ever since giving birth and could not exert herself. As a result, the household accounts and the expenditures of every branch had to be reviewed and approved by Yun Cheng himself. Not only was he busy with state affairs day in and day out, but he also had to manage the household.
Fortunately, Yun Cheng's energy far exceeded that of ordinary men—he managed everything with order and precision, never making a single mistake.
"I think Shen Li of the Chenwang Shen family would be quite suitable. She's well-read, refined, and graceful, and you've known each other since childhood. She's worthy of being the matriarch of the Yun family. I've already sounded out the Shen family's intentions—they're willing to facilitate this marriage. If you marry that girl Shen Li, the Yun and Shen families will be doubly bound, and the Yun family gains another pillar of support. It's all benefit and no harm. Wu Jiu, what do you think?"
When the old man spoke of the standards for a family matriarch, an inexplicable image of Shao Zhen surfaced in Yun Cheng's eyes.
That morning, when she had hastily retreated from his embrace, the tips of her ears had been tinged with a faint red, and when she timidly looked at him, she was like a frightened rabbit—soft, docile, and easily bullied.
He didn't dwell on why he was thinking of Shao Zhen at this moment, when she was the complete opposite of the poised and graceful Shen Li.
Yun Wenhu was right—the matriarch of a great house needed to be a woman who could stand shoulder to shoulder with him, who could manage the household on his behalf and share the burdens of the family, not someone bound to him by fleeting, insubstantial love that could vanish at any moment.
He had long ago seen through his own marriage—it was nothing more than a transaction of mutual benefit. The Yun family provided him with fine clothes and food and the grace of raising him, so naturally he had to make sacrifices in return. Just like his parents—each had held someone else in their hearts, yet they were forced together by family arrangements, living out their days with mutual respect but no love.
It wasn't so much that he needed a wife as that he needed an ally.
But the words "I'll follow Grandfather's arrangements" reached his lips and were swallowed back down. He lowered his long lashes to conceal the darkness within, offering a high-sounding excuse instead: "These are turbulent times. Even if I took a new bride, I wouldn't have the leisure to court her properly—I'm afraid I'd only neglect her. Let's speak of this another time."
Yun Wenhu studied his expression, feeling that something was inexplicably off, but Yun Cheng allowed himself to be scrutinized with perfect composure, which temporarily set the old man's concerns at ease. With a somewhat disappointed tone, he dismissed him.
Yun Zhong, standing in attendance, heard him sigh: "His wings are grown now—can't rein him in anymore."
It sounded like a complaint, but it was steeped in pride. That young master was one he had raised with his own hands.
Now that Yun Cheng had grown into a man of jade-like refinement, how could Yun Wenhu not be smug?
Yun Zhong saw through it but said nothing, comforting him along the same lines: "The young master has his own judgment. You needn't worry too much, Patriarch."
Yun Wenhu smiled without speaking, but his mind was on something else entirely.
His eldest grandson was perfect in every way except one—he simply had no inclination toward romance. If they waited for him to think of finding a wife on his own, who knew how many years would be wasted.
As the saying goes, old ginger is spicier. He had plenty of ways to bring two young people together.