A Chun feared her words would be laughed at by him.
She was naturally disinclined toward reading—simply not cut out for scholarly pursuits.
Shen Shiru, having weathered the ups and downs of officialdom and repeatedly fallen victim to slander, had long grown disillusioned. He did not expect her to be particularly ambitious; he only wished for her to be literate and capable of understanding account books.
All things become void after death. Shen Shiru could not have foreseen that after his passing, the possessions he left for Shen Yun'e and A Chun would be swindled or seized, and within less than a year, the mother and daughter would struggle to survive.
A Chun never imagined there would come a day when she would go to the capital.
If the Shen family had not sent someone to fetch her, she would have considered becoming a cook.
Now, for the time being, she no longer had to worry about her mother's medical expenses, but A Chun knew there was still much she needed to learn. Compared to her sisters, she fell far short.
A Chun felt ashamed that her motivation for learning was to find a suitable husband. If Shen Shiru knew, he would surely be disappointed in her as she was now.
The only thing untainted by ulterior motives was her desire to be close to Shen Weizhen.
She simply wanted to be good to him.
The attendant Ye Qing held a book box, waiting not far away.
As the wind rustled the green bamboo, Shen Weizhen slowly furrowed his brow. Looking at the sachet in A Chun's hand, he had to admit it was indeed crudely made, with uneven stitches. Yet, for offering it in prayer for skill in needlework, it was likely the best she could produce.
His gaze drifted downward, noticing the emptiness on her wrist and the calluses on her palm and fingers.
Shen Weizhen took the sachet: "I'll accept this. Next time you have something, don't rush over in such a hurry. Just send a maid to inform me."
Shen Weizhen valued family. No matter how busy he was, as long as his siblings sent someone to notify him, he could always make time to resolve the matter.
He noticed A Chun's face had grown even redder.
He had thought that was her limit earlier, but it turned out it could intensify further—was she truly a Red Camellia Spirit in disguise?
"Because I wanted to give it to Brother myself," A Chun said. "I wanted to see Brother."
In truth, she wanted to say that the gift she gave was not exquisite, even clumsy. If she had sent it through a maid, would it have seemed insufficiently earnest?
Then it occurred to her: when Brother sent her things, he always had a maid deliver them. Would he mistakenly think she disliked this way of giving gifts?
A Chun gazed at Shen Weizhen, stammering with anticipation.
She liked this handsome brother, even though he seldom smiled at her and was stern and aloof.
Shen Shiru had mentioned this son of his many times, saying he was naturally intelligent, brave, and resolute. The Thousand Character Classic, which A Chun had stumbled through for a long time to recognize all the characters, Shen Weizhen could recite entirely after reading it just ten times and accurately point out each character, earning him the reputation of a prodigy.
A Chun, who struggled with reading, admired those who excelled at it all the more.
Worried that Shen Weizhen might dislike it, A Chun quickly added, "If Brother feels disturbed, next time I'll have a maid deliver it."
"No need," Shen Weizhen said, holding the sachet. He had been coughing a bit the day before and couldn't smell its fragrance, so he merely remarked lightly, "Come if you wish. It's up to you."
The attendant Ye Qing reminded him, "Master, it's time to go."
Shen Weizhen was currently studying at an academy outside the city. Disliking the simplicity of the dormitory, he did not stay there. Every morning, he rode his horse there and returned to the estate on horseback each evening.
A Chun immediately took her leave. Qiu Shuang finally caught up, both anxious and annoyed. Without bothering to correct her young lady, she first bowed to Shen Weizhen.
Shen Weizhen called out to A Chun, "Jinghui, wait a moment."
A Chun obediently moved closer. "Brother."
Shen Weizhen asked, "Did Father not teach you to read?"
A Chun replied shamefully, "My mind is dull. I couldn't grasp it."
Shen Weizhen neither confirmed nor denied: "It may not be that you cannot learn; he is stubborn by nature, so his teaching methods are likely flawed as well."
A Chun thought he would say more and waited, but nothing came.
She looked up.
"Go back," Shen Weizhen said, "don’t miss paying respects to the Old Ancestor."
A Chun’s expression changed abruptly, and she immediately ran toward Muhe Hall. Amid Qiu Shuang’s sharp intake of breath, she turned back, hurriedly bowed to Shen Weizhen, and recited stiffly, "Your younger sister must go pay respects to the Old Ancestor and will take her leave first. Please forgive your brother—"
At a time like this, why was she still adhering to such formalities?
Though "adhering" wasn’t quite right—after hastily finishing, without waiting for his response, she lifted her skirt and ran off like a wild hare, even Qiu Shuang unable to keep up.
Shen Weizhen’s tightly furrowed brows slowly relaxed.
He pinched the sachet and casually handed it to Ye Qing, signaling him to put it away.
Shen Weizhen didn’t pay much mind to the sachet. Though he had no biological sisters, the household kept dedicated embroiderers for needlework, and the younger sisters from the second and third branches often sent him small handmade items.
Moreover, he disliked strong fragrances and rarely wore sachets; when given, he mostly stored them away unused.
Having caught a chill the previous night, he couldn’t smell the sachet’s scent today and had completely forgotten about it.
Time passed quickly until evening. At the academy, after the teacher left, Ye Qing tidied his writing materials. His friend Wang Chenming chatted idly with Shen Weizhen and happened to glance into his book box, letting out a surprised sound.
"Weizhen," Wang Chenming pointed at the sachet, "why did you put this in your book box?"
Only then did Shen Weizhen remember the sachet. He glanced at it and said, "A gift from my younger sister."
Wang Chenming had initially wanted to take it out for a closer look but immediately withdrew his hand upon hearing this, laughing, "You’re such a strange one, putting a sachet in your book box. Are you trying to scent your books too?"
Hearing this, Shen Weizhen reached out, picked up the sachet, and brought it to his nose for a careful sniff, detecting a familiar, faint fragrance.
It was the incense he often used to scent his clothes.
He turned and asked Ye Qing, "When did you put something inside it?"
"Young Master," Ye Qing replied, "when the young lady gave it to you this morning, there was already a sachet inside. I didn’t dare tamper with it."
Shen Weizhen placed the sachet back into the book box, puzzled.
How did she know what fragrance he used?
Such cautious efforts to please…
Wang Chenming asked with interest, "The young lady? Is she the cousin who came from Nanwuzhou?"
Shen Weizhen gave an affirmative hum and changed the subject: "Where are your sisters studying now?"
That night, after returning to the estate on horseback, Shen Weizhen began coughing. He sent a servant to inform that he was unwell and wouldn’t be paying respects to the Old Ancestor that day. However, the Old Ancestor summoned him, saying there was an important matter to discuss.
Shen Weizhen went.
The maids were dismissed, leaving only Nanny Zhao in attendance—clearly, there was a serious matter to discuss.
The Old Ancestor first showed him a peculiar square handkerchief, plain white with crooked, haphazard needlework marks scattered all over.
Shen Weizhen took it, initially puzzled. Upon examining the stitches closely, he gradually understood: "Is this Jinghui’s?"
The Old Ancestor nodded: "Correct."
Nanny Zhao explained that yesterday, when the young ladies came to pay their respects, this had fallen from Shen Jinghui’s sleeve unnoticed and was picked up by Shen Xiangmei. Though the item was trivial, Shen Xiangmei tossed it to her maid, mocking Shen Jinghui for being so frugal that she could probably scrape meat off a mosquito’s leg.
Shen Weizhen clenched the handkerchief, displeased: "It’s time to hire a tutor to discipline her properly."
The Old Ancestor said, "Jinghui also needs proper guidance."
Shen Weizhen remained silent.
The Old Ancestor gestured for him to drink the tea on the table. Shen Weizhen took a small sip—it was light yet fragrant, slightly bitter with a subtle astringency, carrying a clear and refreshing lotus aroma.
He seemed to see again the misty, lake-green pond, brimming with lush lotus leaves.
"This is lotus seed heart tea made by Jinghui herself. She brought it over this afternoon, avoiding the other sisters. She respects and cares for me, but fears the other sisters might gossip, so she didn’t dare make it known," the Old Ancestor said. "She’s a pitiful girl."
Shen Weizhen said, "Do you also wish to hire a tutor for her?"
The sisters in the family were close in age. Previously, a female tutor had been hired to teach them reading and writing. Later, the tutor passed the imperial examination to become a palace official and resigned, leaving the household. By then, the sisters had already completed the Four Books and Five Classics, and no further tutor had been hired.
The Old Ancestor said, "That was originally my thought—to hire a tutor to teach them works like the Records of the Grand Historian and the Book of Han. Reading cultivates understanding of principles, and studying history brings wisdom. The more one reads, the broader one’s perspective becomes, and one naturally learns to carry oneself with grace and composure. However, it’s difficult to find a female tutor specializing in history now. After all, our household consists only of girls, and your three younger brothers are all studying outside. Hiring a tutor might be inconvenient."
Shen Weizhen said, "If that’s the case, Grandmother need not trouble yourself. Zixi’s mother has established a girls’ school not far from the academy. I’ll inquire about it. If it’s suitable, we could send all the sisters there."
Zixi was his close friend, the youngest son of the current Vice Censor-in-Chief.
"Xiangmei’s mother dotes on her child excessively, spoiling her to the point of making her somewhat petty and prone to nitpicking over trivial matters. Attending the girls’ school, I believe, would be just right for her. Linying is young, but having her sisters as companions would be better for her," the Old Ancestor sighed. "Only Jinghui troubles me. She hasn’t read much, and I fear she might not keep up. Yet, leaving her alone in the mansion would be too lonely."
Shen Weizhen remained silent, as if deep in thought.
The Old Ancestor couldn’t gauge his intentions.
He was a man of heavy thoughts.
In recent decades, the Houfu had seen few descendants. On the family register, Shen Shiru had only Shen Weizhen as his son. The second and third branches were mediocre in talent, now merely holding idle positions, unlikely to achieve anything significant.
Of the younger generation, Shen Weizhen was the eldest. He had observed three years of mourning for his father, delaying the imperial examinations.
When Shen Shiru first passed away, many had their eyes on the Houfu, a lucrative prize—even a broken ship has three thousand nails! Though the Houfu was no longer as prosperous as before and was gradually declining, the wealth accumulated over more than a century remained substantial. Shen Weizhen had just inherited the title, simultaneously guarding against old enemies of the Houfu, dealing with those seeking to stir trouble, maintaining relations with influential officials friendly to the Houfu, and suppressing restless, troublesome subordinates below.
The Old Ancestor’s practice of vegetarianism and Buddhist devotion was no longer for herself.
She only prayed that her grandson, who had committed acts of killing, would remain safe and sound. She was willing to repay the blood debts herself.
When Shen Shiru first passed away, Shen Weizhen had once suggested that A Chun and Shen Yun'e, whom Shen Shiru had cherished most, should undergo sacrificial burial to fulfill their wish of being together.
The Old Ancestor’s heart trembled at the thought.
This matter was originally to be discussed with Madam Li, but Madam Li disliked handling such affairs, saying only to ask Shen Weizhen’s opinion and that she would agree with whatever he decided.
"…Shen Yun'e is also pitiful," the Old Ancestor said. "There are some things I originally didn’t want to tell you, fearing it would tarnish your father’s reputation."
Shen Weizhen asked, "Does he even have a good reputation to begin with?"
The Old Ancestor let out a heavy sigh and motioned for Nanny Zhao to leave.
Only the grandmother and grandson remained in the room.
"Shen Yun'e's husband originally grew up with her. Later, when your father was appointed as the prefect of Nanwuzhou, her husband served under him. As you know, Nanwuzhou is plagued by miasma, with many insects, ants, and venomous snakes. While surveying the terrain, your father was accidentally bitten by a poisonous snake. Shen Yun'e had a family recipe for treating snake bites and saved your father's life in time—who would have thought, alas!" the Old Ancestor said. "Your father took a liking to her, but at that time, Shen Yun'e had just married. Your father only wrote to me about this matter, asking me to send some jewelry and accessories for women as a token of gratitude for Shen Yun'e's life-saving favor. He also said that since they shared the same surname, it would be best to establish a clan connection so that she could be supported more in the future."
Shen Weizhen asked, "What happened afterward?"
"Later, Shen Yun'e had just become pregnant when her husband fell ill and passed away, leaving her all alone as a woman," the Old Ancestor looked at Shen Weizhen. "As for what happened after that, you already know."
Shen Weizhen said, "Why are you suddenly telling me all this today, Old Ancestor?"
"Shen Yun'e is pitiable, and Jinghui is pitiable too. When you proposed the Sacrificial Burial back then, I didn’t agree because Shen Yun'e wrote to me, begging me to spare Jinghui—she was innocent—" the Old Ancestor said. "Such is the way of the world. Without your father, how could the widowed mother and orphaned daughter survive? Speaking of these matters would reflect poorly on your father, so I’ve kept them to myself all along. I had intended to take them to my grave, but who knew… You should show more affection to Jinghui."
Shen Weizhen said, "I never said I wouldn’t show her affection."
"Then visit Jinghui more often, don’t just send gifts," the Old Ancestor said. "You know how most servants are opportunistic. You must treat her better so that others will respect this cousin. Only then can she live openly and confidently in this mansion."
In truth, she wasn’t entirely sure whether Jinghui was truly… But since she was already being raised in the mansion, and the child was sensible, whether she was truly related or not didn’t matter much. Jinghui had good looks; if raised well, she could marry into a good family in the future, which would also benefit the Houfu.
Shen Weizhen neither agreed nor disagreed. Instead, he asked, "Are you worried that Jinghui won’t keep up with her studies? I’ll inquire at the academy to see which classmates have sisters who have hired female tutors. If there’s one who is patient and knowledgeable, I’ll hire her to tutor Jinghui privately—what do you think?"
The Old Ancestor happily agreed.
Two days later, A Chun learned this dreadful news.
She was actually going to attend a girls’ school, and she would start after the Autumn She festival in August.
Heavens, she hadn’t even read a few poems—how could she attend a girls’ school?
Shen Xiangmei and Shen Linying reacted indifferently. They had been receiving Enlightenment Education since childhood, previously taught by tutors at home. Now, attending a girls’ school would merely mean studying and playing in a different place.
Besides, they could make more friends—what was there not to like?
As for Shen Zongshu, having heard some details from the Old Ancestor and knowing she was mainly accompanying her three younger sisters, she wasn’t afraid at all.
Suddenly, A Chun was the only one anxious about attending school.
Before one wave subsided, another arose. News came that the Old Ancestor had hired a female tutor specifically for A Chun to teach her poetry and literature, helping her catch up with the girls’ school curriculum.
A Chun was so worried that she even ate half a bowl less of rice.
On this day, the three sisters gathered to embroider. Looking outside at the drizzling rain, through the window, they saw a physician carrying a medicine chest hurriedly passing by, followed by an umbrella-holding servant and a medicine apprentice.
By the window, A Chun set down her crumpled embroidery first and looked over: "Is Big Brother sick?"
This path, that direction, could only lead to Renshoutang.
"Yes, didn't you know?" Shen Xiangmei glanced at the annoying rain, worried her painting wouldn't dry, and said, "Big Brother caught a chill on the evening of Qixi, fell ill the next night, and hasn't been to the academy for days."
A Chun counted the days, surprised: "A chill? How could he be sick for so long?"
"They say he was stung by a scorpion again," Shen Linying chimed in. "The old women in charge of the garden are getting lazier and lazier. How could there be scorpions at home?"
"Not at home, he was stung at the academy… oh dear," Shen Xiangmei said. "You're silly too—how could there be scorpions in good old Jingcheng? —Jinghui, where are you going?"
"Fifth Sister, Sixth Sister," A Chun said truthfully, "my hometown is in Nanwuzhou, where there are many insects, and I know some remedies for insect bites. Perhaps I can help Big Brother. I want to prepare some medicine, brew some soup, and visit him—why don't we go together?"
Shen Xiangmei and Shen Linying both shook their heads and refused, saying they didn’t want to be scolded by their eldest brother and were unwilling to go.
They simply didn’t dare.
Shen Weizhen was so stern that even among siblings, if someone made a mistake, he wouldn’t go easy on them.
Both sisters were afraid of him.
A Chun wasn’t afraid.
She touched her face and thought perhaps country folk had thicker skin and weren’t afraid of scolding.
That was a great advantage too.
The drizzle lingered, unceasing all day.
By evening, the stone bricks were covered in a fine, dense layer of rainwater. Shen Weizhen was reading in his study when he heard Ye Qing announce outside the door: "Young Master, the young lady cousin is here to see you."
His hand, turning the page, paused.
All he could hear was the sound of wind and rain outside, along with her slightly breathless voice asking Ye Qing: "Is the young master busy now?"
…She should call him brother.
Before Ye Qing could answer, Shen Weizhen raised his voice and said, "Not busy." He closed the book, walked over, and opened the door.
She wasn’t wearing a cloak. Qiu Shuang held an umbrella in one hand and a lantern in the other. Today, with the strong wind and slanting rain, both mistress and maid had their hair and clothes dampened at an angle, pitiful as two sparrows caught in the rain.
A few raindrops clung beneath A Chun’s eyes and on her cheeks, like fallen tears.
Shen Weizhen was certain that when she looked up and saw him, her eyes suddenly sparkled with light.
The words to send her away couldn’t be spoken.
"Brother," A Chun said happily, "I’m sorry. I should have sent someone to ask if you wanted to see me first. If you did, I’d bring the things; if not, I’d just have them delivered—but I only remembered this after the soup was done. There wasn’t time to send someone to ask, or it would have gone cold, so I took the liberty of bringing it over myself. The soup is still hot now—could you please invite me in quickly?"
Ye Qing’s expression changed.
Shen Weizhen disliked people entering his study. Without his permission, no one was allowed in—not even Ye Qing, who was responsible for tidying it.
Shen Weizhen indeed didn’t want A Chun to enter.
But his sister’s eyes were too bright.
He stepped aside, gesturing for her to come in, then instructed Ye Qing: "Take Miss Qiu Shuang to find Helu. Have Helu find some clean new clothes according to the young lady cousin’s size—and a cloak and hat for wearing in the rain."
As soon as he finished speaking, A Chun, entering the study, tripped over the threshold. Her eyesight was poor, and she misjudged the position. Taking a quick step, she stumbled and nearly fell.
Fortunately, she steadied herself by holding onto the doorframe, avoiding crashing into Shen Weizhen’s arms.
But in that moment, as the distance between them closed, Shen Weizhen caught the scent of elegant lotus fragrance, along with a faint, unfamiliar subtle aroma he had never smelled before.
He took a step back and looked down. On the side of A Chun’s dress were several mud stains, especially just above the knees. Her eyesight was poor at night, and she must have bumped into something or brushed against flower branches again.
“Fetch some more ointment for bruises and sprains,” Shen Weizhen said to Ye Qing. “I remember there’s a pair of lanterns with clear glass panels in the courtyard. Have Helu find them and give them to the young mistress later.”
Helu was the maid in charge of miscellaneous affairs and storing items in Renshoutang. Like Qiu Shuang, she had previously served in front of the Old Ancestor. She was the oldest and the most composed.
Ye Qing accepted the order and left with Qiu Shuang.
Though it was summer, the rain was cold.
Seeing A Chun shivering, her ears and the tip of her nose red from the cold, Shen Weizhen poured a cup of hot water. Unexpectedly, A Chun paid no mind to her own discomfort. Shivering, she first carefully opened the food box she had been protecting in her arms.
“Brother, I made snow pear and lily lung-moistening soup. It’s perfect for someone with a cough,” A Chun said. “And this ointment is a folk remedy from Nanwuzhou, specifically for scorpion stings. When I was little, a black scorpion bit my finger, and I developed a high fever. My mother applied this to my hand, and the fever broke that very night. Later, not a single scar remained.”
Seeing Shen Weizhen standing motionless, A Chun realized something. She took the initiative to apply the ointment to the back of her own hand first. “The ingredients were all from the estate, and I consulted a physician. He said it was fine, so I prepared it… If you think it’s unclean, Brother—”
The fragrance drew closer.
“I don’t think it’s unclean,” Shen Weizhen sidestepped. “Aren’t you thirsty after all that talking?”
A Chun was embarrassed. “…A little.”
Shen Weizhen handed her the hot water. She held the cup, tilted her head back, and drank it all in one go.
After finishing the water in one breath, A Chun remembered her manners. She smiled shyly and, following what Qiu Shuang had taught her, gently placed the cup back in its original spot. Then, she earnestly pretended to wipe away nonexistent water droplets from the corner of her mouth with a handkerchief. “Thank you, Brother.”
Shen Weizhen’s gaze fixed on her hands. Earlier, when she showed the ointment, she had revealed her fingers. Aside from calluses, there were indeed no scars from insect bites, but there were many marks from knife cuts and rope burns, clearly indicating she had done a lot of heavy labor.
“Did you have a difficult life before?” Shen Weizhen paused, then felt the question was unnecessary. “Your hands have so many scars.”
“It was alright. I worked in a spice shop and an herbal medicine shop. It was tiring, but I learned a lot. I’m slow and clumsy, so I often cut myself. But once I learned, I stopped cutting myself, and life got better and better,” A Chun said. “Now that I have you, Brother, my life is even better.”
She spoke sincerely, “I’m grateful to you, Brother. I like you.”
Inside the room, the lamplight was warm, while outside, the wind howled and rain poured. Shen Weizhen stared at her lips as they moved, then suddenly turned and walked toward the window, closing it tightly.
The elegant lotus fragrance clung to him like a lingering ghost.
He began to suspect his cold had worsened; otherwise, why could he only smell this scent?
With his back to A Chun, Shen Weizhen asked, “How did you know what fragrance I use?”
“I’ve studied perfumery a little. As long as I’ve smelled a spice before, I can blend something similar,” A Chun replied honestly. “I just hope you don’t mind it.”
"Perfume blending?" Shen Weizhen turned around, lost in thought. The lingering lotus fragrance in the air, faint yet persistent, seemed to hover between presence and absence. She couldn't help but ask, "Is the scent you're wearing today also blended by yourself?"
"Hmm?" A Chun said, "I didn't wear any perfume today."
Suddenly.
Shen Weizhen froze.
He realized it was her natural scent.
Fortunately, Helu knocked on the door just in time, standing outside and saying the clothes were ready, and she would take the young mistress to change.
A Chun immediately stood up to take her leave, but before going, she did not forget to remind Shen Weizhen: "Remember to drink the soup while it's hot, brother, and apply the ointment quickly—the sooner, the better."
She added guiltily, "It's my fault for not knowing you were stung by a scorpion; otherwise, you wouldn't have had to suffer these past two days."
Shen Weizhen gave a soft acknowledgment and closed the door, shutting out the restless wind and rain along with it.
Silence returned.
Only now, on the desk, there was the food box A Chun had brought, an incongruous and undeniable intrusion into his territory.
The soup was still warm. Shen Weizhen took a spoonful to taste—snow pear and lily lung-moistening soup, with added tremella. Yet all he tasted was a hint of lotus fragrance, along with a familiar, indescribable subtle scent. He dipped the spoon deeper, staring into the bottom of the bowl, but found no trace of lotus seeds.
He recalled how A Chun, upon entering earlier, had nearly tripped over the threshold due to her poor eyesight. The sleeves of her robe carried a faint lotus fragrance, like a lotus leaf wrapping around a half-open lotus bud. Those few unsteady steps she took toward him had carried a cool breeze, secretly wafting the lotus scent, mingled with the dampness of the rain, enveloping him entirely.
A crisp clink—the spoon struck the white porcelain.
Outside, Helu had just seen off the young mistress and was about to report back to Shen Weizhen. As she approached the study door, she heard the sound of shattering porcelain from within.
Helu stood outside, not daring to enter, and asked, "Master, what happened?"
After a moment of silence, only Shen Weizhen's voice could be heard.
"Nothing," he said. "The bowl fell. Have Ye Qing come in and clean it up."