“Slower! Are we rushing straight to the underworld?” Tao Chun finally lost patience and lifted the carriage curtain, shouting at Feng Chao who was whipping the horses.
Feng Chao gripped the reins in silence. This was “fast”?
He glanced at the pedestrians along the road—ordinary people on foot were moving faster than the carriage!
He had ridden with the general, charging across the desert frontier on a fierce steed, clashing with enemies—when had he ever moved this slowly?
He didn’t want to do this anymore.
Impatience was written all over Feng Chao’s face.
“Feng Chao.” Shen Yu’s lazy voice came from inside the carriage:
“Slower.”
“Yes, sir.” Feng Chao’s expression was one of suppressed grievance.
Su Yihan sat inside the carriage, slightly disdainful:
“The cushion is too hard. And General Shen’s posterior isn’t like that of an ordinary man.”
It pressed uncomfortably against her whole body.
Shen Yu’s brows knitted slightly:
“Uncomfortable?”
Su Yihan gave a faint, “Mhm.”
After hearing this, Tao Chun rushed in, intending to remove her outer coat to place it beneath her.
Su Yihan shook her head gently:
“No.”
Shen Yu suddenly understood:
“Apologies, I was foolish. I understand now.”
He promptly took off his cloak and handed it to Su Yihan.
Su Yihan froze for a moment, then carefully accepted it, folding it neatly to use as a cushion.
The soft fabric made sitting much more comfortable.
Su Yihan hummed softly, her tone elegant and melodious:
“What a pity such a fine cloak is put to such use.”
“Fragile,” Shen Yu scoffed. “I suddenly admire Miss Su. Raising someone as delicate as you must be difficult.”
“General, what are your plans for the future?” During the banquet, Yun Li had allowed Shen Yu two months of leisure in the capital, not returning home promptly, letting him grow familiar with the household.
Officially it appeared as a holiday, but the hidden meaning was to sideline him.
The worst danger for officials was “achieving more than the sovereign,” a phrase that had brought death to many. When Shen Yu was away, his father had been the target of such resentment.
Now that Shen Yu had returned, attention had shifted toward him.
So what would Shen Yu himself do?
“Play,” Shen Yu replied lazily, crossing his legs, eyes brimming with nonchalance.
“In that case, Yihan wishes the General much enjoyment,” Su Yihan said, the corners of her lips turning slightly.
“Play” could mean many things. Shen Yu didn’t seem the type to remain idle, content as a rich young heir.
Marquis Qing’an’s title was hereditary. Shen Yu, in a way, could be considered Yun Li’s peer—though their bond was nominal, lacking blood ties.
If Shen Yu truly wanted to indulge, he could, like Qi Jue, live off family wealth. Why endure the frontier, fighting enemies?
“May I ask,” Shen Yu adjusted his words and tone, “does your illness have any hope of recovery?”
“…”
After a long silence, Su Yihan let out a light laugh:
“No need to be so careful. We live as long as we can. If I die early, Father won’t be burdened—everyone’s happy.”
But she didn’t want to die too soon.
If possible, she would repay her father’s kindness first, clearing a smooth path for him before her death.
“Pessimistic,” Shen Yu commented.
“No,” Su Yihan countered calmly. “I am optimistic in my acceptance of reality.”
Pessimism worries over unlikely disasters; optimism is maintaining joy even in the direst circumstances.
Su Jin and Marquis Qing’an chatted all the way to the Su residence. Su Jin was guided by duty; the marquis by indulgence. Each had his own agenda, yet no argument arose.
Arriving at the residence, they poured tea and waited—but neither Su Yihan nor Shen Yu appeared.
“Could something have happened on the road?” Marquis Qing’an fretted.
Miss Su’s body was fragile; she couldn’t tolerate even a little sun.
Yet Su Jin, the devoted father, remained calm, unfazed.
“Are you not worried, Lord Su?” the marquis asked.
Su Jin shook his head confidently:
“No rush. She’s probably still on the road. Forget-Worries’ body can’t endure jolts—she’ll arrive after us. And with Dr. Song beside her, she’s safe. A prestigious doctor has his merits.”
Sure enough, after some more waiting, Su Yihan arrived, assisted by her maid. Shen Yu followed lazily behind, escorting her in.
“Miss Yihan greets the Marquis.”
Before, he had only glimpsed her from afar. Now, up close, Marquis Qing’an was impressed. This boy had truly good taste, noticing all of Miss Su’s and Madam Su’s virtues.
Bright eyes, pearly teeth, graceful figure—a fragile, sickly beauty evoking sympathy.
The marquis nearly said, “No need for formalities, daughter-in-law,” but noticing Su Jin nearby, he swallowed the words:
“No need for formalities.”
“Father,” Shen Yu called softly.
He came here?
“Cough.” The marquis regained composure. “I’ve come to deliver a few Mingyang herbs to Miss Su.”
Shen Yu gave a faint smile. Hmm, I’ve come to deliver the daughter to Miss Su.
“Stay and have dinner together.”
Su Jin spoke, then asked Su Yihan:
“Qi Jue said you were unwell. Are you feeling better now?”
“Better,” Su Yihan replied gently. “Just a cough from the cool wind outside—nothing serious.”
“Good.” Su Jin looked at Shen Yu:
“Thanks to Little Shen for escorting Forget-Worries back. Dinner will be ready shortly—Forget-Worries, take Little Shen and walk around the residence a bit.”
As for Marquis Qing’an…
Su Jin was conflicted: should he send him away or not? The Su household was truly poor; entertaining the marquis would be a large expense.
The marquis pretended not to notice, changing the subject:
“Play a game of chess, Lord Su?”
A game of chess could easily curry favor.
“…Alright,” Su Jin agreed.
The maid brought the chessboard, and the two fathers began playing.
Shen Yu accompanied Su Yihan to her Pear Orchard Garden.
“General, please wait here for a moment,” Tao Chun said, pouring him tea while she returned with Su Yihan to fetch clothing.
“Mm.”
Shen Yu sat on the stone chair. The courtyard was filled with flowers and plants; a swing rested in a corner—simple yet beautiful.
A pear tree grew there. Not its flowering season, its leaves still lush and green. Red cords hung from the branches, each holding a slip of paper with lines of writing.
Shen Yu walked slowly to the tree, reaching for a slip to read.
“General Shen has a habit of sneaking around like this.”
Shen Yu turned, meeting Su Yihan’s cold gaze.
“Sorry,” he said.
“Come here,” Su Yihan commanded, her tone authoritative, like calling a dog.
Shen Yu hesitated, unsure if he should step forward. After a few seconds, he reluctantly lifted his foot and spoke:
“Miss Su, I am after all a general. Could you give me some face?”
Su Yihan’s eyes lowered slightly. The setting sun cast a soft orange glow across her black hair.
“General Shen, your indulgence toward me surely has an ulterior motive…”