Half a month later, at Peach Blossom Cove on the eastern outskirts of the capital.
By the end of the third lunar month, the peach blossoms had reached their peak. Stretching for miles, the peach groves formed a sea of rosy clouds. Peach Blossom Cove covered a vast area, nestled against mountains and beside water. A shallow stream wound its way down from the hills, flanked on both sides by peach trees whose branches intertwined overhead.
It was the liveliest destination in the capital during springtime. Every year at this season, young masters from noble families and daughters of prestigious households would come out to admire the blossoms and enjoy outings in the countryside.
Officially, they were there to appreciate the flowers.
In reality, it was also an opportunity for matchmaking.
The ladies of each household brought their sons and daughters out with unspoken understanding, sitting beneath pavilions among the blossoms, sipping tea while discreetly letting their eyes wander through the crowd.
Shen Jinghong leaned against a pavilion pillar, a wine flask dangling from one hand, idly watching several young girls flying kites by the stream not far away.
Today he wore a moon-white round-collared robe, fastened with a silver-gray belt. A white jade hairpin adorned his crown, making his already handsome features appear even more striking.
Half a month had passed, and he had lost some weight.
As punishment, Shen Dingjiang had made him hold horse stance drills on the training ground for seven straight days from before dawn until sunset every day. His knees had swollen like steamed buns, and he could barely walk without staggering.
Liu Yunshuang had cried from heartache at the sight, but she had not uttered a single word to plead on his behalf.
“Jinghong! What are you daydreaming about?”
A hand landed heavily on his shoulder.
The impact made the wine flask wobble, splashing wine across half his sleeve.
Turning around, he saw a round-faced young man with thick eyebrows and bright eyes. When he smiled, two tiger teeth showed.
It was Zhao Zheng, the legitimate second son of Vice Minister Zhao of the Ministry of Works. He was one of the capital’s most notorious playboys and, together with Shen Jinghong, was known as one of the “Twin Menaces of East City.”
“Go easy with that,” Shen Jinghong grumbled, shaking the wine from his sleeve.
Zhao Zheng chuckled and sat down beside him. Pouring himself a cup of wine, he drained it in one gulp and smacked his lips.
“I heard your father locked you up for most of the past half month. How’d you get released today?”
“My mother pleaded for me,” Shen Jinghong replied gloomily, taking a drink. “If I’d stayed locked up any longer, my father said he’d send me back to the frontier.”
“Back to the frontier? That’s great!”
Zhao Zheng’s eyes lit up.
“Didn’t you always say the frontier was fun? Riding horses, hunting much freer than being stuck in the capital.”
Shen Jinghong didn’t answer.
The frontier was free, sure.
But it was also his father’s territory.
In the capital, he could still sneak out to drink and gamble. At the frontier, Shen Dingjiang would practically tie him to his belt and drag him everywhere.
“Oh, right.”
Zhao Zheng lowered his voice and leaned closer, eyes glittering with gossip.
“What happened with that marriage of yours? Has it been canceled yet?”
Several other young gentlemen in the pavilion immediately perked up their ears.
Half a month ago, the story of General Shen binding up his son and personally taking him to apologize had spread throughout the capital.
Even storytellers in teahouses had turned it into a popular tale titled:
“The General Binds His Son to Apologize; The Grand Tutor Rejects the Marriage and Returns the Betrothal.”
The story had been embellished beyond recognition, and wherever Shen Jinghong went, people pointed and whispered.
Shen Jinghong set his wine flask on the stone table and snorted.
“No.”
“No?”
Zhao Zheng stared in surprise.
“Didn’t you say the Grand Tutor agreed?”
“My father begged for three months.”
The resentment in Shen Jinghong’s voice was unmistakable.
“Right in front of the Grand Tutor. Asked him to give me three months to turn over a new leaf.”
“Turn over a new leaf?”
Zhao Zheng looked him up and down before bursting out laughing.
“With that head and that face of yours, what exactly are you supposed to become in three months?”
Shen Jinghong shoved him irritably.
“What are you laughing at? You think I wanted this?”
The other young men nearby joined in the laughter.
One youth in a dark blue robe leaned forward. It was Zhou Yanzhi, the son of the Minister of the Court of Imperial Sacrifices. He was fairly close to Shen Jinghong and teased him with a grin.
“Jinghong, then what are you planning to do? What happens after the three months are up?”
“After three months?”
Shen Jinghong tilted his head back and emptied another cup of wine. Wiping his mouth, he spoke with stubborn defiance.
“Even if it were thirty years, I’d still be exactly the same.”
As he said this, he raised his chin slightly.
The reckless, unyielding pride of youth once again surfaced in his expression.
“He’s hopeless.”
Zhao Zheng grinned and delivered the verdict for him, pouring both of them another drink.
“You’re like a stone at the bottom of a latrine stubborn and foul.”
Shen Jinghong kicked him under the table.
“You’re the stone.”
The group laughed and joked for a while before another young man in a sapphire-blue brocade robe poked his head in from the other side of the pavilion.
It was Fang Ziheng, the son of a vice minister in the Ministry of Revenue.
Fair-skinned and handsome, with naturally smiling peach-blossom eyes, he blinked and leaned toward Shen Jinghong.
In a suggestive tone, he asked:
“Jinghong, tell us the truth. Do you already have someone in your heart?”
The pavilion fell silent for a moment.
Everyone turned to look at Shen Jinghong.
He frowned.
“What do you mean?”
“I mean…”
Fang Ziheng smiled knowingly.
“You’ve fought this marriage so desperately. You even look down on a match with the Grand Tutor’s family. There has to be a reason, right? Have you fallen for some girl already? Tell us, and we’ll help you evaluate her.”
“Exactly!”
Zhao Zheng slapped his thigh.
“You don’t happen to have a sweetheart, do you? Is that why you refused to marry Miss Fu no matter what?”
Shen Jinghong froze briefly before letting out a dismissive laugh and shaking his head.
“No.”
“Then why are you so unwilling?” Zhao Zheng pressed.
“I’ve already said it.”
Shen Jinghong set his wine cup down firmly and declared with complete confidence:
“She’s sickly. I’m a martial man. In the future, I’ll be riding horses, drawing bows, wielding swords and spears. If I marry a wife who collapses whenever the wind blows, I’d be embarrassed to even take her to the training grounds in my own estate.”
Fang Ziheng twitched at the corner of his mouth and looked at him as though he wanted to say something but couldn’t.
Zhao Zheng also fell silent for a moment before speaking carefully.
“…That’s really the only reason?”
“Isn’t that enough?” Shen Jinghong shot back.
The young men exchanged strange looks.
Zhao Zheng coughed lightly and said tactfully,
“Jinghong, have you ever considered that Miss Fu might not want to go to your training grounds in the first place?”
Shen Jinghong blinked.
It was obvious he had never considered such a possibility.
Suppressing laughter, Fang Ziheng slapped the table.
“Exactly! She’s a sheltered noble lady who rarely even leaves her inner courtyard. Why would you bring her to a training ground? To spar with you?”
“Hahaha!”
Zhou Yanzhi couldn’t hold it in any longer and burst out laughing.
Shen Jinghong’s face alternated between red and white.
Embarrassed and annoyed, he slapped Fang Ziheng’s hand away.
“What are you laughing at? What do you know?”
“Fine, fine, we don’t know anything.”
Fang Ziheng raised both hands in surrender, though his smiling eyes made it clear he had no intention of letting the matter drop.
Changing the subject slightly, he asked:
“But speaking of which, Jinghong, if you dislike frail women so much, then tell us what kind of girl do you like?”
The question caught Shen Jinghong off guard.
He opened his mouth, only to realize he couldn’t answer.
Zhao Zheng immediately joined in.
“Yeah! You’re always saying you don’t want a sickly girl. Then tell us what kind of girl you do want.”
The repeated questioning began to irritate him.
He casually set down his wine flask.
“As long as she’s not sickly, that’s enough.”
Before he could finish speaking, Fang Ziheng suddenly seemed to think of something.
Leaning close to Shen Jinghong’s ear, he lowered his voice and whispered:
“Don’t tell me it’s someone like Qiu Lingxi?”