A’Chun was lost again.
It wasn’t her fault; the Shen estate was simply too vast.
Even in the capital, where every inch of land was worth its weight in gold, the Shen family enjoyed ancestral blessings, boasting grand courtyards, sprawling wings, and majestic halls.
She, on the other hand, was born in the remote Nanwu Prefecture and had only arrived in the capital for the first time at sixteen years old.
Her biological father had passed away before she was born. Her mother, Shen Yun’e, was timid and suffered from a chronic cough, making it hard to earn a living. Fortunately, a distant cousin, Shen Shiru, helped them financially, allowing mother and daughter to live in peace.
Three years ago, Shen Shiru passed away. With the financial support cut off, A’Chun began working at a tavern to earn money for her mother’s medical treatments.
Word of her filial devotion reached Shen Shiru’s mother—the living Matriarch of the family. Moved by A’Chun’s dutiful conduct, she sent servants to bring the mother and daughter to the capital and settled them into the residence.
This was A’Chun’s second day at the Shen estate.
While taking a walk in the garden today, her maid was suddenly called away by the fifth young lady. Unfamiliar with the paths and ignorant of the Marquis estate’s rules, A’Chun waited on a stone bench. When no one returned, and fearing she would be late to pay her respects to the Matriarch, she relied on her memory to head toward Muhe Hall.
Carved railings, jade steps, waterside pavilions, and grand courtyards—after winding through the paths, she ended up right back where she started.
Under the sweltering sun, A’Chun’s face flushed with anxiety as she pulled a handkerchief from her sleeve to wipe away her sweat.
As she was wiping her brow, A’Chun suddenly felt someone watching her. She looked up and saw a young gentleman standing in the pavilion across the lotus pond.
It was the peak of summer, and the pond was filled with pink lotus flowers, their sweet fragrance wafting with every breeze. Among the rolling green lotus leaves of varying shades, he stood tall and slender in a silver-white robe and a golden crown. His facial features were deep and refined, his demeanor strikingly handsome.
Her heart skipped a beat, and a thought flashed through her mind: he must be her eldest brother, Shen Weizhen.
—She felt a natural sense of affinity toward him.
Before this, the two had never met.
Yesterday during dinner at the Matriarch’s quarters, A’Chun had met all the other sisters and brothers, except Shen Weizhen.
He had sent a pageboy to explain that he had recently caught a cold and feared passing it on to his sister, making it inconvenient to meet.
In truth, A’Chun understood that this elder brother disliked her.
She was well aware of her own background; nominally, she was a distant relative. But in reality? The Matriarch pitied her, granting her the same clothing and stipend allowance as the other young ladies in the residence, yet A’Chun never dared to truly consider herself a daughter of the Shen family.
Shen Weizhen was different.
He was the eldest son who would inherit the noble title. Righteous and noble, he had passed the provincial examination at the top of his class at nineteen. Had it not been for the period of mourning for his late father, he would have already entered officialdom with an’ unfathomably bright future, standing as the most outstanding member of the Shen family.
Beside the lotus flowers in full bloom, A’Chun fearfully curtsied to Shen Weizhen.
She wanted to address him as “Brother,” but feared his distaste; nor could she call him “Eldest Master” like the servants did.
Wringing her handkerchief almost to tears, A’Chun finally squeezed out: “Young Master Shen.”
Flustered and her heart pounding like a drum, she wondered if her curtsy was proper or if her form of address was appropriate.
This was her first time in the capital, and she had no idea how to interact with this brother.
Looking up nervously, A’Chun realized Shen Weizhen hadn’t returned the courtesy, nor was it clear if he had even heard her address him.
He stood motionless in his place, gazing at her from across the water.
A’Chun grew even more uneasy.
The Matriarch said Shen Weizhen greatly resembled his father, but in truth, this eldest brother’s aura was far more like his mother, Lady Li—the eldest daughter of the Marquis of Yongjia: cold, distant, and detached.
From Lady Li’s icy demeanor last night to Shen Weizhen’s unblinking stare right now, either gaze made a cold shiver run down A’Chun’s spine, soaking her clothes in a thin sweat.
Amid her embarrassment, A’Chun spotted the figure of a maid nearby and felt as if she had been granted an imperial pardon. She bowed deeply toward Shen Weizhen from afar once more and left in a hurry.
—Even if her posture was wrong, having curtsied twice, he would surely forgive her sincerity, wouldn’t he?
A’Chun knew her place; aware that Shen Weizhen disliked her as a “sister,” she refused to stay around like an eyesore.
Yet for some reason, Shen Weizhen kept his eyes fixed on her retreating back.
Perhaps he disliked her so much that he wished she would simply disappear.
A’Chun sensibly walked away.
She was still late in paying her respects to the Matriarch.
When A’Chun stepped over the threshold of Muhe Hall, all the sisters were already gathered, sitting and chatting casually.
The Matriarch had a gentle disposition and did not fuss over such minor details, especially since her mind was currently occupied with Shen Weizhen’s marriage prospects.
A’Chun sat quietly, overhearing the conversation.
It turned out that when Shen Weizhen was near the lotus pond earlier, he was actually there for a matchmaking view.
Shen Weizhen’s mourning period had ended, and Lady Li was anxious about her son’s marriage. She had taken a liking to Miss Meng and invited her to the residence as a guest today so that Shen Weizhen could meet her.
“Miss Meng is the third daughter of the Marquis of Changning, clever and virtuous,” said Third Sister Shen Zongshu, the eldest daughter of the second branch, who was the gentlest of all. She smiled and said to the Matriarch, “You saw her during the Jinming Lake drills last year.”
“Ah, it’s her,” the Matriarch pondered briefly, then asked the reporting servant, “What did Weizhen say?”
“Replying to Old Ancestor,” the servant reported, “The Eldest Master said that Miss Meng was dressed in sky-water teal today, shining like the bright moon illuminating the forest, appearing just like a celestial being.”
The Matriarch beamed with a smile.
This meant Shen Weizhen had agreed.
With such a major matter settled, the Matriarch was in high spirits and instructed Lady Li: “I remember several bolts of sky-water teal Hangzhou silk were delivered in March. Since Weizhen says the color suits Miss Meng, send them all over to the Marquis of Changning’s residence later.”
Lady Li replied, “Six bolts were sent back then. Yesterday when A’Chun arrived in the capital, you mentioned tailoring a few outfits for her, so I had two bolts taken to rush-make new clothes for A’Chun.”
It was indeed a rush job, made overnight, and A’Chun was currently wearing it.
She originally had few dresses, all patched up and completely out of place in a Marquis’s household. The Matriarch had noticed this and specifically ordered extra clothes to be made for her; understanding that she couldn’t embarrass the household, A’Chun put on the dress as soon as it was delivered to express her thanks.
Caught off guard by being mentioned, A’Chun’s face flushed crimson. She stood up and curtsied to the Matriarch and Lady Li: “Thank you, Old Ancestor and Aunt, for your trouble.”
Lady Li didn’t look at her, nor did she smile.
The Matriarch looked closely and said affectionately: “A’Chun looks lovely in this color too—keep two bolts for A’Chun. As for the rest, find four bolts of other fabrics to send along to Miss Meng.”
Lady Li assented.
A’Chun knew the Matriarch wanted to dote on her, but she hadn’t expected to be doted on this much.
When she returned to Cangchun Courtyard, what arrived was not just those two bolts of sky-water teal Hangzhou silk, but more than a dozen bolts of various silks, satins, gauzes, and crepes. Several wooden boxes containing hairpins and floral accessories were delivered by Nanny Zhao, the Matriarch’s trusted maid, along with over a dozen servant girls.
Nanny Zhao was all smiles, speaking softly and slowly, yet acting with utmost efficiency.
The maid who had abandoned A’Chun at noon had committed a fault and was dismissed from Cangchun Courtyard; the Matriarch sent another maid over named Qiushuang.
Nanny Zhao put it delicately: “For the coming period, the Old Ancestor will be busy arranging the Eldest Master’s grand affair and might not have time to look after this side. If Miss needs anything, just come to me.”
A’Chun replied, “Thank you for your trouble, Nanny. Please have a cup of tea before leaving.”
Nanny Zhao politely declined, but A’Chun stepped forward to see her off, pressing a few pieces of silver into her hand.
Standing to the side, Qiushuang observed A’Chun’s conduct and secretly praised her: this cousin lady was truly perceptive and sensible.
Qiushuang had a straightforward personality. Having been ordered here by the Matriarch, she immediately set about organizing A’Chun’s courtyard.
Cangchun Courtyard was formerly Shen Shiru’s study, left vacant after his official transfer. The servants assigned here all knew A’Chun’s background, viewing her as someone from a remote province, and had been slack in their duties.
On her very first afternoon, Qiushuang established strict rules—punishing where necessary and rewarding where deserved. Her speech was so articulate and orderly that A’Chun was left stunned.
Having grown up in the market streets and countryside, she had never witnessed such proper decorum.
Qiushuang was equally strict with A’Chun.
“Miss,” Qiushuang said, “You are now a young lady of a Marquis’s household. In the future, you will inevitably go out with Madame to attend social visits. Your dignity is the Matriarch’s dignity, and even more so the Marquis estate’s dignity—you must learn these rules of etiquette.”
After working hard all afternoon, A’Chun had only learned the proper curtsying posture. When she finally got to rest, she wasn’t even able to have dinner with her mother; the Matriarch sent word asking her to head over to Muhe Hall.
Just as she entered the courtyard of Muhe Hall, A’Chun bumped headlong right into Shen Weizhen, hitting his chest with a solid thud.
Holding her forehead, she heard Qiushuang say in a panicked, flustered voice: “Miss has just arrived at the residence and has not yet mastered the rules. She accidentally offended you, Eldest Master; please do not take offense.”
By the light of the lantern Qiushuang held, A’Chun was finally able to make out the hem of Shen Weizhen’s robe—a dark blue embroidered with numerous bamboo leaves in silver thread.
The lush foliage in Muhe Hall had hidden him from her sight just a moment ago.
During the daytime, A’Chun’s eyesight was exceptional; from a hundred paces away, she could accurately shoot a tiny bug off a lychee leaf with a slingshot. But as soon as night fell, her vision failed her, leaving her eyesight even worse than that of an average person.
A’Chun supported herself against a nearby plantain tree to steady her footing.
A drop of dew slid down the vein of a plantain leaf and fell right between her brows, ice-cold and chilling. Uneasy and apprehensive, A’Chun looked up and called, “Brother.”
In the dim lantern light, she could not see Shen Weizhen’s face clearly. She could only catch the pleasant scent on him—a restrained, composed aroma of sandalwood incense, light and subtle.
She heard only Shen Weizhen’s peculiar voice: “Brother?”
A’Chun’s heart sank.
As expected, he refused to acknowledge her as his “sister.”
“Young Master Shen,” A’Chun lowered her head, not daring to look further for fear of seeing disgust on her elder brother’s face. She bowed in the proper manner Qiushuang had taught her, saying, “I suffer from an eye condition and cannot see clearly at night. I was unaware that you were standing here just now—”
Out of the corner of her eye, she saw him step back slowly, putting distance between them.
A’Chun bit her lip, unable to continue.
“Are you Jinghui?” Shen Weizhen asked. “What is wrong with your eyes?”
“Jinghui is the name the Old Ancestor bestowed on me yesterday. You may simply call me A’Chun,” she remained bowed. “I cannot see clearly at night. The doctor said there is no cure for it—it is a congenital affliction, born with me.”
Chun is an elegant literary name for camellia.
Nanwu Prefecture was warm year-round, never seeing snow, with perpetual spring weather that was humid and rainy—the perfect environment for camellias to thrive. Her mother had named her A’Chun in the hope that she would grow like the wild camellias covering the hills: free and unconstrained.
The Matriarch had remarked that a girl ought to have a proper name, as “Shen A’Chun” sounded far too unrefined for society.
Shen Weizhen was supposed to have had a younger sister, but tragically, she died before being born. At that time, the Matriarch had leafed through books and chosen the name “Jinghui.” Left unused for years, it had now been given to A’Chun.
As for the eye condition, A’Chun truly had no remedy.
Shen Weizhen’s biological father, Shen Shiru, had suffered from the exact same affliction; no matter how many famous doctors he consulted in his youth, it was to no avail.
A’Chun had long since given up hope.
Shen Weizhen fell silent.
Without saying a word, he walked straight past her.
A’Chun kept her head bowed, gently blinking only after the sound of his footsteps had entirely faded away.
It didn’t matter.
She told herself this was only natural.
Putting herself in his shoes, she wouldn’t like a child who came along and stole all of her parents’ affection either.
It was just…
A’Chun clutched her sleeves tightly.
It still hurt to be disliked.
Under the pale moonlight, Qiushuang looked at A’Chun’s dazed expression and couldn’t help but feel pity for her.
This distant cousin, brought into the household solely out of the Matriarch’s favor, was young and possessed the beauty of a celestial being, yet her fate had been full of hardships. While teaching her etiquette earlier, Qiushuang had noticed that A’Chun’s fingers were covered in calluses, and her palms bore numerous small scars. Recalling what she had heard before, she knew the girl must have suffered a great deal.
That evening, the Matriarch was very pleased with A’Chun’s deportment.
Qiushuang breathed a sigh of relief.
When the Matriarch assigned her to Cangchun Courtyard, she had instructed her to take good care of this cousin lady.
Qiushuang wasn’t afraid of a young lady having rustic, unrefined manners; she only feared a proud, stubborn temperament unwilling to learn.
Fortunately, the cousin lady was gentle and soft-spoken—quiet, yet sensible and understanding.
Just when it seemed the day would end peacefully, word came from Renshou Hall. For reasons unknown, Lady Li had sternly reprimanded Shen Weizhen, storming into his courtyard in a rage and leaving just as furiously.
After attending to A’Chun and settling her into bed, Qiushuang asked the maids on duty and finally learned the cause.
Just a moment ago, Shen Weizhen had suddenly informed Lady Li that he was unwilling to proceed with the marriage proposal regarding Miss Meng.
Lady Li was furious.
“The Eldest Master has always been decisive. What came over him today?” Qiushuang asked in shock. “Didn’t they say he agreed after catching just one glimpse of Miss Meng at noon?”
“That’s right,” Xiao Hong nodded. “I was serving outside the courtyard at the time and heard it clearly—after the matchmaking view by the lotus pond at noon, the Eldest Master personally told his pageboy that sky-water teal suited Miss Meng exceptionally well, and even wanted servants to buy silk fabric to send to her.”
Qiushuang thought for a moment, puzzled: “Come to think of it, I saw Miss Meng this afternoon as well—a heavenly beauty indeed. But was her dress today sky-water teal? Wasn’t it copper-green?”
“Perhaps I misremembered,” Xiao Hong leaned forward and asked, “Sister, has the cousin lady fallen asleep? Hand her clothes over to me, and I’ll take them to be washed and scented.”
Qiushuang agreed and turned back into the room to retrieve them.
Only two candles were lit in the inner chamber, rendering the room dim. She noticed a slight gap in the gauze bed curtains, and the shoes set neatly by the bed had been disturbed.
Pausing briefly, Qiushuang pretended not to notice, gathered the garments, and handed them to Xiao Hong waiting outside.
“The cousin lady prefers light, elegant floral and fruity scents—make sure it isn’t too overpowering,” Qiushuang instructed. “And these few pieces—”
Suddenly, she froze, staring blankly at the clothing in the basket.
—Earlier today, when the cousin lady walked past the lotus pond to pay her respects to the Matriarch, she had been dressed in sky-water teal.