After a month in the residence, A’Chun had finally learned her way around the Shen estate.
Except for Renshou Hall, where Shen Weizhen resided.
A’Chun didn’t even dare to pass by his entrance.
Ever since their accidental collision last time, A’Chun had not seen Shen Weizhen again.
“Back then, the Master passed away so suddenly without leaving any words for Madame or the Eldest Master,” Qiushuang said, combing A’Chun’s hair. “At that time, the Eldest Master had just passed the top of the provincial examination. Before the celebratory banquet could even be held, he rushed to Nanwu Prefecture overnight.”
A’Chun gave a soft murmur in response.
She knew.
Shen Shiru’s illness had struck suddenly.
His term of office had originally expired, and the Emperor had already issued an imperial decree. Had it not been for this sudden illness, Shen Shiru would have traveled to the capital to report on his duties and receive a promotion.
Shen Weizhen had traveled thousands of miles to Nanwu Prefecture, and the very first thing he demanded was to unseal the coffin for an autopsy.
At that time, A’Chun was not yet thirteen. Her mother, Shen Yun’e, feared that Shen Weizhen might kill her, so she hid her away completely, not daring to let Shen Weizhen see her. Everything regarding that dispute came to A’Chun second-hand—
Shen Weizhen was cold-blooded and unyielding. Bringing a coroner with him and ignoring Shen Yun’e’s attempts to stop him, he insisted on removing Shen Shiru’s body, which had already been nailed into the coffin.
When the coffin was opened, Shen Yun’e wept bitter tears and fell to her knees, pleading. She declared that she should never have followed Shen Shiru without a formal title and begged Shen Weizhen to vent his anger on her instead of desecrating his own father’s remains.
Her pathetic entreaties did not change Shen Weizhen’s mind. Courteously addressing her as “Cousin Aunt,” he steadfastly refused to acknowledge her secret affair with Shen Shiru.
Nanwu Prefecture was sweltering to begin with, and it was August. Shen Shiru’s body had been laid out for over ten days, beginning to swell, decay, and even breed maggots. The moment the coffin opened, Shen Yun’e fainted. Yet Shen Weizhen, as Shen Shiru’s biological son, watched with an unwavering expression as the coroner cut open his birth father for the autopsy. He even personally inspected the sliced-open stomach—unnaturally calm and chilling to the bone.
Even today, after entering the Marquis estate, Shen Yun’e felt like vomiting at the mere mention of Shen Weizhen’s name.
A’Chun did not see it that way.
She had always felt Shen Shiru’s death was suspicious. Right after he breathed his last, A’Chun had urged Shen Yun’e to fetch a coroner to perform an autopsy and check for poison. Unfortunately, she was young and her voice carried no weight; Shen Yun’e was timid by nature and dared not desecrate Shen Shiru’s body, choosing instead to wait for someone from the capital to handle the situation.
“The Old Ancestor dotes on you, Miss, and specifically told me to let you know that the metropolitan examinations are next spring. The Eldest Master is focusing on his studies and is rarely in the residence, so please don’t overthink things,” Qiushuang said, selecting hair ornaments and carefully pinning them into A’Chun’s hair, racking her brains to comfort her. “Look at how fine the red coral on this hairpiece is; the Eldest Master must have chosen it thoughtfully for you.”
Following her lead, A’Chun smiled: “Yes, indeed.”
When she entered the Marquis estate, she didn’t have a single piece of jewelry and relied entirely on the Matriarch’s gifts.
The Matriarch clearly saw that Shen Weizhen disliked her; otherwise, there would be no reason for them not to meet even once in a month. The day before yesterday, as soon as Shen Weizhen returned home from the academy, the Matriarch summoned him immediately.
Yesterday, though Shen Weizhen didn’t meet A’Chun in person, he sent over a generous collection of fine jewelry.
The hair ornaments Qiushuang was pinning onto her head were among them.
A’Chun knew this was his way of avoiding putting the Matriarch in an awkward position.
Not wanting to put the Matriarch in a difficult spot either, she accepted them happily.
When she went to Muhe Hall later to pay her respects, A’Chun intended to wear these hairpieces and praise her elder brother’s kindness in front of the old lady.
“Where is Mother?” A’Chun asked Qiushuang. “Has she gone back to sleep?”
Qiushuang replied, “Yes, she just took her medicine and is resting now.”
“Mother will sleep for an hour, so ensure no one disturbs her,” A’Chun instructed. “Tell Chaorong later not to let Mother eat too much rich or greasy food. She is taking medicine right now and cannot digest it well.”
Qiushuang nodded in agreement.
Shen Yun’e’s health had always been fragile. After the grueling journey to the capital, a famous physician was brought in to examine her and prescribe a new regimen, which was slowly bringing about recovery.
If her mother was to recover fully, it would take a significant amount of money.
This was also why A’Chun wanted to come to the capital.
She needed to win the Matriarch’s favor and leverage the prestige of the Marquis estate to secure a match with a wealthy family. It would be best to become a primary wife, but if that was truly impossible, serving as a concubine wouldn’t matter either. A’Chun knew her humble origins and held no wild ambitions; she only hoped her future husband would be wealthy and generous enough to pay for her mother’s medical care.
As long as her mother was healthy and alive, A’Chun cared about nothing else.
After paying her respects to the Matriarch, it so happened that a poetry club was meeting at Liufang Islet today. Wanting A’Chun to fit in with the other young ladies, the Matriarch asked the most composed Third Young Lady, Shen Zongshu, to take A’Chun along.
A’Chun knew few characters; compared to reading, writing, and painting, she far preferred horseback riding, archery, fishing, and hunting.
Shen Shiru had doted on her deeply, personally teaching her to read and write in her early years. Upon realizing her heart wasn’t in it, he regretfully let go and stopped constraining her.
Consequently, A’Chun knew very few poetic verses, let alone how to compose poetry herself.
It was even her first time hearing of a “poetry club.”
A’Chun only knew of folk festival galas.
Shen Zongshu was the daughter of the second branch and was already engaged. Being the eldest among the sisters, she was exceptionally gentle and sympathetic toward those in misfortune. At the poetry gathering held today, many young noble ladies and gentlemen who were on good terms with the Shen family attended. A’Chun did not know a single one of them, so it fell entirely on Shen Zongshu to carefully introduce them to her one by one.
She tried her best to remember every face.
Especially those young gentlemen—perhaps her future husband might be among them.
Yet there were things beyond her abilities. When it came time for everyone to compose poems, A’Chun sat quietly, staring at Sister Shen Zongshu as she wrote.
A’Chun couldn’t understand why “fish” had to be followed by “play,” why “willows” had to be “disheveled,” or why “new cicadas” had to “be too lazy to apply makeup.”
Cicadas lived for only a year, crawling out from underground and dying just a few days later—weren’t they all new? Could there really be new cicadas and old cicadas? Besides, cicadas were insects with neither hair nor hands, so how could they possibly put on makeup?
She recognized every single character, but put together, they made no sense to her at all.
While A’Chun was staring blankly, Shen Weizhen was talking with the Matriarch at Muhe Hall.
“I know you dislike that mother and daughter,” the Matriarch sighed. “It’s partly my fault. Back when Shen Yun’e was newly widowed, your father wrote back saying she had once saved his life and was now left helpless and bullied. Taking pity on her, he wanted to take her as a concubine. I felt it was inappropriate and refused. Who knew he would quietly keep her outside anyway? Sigh! Without formal title or status, he even made up the excuse of being a ‘distant cousin’… When you fell gravely ill at age six, it almost took your life. Who could have known it would coincide so inconveniently with Shen Yun’e being about to give birth, and your father—”
“Old Ancestor,” Shen Weizhen interrupted, “please speak no more of it.”
When he was six years old, he had nearly died. The imperial physicians summoned to treat him had all shaken their heads, saying nothing more could be done and advising the family to prepare for his funeral. Lady Li wept bitterly, hoping only that Shen Shiru could rush back to see him—so that even if the worst came to pass, Shen Weizhen could see his father one last time.
But Shen Shiru was in Nanwu Prefecture.
Shen Weizhen had barely managed to drag himself back from death’s door, yet upon waking, his father was nowhere to be seen. Only after recovering did he learn that the father he revered was in Nanwu Prefecture, keeping company with his “distant cousin.” That distant cousin had just given birth to a daughter named A’Chun, and both mother and daughter were safe and well.
It only grew worse after that.
Shen Shiru was upright and unyielding, refusing to curry favor with the powerful. Speak straightforwardly as he did, he was frequently impeached, experiencing promotions and demotions over more than a decade while spending most of his time posted in distant provinces, rarely returning to the capital. Shen Weizhen had spent very little time with his father, only hearing from others that Shen Shiru often accompanied Shen Yun’e and her daughter back in Nanwu Prefecture. Some had even seen him holding A’Chun’s hand to teach her how to write and play.
…
“Since Jinghui has already entered the Marquis estate, I will treat her as my own sister,” Shen Weizhen said. “Old Ancestor, rest assured. Anything that ought to be given to her, I will not lack in providing.”
Looking at him, the Matriarch also felt a sense of guilt toward this grandson.
A’Chun was innocent, but Shen Weizhen was even more innocent.
Yet Shen Shiru had passed away, and with things having reached this point, any words of comfort were in vain.
Now, Shen Shiru officially had no concubines, leaving only his wife, Lady Li Deshu, and her only eldest son, Shen Weizhen.
“Shen Yun’e did save your father’s life after all,” the Matriarch said. “I am old, and I don’t expect you to treat the two of them as proper relatives, only to look after them a little. When all is said and done, A’Chun is ultimately…”
Her voice trailed off, leaving the sentence unfinished.
“I understand,” Shen Weizhen said. “Regarding Cousin Aunt’s illness, I will do my best to seek medical help to cure her, considering it repayment for saving a life.”
Pausing briefly, he looked toward the celadon vase on the table—slender and gentle, just like a splash of sky-water teal beneath the glaring sun.
Shen Weizhen shifted his gaze and continued, “Jinghui has also reached the age for marriage negotiations. During this period, I will select a suitable husband for her, prepare a generous dowry, and marry her off with the ceremony due to a legitimate sister.”
Having received his promise, the Matriarch smiled and urged, “The metropolitan examinations are paramount; do not spend your energy on these matters. I will handle choosing a husband for her—quick, try this white tea sent from Minyue. They say it’s produced in the Yongjia Mountains. I see its silver-white color is exceptionally fine.”
She knew Shen Weizhen kept his word; since he had agreed, he would certainly fulfill it.
Regardless of what the parents had done, that child A’Chun truly appeared pitiable and sensible.
It was precisely because she was so sensible that the Matriarch hadn’t found it in her heart to eliminate her. After handling Shen Shiru’s funeral affairs, they had agreed to pretend the mother and daughter didn’t exist in this world. Yet upon hearing that she had worked jobs and chopped firewood at such a young age to save her mother, they couldn’t bear to leave them be.
Proud as Lady Li was, she had been equally unable to bear it.
Only then were mother and daughter brought into the estate to be cared for.
After finishing a cup of tea, Shen Weizhen stood up and took his leave.
Lady Li was still angry with him. Having worried over Shen Weizhen’s marriage for years, the moment he took off his mourning attire, she began arranging matchmakings.
Shen Weizhen had always kept his distance from women and remained indifferent to marriage; now that a misunderstanding had occurred, he was even less inclined to discuss it.
Lady Li, unaware of the full story, had frowned and asked why he suddenly changed his mind.
In the end, Shen Weizhen used the excuse of “focusing on preparing for the upcoming metropolitan examinations” to stop her questioning and avoid causing unnecessary trouble.
In Shen Weizhen’s eyes, women were nothing but trouble.
Lust is the root of all evil.
To get from Muhe Hall to Renshou Hall, taking the shortcut required passing by that cursed rockery lotus pond. Shen Weizhen had been taking the long way around for days, and today was no different: walking down the long corridor, passing through the moon gate, crossing Liufang Islet, reaching the rose garden, and then taking a path through the bamboo forest to arrive.
It was very convenient.
Unluckily today, just as he crossed the moon gate, a cool breeze brought the scent of roses, drenching him in bright sunlight.
Without needing guidance, Shen Weizhen turned his head. Amid soft pinks, light purples, deep greens, and faint reds stood a slender figure clad in pale goose-yellow beneath the flower trellis.
Like looking straight into the blazing sun, Shen Weizhen’s vision blurred. That splash of goose-yellow burst forth like citrus juice, splashing into his eyes and leaving him dazed with a headache.
Shen Weizhen’s face darkened, and he stood coldly with his hands behind his back.
A’Chun, dressed in the goose-yellow gown, had already spotted Shen Weizhen.
Startled, she immediately curtsied: “Young Master.”
…How could she run into her elder brother at a time like this?
Shen Weizhen’s face was icy; A’Chun assumed he was likely angry.
She had originally prepared plenty of pleasant words for Shen Weizhen, worrying that her own ideas were too rustic, and had carefully deliberated over her choice of words so that every line would sound as handsome and refined as her brother’s appearance. But now facing him, she couldn’t bring herself to say a single word, merely keeping her head bowed without daring to take a loud breath.
Shen Weizhen gave a faint “Mm,” unwilling to converse further with her, much less look at her, wishing only to walk past this unfortunate rose wall as quickly as possible.
Shen Xiangmei of the third branch stood to the side, initially startled before breaking into loud laughter, asking A’Chun: “Why do you call Eldest Brother ‘Young Master’?”
Only then did Shen Weizhen notice her.
Why was Shen Xiangmei here as well?
Frowning slightly, Shen Weizhen saw that beside A’Chun was not only Fifth Sister Shen Xiangmei, but also Sixth Sister Shen Linying of the second branch, along with their maids.
So many people were standing by the rose wall.
Before he could speak, Shen Linying asked first, teasingly and curiously: “Yes, Jinghui, Eldest Brother just gave you such fine hair ornaments, why are you unwilling to call him Brother? Could it be that the hair ornaments Brother sent aren’t to your liking?”
Shen Weizhen saw panic surface on A’Chun’s face.
She was always flustered, like a frightened rabbit. Out of nowhere, where did so many scares come from, and why did they all happen to land on her, and why did he happen to bump into every single one?
“The things… Brother sent are naturally good,” A’Chun tried her best to explain, completely distressed—she couldn’t very well admit she was afraid to call him brother because she knew Shen Weizhen disliked her, could she?
Racking her brain, she stammered: “It’s just—”
“I was busy previously and had no time to meet Jinghui,” Shen Weizhen interrupted. “This is the first time Jinghui and I have met. She didn’t recognize me, so naturally she didn’t know I was her brother.”
Having said that, he turned displeased: “Xiangmei, Linying is young, so that’s one thing. But as Jinghui’s elder sister, knowing full well she has just arrived and hasn’t recognized everyone yet—when she didn’t recognize me, instead of helping your sister, you ridiculed her. Is this how an elder sister should act? If the person standing here weren’t me, would you two refrain from introducing her and just stand by watching?”
Shen Xiangmei feared this elder brother the most; she immediately lowered her head, wringing her handkerchief and admitting her mistake.
Shen Linying cowered like a quail, not daring to utter a word.
Shen Weizhen admonished: “Only by supporting one another as a family can a household endure.”
A’Chun dared not make a sound either.
Yet after this lecture, she felt slightly better inside.
So Shen Weizhen was this stern toward all his sisters? So… he wasn’t cold exclusively to her?
Amid her stray thoughts, she heard Shen Weizhen speak again: “Jinghui, follow me. I have something to say to you.”
Without looking at her, he turned and walked away. Tall with long strides, he paid no mind to whether she could keep up.
Fearing to delay, A’Chun ran a few quick steps. Her skirt was too long and wide, making it inconvenient; the waist pendants chimed against each other, striking her thighs painfully and reminding her that running was improper etiquette.
She lowered her head to untangle the knotted pendants, held them tightly in her hand, lifted her skirt hem, and hurried to catch up.
Moving beneath the octagonal pavilion, A’Chun felt apprehensive, unsure of what her elder brother wanted to tell her in private—was it a reprimand, or…?
In her sight, Shen Weizhen had already stopped and stood waiting for a moment before turning around.
Her elder brother was looking at her.
No, her elder brother was looking at the rose wall behind her.
Shen Weizhen closed his eyes, kept silent for a brief moment, then opened them again to gaze at her, his expression remaining cold and distant.
A’Chun felt uneasy.
“Jinghui,” Shen Weizhen said, “You are now a young cousin lady of the Marquis estate. With the Old Ancestor’s reminder, I will naturally treat you as my own sister—do not allow yourself to be bullied by others.”
Distinctions existed between close and distant relations, but as the eldest brother, Shen Weizhen could not stand by and watch.
A’Chun explained: “Fifth Sister and Sixth Sister weren’t bullying me; they were just teaching me to recite poetry earlier.”
Shen Weizhen had no desire to talk further with her.
His reminder delivered, he was about to leave, but hearing her say this, he couldn’t help asking: “What poem were they reciting?”
“…I can’t remember.”
A’Chun tried hard to recall, but nothing came to mind.
Shen Shiru had once said: Our A’Chun was born with a clever mind, yet poetry and books just won’t go in; all her smarts are spent climbing mountains and diving into the sea.
“…It seemed to be,” A’Chun squeezed her mind hard, but failed to extract it, saying remorsefully, “Something about summer insects… fish and ice, a very beautiful line of poetry. Unfortunately, I am naturally untalented in poetry and song, so I failed to memorize it. I’m truly sorry to disappoint Fifth Sister and Sixth Sister’s instruction.”
Shen Weizhen knitted his brows even tighter.
He understood what she meant, yet was unwilling to say it directly.
This slow-witted sister of his happened to be born with a pair of bright, watery eyes.
Shen Weizhen averted his gaze from her expectant eyes.
“I understand,” he said. “You only need to remember one thing: although I do not like you, you are still my, Shen Weizhen’s, sister after all.”