A-Chun was afraid that what she said would make him laugh at her.
She was naturally not fond of reading and simply wasn’t cut out for studying.
Shen Shiru, having experienced the ups and downs of officialdom and been framed repeatedly, had long grown disheartened. He didn’t expect her to be overly ambitious—as long as she was literate and could understand accounting ledgers, it was enough.
In death, all things turn to nothing. Shen Shiru could not have anticipated that after his passing, the belongings left to Shen Yun’e and A-Chun would be swindled away or stolen. In less than a year, the mother and daughter were on the brink of starvation.
A-Chun had never expected that a day would come when she would travel to the capital.
If the Shen family hadn’t sent someone to fetch them, she had even considered becoming a cook.
Now, at least in the short term, she didn’t have to worry about her mother’s medical expenses. Yet A-Chun knew she still had a lot to learn; compared to her sisters, she fell far too short.
A-Chun felt guilty that her motivation to learn things was actually to find a suitable husband; if Shen Shiru knew, he would surely be disappointed in the person she had become.
The only thing untainted by any motive was her desire to get closer to Shen Weizhen.
She simply wanted to treat him well.
The attendant Ye Qing stood waiting not far away, holding a book box.
As the wind blew through the green bamboo, Shen Weizhen slowly knit his brows tighter. He looked at the sachet in A-Chun’s hand. Objectively speaking, it was indeed crudely made with uneven stitches, but since she had brought it as an offering for Qiqiao (the Double Seventh Festival), it was likely the best piece she could manage.
Moving his gaze downward, he noticed that her wrists were bare, and calluses had formed on her palms 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 over to pass the message.”
Shen Weizhen valued family deeply; no matter how busy he was, as long as his brothers or sisters sent their attendants to notify him, he would always find time to attend to them.
He noticed that A-Chun’s face turned even redder.
Just when he thought that was her limit, he was surprised to see her blush deepen—was she truly a red camellia spirit in disguise?
“Because I wanted to give it to Brother in person,” A-Chun said, “I wanted to see Brother.”
In truth, she wanted to explain that the gift she gave wasn’t exquisite—it was even crude; if she had a maid deliver it, would it seem lacking in solemnity?
Then it occurred to her that whenever her brother sent her things, he always used maids; would he mistakenly think she disliked that way of receiving gifts?
A-Chun looked at Shen Weizhen, hesitating and timid.
She liked this handsome brother, even though he didn’t like to smile at her and was strict and cold.
Shen Shiru had mentioned this son of his many times, saying he was naturally brilliant, brave, and resolute. The Thousand Character Classic that A-Chun had stumbled through for a long time just to recognize all the characters—Shen Weizhen could recite it entirely after reading it ten times, correctly identifying every single character, truly a child prodigy.
Because A-Chun struggled with studying, she admired those who excelled at it all the more.
Fearing that Shen Weizhen might be displeased, A-Chun quickly added: “If Brother feels bothered, next time I will have a maid bring it over.”
“No need,” Shen Weizhen said softly, holding the sachet. Having developed a slight cough yesterday, he couldn’t smell the scent of the sachet. “Come if you wish; it’s up to you.”
The attendant Ye Qing reminded him: “Eldest Master, it’s time to leave.”
Shen Weizhen was currently studying at an academy outside the city. Disliking the crude accommodations of the dormitories, he did not reside there. Every morning he rode his horse there and returned to the residence on horseback at night.
A-Chun immediately took her leave. Qiushuang finally caught up, both anxious and annoyed. She didn’t have time to correct her young mistress and first paid her respects to Shen Weizhen.
Shen Weizhen called out to A-Chun: “Jinghui, wait a moment.”
A-Chun obediently shuffled back: “Brother.”
Shen Weizhen asked: “Did Father never teach you how to read?”
A-Chun felt ashamed: “I am slow-witted and can’t absorb it.”
Shen Weizhen remained noncommittal: “It might not be that you can’t learn; he had an obstinate personality, so his teaching method was likely flawed as well.”
A-Chun thought he was going to say more, so she waited, but nothing followed.
She raised her face.
“Go back,” Shen Weizhen said, “Don’t be late to pay your respects to the Matriarch.”
A-Chun’s expression changed instantly. She immediately turned and ran toward Muhe Hall. Amid Qiushuang’s sharp intake of breath, she bolted back again, hurriedly curtseyed to Shen Weizhen, and stated in a rigid, formal manner that his younger sister had to pay her respects to the Matriarch and begged his forgiveness for taking her leave first—
At a time like this, why was she still sticking to such formal etiquette?
Calling it adherence to etiquette wasn’t quite right either; the moment she finished speaking, before he could even react, she lifted her skirt and darted away like a wild rabbit, so fast that even Qiushuang couldn’t catch up.
Shen Weizhen’s tightly knit brows slowly unfurled.
He gently squeezed the sachet, casually handed it to Ye Qing, and signaled him to put it away.
Shen Weizhen didn’t take the sachet to heart. He had no full sisters, but the residence always employed dedicated seamstresses for needlework, and several younger sisters from the second and third branches would also make small trinkets to gift him.
Besides, he disliked strong fragrances and rarely wore them; most gifts brought to him were put away unused.
Having caught a cold last night, he couldn’t smell the fragrance today, and soon forgot all about it.
In dusk’s dim light, the academy master departed, leaving Ye Qing to tidy his writing materials. Shen Weizhen’s close friend, Wang Chenming, was chatting with him when he happened to catch sight of the book box and uttered a soft exclamation of surprise.
“Weizhen,” Wang Chenming pointed at the sachet, “why did you put that in your book box?”
Only then did Shen Weizhen recall the sachet. He glanced at it and said, “My younger sister made it.”
Wang Chenming had originally intended to take it out for a closer look, but upon hearing this, he immediately withdrew his hand and chuckled: “What a peculiar person you are. Putting a sachet inside your book box—are you trying to scent your books as well?”
Hearing him say this, Shen Weizhen reached out to pick up the sachet, holding it to his nose to take a delicate sniff. He caught a familiar, subtle fragrance—it was the very incense he routinely used to scent his clothes.
He turned slightly and asked Ye Qing, “When did you place this inside?”
“Eldest Master,” Ye Qing replied, “this morning when Young Lady came to see you off, the sachet was already inside. I did not dare move it without permission.”
Shen Weizhen placed the sachet back into the book box, perplexed.
How did she know what fragrance I use? Such careful, cautious attempts to please me…
Wang Chenming asked with keen interest: “Young Lady? Is she that cousin who came from Nanwu Province?”
Shen Weizhen gave a brief murmur of assent and turned the conversation elsewhere: “Where are the ladies of your family currently studying?”
Night fell. Having returned home on horseback, Shen Weizhen began to cough. He dispatched an errand boy to inform the household that he was unwell today and would not go to pay his respects to the Matriarch. However, the Matriarch sent a messenger to summon him, stating there were important matters to discuss.
Shen Weizhen went.
Dismissing the maidservants, she kept only Nanny Zhao in attendance—a clear sign that important matters were indeed to be discussed.
The Matriarch first showed him a strange square handkerchief. Plain white, it was covered in crooked, crisscrossed thread marks and stitches.
Shen Weizhen took it. Puzzled at first, he gradually understood as he examined the needlework closely: “Is this Jinghui’s?”
The Matriarch nodded: “Indeed.”
Nanny Zhao explained that yesterday, when several of the young ladies came to pay their respects, this dropped from Shen Jinghui’s sleeve. Unaware of its loss, it was picked up by Shen Xiangmei. It was a trifling, unnecessary item, yet Shen Xiangmei threw the handkerchief to her maidservant, mocking Shen Jinghui for being so stingy that she could probably scrape meat off a mosquito’s leg.
Shen Weizhen pinched the handkerchief, displeasure clouding his face: “It is indeed time to hire a teacher to properly instruct her.”
The Matriarch remarked, “Jinghui needs proper teaching as well.”
Shen Weizhen remained silent.
The Matriarch gestured for him to drink the tea on the table. Shen Weizhen took a small sip—it was light with a delicate aroma, slightly bitter with a gentle astringency, carrying the refreshing fragrance of lotus seed hearts.
Before his eyes, he seemed to glimpse once more a hazy, lake-green pond filled with lush, shimmering jade-green lotus leaves.
“It is lotus seed heart tea made by Jinghui’s own hands. She brought it to me this afternoon in secret, avoiding her sisters. She respects and cares for me, yet feared the other girls would gossip, so she dared not make a scene,” the Matriarch said. “She is a pitiful child.”
Shen Weizhen asked, “Do you wish to hire a teacher for her as well?”
The sisters in the household were close in age. Previously, a female tutor had been hired to teach them literacy and reading. Later, the tutor passed the examination to become a palace official and resigned. Since the sisters had already finished learning the Four Books and Five Classics, no new tutor had been brought in.
The Matriarch said, “That was my original thought—to hire a teacher to instruct them in the Records of the Grand Historian, the Book of Han, and the like. Reading instills reason; reading history imparts wisdom. With wider reading comes broader horizons, allowing one to conduct oneself with poise and grace. However, female tutors who teach history are hard to come by nowadays. After all, our household consists of young ladies, and your three younger brothers are all studying away from home. Inviting a male tutor would be quite inconvenient.”
Shen Weizhen said, “If that is the case, Grandmother need not be troubled. Zixi’s mother has opened a school for young ladies not far from the academy. I shall make inquiries, and if suitable, we can send all my sisters there.”
Zixi was his close friend, the youngest son of the Censorate’s Deputy Chief.
“Xiangmei’s mother spoils her children excessively, indulging her blindly and teaching her to be somewhat narrow-minded, quibbling over petty matters. Going to the school for young ladies seems most fitting for her. Though Linying is still young, having her sisters for company will make it easier,” the Matriarch sighed. “The only one who troubles me is Jinghui. She has not read much, and I fear she will not keep up. Yet leaving her alone in the residence would make her feel terribly lonely.”
Shen Weizhen remained silent, appearing lost in thought.
The Matriarch could not gauge his thoughts. He was a man of deep, guarded mind.
For the past few decades, offspring in the Marquisate had been sparse. On the family tree, Shen Shiru had only one son—Shen Weizhen. The second and third branches were of mediocre talent, currently holding minor, idle posts incapable of accomplishing anything grand.
Further down the line, the eldest was Shen Weizhen, who had delayed his imperial examinations to observe three years of mourning for his father.
When Shen Shiru first passed away, many eyes were fixed on the Marquisate as a prized prize—for even a broken ship has three thousand nails! Though the Marquisate was no longer what it used to be and was gradually declining, the wealth accumulated over a century was still substantial. Having just inherited the title, Shen Weizhen had to guard against old enemies while dealing with opportunists seeking to cause trouble, maintaining relationships with high-ranking officials friendly to the household, and suppressing restless, unruly subordinates below.
The Matriarch ate vegetarian meals and chanted Buddhist prayers no longer for herself. She only prayed that her grandson, who had spilled blood, would remain safe and sound—a debt of blood she was willing to repay.
When Shen Shiru had just passed, Shen Weizhen had suggested that if the Matriarch and Lady Li felt uncomfortable, they could allow A-Chun and Shen Yun’e—whom Shen Shiru cherished most—to be buried alive alongside him, fulfilling their wish to be together.
Whenever the Matriarch recalled this, her heart skipped a beat in horror.
This matter was originally meant to be discussed with Lady Li, but Lady Li disliked managing such affairs, simply stating that whatever Shen Weizhen decided, she would agree to.
“…Shen Yun’e is a pitiful soul as well,” the Matriarch said. “There are things I originally did not wish to tell you, fearing it would tarnish your father’s reputation.”
Shen Weizhen asked, “Did he ever possess a good reputation to begin with?”
The Matriarch let out a heavy sigh and signaled Nanny Zhao to leave.
Only grandmother and grandson remained in the room.
“Shen Yun’e’s husband originally grew up with her. Later, when your father was posted to Nanwu Province as magistrate, her husband served under him. As you know, Nanwu Province is plagued by miasma, insects, and venomous snakes. While surveying the terrain, your father was accidentally bitten by a poisonous snake. Shen Yun’e possessed an ancestral remedy for snakebites and saved your father’s life just in time—who would have thought, sigh!” The Matriarch said, “Your father took a liking to her, but Shen Yun’e was newly married at the time. Your father only wrote to tell me this one thing: asking me to send some jewelry and trinkets suitable for women to repay her life-saving grace, and suggesting that since they shared the surname Shen, they might as well join genealogies so he could assist her more in the future.”
Shen Weizhen asked, “What happened after that?”
“Later, just as Shen Yun’e became pregnant, her husband fell ill and died, leaving her alone as a solitary woman.” The Matriarch looked at Shen Weizhen. “You know everything that happened after.”
Shen Weizhen asked, “Why are you suddenly telling me all this today, Grandmother?”
“Shen Yun’e is pitiful, and Jinghui is pitiful too. When you proposed sacrificial burial back then, I did not agree—first, because I saw you could not bear it either, and second, because Shen Yun’e wrote to me begging to spare Jinghui, for she was innocent—” The Matriarch said, “Such is the ways of the world. Without your father, how could that widowed mother and her orphaned daughter have survived? These matters would reflect poorly on your father if made public, so I kept them buried. I intended to let them rot in my chest, but who knew… You ought to show more fondness to Jinghui.”
Shen Weizhen said, “I never said I did not care for her.”
“Then visit Jinghui more often instead of merely sending gifts,” the Matriarch said. “You know how snobbish servants can be. Only if you treat her better will others take this cousin seriously, allowing her to live in this residence with dignity.”
In truth, she could not be certain whether Jinghui was truly… yet, since she was already being raised in the household and was an obedient child, blood relation mattered little. Jinghui was lovely in appearance; if raised well, marrying her off in the future would also benefit the Marquisate.
Shen Weizhen gave no definitive answer. Instead, he asked, “Are you worried Jinghui will not keep up with her studies? I shall inquire at the academy to see if any classmates have hired female tutors for their sisters. If there is one who is patient and well-learned, we can hire her to tutor Jinghui individually—what do you think?”
The Matriarch readily agreed.
A-Chun learned of this terrifying news two days later.
She was actually going to attend a girls’ school right after the Autumn Sacrifice in the eighth month!
Good heavens, she had barely read a few poems in her life—how could she possibly attend a girls’ school?
Shen Xiangmei and Shen Linying reacted casually. They had been educated from a young age under private tutors at home; going to the girls’ school was merely changing locations to read and play. They could even make more friends—why not?
As for Shen Zongshu, having heard a bit from the Matriarch, she knew her main role was to accompany her three younger sisters, so she was not worried either.
Thus, A-Chun was left as the sole person suffering from school anxiety.
Before one wave settled, another arose: news arrived that the Matriarch had specially hired an individual female tutor for A-Chun to teach her poetry and classics, helping her catch up with the school’s curriculum.
A-Chun was so distressed that she couldn’t even finish half her usual bowl of rice.
On this day, the three sisters gathered to embroider while mist and rain drizzled outside. Through the window, a doctor carrying a medicine chest hurried past, accompanied by an errand boy holding an umbrella and a young apothecary assistant.
A-Chun, who sat near the window, laid down her crumpled embroidery first and looked out: “Is Eldest Brother ill?”
That path in that direction led only to Renshou Hall.
“Yes, didn’t you know?” Shen Xiangmei looked at the annoying rain, worrying that her painting wouldn’t dry, and said, “Eldest Brother caught a cold on Qixi night and fell ill the very next evening. He hasn’t gone to the academy for several days.”
A-Chun counted the days, startled: “A cold? How has he been sick for so long?”
“They say he was also stung by a scorpion,” Shen Linying chimed in. “The old women looking after the garden are getting lazier and lazier. How could there be scorpions at home?”
“It wasn’t at home, he was stung at the academy… Oh dear,” Shen Xiangmei said, “You really are silly—how could there be scorpions in the fine capital city? —Jinghui, where are you going?”
“Fifth Sister, Sixth Sister,” A-Chun said truthfully, “My hometown is in Nanwu Province, where insects are plentiful, so I know a few remedies for bug bites that might help Eldest Brother. I want to prepare some medicine, brew a pot of herbal soup, and go visit him—why don’t we go together?”
Shen Xiangmei and Shen Linying both shook their heads in refusal, stating they did not want to be scolded by their eldest brother and were unwilling to go.
They wouldn’t dare.
Shen Weizhen was so strict that even if his own brothers and sisters made a mistake, he wouldn’t let them off easily.
Both sisters were afraid of him.
A-Chun was not.
She touched her face and thought that perhaps country folks had thicker skin and weren’t afraid of being scolded.
That was quite a big virtue, too.
The rain drizzled incessantly all day long.
At dusk, a thin layer of fine rain glinted on the stone paving tiles. Shen Weizhen was reading in his study when he heard Ye Qing announce from outside the door, “Eldest Master, Young Lady is here to see you.”
His hand turning the page paused.
Through the sound of wind and rain outside, he heard her slightly breathless voice asking Ye Qing, “Is Eldest Master busy right now?”
…She ought to call me 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. Qiushuang held an umbrella over her while carrying a lantern in her other hand. With today’s strong wind and slanting rain, both master and servant had their hair and clothes soaked unevenly, looking pitifully like two sparrows caught in the rain.
A few raindrops hung beneath A-Chun’s eyes and on her cheeks, looking like shed tears.
Shen Weizhen was certain that when she looked up and saw him, her eyes brightened instantly.
The words to send her away could no longer leave his mouth.
“Brother,” A-Chun said joyfully, “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 myself; if not, I’d have someone deliver them alone. But I only remembered this after the soup was cooked, and it was too late to send someone to ask, or else it would get cold. So I took the liberty of coming over—the soup is still hot now. Could Brother please let me come in quickly?”
Ye Qing’s expression changed.
Shen Weizhen disliked having anyone enter his study. Without his orders, no one was allowed inside—not even Ye Qing, who was in charge of tidying up.
Shen Weizhen indeed did not wish to let A-Chun in.
Yet his younger sister’s eyes were far too bright.
He stepped aside to let her in and instructed Ye Qing, “Take Girl Qiushuang to Helu. Have Helu find some clean, new clothes matching Young Lady’s size—as well as a cloak and straw hat for the rain.”
Just as he finished speaking, A-Chun tripped over the threshold as she entered the study. Her poor eyesight had caused her to misjudge the distance; taking a hurried step, she stumbled and nearly fell.
Fortunately, she steadied herself by grabbing the doorframe, narrowly avoiding tumbling straight into Shen Weizhen’s arms.
Yet this sudden movement brought them closer. Shen Weizhen caught a whiff of an elegant lotus fragrance, along with a faint, unfamiliar sweet scent.
He took a step back and looked down. There were a few mud marks on the side of A-Chun’s skirt, particularly just above her knees. With her poor night vision, she must have bumped into something or brushed against flower branches along the way.
“Fetch some ointment for bruises as well,” Shen Weizhen told Ye Qing. “I recall there is a pair of mica lanterns in the courtyard. Have Helu find them so Young Lady can take them later.”
Helu was the maidservant who managed the general chores and storage in Renshou Hall. Like Qiushuang, she had previously served before the Matriarch, making her the oldest and most steady among them.
Ye Qing accepted the order and left with Qiushuang.
Though it was summer, the rain was cold.
Seeing that A-Chun was so chilly her ears and nose were flushed red, Shen Weizhen poured a cup of hot water. Yet A-Chun paid it no mind; shivering from the cold, her first instinct was to carefully open the food box she was cradling in her arms.
“Brother, I stewed some pear and lily lung-nourishing soup, which is best for someone with a cough,” A-Chun said. “And this ointment is a local remedy from Nanwu Province, specifically for scorpion stings. When I was little, a black scorpion bit my finger and gave me a high fever. My mother applied this to my hand, and the fever broke that very night, leaving not even a scar behind.”
Seeing Shen Weizhen standing still, A-Chun realized something and took the initiative to apply a bit of ointment to the back of her own hand first: “The medicinal ingredients were all from the residence, and I consulted the doctor, who said it was fine, which is why I prepared it… If Brother thinks it’s dirty—”
The fragrance drew nearer.
“I don’t think it’s dirty,” Shen Weizhen said, stepping sideways to avoid her. “Talking so much, aren’t you thirsty?”
A-Chun felt embarrassed: “…A little bit.”
Shen Weizhen handed over the hot water. Holding the cup in both hands, she tilted her head back and drank it all in one gulp.
Only after finishing the water in one breath did A-Chun remember her manners. She smiled shyly, placed the cup gently back in its spot as Qiushuang had taught her, and meticulously feigned dabbing the non-existent water droplets from the corners of her mouth with her handkerchief: “Thank you, Brother.”
Shen Weizhen’s gaze remained fixed on her hands. When she displayed the ointment earlier, her fingers were exposed—besides the calluses, there were indeed no scars from insect bites, but there were numerous marks from knife cuts and rope burns, making it clear at a glance that she had done a great deal of heavy labor.
“Did you have a hard life in the past?” Shen Weizhen paused, feeling the question was somewhat redundant, and added, “So many injuries on your hands.”
“It was alright. Working in the spice shop and apothecary was tiring, but I learned a lot. I was silly and learned slowly, so I often cut my hands. Once I learned, I didn’t cut myself anymore, and life got better and better,” A-Chun said. “Now that I have Brother, my life is even better.”
She said in all sincerity: “I am grateful to Brother, and I like Brother.”
Inside the room, the lamplight was warm, while outside, the wind howled and rain poured down. Shen Weizhen stared at her lips moving as she spoke, then suddenly turned away, walked to the window, and closed it tightly.
The elegant lotus fragrance haunted him like a lingering ghost.
He almost suspected his cold had worsened; otherwise, why was this the only scent he could smell?
With his back turned to A-Chun, Shen Weizhen asked, “How did you know what fragrance I use?”
“I’ve learned a bit about perfumery. As long as I’ve smelled a scent before, I can blend something similar,” A-Chun said truthfully. “As long as Brother doesn’t dislike it.”
“Perfumery?” Shen Weizhen turned around, lost in thought. In the air, the lotus fragrance lingered, faint yet present, elusive yet persistent. He couldn’t help asking, “The scent you’re wearing today—did you blend that yourself as well?”
“Huh?” A-Chun said, “I didn’t wear any perfume today.”
Suddenly.
Shen Weizhen froze.
He realized that this was her natural body scent.
Fortunately, Helu knocked on the door at the right moment, waiting outside to report that the clothes were ready and that she would take Young Lady over to change.
A-Chun immediately stood up to take her leave. Before departing, she did not forget to remind Shen Weizhen: “Remember to drink the soup while it’s hot, Brother, and apply the ointment quickly too—the sooner, the better.”
She felt guilty: “It was my fault for not knowing Brother was stung by a scorpion; otherwise, you wouldn’t have had to suffer these past two days.”
Shen Weizhen gave a brief murmur of assent and closed the door, shutting the restless wind and rain outside.
Silence returned.
Except that on his desk sat the food box brought by A-Chun, looking out of place and unmistakably invading his territory.
The soup was still warm. Shen Weizhen took a spoonful to taste—it was pear and lily lung-nourishing soup with silver ear fungus added, yet he tasted only a trace of lotus fragrance, alongside that familiar, indescribable subtle scent. Dipping the spoon deeper, Shen Weizhen stared at the bottom of the bowl, not seeing a single lotus seed.
He recalled when A-Chun had just entered the room—with her poor eyesight, she had nearly tripped over the threshold. A burst of lotus fragrance had gathered within her sleeves, like a lotus leaf wrapping around a half-bloomed flower bud; as she stumbled those few steps toward him, the cool breeze had secretly carried the lotus scent, wrapping around him in a wave of damp, rainy air that filled his embrace.
A sharp clink sounded as the spoon struck the white porcelain.
Outside the room, Helu, having just seen off Young Lady, was about to report back to Shen Weizhen. Just as she reached the study door, she heard a loud clatter of shattering porcelain from within.
Helu stood outside, not daring to enter, and asked, “Eldest Master, what happened?”
After a moment of silence, only Shen Weizhen’s voice came through.
“Nothing,” he said. “The bowl was knocked over. Have Ye Qing come in and clean it up.”