The vermilion‑wheeled carriage rolled slowly past the pair. The young woman, seeing the bright red wheels, lowered her head and stepped back to show respect.
Once the carriage had gone, she lifted her gaze and noticed the man beside her still staring after it. With gentle tact, she said, “Young Master Zhou, it’s already late. Thank you for helping me out today.”
“Miss Luo, there’s no need for courtesy. In such a situation, anyone would have stepped in.” Zhou Yuzhi withdrew his thoughts. “It grows late—I’ll see you home.”
A carriage with vermilion wheels could only belong to a marquis’s household. Who was this girl, with beauty that outshone the moon and flowers?
“Much obliged, Young Master Zhou.” The woman’s smile was serene, her manner tender as flowing water, as though she hadn’t noticed his momentary distraction.
Night mist rose. As soon as Zhou Yuzhi returned home, a servant summoned him to the main hall. He entered and found his father and mother seated solemnly at the head. He stepped forward and bowed. “Father, Mother.”
Without preamble, his father said impatiently, “I’ve just received word—the Yun family’s second branch has returned.”
Zhou Yuzhi froze. The Yun family’s second branch?
“Your betrothal to their daughter, Yun Qiya, was arranged back when your great‑grandfather was still alive.” In his father’s memory, Yun Qiya was still a child of five or six, fair and lovely, like a celestial sprite.
“You ranked third in the imperial examinations two years ago, with limitless prospects ahead. Though the Yun family holds noble rank, Yun Qiya’s father has achieved little.” His father pressed on when Zhou Yuzhi remained silent. “Marquis Yun is already aged. Once the title passes to the elder branch, how much favor will the second branch still enjoy?”
Zhou Yuzhi understood the deeper meaning behind his father’s words. Favored by the emperor and honored as *Tanhua* in the imperial examinations, he could not allow his reputation to be blemished by this marriage contract.
“Rest assured, I’ll find a way to resolve this engagement. I won’t let your name suffer the slightest harm.”
“As your son, I will follow Father’s guidance in all things.”
Seeing that their son was not attached to the match, Father and Mother Zhou both breathed a sigh of relief.
After Zhou Yuzhi left, Father Zhou sneered to his wife: “Didn’t I tell you your worries were unfounded? Childhood bonds amount to nothing.”
Mother Zhou sighed without replying. She remembered how, as a boy, her son had clamored daily to play with little Yaya, even tucking away a piece of pastry in his pouch just to share it with her. Truly, the human heart changes easily—especially a man’s.
That night, Father Zhou tossed and turned, unable to sleep. He racked his brain for a way to dissolve the engagement without making the Zhou family appear untrustworthy. He worried deep into the night but found no perfect solution. The next morning, still bleary-eyed with dark circles under his eyes, he was startled awake by a servant’s report: Marquis Yun had sent a formal visiting card.
He instantly sobered, straightening his clothes as he hurried to the main gate to greet them personally. At the entrance, he saw several large chests laid out, with Marquis Yun, Yun Boyan, and Yun Zhongsheng all present.
Father Zhou drew in a sharp breath. What was the Yun family intending—were they here to force the marriage? Though he looked down on Yun Zhongsheng, he dared not offend the Marquis or Yun Boyan. Plastering a smile across his face, he ushered the three into the main hall for tea. He secretly studied the three men’s expressions—so stern; could they really have come to force the marriage?
*My son is in danger.*
In the span of a single teacup’s time, countless excuses for breaking the betrothal flashed through his mind, yet he dared not voice any before Marquis Yun.
“Your son is gifted in both learning and virtue, tender-hearted toward women—a rare young man indeed.”
Father Zhou waved his hand with a smile. “Not at all, not at all.”
*As long as you understand in your hearts.*
“Back then, the children’s engagement was nothing more than a jest among elders.”
Father Zhou nodded inwardly.
“The Zhou and Yun families have been close for generations. Even if not joined by marriage, we remain old friends. Since that is so, let us put an end to that jest of the past.” Marquis Yun ordered servants to carry in wooden chests and set them in the center of the hall. “Your son’s coming-of-age ceremony is near—these are congratulatory gifts from me, as an elder.”
*What—?!*
Only then did Father Zhou realize: the Yun family had not come to press for marriage, but to withdraw from it.
Those chests contained compensation for breaking the betrothal. But why? On what grounds? His son had talent, had looks—more than enough to match the Yun family’s second daughter. How could they presume to dissolve the match?
Just hours ago, Father Zhou had been scheming how to back out of the engagement. Now that the Yun family themselves had come to annul it, his chest felt stifled.
Rejected. His son had been rejected.
“Capital really is a wonderful place.” Yun Qiya led He Lu through the streets, wandering for an hour or two before settling at a teahouse a street vendor had highly recommended.
The teahouse had two floors. Downstairs was the main hall, filled with all sorts of people—mostly merchants and common folk.
Upstairs was more refined: small private rooms divided by screens, the setting far more elegant.
From the room on her right, Yun Qiya occasionally heard scholars debating classics and literature. The room on her left seemed empty, so quiet it gave no sound at all.
Downstairs, a storyteller was spinning the tale of a demon in human skin and a heartless scholar. Yun Qiya listened with delight. “This story is good—finally not another beautiful demoness pining after a cold-hearted man.”
When the tale reached the moment where the scholar knelt, weeping and begging for mercy, the hall erupted in cheers.
Yun Qiya and He Lu clapped along enthusiastically.
“The clever demoness lays her trap, the heartless man sheds tears at the temple… if you wish to know what happens next…” The storyteller knew how to hold his audience, slowing his pace just as everyone leaned forward in anticipation.
The seasoned listeners understood the cue. They loosened their purses and tossed copper coins onto the stage.
Clink. Something bright landed with a sharp sound.
Silver! The storyteller’s eyes lit up, and he turned his gaze upstairs.
There, leaning against the railing of a private room, a young lady in a gauzy gown smiled down at him. That shining piece of silver must have been hers.
The storyteller’s eyes lit up again and again—what a strikingly pretty young lady. He clasped his hands and bowed toward her from afar, scooping up the silver reward from the stage. With a grin, he offered several blessings before continuing his tale.
This was no ordinary coin; it was the lifeblood of storytellers, the kindness of their patrons. How could he not shower a few words of gratitude upon those who fed him?
No longer teasing the audience, he laid out the heartless scholar’s fate in all its misery, letting the listeners vent their pent‑up anger to the fullest.
“Capital is truly wonderful—even the stories here are fresh and fascinating.” Yun Qiya listened in satisfaction, reaching for a pastry, only to find the plate already empty.
He Lu leaned in: “Miss, I’ll ask the waiter to bring another tray.”
“No need.” Yun Qiya stopped her and lowered her voice. “The pastries here are rather expensive. I just tipped the storyteller—we should be careful with our spending.”
Spend when it’s right, save when it’s wise. Her mother’s birthday was coming soon, and she wanted to save enough to have a pearl jacket made for her.
“It is a bit pricey,” He Lu agreed at once, settling back down and pouring her mistress a cup of hot tea. “Miss, pearls in the Capital are far too costly. Why don’t we look at the shops in the western quarter this afternoon?”
“No, that won’t do. I asked Aunt earlier—pearls from the west side aren’t as fine as those sold in the east.” She began counting on her fingers, thinking of which relatives and elders in the city she had yet to pay respects to. After all, she hadn’t returned to the Capital in years. And when visiting elders, they often gave her a red envelope—another welcome source of income.
If it still wasn’t enough… Yun Qiya’s eyes darted—her father’s secret stash counted as money too, didn’t it?
Next door, the scholars suddenly broke into an argument, which quickly escalated into fists flying.
In the An Dynasty, scholars could pen elegant essays one moment and brawl like seasoned fighters the next; every one of them had plenty of strength.
“He Lu, let’s go.” Yun Qiya saw the screen between rooms shaking from the impact and hurriedly pulled her maid toward the exit. Fighting was fine, but she didn’t want blood splattering on her clothes.
Unfortunately, the scholars were brimming with martial vigor. Just as she stepped out, someone rolled out of the neighboring room like a ball and crashed into the back of her knees.
“Ah!” Yun Qiya hopped three times on one leg, dodging into the doorway of an empty private room. She scolded the human ball kneeling before her: “Fight all you want, but don’t drag innocent bystanders into it!”
“Miss, forgive me!” The man scrambled up and bowed deeply. “Please pardon my offense. Once I finish this bout, I’ll come back to apologize properly.” With that, he rolled up his sleeves, tucked his robe into his belt, and charged back into the fray.
“Miss, should we keep going?” He Lu turned to ask.
Yun Qiya glanced around. From every occupied room, curious heads were poking out to watch. “Let’s stay a bit longer.” She stepped back two paces—and only then noticed that the room to her left wasn’t empty after all.
Inside sat a man in a pale blue wide‑sleeved robe. His skin was unnaturally white, and he wore a thick fox‑fur coat over it. His face was turned aside, so his features remained hidden.
No one knew how long the man in the adjoining room had been sitting there—he hadn’t made a sound. With all the commotion outside, how could he not be curious?
Yun Qiya noticed her left foot had already stepped into the threshold of that room. She quickly drew it back and said softly, “Honored sir, forgive my discourtesy.”
Anyone who could wear such fine fox fur must surely be someone of rank and influence. She wasn’t about to offend him lightly.
The room remained silent for several breaths before the man finally spoke, his voice slow and calm: “It’s nothing.”
Relieved that he took no offense, Yun Qiya tugged He Lu to stand aside and watch the spectacle.
Crash! That was the sound of the screen in the right-hand room collapsing.
“Write it down, write it down—one magpie-carved screen, eight taels of silver.” Two waiters huddled in the corner, quietly keeping accounts.
Another fighter rolled out of the fray, wiped his face with his sleeve, and charged back in.
“Tsk.” Yun Qiya shook her head. “Their fighting skills still aren’t up to scratch. If it were me, I’d grab the opponent’s belt as I went down—that would turn the tide.”
“Miss, they’re scholars,” He Lu reminded her.
“Well, that’s true.” Yun Qiya rubbed her chin thoughtfully. “Our Great An scholars may be brimming with martial spirit, but they’re also brimming with moral spirit.”
Losing a fight was one thing, but being caught tugging at someone’s belt—now that would be truly disgraceful.
“See that tall, skinny fellow? All flashy moves, but he hasn’t landed a single hit.” Yun Qiya noticed a waiter hiding in the corner with a tray of sunflower seeds, scribbling accounts. She beckoned him over: “Brother, how much for the seeds?”
“Miss, twenty coins a plate.”
“Bring two.”
“Right away.”
Yun Qiya handed one plate to He Lu. “In another quarter of an hour, the Jinwu Guards should arrive.”
The Jinwu Guards patrolled the Capital, and brawls were their specialty.
Crack. Yun Qiya cracked open a seed. Deliciously roasted.
The man in the adjoining room stirred at last—his eyelids flickered, and he slowly turned his head toward her.
Yun Qiya was sensitive to others’ gazes. She immediately turned to meet his eyes.
What a fragile beauty, pale and delicate, the kind that stirred pity. Yet his aura was heavy, like a pearl dulled by dust, lacking vitality.
She was just about to politely ask if he wanted some seeds too when he suddenly raised a handkerchief to his mouth and began coughing.
Yun Qiya instantly pulled He Lu back several steps, retreating as quickly and quietly as possible. One of her cardinal rules when out and about: keep your distance from anyone coughing with illness. What if he passed his sickness on to her?
So many fine clothes and delicious foods still waited for her—she cherished her little life too much to risk it.