The graceful young woman stood beneath the glow of the setting sun, her long hair stirred gently by the breeze. A damp strand clung to her forehead, evidence of her exertion.
Yun Shuyue stepped forward and bowed: “Shuyue greets Husband.”
Jiang Chengyuan replied calmly: “No need for such formality, Madam.”
Now closer, he could see her clearly: her skin, like polished jade, flushed with a rosy glow from exercise. Her breathing was slightly uneven, the delicate line of her pale neck rising and falling.
He had imagined she might greet him with shyness or delight. On his way here, he even considered whether to offer her an explanation after retrieving his things. But seeing her now—calm, self‑possessed, and busy with her own routine—he realized perhaps no explanation was needed.
Last night, she hadn’t left a lamp burning for him. Today, she was running laps in the courtyard with her maid. To Jiang Chengyuan, it seemed his presence or absence made little difference.
Yun Shuyue, noticing his silence, lifted her gaze: “Has my husband returned with some instructions?”
Jiang Chengyuan came back to himself: “No. I only came to fetch something.”
She nodded and stepped aside politely: “Then please, husband, go ahead.”
With that, she turned back to the pavilion to drink her tea. Jiang Chengyuan withdrew his gaze and strode into the house.
Only after he left did Yun Shuyue’s heart settle. In the original story, their first meeting was supposed to be three days after the wedding, during the formal return visit to her family. Yet here he was, appearing suddenly at dusk, catching her completely off guard.
She sighed in relief—thankfully, it had been nothing more than a false alarm.
Back in his study, Jiang Chengyuan did not immediately look at the document. Instead, he summoned Chen Ping inside.
Jiang Chengyuan asked with a frown: “Didn’t I have you investigate the Yun family? Weren’t you told Yun Shuyue was frail and sickly since childhood, with a melancholy temperament?”
Chen Ping looked equally puzzled: “Yes, my lord. At the time, I verified this from several sources. The information came from the Yun family’s second branch—it couldn’t have been false.”
Yet Chen Ping had just seen Madam running laps. By all accounts, with her supposed condition, she shouldn’t even be able to walk steadily, let alone run.
“You may leave,” Jiang Chengyuan said.
Leaning back in his chair, he felt a sudden irritation. Last night, he had intended to return and lift her bridal veil, but she hadn’t left a lamp burning for him. Today, he found her living comfortably, exercising in the courtyard, seemingly unaffected by being left alone.
Realizing he was dwelling too much on trivial matters, he forced his thoughts back to work. He unrolled the document, intending to revise it—only to discover he had taken the wrong one.
Meanwhile, in Jinglan Garden, once Jiang Chengyuan departed, Yun Shuyue instructed Chun Liu to prepare something delicious for supper, then returned to her room to bathe and change. Soaking in the warm tub, her whole body relaxed. Resting her head against the rim, she closed her eyes in comfort—and drifted into sleep.
When Jiang Chengyuan returned again to Jinglan Garden, the courtyard was empty. He strode quickly into the room—after all, this was originally his residence—and pushed the door open without hesitation.
Through the mist rising from the bath, his gaze fell upon the figure leaning against the tub. Instinctively, his steps halted.
The sound of the door opening woke Yun Shuyue, who had just drifted into sleep. With her back to the door, she assumed it was Chun Liu: “Chun Liu, tomorrow let’s bathe in the cleansing room instead. The dampness here in the bedroom is too heavy—it might damage the furniture.”
She had chosen to bathe in her room out of concern for Chun Liu, who was sore from her first day of running. The cleansing room was at the far west of the courtyard, and Yun Shuyue couldn’t bear to make her maid carry hot water all that way. After all, who isn’t exhausted after their first run?
“And tonight, have Nanny Tao prepare some soup. You’ve sweated so much—you should replenish yourself.”
The room glowed with flickering candlelight as dusk deepened. Her pale shoulders were exposed above the bath, her long hair floating freely on the water, casual and unrestrained.
When no reply came, Yun Shuyue sensed something was wrong. She turned suddenly—and saw Jiang Chengyuan already inside. Their eyes met. Shock and confusion flashed between them. Even with her usual composure, Yun Shuyue couldn’t help but feel a rush of panic. Her mind raced, and almost instinctively she spoke: “Husband, I’m not convenient right now… could you please step out first?”
Clutching a cloth to her chest, she looked like a startled fawn. Her face, damp and luminous in the mist, tilted slightly upward—so ethereal that Jiang Chengyuan momentarily lost himself staring.
Only when she spoke again did he snap out of it. He quickly withdrew, shutting the door behind him.
Moments later, Yun Shuyue emerged dressed, her earlier panic gone, “Husband, you’ve returned again—have you already had supper?”
She assumed he had come back to eat. But Jiang Chengyuan shook his head: “I took the wrong document earlier.”
Relieved, she answered: “If that’s the case, please take what you need.”
When Jiang Chengyuan re‑entered the room, he noticed the faint fragrance lingering in the air. The bridal decorations—the peanuts and dates on the table, the large red “double happiness” character on the wall—had already been removed. Only the crimson bed curtains remained. The room, though familiar, felt entirely different, stripped of its festive new‑marriage atmosphere.
Chun Liu carried in the dinner. Seeing Jiang Chengyuan present—and her mistress looking like a beauty fresh from the bath—her gloomy face finally brightened after days of frustration: “My lord, tonight the kitchen prepared wine‑braised spare ribs and steamed mushrooms with rice flour. Please, my lord and young lady, enjoy your meal.”
Jiang Chengyuan glanced at Yun Shuyue. Her radiant face still held that polite, distant smile. He said simply: “No need. I still have matters to attend to.”
Chun Liu’s smile froze instantly. She pouted, watching him leave, then stamped her foot in frustration: “Miss, why don’t you say something? Look—he’s gone again!”
Yun Shuyue replied calmly: “Didn’t you hear? He said he has work to do.”
Chun Liu muttered in protest: “Is he some kind of immortal—breathing but never needing to eat?”
Yun Shuyue tapped her nose playfully, then picked up a rib and took a bite. The flavor carried a faint sweetness; the meat was cooked just right—tender yet pleasantly chewy.
Chun Liu stared at her for a long while, feeling something she couldn’t quite name. Ever since her mistress married, she seemed different. In the past, even the smallest unhappiness would leave Yun Shuyue sitting by the window all day, delicate and withdrawn, never reaching out to others.
Yun Shuyue urged her: “Enough staring—if you wait any longer, the dishes will get cold. Take them to the west side room and call Nanny Tao. The three of us will eat together.”
Since arriving at the Jiang household, Yun Shuyue had always dined with Nanny Tao and Chun Liu. To her, meals should be shared—food tastes better with company. Now that Jiang Chengyuan never returned, and her mother-in-law stayed in her room claiming illness, Yun Shuyue felt it was improper to eat alone with her father‑in‑law in the main hall.
This way, things were quieter, freer, and more comfortable.