Chapter 34 — The Fox Sells Her Own Name
Weeks passed.
Shen Yanci began receiving invitations—small dinners, polite letters, people suddenly remembering his existence.
He attended none without asking my opinion first.
And every time he asked, I felt my chest tighten with a strange, unfamiliar pride.
Not because I controlled him.
Because he respected me.
My stories kept selling.
In fact, they sold better.
Because now the teahouses had a real-life fox story to whisper about:
A poor woman abandoned by a rich man married a teacher, and the teacher passed the exam.
The world loved a reversal.
One day, the bookshop keeper came to our courtyard.
He didn’t swagger like before.
He bowed.
Deep.
“Madam Shen,” he said, voice bright with flattery, “your stories” they“re the city”s favorite.
I eyed him. “And your prices?”
He laughed nervously. “Higher. For you.”
He pulled out a contract.
“Not just per installment,” he said eagerly. “Your name. Your title. We”ll print it.
Print my name.
Publicly.
For years, I had been a shadow in the Lin west wing.
Now someone wanted my name in ink.
I stared at the contract.
Then I signed.
Not with trembling fear.
With steady fingers.
When the keeper left, I held the paper for a long time.
Shen Yanci watched me quietly.
“You”re quiet, he said.
I looked up.
“I used to think,” I admitted, “that being known was dangerous.”
Shen Yanci nodded.
“And now?” he asked.
I smiled faintly.
“Now I think,” I said, “being known is mine to choose.”
He reached out and touched my cheek lightly.
“Then choose,” he murmured.
So I did.