Chapter 2
There was a lilt to Yun-si’s walk as she crossed the huge garden to the wall that separated the Shen Residence from the Shen Clan School.
The little wooden door in the garden wall creaked softly as she pushed it open.
Sunlight dappled the familiar path leading to the school, the scent of autumn chrysanthemums filling the air.
The school’s main entrance faced the street, and that was what all the other students used. This little door belonged to her and her siblings alone. She had always liked that about it.
A bubble of warmth rose in her chest. Research, she told herself firmly, stepping through the threshold worn smooth by countless childhood dashes.
Just research. A partner makes it efficient.
The image of Ting-zhi’s exasperated face in the alleyway flashed, replaced by his outrageous, no, sensible suggestion.
She had a research partner now. An official one. Someone who’d promised to help her understand romance for her writing.
Which meant she could finally get answers to the questions that had been plaguing her.
She hugged the pile of books she held to her chest. Her publisher Old Wang had flatly denied her request to borrow “reference materials”, so she had dressed in her scholar’s garb and secretly procured these books from a nameless bookshop near Scholar’s Lane.
The books had left her utterly baffled.
The rhythmic drone of young voices chanting Confucian classics drifted from the open windows of the distant classroom hall.
Ahead, the library’s imposing three-storey structure rose, a water channel glinting around its base. Two paths led across: the stepping stones, uneven and treacherous, and the small, sturdy stone bridge.
Her gaze flicked to the stones. A phantom splash echoed in her ears, the shock of cold water soaking her skirts when she was eight, her foot slipping.
Ting-zhi’s shout, sharp with a fear she’d never heard before, then his surprisingly strong hands hauling her out, dripping and shivering.
He’d fussed, draping his own dry outer robe around her shoulders, his usual smirk replaced by tight-lipped concern.
He’d never teased her about it, never suggested she try the stones again.
The bridge it was then, as always. She walked the arched bridge slowly, carefully, the water whispering below.
Pushing open the heavy library door muted the outside world. Cool, dry air, thick with the scent of aged paper and ink, enveloped her. Dust motes danced in sunbeams slicing through lattice windows. Shelves laden with scrolls and bound volumes loomed quietly. Her eyes scanned the quiet space.
He was there. Near a window, bathed in light.
Ting-zhi sat at a table, spine straight but with an air of relaxed concentration.
An open book lay before him, his elegant fingers resting lightly on the page.
Sunlight caught the sharp line of his jaw, the faint smear of ink on his knuckles.
He hadn’t noticed her yet, absorbed in his study.
He turned a page, the sound crisp in the stillness.
Then, as if sensing her presence, his head lifted slightly. Those dark eyes, usually veiled in lazy amusement, focused on her and a smile touched his lips.
“Si-er?” He called, his low voice carrying a hint of intimacy as it cut through the library’s hush.
Yun-si hid an involuntary shiver. She still could not get used to how his voice sounded now, deep and warm, like a man. Two years had washed away every hint of the squeak that had been there before he left on his scholar’s journey to the south.
“Ting-zhi!” She marched up to his desk with purpose. “I have questions.”
He looked up from his classical texts, expression wary. Probably remembering last night’s promise. Good. He couldn’t back out now.
“Questions,” he repeated carefully.
“Research questions.” She carefully put the pile of books on his desk. “You said you’d help me understand romance. Well, I need help understanding these now.”
His eyes landed on the top book. She watched his expression shift from wary to something approaching horror.
“Si-er. What. What are these?”
“Research materials? The bookshop owner said they were the most authentic depictions of marital relations. Very popular.” She felt proud of her initiative. See? She was taking this research partnership seriously. “But I don’t understand them. That’s why I need your help.”
“Help.” His voice had gone flat. “You want my help. With these.”
“You promised!” She opened the top volume to her marked page. “Look, here: ‘He thrust his dragon rod into her and she moaned in pain.’ What is a dragon rod? I looked through all the martial arts manuals—”
The choking sound he made was concerning.
“—and I couldn’t find any weapon called dragon rod.
The closest was dragon staff, but that’s a long staff weapon and it definitely wouldn’t fit—” She gestured vaguely.
“—wherever this is supposed to go. So is it ceremonial? Because the books keep mentioning it. ‘His mighty dragon rod.’ ‘His jade pillar.’ And—”
“Stop talking.” The words came out strangled.
She frowned. “But you said you’d help me research—”
“Not. This.” He pointed at the books like they might bite him. “This is not. I didn’t mean. When I agreed to help you research—” He seemed to be having trouble forming complete sentences.
“These are romance books,” she said, confused by his reaction. “Very popular romance books apparently. Which is what I need to write about. So—”
“Where did you get these?” He picked up the top book with two fingers, like it was contaminated. He flipped the pages and his face underwent a fascinating transformation from pale to pink to something approaching crimson.
He spread her jade petals and plunged his throbbing dragon pillar into her chrysanthemum cave—
He slammed the book shut.
“The seller said they were very educational—”
“The seller lied.” He was gripping the edge of his desk now. “These are, Si-er, these are erotic huabens. For married couples. Or adults with very specific interests.”
“Erotic? Aren’t those love stories too? The seller recommended these to me when I told him I was getting married next spring. He said it will definitely please my future wife.” Why was he being so difficult about this? “And you promised to help me understand—”
“I promised to help you understand romance.” Each word sounded carefully controlled. “Not. Not to explain dragon rods.”
“Then what is a dragon rod?!” She was getting frustrated now. “Because every book mentions them and I don’t understand why the heroes keep taking out weapons and hurting the heroines with them! That’s not romantic, that’s assault with—”
“It’s not a weapon!” The words burst out.
She blinked. “Then what is it?”
He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. Then another.
“It’s. A euphemism.”
“A euphemism for what?”
“For a man’s. Private. Parts.” The words sounded like they were being forcibly extracted. “His. Yang. Organ.”
Silence.
Yun-si looked at the books. Back at him. Back at the books. Then at his crotch before snapping her gaze up guiltily.
“You mean his—”
“Yes.”
“So when the books say ‘thrust into her’—”
“Yes.”
“And ‘she moaned in pain’ because—”
“Because the first time can involve discomfort for women, yes.” He looked like he wanted to combust. “That’s. That’s what these books are describing. The act of. Of marital intimacy.”
Oh.
OH.
The jade gate. The thrusting. The moaning. So the chrysanthemum caves and flower petals mean—
Her own face caught fire.
“I didn’t—I thought—” She couldn’t finish any sentence.
“You thought dragon rods were actual weapons.” His voice was still strained but held a note of something else now. Possibly the urge to laugh. Or cry. Or both.
“It’s not my fault the terminology is confusing!”
“It’s metaphorical, Si-er.”
“Well how was I supposed to know that?!” She was mortified now. Absolutely mortified. She’d just asked him to explain. To explain male anatomy. While waving explicit books around and reading passages about jade pillars and thrusting and, and, whatever they all meant.
“I’m going to—I should—” She started gathering the books.
“Wait.” He moved to the medical texts shelf in the corner, pulled down three volumes right from the very top and thrust them at her without meeting her eyes. “Here. Read these. They’re anatomical texts. Medical books. They’ll explain everything. Um. Without the flowery language.”
She took the books, hands still trembling slightly from mortification and flipped open the top volume.
Her eyes went wide.
She slammed it shut. “These—these are illustrations!”
Detailed ones. Very detailed. With labels and arrows and—
Ting-zhi arched an eyebrow, expression perfectly dry. “Or would you rather see mine?”
For one frozen heartbeat, Yun-si’s brain simply stopped working.
Then his words registered.
“What?!” Her voice came out as a strangled squeak.
“For educational purposes.” His face was completely innocent. Completely. But his eyes—his eyes were dancing with unholy amusement. “You seemed confused by the illustrations. A live reference might be more—”
She didn’t let him finish.
Clutching the medical texts to her chest, she fled.
She stumbled over her own skirts in her haste to escape, caught herself on the doorframe, and disappeared into the corridor in a flurry of silk and mortification.
Behind her, she could have sworn she heard him laughing.