Chapter 18
Ting-zhi stirred awake to the taste of bitter medicine in his mouth and a stabbing pain in his left arm. He blinked against the too bright sunlight, fragments of memory surfaced—peach blossoms, feverish skin, Si-er beneath him—
He bolted upright, heart hammering, only to find Shen Yun-shan seated next to him, expression unreadable.
“Si-er! Is she hurt?” His voice cracked with urgency.
“She’s unharmed.” Yun-shan poured tea, steam curling between them like a censer’s smoke. “But the Princess’s ladies-in-waiting saw her leaving the banquet with you in the same carriage. Gossip spreads faster than spring floods.”
Ting-zhi hissed as he shifted, the muscle in his jaw twitching. “I’ll ask my father to send the matchmaker today. Nullify any rumors—”
“Foolish.” Yun-shan set the celadon cup down with a sharp click. “Propose now, and you confirm the scandal. The Princess will retaliate by requesting an imperial decree for your marriage to her. Any scandal involving Yun-si will end up with her as a concubine in the Princess’s household.”
Ting-zhi blanched,
Yun-shan traced the rim of his cup. “We leak a counter-rumor—you and Yun-si were already privately betrothed by both families before the exams. Childhood sweethearts, long-planned union. Any efforts on Princess Ming-yue’s part will become an affront to Shen Clan’s honor rather than a romantic scandal. ”
“Your father would never consent.”
“I’ve seen the list of suitors my parents prepared.
Second sons, fourth sons, sons from minor branches.
They know Yun-si isn’t suited to be a clan matriarch.
Yun-yao is already married to the Great General.
My future wife...” Yun-shan gave a bitter laugh.
“Will likely be from another powerful clan. Our family will be tied to more influence than the Emperor would be comfortable with. Your background—” He paused deliberately.
“—works in your favor. You bring talent without threatening political entanglements.”
Yun-shan rose gracefully, “You should start to prepare the six rites as soon as possible. I’ll talk to my father and ensure the rumors reach the palace by noon.”
Ting-zhi’s breath caught. “And Yun-si?”
“She’ll agree to preserve her reputation and the family’s honor. What she feels...” Yun-shan’s voice remained glacially calm. “...is irrelevant, until the contract is sealed.”
The door slid shut behind him. Ting-zhi collapsed on the bed, the ghost of Yun-si’s loosened hair clinging to his fevered memory like her scent.
HAD IT REALLY HAPPENED?
The fever. The tears. His hand sliding over her.
The heat of him. The desperation. The way he’d looked at her hair falling loose—like she was something sacred and forbidden all at once.
But aphrodisiacs did strange things. Made people act out of character. Maybe that was all it was.
Yun-si slept through the whole day, sending word that she was unwell so she need not face her mother’s morning sessions, her sister’s questions, or anyone who might look at her face and read what was written there.
By nightfall she was still in bed, staring at the canopy above her, when a soft knock came at her window.
“Si-er.”
She knew that voice in her sleep. She shot out of bed and ran across the floor, pushing the window open.
Ting-zhi stood on the other side, one hand braced against the sill. His arm was bandaged. He looked like he hadn’t slept.
“What are you doing here like a flower thief?” she whispered in panic, heart pounding so hard she felt light-headed.
“I needed to see you.”
“If anyone finds you at my window—”
“I know.” He didn’t move.
She stared at him. He stared back.
Moonlight poured across the garden, stilling it into a silver painting.
A gust of spring breeze blew, and peach petals drifted down slowly, enveloping them both in their sweet fragrance.
His face, half-lit by the pale moonlight, was solemn—the face of a man who had made up his mind, empty of any mirth or smirks.
Then he said, very simply: “I love you.”
She went still.
“I’ve loved you every moment and every day.
Every time you called me Zhi-zhi, every time you beat me at poetry games again, every time we talked, every time you shared your dreams with me, every time you were there for me.
” There was a raw look in his eyes she’d never seen before.
He gripped the wooden edge of her windowsill so tightly she could see the veins in his hands.
“I’ve loved you for so long I don’t remember a time when I didn’t. ”
She opened her mouth. Nothing came out.
“But I don’t want you to have to marry me if you see me as a brother.” His voice lowered, sounding so vulnerable her heart clenched. “Do you love me? Will you love me? Can you love me, as a husband?”
The questions hung between them in the dark.
Yun-si stared at the slightly disheveled man who was baring his soul to her, and thought about the kisses in the garden that she had called research.
The twinkle in his eyes whenever he smiled at her.
The warmth of his hug in the cold. The way she had spent sixty days counting without admitting to herself what she was counting toward.
The manuscript hero who kept acquiring peach-blossom eyes and a crooked grin no matter how many times she scratched him out.
“I would never...” she drew a breath shakily.
Something shifted in his face. A flash of pain and the careful stillness of a man who had braced himself for any answer.
“...kiss my brother like that,” she continued. “And if you can’t understand that, then you’re the most foolish Flower Scholar in Shangjing.”
He blinked a few times, looking at her with an adorable confusion she had never seen on him. Then a relieved grin broke across his face. His dimples appeared. His shoulders dropped as though some crushing burden had been removed.
“I am a foolish Flower Scholar,” he agreed, still grinning. And there, it was back, the stars in his eyes.
He leaned through the window and drew her forehead to his lips, pressing a gentle kiss there. “Good night, Si-er.”
And then he was gone, vanishing into the night with that infuriating, effortless grace of his, hands tucked behind his back as though he hadn’t just unraveled her.
Yun-si watched him walk away. Walked back slowly to her bed as though it was a night like any other.
Then, under the cover of her blankets, she rolled back and forth in sheer delight, trying—and failing—to muffle her squeals.