chapter 4

That afternoon, Duan Jing sat with his back to the window, his red wide-sleeved robe draped over the sill, unmoving for half the day. I was the same, lost in thought, with my work unfinished.

In the evening, as the steaming jujube paste had just come off the stove, Chunsheng arrived.

I pinched my nose and stepped back: “Chunsheng, you stink.”

He sighed, “Thanks to you, Miss, the chamber pot was completely overturned. Please forgive me.”

I pushed him out of the kitchen and asked what brought him here.

Chunsheng said, “Master has returned. Tonight, he asks that you and the Young Master join him for dinner.”

From the other side of the room, Duan Jing called out, “Not going.”

This Young Master always had the final say, so usually we just let him be.

Who would have thought Chunsheng would look troubled, quietly telling me, “I heard tonight they’re discussing a marriage for the Second Young Master. Double happiness, and the matter of dividing the family is set in stone. It’s best to listen in.”

I hesitated, “I haven’t married in yet, I’m still an outsider. Isn’t it inappropriate…”

Chunsheng looked disappointed, deflated: “We’ll just have to leave it to fate.”

Duan Jing was always contrary. Now, with the window half-shut, the room was silent for a long time.

Worried he was sulking, I shoved the fire tongs into Chunsheng’s hand: “I’ll go check on him.”

I pushed open the door. Duan Jing stood tall and elegant, his brows relaxed, writing something with his brush, not a trace of gloom on him.

I accidentally blocked the light, my shadow dancing on the wall.

Duan Jing knew I’d come, but didn’t even lift his eyes: “When are we eating?”

I walked in and saw, on the paper, a white goose drawn boldly, standing at the edge of the mudflat, a ring of water grass tied around its palm.

I stared for a long while, unmoving. Duan Jing lazily lifted his eyelids and asked, “Well? What do you see?”

“Hmm… Not very plump.”

Duan Jing’s brush paused, his brow slowly furrowing: “What’s not very plump?”

“The goose.”

He hissed, eyes full of disdain: “That’s a crane.”

“I’ve never seen a crane.”

Duan Jing, annoyed by me, had no temper left, only said coldly, “You really have no sense of elegance.”

I may lack elegance, but I know that when people are hungry, they need to eat.

My hands were sticky with jujube paste, my hair tied so that my neck itched. I twisted for ages but couldn’t get it out, so I had to ask Duan Jing for help: “Husband, my hair’s stuck.”

This was the second time I’d interrupted Duan Jing’s “elegance.”

His poem was interrupted mid-verse. Helpless, he set down his brush, leaned in and asked, “Where?”

These days, he was much more patient with me.

I turned sideways to him, exposing half my pale neck.

For a long moment, there was no movement. I turned my head and saw Duan Jing’s expression was dark and unreadable.

“Husband…” I called softly, remembering the stove still had food warming, my voice tinged with pleading.

Duan Jing cleared his throat, blinked, and his gaze became clear again.

His rough fingers brushed my neck, touching and then leaving, hooking the stray hair and pulling it back.

That bit of warmth lingered on my skin, tingling and gradually growing hot.

My face flushed.

His warm breath brushed my neck as Duan Jing asked in a low, husky voice, “Is that better?”

I nodded slightly.

Duan Jing’s dark eyes lingered on my face for a moment before moving away, returning to his painting, and unceremoniously ordering me, “Wash your hands and grind the ink.”

I’d seen Chunsheng do it before, so I imitated him, picking up the ink stick and circling it in the inkstone.

The white crane was vivid and lifelike, and the small seal at the signature was his courtesy name: Jiming. The lines of calligraphy were bold and elegant, even more beautiful than those written by our school’s teachers.

It felt like I’d found a treasure.

“Actually, I think you’d draw a tiger well too.”

I couldn’t hold back my words and blurted it out.

Duan Jing laughed, his tall figure leaning over the table, casting me in shadow: “I’ve never drawn one, how would you know?”

His handsome face suddenly loomed close, his dark eyes shining like stars. I panicked, glancing around, and in the end, lowered my eyes, not daring to look at him.
“The tiger is the king of all beasts. Since Husband has a tiger in his heart, naturally he paints well.”

For a long while, there was no movement above my head.

I snuck a glance upward, just in time to meet Duan Jing’s gaze.

In his dark eyes, scrutiny and ambiguity mingled, thoroughly unsettling my heart.

He gently pinched the new earring I wore. Under the candlelight, I couldn’t discern how many thoughts flickered in his eyes.

“A new one?”

“Mm… Does it… does it look good?” My face flushed with embarrassment.

“It looks good.” Duan Jing rarely praised me. He straightened his posture and smoothed his sleeves: “Come, let’s go eat.”

Dazed, I was led by the hand: “Ah? Weren’t we not going?”

“You wore new earrings. You ought to show them off.”

“But they’re not worth much-”

“In my room, Duan Jing’s, nothing is worthless.”

After nightfall, stone lanterns lit every ten steps, some places were quite dark, tree shadows scattered.

Duan Jing personally chose a lantern and walked ahead, freeing one hand to hold mine.

His warm palm gently closed around my fingers, the caress sending waves of excitement through me.

The lantern’s warm yellow glow was just enough to reach my feet.

No one had ever walked with me down a night path, nor lit a small lamp for me.

It all felt like a dream.

“Husband,” I called softly.

“What is it?” His tone was still lazy, but his grip tightened, pulling me closer. “Speak up, don’t buzz like a mosquito.”

“This… isn’t something to say loudly.” I hesitated shyly.

Duan Jing shot me a cold glance: “Are you going to say it or not? Only one chance.”

“I’ll say it!” I clung tightly to Duan Jing, tiptoeing closer.

He slowed his steps, his tall figure forced to bend, his gaze indifferent as he looked into the night.

“If we can’t win later, let’s not fight. I’ll follow you faithfully, don’t be afraid. I know many things, I can always support you. Just… don’t gamble on cockfights or horse races anymore…”

Duan Jing’s dark eyes gradually shifted from the distance, turning to rest on my face, unmoving.

We were very close, our breaths mingling.

The courtyard was dark, only a faint light from the lantern and a bright moon in the sky. Yet at that moment, I suddenly felt Duan Jing’s eyes held their own light, twinkling, no less than the stars.

He didn’t speak for a long time. Just as I was moved by my own words, he suddenly blurted out, “Fool.”

“Hey! Why are you calling me names?” I stomped my foot in anger.

Duan Jing sneered arrogantly, “Young Master doesn’t rely on a woman to support him. Zhang Wanyi, if you want to turn the tables and be in charge, try again in your next life.”

Though he said that, he gripped me tightly, his words cold: “Hold on. If you fall into a ditch in the dark, I won’t save you.”

“Oh…”

By the time we arrived, the feast had already begun.

It seemed they hadn’t expected Duan Jing to come. Now, seeing him, they were flustered, hurriedly making room for the two of us.

Duan Jing was used to it. For me, such cold receptions were nothing new. He handed me a handkerchief, I ladled soup for him-neither of us needed help from others. In that moment, we seemed like a couple married for years, an unspoken understanding between us.

Everyone took their seats, the atmosphere awkward.

Lord Duan was the first to break the ice: “Tonight, we’re here for a reunion dinner, and to discuss the marriage of Huaishen and the eldest daughter of the Minister’s residence.”

I snuck a glance at Duan Jing, pursing my lips in silence.

The Minister’s daughter-was she the one I met in the garden that day? My eyes shifted, landing on the Second Young Master. He was still as gentle and refined as ever, a fitting match.

The Second Young Master to marry the Minister’s daughter.”