Page 10 of The Scholar's Improper Wife

Wait. What did sleeves reveal? Arms? Was that romantic? She’d never really looked at anyone’s arms before. Were arms attractive? Maybe they were. The romance novels seemed to think so. She should pay more attention to them.

—revealing the strong line of his forearms as he guided the boat deeper into the lotus blossoms. The water lapped softly against the hull. He set down the oar and turned to her, moonlight catching in his dark eyes.

“I have waited long for this moment,” he said, voice low and fervent. “To have you here, alone at last, with only the stars as witnesses—”

“THIRD SISTER, WEN-XIN WON’T SHARE HIS PASTRIES!”

She blinked. The carriage. Right. She was in a carriage. With three children, a dastardly scholar and a barrage of noise.

She turned back to the window, determinedly ignoring Yun-jia’s protests.

The scholar moved closer, the boat rocking gently beneath them. “May I?” he asked, reaching for her hands.

The lady’s breath caught. His hand was warm, his touch sending shivers—

But what happened then? In the novels they always just said “shivers” or “her heart raced” but what did people actually DO on romantic boat rides? Just... sit there? Hold hands? Surely there was more. There had to be more. The novels never actually explained the mechanics of—

“HOW much LONGER?”

“Are we there YET?”

She sighed and gave up entirely. Instead, she turned and asked the question that had been itching at the back of her mind since morning. “Yun-hai,WHYis there a bird on your head?”

“Yun-hai’s lodge is a mini menagerie now!” Yun-jia interrupted.

“They come to me when wounded,” Yun-hai said, giving the bird on his head a friendly pet. “And leave when they are well.”

Yun-si lifted an eyebrow, and like permission had been granted, the duo filled her in on the small wounded creatures that had turned Yun-hai’s lodge into a veritable menagerie recently.

“How do they know to come to you?” Ting-zhi asked curiously.

Yun-hai considered this with great seriousness. “I don’t know. They just do.” He thought about it a moment longer. “Eldest Sister says they can feel that I am safe.”

Ting-zhi looked at the bird, which had gone to sleep on Yun-hai’s head like it was home and said nothing more. But Yun-si noticed he watched Yun-hai a little differently for the rest of the afternoon.

They finally reached the docks an hour later, just as her head was starting to pound from the incessant chatter. Yun-si stepped down from the carriage and—

Oh.

Pleasure boats clustered and vendors called out their wares to passersby. Willows grew thick along the lake and the water lapped against the boats.

The light here was different. Softer. It came through the willow branches in long, golden shafts, dappling the water in patterns that shifted and reformed with every breath of wind. Like warm honey. Like something alive.

The lake breathed beneath its veil of willows, each ripple a whispered secret.

A hand waved in front of her face.

She startled. Ting-zhi stood before her, one eyebrow raised, the ghost of amusement playing at the corner of his mouth.

“The boat,” he said mildly, “is this way.”

“I know where the boat is,” she said, with dignity.

“You were staring at the water,” he observed. “For a full minute.”

“I was not.” She glanced at the water. The light was still doing that extraordinary thing with the willows. She forced herself to look away. “The light was interesting.”

“Mm.” He didn’t look convinced. But he didn’t tease further, just gestured toward the dock with an open hand. She walked past him in that measured, deliberate glide ingrained in her since childhood—notlooking at himdefinitelymeant he couldn’t see her burning cheeks either.