Page 45 of The Scholar's Improper Wife

She felt difficulty breathing just at the thought.

Yun-si sat ramrod straight on an embroidered cushion in the screened sanctum adjacent to the main receiving hall, her hands folded so tightly in her lap that her knuckles had gone white. Despite her best efforts at composure, her palms were slicked with nervous perspiration, dampening the silk of her sleeves. Beside her, Yun-jia craned her neck to peek through the decorative screen’s carved openings, trying to catch glimpses of the ceremony beyond.

“Stop fidgeting,” Yun-si whispered.

“I’m not fidgeting, I’mobserving,” Yun-jia whispered back, eyes bright with mischief. “Someone has to report back to you what’s happening since you’re too proper to look.”

It was true—Yun-si had barely raised her eyes from her lap since they’d been sequestered here. Propriety demanded that she remain behind the screen. It didn’t matter that onlyher parents and Yun-shan occupied the receiving hall, formally accepting the betrothal on behalf of the Shen family. It didn’t matter that she could hear but not see anything that was transpiring beyond the carved rosewood barrier. She was so nervous, she was certain her hammering heart could be heard through the screen.

She could heareverything.

The rustle of fine silk bolts. The measured tones of the matchmaker as she announced each item: cloths, jade bangles, gold hairpins set with pearls, lacquered boxes of fragrant tea, jars of honey, preserved fruits, and—

The distinctive, somewhat indignant honking of geese.

“Those geese arebig,” commented Yun-jia in awe.

Yun-si’s lips twitched despite her nerves. The traditional offering of geese symbolized fidelity and devotion. Most families these days settled for carved wooden geese for convenience. She was faintly unsure whether Ting-zhi had brought two live ones because he was taking this extremely seriously, or because he found the prospect of presenting her with two honking geese amusing.

After today, after her father formally accepted these gifts, she would be betrothed to Gu Ting-zhi. Her often-times best friend. Her sometimes most infuriating nemesis. The boy who had pulled her braids when they were children and then spent his adolescence torturing her with that insufferable smirk and those knowing eyes.

The same person who, just one week ago, had looked at her with such devastating sincerity and said:I’ve loved you every moment and every day.

Every time she closed her eyes, she saw his expression—no trace of his usual teasing, no hint of that maddening smile. Just raw, honest emotion laid bare before her like an offering more precious than any betrothal gift.

I’ve loved you every moment and every day.

She giggled uncontrollably, bubbles of happiness bursting out of her until there was simply no space left for nerves. But she managed to sit there till the end of the ceremony, hands folded, the picture of demure propriety, while those words kept repeating in her mind like the best romance huaben in the world.

AFTER THE BETROTHALceremony concluded, nothing seemed to have changed yet everythinghadchanged. That evening, Wen-xin arrived at Peach Blossom Courtyard with his usual cheerful energy, carrying a big box of pastries and a small bundle of books wrapped in blue cloth.

“Third Maiden!” he announced proudly, carefully setting his burdens on the stone table in the courtyard. “Young Master sent these for you.”

Yun-si approached, her curiosity piqued by the generous collection. The pastry box revealed an impressive array—lotus seed paste buns, osmanthus cakes, crystallized fruit confections, red bean pastries—each one a different flavor, as if Ting-zhi had simply ordered one of everything from the most expensive sweet shop in Shangjing.

But it was the bundle of books that truly caught her attention. When she untied the cloth wrapping, her breath caught. Every single volume bore the distinctive style of Moonlit Brush’s publications. She had vindictively never read the books of her greatest rival. And now here they were, bundled together as a tribute.

A folded note slipped from between the pages, and she recognized Ting-zhi’s elegant calligraphy immediately:Research materials for you.

Yun-si traced her fingers over the titles, reading each one aloud in a whisper:The Besotted Flower Thief,Dreams of theOtherworld,A Scholar’s Wicked Proposal,Beneath the Willow Pavilion. Each promised scandal, yet the fine paper and elegant binding spoke of quality rarely found in huabens.

She selected the infamousBesotted Flower Thieffirst, carrying it to her desk where a lamp flickered.

... and his voice came low beside her ear.

“You have a petal in your hair.”

His fingers found it before she could protest. Drew it free with the same unhurried care one might give to something precious. He held it out to her on his open palm, white against the lines of his hand, and looked at her with eyes that had, she realized with a lurch, not moved from her face since she arrived.

Three pages later, her face burned.

His shadow stretched long across the courtyard tiles as he backed her against the peach tree, its blossoms raining petals onto her silk sleeves. His hand found her waist—not the polite brush of fingers one might expect, but a firm, claiming grip, pulling her flush against him. The scent of ink and crushed flowers rose between them.

“You’ve been avoiding me,” he murmured, voice rough as sandalwood.

She opened her mouth to protest, but his lips stopped her.

This was no chaste press of mouths; this was hunger, desire, a tempest of longing that shook the heavens and earth. A flame, that burned hotter than the summer sun. His teeth grazed her lower lip before his tongue demanded entrance. She gasped, and he deepened the kiss, one hand tangling in her hair to tilt her head just so, the other branding her waist through the thin silk. The tree bark dug into her back, but she barely noticed—her fingers had already clenched into the front of his robe, anchoring herself as the world tilted.