Page 52 of The Scholar's Improper Wife

She reached for her brush, inking her reply with careful strokes.

In Dreams of the Otherworld, I find it hard to believe that a man will fall in love with a fox spirit. Yet their love touches me...

That evening, Yun-si found Ting-zhi in the garden, idly leaning against the carved wood post of the pavilion and blowing on hisxun. Now that they are officially betrothed, Ting-zhi couldspend time with her in the family gardens, where propriety was preserved by open pavilions and watchful servants. The melody was slow and thoughtful, unlike his usual playful tunes. The notes drifted across the still water of the pond like fallen petals.

“Ting-zhi,” she said, unable to hide her smile.

He glanced at her, one eyebrow lifting at her uncharacteristic brightness. “Mmm?”

She skipped to the pavilion in three quick steps, pulling the letter from her sleeve. “Look!”

Ting-zhi took it, his expression carefully neutral as he scanned the words.Hiswords. His own handwriting, disguised by writing with his left hand instead

“Moonlit Brush replied,” Yun-si gushed, settling onto the bench beside him. The wood was still warm from the afternoon sun. “Isn’t it wonderful? He actuallywrote back!”

Ting-zhi’s fingers tightened around the paper, crinkling the edge. He hadn’t expected her to be this affected. She looked just as she had when they were children and he had brought her a new huaben from the market.

“You sound... pleased,” he said slowly.

“Of course I’m pleased!” She took the letter back, tracing the characters with her fingertip as if they might disappear. “His words are just as beautiful in person. I—I didn’t think he’d actually respond.”

Ting-zhi studied her, something unfamiliar twisting in his chest. The sensation was sharp and uncomfortable. Jealousy? No, that was ridiculous. HewasMoonlit Brush.

But she didn’t know that.

And the way she looked at the letter made his stomach clench.

“Don’t get too excited,” he said lightly, forcing his usual smirk. “He may just have been polite”

Yun-si shot him a sidelong glare. “I’m notexcited. It’s just... nice. To talk to a fellow author.”

Ting-zhi hummed, noncommittal.

Yun-si folded her arms on the table and pillowed her head on them. The light spring breeze stirred the soft silks of her dress, tangling them with Ting-zhi’s own dark blue sleeve. Ting-zhi looked at their tangled robes for a moment, then lifted a hand and gently patted the head of the girl who was curled up like a contented cat beside him.

Outside the pavilion, the garden lanterns flickered to life, casting their reflections in the still pond below, where the water rippled just enough to blur the edges of reality.

His mouth found thexunagain, and a wistful melody floated across the garden.

That night, as he lay in bed staring up at the canopy, her delighted face burned into his mind like a brand.

DAYS PASSED. THEN Aweek.

“Nothing again?” Yun-si asked in disappointment, as Chun-xi returned empty-handed from Golden House Books again.

Chun-xi shook her head. “The clerk said no letters have come for Mistress Shen.”

Yun-si pressed her lips together. Moonlit Brush had replied to her first letter with such promptness... had she offended him somehow? Had he thought her reply frivolous or silly, not worth another reply? She’d tried so hard to be clever and charming.

She abandoned her writing desk and wrapped herself in a light spring cloak, the tart spring air biting at her cheeks as she hurried through the streets to Autumn Leaf Literary Treasures. The door creaked mournfully when she pushed it open.

Old Wang looked up from polishing a set of stone seals. “Back so soon? Don’t tell me you’ve finished another manuscript already.”

Yun-si slumped onto a stool by the brazier she’d insisted Old Wang kept warm. “He hasn’t written back.”

“Bah!” Old Wang snorted, rubbing the stones with unnecessary vigor. “What did I tell you? These romance writers are all charm and no substance. Probably too busy seducing courtesans forresearch.”

She plucked at the embroidery on her sleeve. “But his last letter was so thoughtful. He asked about my favorite scenes from his stories—”