Page 53 of The Scholar's Improper Wife

“And you fell for it.” Old Wang set the stone down with a clack. “Tsk. Honeyed words to keep you dangling. Classic tactic.”

Yun-si slumped further into her seat by the brazier, its warmth doing little to ease the tightness in her chest. She forced herself to take a steadying breath. Perhaps there was some reasonable explanation for Moonlit Brush’s silence, but optimism felt as flimsy as rice paper against the creeping doubt.

She couldn’t force Moonlit Brush to reply, she thought grimly. But there were other things she needed to do if she wanted to revive Autumn Leaf.

“My mother’s steward,” she said, gathering her scattered thoughts, “has already filed the necessary documents with the magistrate’s office for the shop transfer.”

She paused, then straightened slightly, as though folding her uncertainties away. “We should discuss the renovation plans while we wait. The walls between the two shops will need to come down to combine the spaces, and I thought we could add a reading nook near the window...”

TING-ZHI FOUND YUN-si in the clan library that afternoon, chin propped on her hand as she stared blankly past an open book. Her brush lying abandoned beside her.

“Mmm.” He leaned against the desk, deliberately nudging her elbow. “If you’re going to mope, at least do it somewhere warmer.”

She blinked up at him, slow as if surfacing from deep water. “I’m not moping.”

“Of course not.” He plucked the book from her limp fingers and read the title aloud. “Agricultural Treatises of the Western Provinces.Truly gripping material.”

She snatched it back. “I was researching.”

“Researching how to bore your readers into an early grave?” His smirk faded when she didn’t rise to the bait. The shadows under her eyes were darker than yesterday.

He exhaled through his nose. This was ridiculous. He’d only meant to write that one letter and then let the correspondence lapse naturally. But watching her wilt like an unwatered peony...

“Ting-zhi, Moonlit Brush didn’t write back again. I—I was hoping to ask him something important.” Her expression was more than disappointed, it wasforlorn.

Something inside Ting-zhi cracked. He had never been able to abide Yun-si’s sad face; had never understood why, exactly, except that she was like a flower he tended with care. When she bloomed, something in him lighted up; when she wilted, something in him did too.

Is this what love feels like, or only mine? Does she feel the same... or is it only me?

He leaned in slowly, gaze fixed on her lips, close enough to feel the warmth of her breath, close enough to see the pulse jumping at her throat. He watched her gulped and stared at him like a startled doe, trying to decide whether to close her eyes or shove him away.

At the last moment before he reached her lips, he turned his face slightly and murmured against her ear instead.

“If we are going to do research,” he said, “we should dointerestingresearch.”

He brushed his lips against the shell of her ear deliberately, watching with satisfaction the shiver she couldn’t quite suppress. “Chapter seven ofThe Scholar’s Wicked Proposal, perhaps?

Before she could process the words, his hands slid beneath her arms.

In one smooth motion, he lifted her from the chair. Yun-si gasped, fingers scrambling for purchase against his shoulders.

“Put me down!” Her whisper was more air than sound as she kicked her legs in the air.

“My pleasure.”

But instead of setting her on her feet, he carried her toward the shadowed alcove behind the history scrolls, where the scent of aged paper and ink wrapped around them like a secret.

Her back met the cool wood of the shelf, and he braced one hand beside her head. In the dim light, his expression had shifted from teasing to something far more serious.

“Don’t look so sad for another man,” he said quietly. “I can’t bear it.”

The confession hung between them, raw and unexpected.

“Ting-zhi...”

Then his mouth was on hers, taking his time to taste the soft warmth of her lips. He felt her hesitation and tenderly coaxed her with featherlight kisses and soft nuzzles, until he felt her relax against him, almost imperceptibly. Her fingers curled into his robes and he lifted his lashes to watch her. When her own eyes fluttered open in confusion at his pause, the hazy longing in them stole his breath. He deepened the kiss, and she answered him, in her achingly gentle way.

The distant creak of floorboards shattered the moment.