Page 7 of The Scholar's Improper Wife

Cheng-yi lowered his voice. “Speaking of that... I heard Princess Ming-yue will attend the Jade Grove Banquet next year.”

The words hung in the air for a moment. Then—

“Looking for a husband, you think?” someone ventured.

“Who wouldn’t want that alliance?” another murmured. “Marry the princess, and you’re practically imperial family.”

Ting-zhi took a slow sip of tea, hiding his amusement. “A dangerous game. The Emperor doesn’t strike me as the type to let his niece marry just anyone.”

“True,” Scholar Zhang agreed. “But if shedoestake notice... imagine the connections.”

The table erupted into speculation, voices overlapping.

“—has to be someone distinguished—”

“—or at least handsome enough to catch her eye—”

A finger jabbed toward Ting-zhi. “You! You’ve got the looks for it.”

He raised a brow. “Ah, but I lack the substance. The Princess would see through me in an instant.”

“Nonsense,” Cheng-yi scoffed. “You’ve got the charm, the pedigree—”

“And the modesty,” Ting-zhi drawled, earning another round of laughter.

The truth was, he had no interest in imperial politics or princesses. His mind was already elsewhere, on a certain someone who’d asked aboutdragon rodswith wide, curious eyes.

The thought made his tea taste sweeter.

The afternoon passed while the scholars compared notes and argued over interpretations of classical texts and ways of governance. Ting-zhi contributed when needed—a clarification here, a counterpoint there—but mostly, he observed. By the time the gathering dispersed and lanterns were being lit outside, he had already mentally sorted them: who would place, who wouldn’t, and who might just surprise everyone.

When the sun dipped low enough to stain the teahouse walls in hues of amber and rose, the gathering began to disperse. Scholars stretched, gathered their notes, and exchanged polite farewells, their voices still buzzing with half-finished debates. Ting-zhi lingered near the door, adjusting the sleeve of his robe as Cheng-yi shuffled past, a distracted look on his face.

“Something on your mind?” Ting-zhi asked, falling into step beside him. The evening air was cool, carrying the scent of damp earth and flowers. Cheng-yi didn’t answer immediately. Instead, he stared at the pear trees lining the street wistfully. A gust of wind blew, and a handful of golden leaves drifted lazily down onto the green flagstones.

“Do you know,” he began, voice so low Ting-zhi had to lean closer, “that the Princess likes pastries?”

Ting-zhi’s heart missed a beat as he stared at his friend.Since when?

But he smiled reassuringly at Cheng-yi, lifted the two wooden boxes of pastries in his hands and gave them a gentle shake.

“Your family’s teahouses serve the finest pastries in Shangjing,” he said, raising a brow.

“Crispy almond twists, black sesame pastries, those little steamed osmanthus cakes that melt in your mouth... Tell me, who wouldn’t like them?”

Cheng-yi’s expression brightened fractionally, but his shoulders remained slumped. “But what if she’s had better? What if she gets tired of sweet things?”

“Sometimes,” Ting-zhi said, steering them toward the street where the lanterns were beginning to flicker to life, “the simplest gifts are the most memorable. A jewel is forgotten in a drawer. But a pastry?” He grinned. “That’s an experience. And experiences, my friend, are far harder to ignore.”

Chapter 4

It was a few days before Yun-si gathered up her courage to go to the library again. She opened the door carefully and hovered on the threshold, clutching her notebook, the memory of the mortifying “dragon rod” incident still prickling her skin. Ting-zhi sat behind his usual table, a mountain of scrolls and annotated exam primers already dwarfing him. He glanced up, the corner of his lips curving almost imperceptibly, brush poised mid-air.

“Si-er. To what do I owe the pleasure? More... anatomical inquiries?” His voice was a low murmur, barely disturbing the library’s sacred silence.

She stiffened, her cheeks warming. “No!” The word came out sharper than intended. She took a breath, fingers nervously smoothing the front of her silk dress, and gingerly walked in. “I came about our... arrangement. The research partnership.”

“Of course.” Ting-zhi said agreeably.