Page 81 of The Scholar's Improper Wife

“Well?” he asked, pressing a kiss to the crown of her head.

“Well what?”

“Was the wedding night satisfactory?”

Yun-si buried her face in his shoulder and swatted him. “You wicked scholar.”

“Good. Then perhaps you'll like the second wedding gift.”

Yun-si lifted her head to meet his gaze, noting the mischievous glint in his peach blossom eyes. “What gift?”

“The kind where I take you to see all those places you’ve dreamed of.” His thumb brushed her cheek. “The southern provinces where the rivers run silver in moonlight. The northern mountains where snow falls like poetry. Anywhere you want to go, Si-er.”

Her breath caught. “The traveling inspector position?”

“Approved yesterday.” His smile was soft, uncertain. “If you want it. If you want... this life with me.”

Instead of answering with words, Yun-si leaned up and kissed him, smiling. When they broke apart, she snuggled against him.

“I’ve spent my whole life dreaming of adventures,” she whispered. “I never imagined I would ever get to go on one.”

Outside their window, the clan school was awakening. Students were reciting their classics, and teachers were beginning their lessons. But here in their small sanctuary, wrapped in sunlight and each other’s arms, Gu Ting-zhi and Shen Yun-si were ready for their own story.

Love, and the beginning of an adventure.

Epilogue: One Year Later

The forty men lay scattered across the mountain pass like particularly unfortunate autumn leaves.

Sword Lady Mei cleaned her blade without looking at them, hair-ribbon flipping in the wind. There was nothing to look at. They had made their choices.

“Thirty-eight,” drawled the man behind her.

She turned.

Leng Shao-yu was leaning against the cliff face with his arms crossed, with the expression of a man who found everything mildly interesting and nothing particularly alarming. His ink-stained fingers. His scholar’s robes. His infuriating smirk. Everything about him was entirely unsuitable for a mountain pass in late autumn.

He had not drawn his sword. He never drew his sword. He did other things instead, quiet careful devastating things, and the results were largely the same.

She hated him.

“Forty,” she said.

“Two escaped over the eastern ridge.” He tilted his head. “I let them go.”

“You let them—”

“They’ll report back to their master to let them know the attempt failed. We can follow the trail back.” A pause. “You’re welcome.”

Sword Lady Mei had been the finest blade in the pugilistic world for ten years. She had faced down clan elders and corrupt magistrates and one extremely memorable river demon without her composure flickering once. She was lethal. She was unflappable.

She was going to put this man in the ground.

“We’re going the same direction,” he said before she could speak. “Single and double rooms in the inns cost the same.” He smiled. Her eyes narrowed. Nothing good ever came out of that smile. “It would be wasteful not to travel together.”

“I travel alone,” she said.

“You did,” he agreed pleasantly. “Before me.”