Page 9 of The Scholar's Improper Wife

She crouched down to his level, unable to resist the way his grin mirrored Ting-zhi’s so perfectly. “And who might you be?”

“I’m Wen-xin!” he declared proudly, puffing out his chest. “Young Master Gu’s book boy!”

She reached out on impulse, ruffling the boy’s hair the way she used to do to Ting-zhi when he’d brought especially nice pastries for her again. Wen-xin giggled, ducking away, and for a moment it was like staring at a sunlit version of the boy Ting-zhi had been, in a time that seemed barely a glance away but lay years behind them.

“Tell him,” she said softly, “that I’ll be there.”

Wen-xin beamed, then turned and dashed down the corridor, feet pattering against the tiles.

Yun-si pressed a hand to her chest, where her heart was beating just a little too fast.

Again.

Chapter 5

Yun-si had spent the whole day trying on gowns. Not the blue one, not the teal colored one, not the orange one that might make her disappear into the autumn foliage.

At last, she settled on a pale pink silk gown layered over a cream underdress, its peach blossom embroidery peeping out. Purely because it was her most comfortable choice, of course—notbecause it would mirror the soft hues of the lake at dusk, andcertainly notbecause it flatters her pale complexion. Her hands betrayed her, trembling just enough to fumble with the jade hairpin as she secured it, its floral charms swaying with each unsteady breath.

Just research, she reminded herself firmly, as she stepped into the waiting carriage in the front courtyard.

“Third Sister! You’re FINALLY here!”

“Let’s go! Let’s go let’s GO LET’S GO!!!”

Instead of the gentlemanly scholar she was expecting, a wall of wide, excited eyes met hers.

Yun-jia, her younger sister who was already thirteen but still behaved like a restless eight-year-old was bouncing on her heels,nottrying to conceal her excitement. Yun-hai, the youngest of her siblings at eleven was playing with his new set of bow and arrows with—was that a bird on his head?!And Wen-xin—tiny, solemn Wen-xin—was clutching his pastry basket to his chest protectively, like a guard at a palace gate.

Yun-si’s smile froze on her face, her carefully constructed vision of a romantic boat rideshattering like dropped porcelain.Her gaze snapped past the children to Ting-zhi, lounging elegantly in the far corner, looking utterly unperturbed.

“Good afternoon,” he said, meeting her gaze with perfect pleasantness.

The corner of his mouth quirked. Just a little. Just enough to make her want to strangle him.

Yun-si’s fingers curled into her sleeves. “You saidboating,” she hissed as she took her seat.

“Mmm.” He stretched the syllable, lazy and unrepentant. “I did. And we are going to the lake now. What’s the issue?”

“Theissue—” Her voice climbed. Yun-jia’s head snapped toward them, eyes alight with the thrill oflistening when she is not supposed to. Yun-si swallowed hard and lowered her voice. “Theissueis theaudience.”

“This,” he said, tilting his head toward the children with absolute calm, “is a family outing. I mentioned to Yun-shan that I missed the autumn scenery here in Shangjing.”

“My big brother is coming?” Yun-si asked in horror.

“No. His duties in the Ministry of Rites keep him away. But he suggested I bring the younger ones out for some fresh air instead.” He winked at her. “I assumed that would include the not-so-young-but-still-younger you.”

Ting-zhi’s smile turned fond as he looked at Yun-jia and Yun-hai, who were trying to beg pastries from an unbudgeable Wen-xin. He spread his hands. “Si-er, ifI’dsuggested a private boat ride, what would Lady Shen have said?” His voice dipped. “But thisway? Perfectly respectable.”

Yun-si glared at him, all the more because she knew he was right. Respectable. Yes. Because nothing saidrespectablelike a boat full of children while she and Ting-zhi were supposed to—

“Research,” Ting-zhi murmured, reading her mind as usual. His eyes gleamed, “Trust me. It’ll work.”

The carriage ride passed by in a blur of excitement and endless chatter while Yun-si stared outside the windows and escaped into her imagination for solace.

The boat glided across the moonlit lake, lanterns swaying gently in the evening breeze. The scholar led the lady aboard with careful hands, his fingers lingering a moment longer than propriety allowed. She blushed, settling gracefully onto the silk cushions as he took up the oar.

“The moon is beautiful tonight,” she murmured, though her eyes were not on the sky but on the way his sleeves fell back as he moved, revealing—