HMHSE - 11

Shan Zong was not only bad-tempered, but his actions were also unpredictable.

While he was smiling, he suddenly pointed to the sky and said: “I advise you to leave early; the mountains are unsafe at night.”

Shen Rong was slightly taken aback and looked toward Donglai and the others who were busy working.

Exploring for minerals usually required only surface exploration, but drilling the earth was rarely used. However, once employed, it could take several days since careful digging was necessary rather than large-scale excavation.

Today, their group had come prepared to stay in the mountains for a few days.

Shen Rong quickly realized what he meant—he must have known this already.

But when she turned back, all she saw were the hoofbeats of his horse as the man galloped away like the wind, swift as lightning, leaving without another word.

She glanced at the two men guarding nearby.

Hu Shiyi and Zhang Wei had seen Shan Zong ride off. They exchanged glances, remarking that their boss had stayed unusually long today.

Just then, Shen Rong approached them.

She asked: “The mountains are unsafe at night?”

Hu Shiyi was confused: “What do you mean by ‘unsafe’?”

Knowing Zhang Wei was straightforward, she directly asked him: “You tell me.”

Zhang Wei replied: “Unless outsiders infiltrate, but our defenses are tight, so we’re not afraid even if they come.”

Shen Rong thought to herself—just as she suspected, Shan Zong had done it on purpose.

She turned and walked away.

Hu Shiyi and Zhang Wei exchanged puzzled looks.

Drilling the earth would take time anyway, and Changsun Xin couldn’t rush it either.

Before the city gates closed, he entrusted the entire mountain operation to Donglai and escorted Shen Rong back to the city.

Due to Zhao Guogong’s letter, Zhao Jinlian went out of his way to show concern. Not only did he personally console them, but he also accompanied both of them all the way to the official residence.

As they parted at the gate, he reiterated what he had said in the mountains: “Tomorrow, I’ve invited Commander Shan to the banquet at my residence. Minister Changsun is a gentle person, so I’m sure you won’t mind. Please do attend—it would be a great favor to me.”

Shen Rong had just entered the gate when she heard this and stopped to look back.

Changsun Xin was looking at her too, clearly surprised.

After thinking for a moment, she nodded at her brother.

What was there to fuss about? She was staying in his place anyway. It was just a banquet—nothing to feel awkward about.

Changsun Xin cleared his throat and agreed: “Governor Zhao is too kind.”

Zhao Jinlian sighed in relief, as if seeing hope for reconciliation, and left with a warm smile.

Back at the military compound, Shan Zong entered his room and removed his saber—it was already dark.

He had spent so much time in the mountains during the day that he had only returned now.

As he removed his waist guard, he recalled the situation in the mountains and felt it was unnecessary.

Why had he teased Changsun Shen Rong? He truly had too much free time.

Perhaps it was because of her words—she had been acting strangely lately.

“Too arrogant, Changsun Shen Rong,” he muttered as he stroked his jaw and chuckled softly.

His words were wasted on her—she treated them as if they were mere whispers in the wind.

“Boss,” a soldier outside requested an audience.

“Enter.”

The soldier came in, placed a report on the desk, and retreated.

Shan Zong picked it up, flipped through it, and immediately put his armor back on, grabbed his saber, and left.

…

Morning light filtered through the window lattice, and a piece of yellow hemp paper lay on the small table.

Shen Rong held a brush, carefully sketching the Wangji Mountain ridges stroke by stroke. Hearing Zirui’s hesitant intake of breath beside her, she remembered that the brush was dipped in indigo—she had originally intended to paint her eyebrows.

Zhao Jinlian had been extremely thoughtful, sending someone early this morning to invite her again.

Lady He had also sent over the cosmetics Shen Rong had selected at the shop the other day.

She had planned to dress up properly before attending the banquet, but while thinking about mining matters, she got distracted.

“Forget it, no painting today,” she said decisively and set the brush down.

Zirui remarked: “Young Mistress, your beauty is naturally stunning—you don’t need any extra adornments. You are the epitome of elegance.”

Shen Rong had heard such compliments all her life—they meant nothing to her, and she never took them seriously.

What mattered most to her was the scroll in her brocade bag. As she stood up, she carefully tucked it into her bosom—it couldn’t leave her side, even for a banquet.

Changsun Xin was already waiting outside.

As Shen Rong walked out of the inner courtyard, she encountered Guangyuan, who, as usual, respectfully stepped aside to let her pass.

She had already walked past when she suddenly stopped.

“Guangyuan,” she glanced at him and asked: “Is it rare for you to see your master?”

Guangyuan hesitated before answering: “Yes.”

Every time he saw Shan Zong, it was as if he hadn’t seen him in ages—Shen Rong had noticed this long ago.

She said: “Then follow me today—you might get to see him more often.”

Guangyuan raised his head in surprise, but she had already walked away.

He hurried after her, glancing at her back. Unable to resist, he whispered: “Does the young mistress no longer hold a grudge against me for past matters?”

Beside him, Zirui immediately shot him a glare, scolding him silently for bringing up old wounds.

Shen Rong heard clearly but didn’t turn her head or stop walking: “Without you, there wouldn’t have been that divorce document. One bears responsibility for one’s own actions—what does it have to do with you? Your master knows how to shoulder responsibility alone.”

It was her business with that man. His constant avoidance and dejected demeanor made her uncomfortable, as if constantly reminding her of the divorce process.

Guangyuan felt reassured. Back when he served the Shan family, he had observed that though the lady appeared proud and noble, she was never unreasonable—as long as she wasn’t provoked, everything could be resolved peacefully.

“But don’t rejoice too soon,” Shen Rong added: “Who knows, you might not even see him today.”

She wasn’t sure if that man would come.

Everything was prepared at the governor’s residence. Zhao Jinlian and Lady He waited for their distinguished guests to arrive.

Not long after, the sound of carriages and horses approached. The couple emerged from the hall to see the Changsun siblings gracefully entering, led by the steward.

Zhao Jinlian went to exchange pleasantries with Changsun Xin, while Lady He took the initiative to speak with Shen Rong, guiding her into the hall with a warm smile.

The servants brought freshly brewed hot tea. Shen Rong picked up the teacup, touched her lips to it briefly, and set it down.

Too strong and bitter—she preferred mild flavors.

People often said that the Hebei region was rugged and unrestrained, naturally less refined than Chang’an. But she didn’t mind—she hadn’t come to Youzhou for luxury.

Taking advantage of the tea moment, she glanced around and didn’t see any sign of that man.

Zhao Jinlian sat chatting and laughing with Changsun Xin, watching the time tick by and growing increasingly restless.

“Commander Shan must have been delayed by some matter,” he said with a strained smile: “I’ve already sent someone to fetch him—I’m sure he’ll arrive soon.”

Changsun Xin feigned a laugh and glanced at his sister.

Shen Rong absentmindedly played with the teacup, seemingly oblivious to their conversation.

Seeing the conversation about to falter, Lady He signaled her husband: “We can start the banquet without delay. Commander Shan won’t mind—he certainly wouldn’t want to inconvenience our esteemed guests.”

Zhao Jinlian agreed and ordered the banquet to begin.

The attendants filed in, setting up dishes.

Shen Rong was seated beside Changsun Xin, with Zhao Jinlian and Lady He across the table entertaining them. Now, the only topic to keep things lively was mining.

Unfortunately, Changsun Xin was troubled by this matter, his forced smile becoming even more insincere.

Zirui was serving Shen Rong dishes when she waved her hand dismissively. Suddenly, Guangyuan’s voice drifted in from afar: “Master.”

Zhao Jinlian immediately stood and went outside.

Shen Rong glanced at the doorway, hearing faint voices outside—

“Didn’t I tell you to come today? What took you so long?”

Shan Zong’s voice was lazy: “Last night, prisoners were delivered from the capital. They knocked on the city gates overnight, and I’ve been busy until now. I was even intercepted halfway by your men and brought here.”

“Well, now that you’re here, come in quickly.”

A tall figure walked in from outside, pausing momentarily.

Shan Zong’s gaze swept over the siblings seated in the hall, then landed on Zhao Jinlian—he hadn’t mentioned this arrangement.

But Zhao Jinlian had already pushed him to take a seat.

Shen Rong happened to be seated directly opposite him. She watched as he placed his saber down, accepted a towel from a servant, wiped his hands leisurely, lowered his eyes, and exuded a hint of fatigue.

Zhao Jinlian finally relaxed and laughed more freely than before: “Chong Jun, you’re late. You must toast Minister Changsun.”

Changsun Xin waved his hand dismissively: “No need—it’s not something I deserve.”

“Minister, please don’t be modest,” Zhao Jinlian hinted repeatedly to Shan Zong.

Shan Zong glanced at the opposite side, picked up the wine jug, filled a cup, raised it, and offered it to Changsun Xin.

But it wasn’t Changsun Xin who responded. Beside him, the woman’s sleeves fluttered lightly as Shen Rong raised her cup toward him.

Her eyes sparkled as she lowered her head to sip from the rim, her gaze still fixed on him.

Shan Zong’s fingers caressed the wine cup but didn’t move.

Zhao Jinlian focused intently on him, only noticing when Shen Rong set her cup down: “Young Mistress, how bold of you.”

Changsun Xin smiled: “Arong pitied me and drank it on my behalf.”

Fortunately, this eased the tension caused by Shan Zong’s tardiness.

Lady He thought it was thanks to Changsun Xin’s gentle and agreeable nature that the banquet proceeded smoothly. As the wine flowed and the conversation grew lively, she joked: “Minister, you are truly a gentleman. If I had an eligible sister at home, I’d rush to marry her off to you to form a connection. Unfortunately, I don’t have that fortune.”

Changsun Xin replied gently: “Lady He flatters me. Let’s discuss such happy occasions after I find the mine.”

Lady He was surprised—originally flattering him, she now realized he was still unmarried.

Changsun Xin should have married long ago. Unfortunately, his original fiancée passed away early, and his family hadn’t found someone he favored since. Three years ago, his younger sister Shen Rong had even beaten him to marriage.

Outsiders knew nothing of this.

Lady He quickly turned her attention to Shen Rong: “It seems the young lady is also unmarried. I almost wish I had an eligible brother at home!” She laughed at her own jest.

Shen Rong instinctively glanced across the table. Shan Zong also looked over. Their gazes met silently, then quickly shifted away.

After the banquet, Lady He invited Shen Rong to the flower hall for a brief rest, allowing the men to converse privately.

Having sat enough, Shen Rong excused herself, claiming she wanted to walk in the garden, and took only Zirui, avoiding Lady He’s company.

When she finished her stroll, she spotted Zhao Jinlian in the distance, seemingly searching for someone.

She walked to the corridor and saw Guangyuan standing guard outside a courtyard gate.

“What are you doing here?”

Guangyuan whispered: “Master is inside.”

Shen Rong glanced inside, left Zirui behind, and entered alone.

Guangyuan didn’t stop her.

No wonder Zhao Jinlian was looking for someone. In a secluded pavilion, Shan Zong leaned against a pillar, arms crossed over his saber, eyes closed as if asleep.

Shen Rong tiptoed closer, glanced around, and sat beside him.

One of his legs was propped up on the pavilion railing, muscular and long. Her skirt fluttered in the breeze, brushing against his boots.

Seeing no sign of him waking, she wondered if he was truly asleep. Her eyes roamed, spotting his right arm. Because he was holding his saber, his sleeve was pulled up, revealing a wrist adorned with a black and blue pattern.

Unable to resist, she leaned closer, extending her fingers to lift his sleeve and examine it clearly. Suddenly, she heard: “Where do you think you’re putting your hand?”

She looked up, meeting his gaze directly.

Shan Zong’s eyes were open, staring at her, completely awake as if he hadn’t slept at all.

His Hu-style clothing was tightly fitted, neat and tidy, but half of his collar was casually open.

Shen Rong leaned forward, her hand still extended, making it seem as if she intended to slip her fingers into his collar.

She withdrew her hand, brushed her hair behind her ear, and raised an eyebrow at him: “So you dare to get tattoos.”

Though she hadn’t seen clearly, she guessed it was a tattoo.

She had never seen a man like him—a noble-born aristocrat, the commanding military leader of a province, yet so unruly that he dared to get an improper tattoo.

She wore a high-waisted skirt, leaning forward, exposing her pale neck. Close to him, her faint fragrance wafted toward his nose.

He leaned back slightly, pulling down his sleeve to cover it: “So what?”

Shen Rong gazed at his audacious features, reminiscent of the day he declared himself the law of Youzhou.

She suddenly whispered: “Did you have it back then?”

Shan Zong looked at her: “Back when?”

Her fingers tugged at his sleeve, leaning closer: “When I married you.”

Shen Rong gradually deepened her gaze, as if deliberately reminding him of the past.

“Who remembers? I’ve long forgotten.”

Shen Rong fell silent.

He shifted his leg and smirked: “Others think you’re still unmarried. Are you not afraid of being unable to marry in the future?”

Shen Rong’s eyes turned cold. She straightened up, her sleeve brushing against him before withdrawing.

“Do you really need to worry about that?” she said coldly and walked away.

Shan Zong watched her retreating figure, thinking she had grown even more arrogant.