HMHSE - 38

Because their beloved daughter had returned, both Duke Zhao and his wife were unusually at home today, sitting in the main hall.

Pei Yuanling had only just left when a clear and pleasant voice called from outside: “Father, Mother.”

Shen Rong entered swiftly, like a gust of wind.

The lady seated on the couch immediately stood up, extending her hands toward her: “Finally, you’re back. We’ve been waiting for you.”

Shen Rong hurried forward, intending to kneel in greeting but was stopped. She affectionately took her mother’s arm instead: “Mother.”

Her mother, honored with an imperial title as Lady Pei, was usually the epitome of elegance and propriety, but she relaxed in front of her youngest daughter.

Upon meeting, Lady Pei first cupped Shen Rong’s face, examining her closely: “You seem a bit thinner.”

“No,” Shen Rong smiled, lowering her mother’s hands, then turned to her father seated on the other side of the couch and curtsied: “Father.”

Duke Zhao, dressed in a soft robe, was well-preserved for his age. His handsome, clean-shaven face bore faint wrinkles at the corners of his eyes when he smiled. He had been watching his beloved daughter and now chuckled warmly: “It’s good that you’re back. You must have suffered in a place like Youzhou.”

At the mention of Youzhou, Shen Rong’s smile deepened: “I didn’t suffer at all. Governor Zhao Jinlian and his wife took excellent care of me. Whenever I went into the mountains or stayed overnight, everything was handled perfectly—even selecting the miners was personally overseen by him.” These were all true statements, though not the full story; anything involving that man was omitted.

After speaking, her smile faded slightly: “There’s nothing else worth mentioning. I just encountered an old acquaintance.”

Lady Pei had intended to ask about the young man surnamed Shan but was surprised when her daughter brought it up herself. She exchanged a glance with her husband.

Duke Zhao recalled that when he wrote to the Youzhou government office, Zhao Jinlian hadn’t mentioned Shan Zong at all—perhaps there truly wasn’t much to say.

Still, he remained suspicious and cautiously asked: “Since you met an old acquaintance, did anything happen?”

Shen Rong’s expression remained calm as she shook her head: “Nothing happened.”

Lady Pei immediately signaled her husband with a shake of her head, indicating he should stop asking.

She had wanted to inquire earlier, but now that her daughter was here, she feared further questions might upset her.

Duke Zhao had once been a dashing young man, traveling far and wide with several beautiful maidservants in tow. But upon meeting Lady Pei, he suddenly reformed, never straying again.

Their marriage was deeply loving, and they doted equally on their son and daughter. Shen Rong, who excelled in both beauty and ability since childhood, was especially spoiled.

Seeing his wife’s subtle cue, he couldn’t bear to press further and ultimately didn’t utter that name .

It was at this moment that Changsun Xin entered, smiling: “Father, Mother, I told you—Arong was doing fine in Youzhou. Now you can rest assured.” He discreetly glanced at Shen Rong.

The siblings had already discussed beforehand that to reassure their parents, they would address the matter themselves.

Lady Pei pulled Shen Rong to sit on the couch, consoling her with a smile: “It doesn’t matter. Since you’re back, we can forget about Youzhou. The rest is up to your brother.”

Shen Rong nodded, though her tone was light: “I understand.”

Changsun Xin knew from his mother’s words that the matter was resolved. Smiling, he asked: “Can I go to Youzhou now? Such a significant mine—it’s a major accomplishment for our family. I must go.”

Duke Zhao had planned this all along, only waiting for Shen Rong’s return. He nodded: “We can’t rely on the venerable Minister Liu forever. Prepare to leave.”

Changsun Xin sighed in relief and gave his sister a subtle nod.

After paying respects to their parents and exiting, the siblings walked along the corridor, finally feeling completely at ease.

Changsun Xin spoke softly: “Thank goodness Cousin Yuanling kept his word and didn’t let our parents find out.”

Shen Rong hummed in acknowledgment, lost in thought.

Changsun Xin studied her face and suddenly asked: “Why do I feel you’re not happy to be back? Could it be… that Shan fellow…” His voice lowered. “Did he upset you again?”

“Nothing happened,” Shen Rong replied, unwilling to elaborate. After all, they had already bid farewell.

Changsun Xin shook his head: “Never mind. For now, I hope that troublemaker leaves soon. Whatever you do, don’t let Father and Mother discover he’s in Chang’an. If they do, neither of us will be able to explain, and it’ll complicate things—not to mention dragging Cousin Yuanling into it.”

Shen Rong understood fully. She glanced at the towering walls of the estate. The azure sky of Chang’an was vastly different from the rugged vastness of Youzhou.

In a detached tone, she said: “His business is done. He’s probably already gone.”

…

Whether or not he had left, no one in the Duke Zhao residence could know for sure.

With the most pampered little mistress back, the estate seemed to come alive.

Lady Pei felt her daughter must have suffered in Youzhou and likely hadn’t been pleased encountering the young man surnamed Shan. For two consecutive days, she sent various items to Shen Rong’s room and specifically instructed her to rest at home and recover properly.

Inside the room, Zi Rui collected the food and supplies, arranging them neatly on the table. Glancing at the figure seated on the couch reading a scroll, she hesitated before quietly saying: “Young Mistress, Dong Lai is going into the city today to run errands and will leave shortly.”

Shen Rong flipped a page of her book: “I see.”

Zi Rui didn’t say more. It seemed her young mistress had no intention of inquiring about Commander Shan’s whereabouts; otherwise, she would have instructed Dong Lai to check.

Shen Rong turned another page when a maid arrived with an elegant floral note.

Zi Rui took it and presented it to Shen Rong. Setting aside her scroll, she unfolded the note, saw a location written on it, and stood up: “It seems my elder sister wants to see me.”

The “elder sister” she referred to was actually her cousin, Changsun Lan.

Orphaned at a young age, Changsun Lan had grown up in the Duke Zhao residence under Lady Pei’s care, essentially becoming like an older sister to Shen Rong and Changsun Xin.

Later, Lady Pei arranged her marriage to her eldest nephew, Pei Yuanling, strengthening familial ties.

Shen Rong hadn’t seen her in a long time. Upon receiving the note, she instructed Zi Rui to help her change clothes and sent a maid to inform her mother before heading out for the appointment.

The location on the note was a teahouse tucked away in a quiet corner of the western market.

When Shen Rong stepped down from her carriage, it was afternoon, and the surroundings were even quieter. Before entering, she spotted a familiar figure standing inside.

Changsun Lan, dressed in a pale yellow skirt, was already waiting and waved cheerfully at her.

Shen Rong entered the teahouse, about to call out “Elder Sister,” when her hand was taken.

“You know why I arranged to meet you here today?” Raised by Lady Pei, Changsun Lan possessed a refined demeanor similar to her adoptive mother. Her features were delicate, and her tone carried a sense of dignity.

Shen Rong’s eyes flickered. Could Cousin Yuanling have already told her about Shan Zong?

Before she could decide how to respond, Changsun Lan continued: “Someone asked me to arrange this meeting. Well, the bridge has been built—I’ll take my leave now.”

Without further explanation, she smiled, turned, and left with her maid.

Shen Rong watched her climb into the carriage and drive off, quickly realizing the truth—someone had likely used her elder sister’s name to invite her here.

Such tricks were common among her Pei cousins when they were younger. Strictly disciplined at home and fearing Lady Pei’s reproach, they often resorted to elaborate schemes to invite her out.

A teahouse attendant approached respectfully, explaining that the lady had already prepared a private room and invited her inside.

Shen Rong followed Zi Rui into the private room, where tea was already brewed.

On the table sat a small stove with live embers, and the teapot lid rattled open and closed from the steam.

She settled down, idly playing with the rattling lid while waiting to see who was behind this ruse.

After a long while, she heard Zi Rui’s voice outside, abruptly cut off as if stopped from paying respects.

Shen Rong knew someone had arrived but pretended ignorance, waiting until footsteps approached before glancing over.

At first glance, she noticed a pair of riding boots and froze momentarily. Looking up, her gaze softened instantly: “Second Cousin.”

Standing beside her was Pei Shaoyong, the second son of the Pei family, smiling warmly: “Caught you.”

Shen Rong studied him. Normally, her second cousin dressed elegantly, but today he wore Hu-style attire and riding boots, which felt oddly out of place.

“Why are you dressed like this?”

Pei Shaoyong sat across from her, studying her in turn, amused: “I originally planned to ride to Mount Li to find you, but just as I was leaving, Brother told me you’d returned. I thought it inconvenient to speak at the Duke’s residence, so I arranged to meet you here.”

“There’s nothing inconvenient about speaking,” Shen Rong said, reaching for the teapot lid.

Pei Shaoyong beat her to it, lifting the lid and pouring tea into her cup, observing her expression: “I’m afraid what I have to say might upset you.”

Shen Rong knew he was always considerate and shrugged indifferently: “How will I know unless you tell me?”

Setting the teapot down, Pei Shaoyong began: “I just wanted to ask—after being absent for so long, were you truly at Mount Li? If you were at Mount Li, why were you in Shan territory? Weren’t you both already…” He trailed off.

Shen Rong’s fingers rested on her teacup. Hearing this, she looked up at him but suddenly noticed the open window behind him.

Outside, a group of riders approached.

There were five or six of them, all soldiers. In the middle stood a tall man with long legs, leaning against his horse with a sword at his side—too conspicuous to miss.

He hadn’t left yet! And he was still in Chang’an!

“Arong?” Pei Shaoyong, noticing her gaze fixed out the window, naturally turned to look.

“Second Cousin!” Shen Rong quickly called out.

Pei Shaoyong turned back: “What is it?”

“I didn’t hear you clearly earlier—it’s too noisy outside. Zi Rui, close the window.”

Zi Rui entered and moved to shut the window. As she did, she caught sight of the scene outside. Across the street, the man noticed them too, his gaze snapping over.

The window closed.

Pei Shaoyong glanced at it: “I didn’t hear any noise. This place was chosen for its tranquility. If it’s too loud for you, we can move.” He started to stand.

“No need,” Shen Rong quickly stopped him, thinking for a moment before rising: “Second Cousin, stay seated. I forgot something in the carriage—I’ll fetch it.”

With a glance at Zi Rui, she left the private room.

Pei Shaoyong frowned, asking Zi Rui: “How are you serving her? Why didn’t you retrieve it for her?”

Zi Rui knew her young mistress had other intentions and bowed her head to cover for her: “It’s something personal to the Young Mistress, so she wanted to retrieve it herself.”

Outside, Shen Rong exited the teahouse and saw the man across the street watching her.

She walked over, confirming his presence as she recognized his face.

“How are you here?”

Shan Zong had noticed the teahouse when Zi Rui closed the window. He glimpsed her seated inside with a man facing away from the window.

He hadn’t expected her to come out, and her first question was this.

Looking at her face, he replied succinctly: “I have business.”

He had just come from the Chang’an government office and was waiting for his troops to regroup before returning to the relay station.

Shen Rong frowned: “You need to leave quickly.”

Shan Zong’s dark eyes narrowed as he cradled his sword: “Why?”

Before Shen Rong could answer, a voice called from the teahouse entrance: “Young Mistress…”

Shen Rong recognized it as a reminder. She’d been gone too long. If Pei Shaoyong came out now, he’d spot him immediately, recognize him, and the news would reach Duke Zhao’s residence.

Without hesitation, she grabbed his arm and pushed: “Go, hurry.”

Shan Zong stood firm, glancing at the hand now resting on his bracer, then toward the teahouse, understanding the situation.

“Hurry,” Shen Rong urged.

He smirked, allowing himself to be guided by her slight force.

Meanwhile, Pei Shaoyong emerged from the teahouse, heading toward the carriage: “Where is she?”

Shen Rong quickened her pace.

Suddenly, her arm was seized. Shan Zong took the lead, pulling her around a corner to the nearest courtyard wall.

Shen Rong stood sideways, Shan Zong in front of her, still gripping her arm.

Breathing heavily from their hasty movement, she lowered her eyes to his riding boots—black leather, dusty tips.

They were completely different from Pei Shaoyong’s polished, pristine boots. She had mistaken them earlier.

“You don’t want him to see me?” Shan Zong suddenly asked, his voice low. “Or don’t you want the Changsun family to discover me?”

Shen Rong looked up at his jawline, averting her gaze: “Shouldn’t you know best?”

She heard him chuckle softly: “I don’t care. Duke Zhao wouldn’t dare do anything to someone carrying out official duties.”

Shen Rong felt a surge of frustration, exhaling sharply: “Of course, you fear nothing.”

Shan Zong watched her and added: “But you might face some trouble.”

Shen Rong thought bitterly—he knew this and still teased her. Irritated, she tugged at her trapped arm.

Suddenly, a voice called from outside: “Arong?”

The pressure on her arm increased as Shan Zong not only didn’t release her but tightened his grip. Moving closer, his chest pressed against her, shielding her.

“Arong?” Pei Shaoyong searched, looking around. He spotted a tall man in martial attire leaning against a courtyard wall, his back to the street.

After a second glance, he noticed the man held a pale hand—realizing there was a woman hidden in front of him.

Though accustomed to such scandals, Pei Shaoyong wrinkled his nose in disdain, muttering: “Disgusting,” before retracing his steps to continue searching.

Shen Rong, shielded by Shan Zong, clearly heard Pei Shaoyong’s approaching footsteps. Holding her breath, she shrank back, her face nearly brushing against his chest, acutely aware of his steady breathing.

She had heard this breathing several times during their journey—but so what? To him, it meant nothing. He remained as heartless as ever.

Thinking this, as the footsteps faded, she pushed lightly: “That’s enough.”

Shan Zong had been watching her temple, studying her expression, seeing only her lowered eyes and indifferent demeanor.

He released her arm and stepped back slightly.

Shen Rong smoothed her hair: “I’m only thinking of myself. Please, Commander Shan, wait here until we leave before coming out.”

With that, she cast him a fleeting glance and turned to leave.

Shan Zong leaned against the wall, watching her go, his mind clear as a mirror.

It was because he hadn’t yielded that she refused to admit defeat.