Page 13 of The Scholar's Improper Wife

“Wouldn’t you miss Shangjing? The familiarity of home?”

She nodded slowly. “I would. But Zhi-zhi, if I could only see more of this world, the seas, the mountains, the people. And not be bound here.” she stared at the shimmering horizon before them, “If I could only see the real thing, and not just through books.”

Ting-zhi looked at her with an expression so tender it melted her heart and made her want to cry inexplicably. “Perhaps a wish will make this come true,” he said, reaching into his sleeves to take out a coin. “Be a good girl, toss this into the lake with a sincere wish.”

A small, surprised laugh escaped her. She remembered this—he’d always coaxed her to make wishes this way when they were young, and somehow, the wishes had always come true.

She rose, stepping to the boat’s edge, the wood creaking faintly beneath her. Ting-zhi followed, close enough that his warmth and scent wrapped around her like an embrace.Too close. Too warm.Her heart hammered so hard she had to close her eyes shut tightly.Focus. I wish... I wish... Since when is he so much taller than me? I wish... what? Focus... I wish I could see the world. See the world... with him.When she finally let the coin fly, she could’ve sworn something soft brushed by the back of her head.

Chapter 6

Ting-zhi had barely arranged his books on the library table when Yun-si burst in. He’d been claiming the space daily under the pretense of needing “essential reference texts”. His father Master Gu had only granted him a weighted “Mmm...” when he’d told him that excuse again this morning.

“Ting-zhi, itworked! The boat, the sunset, and everything! I wrote three new scenes last night and it feelsalive!” She reached into her sleeve and passed a folded stack of papers to him. “Read this if you have time? Tell me what you think,” she said shyly.

Ting-zhi unfolded the pages, scanning the neat, hurried characters. “You wroteallthis overnight?” he said, impressed.

“Real experiences do make better stories,” she said, light dancing in her eyes. “Which is why I need your help again. There’s a rescue scene I can’t quite—” She waved her hands around the air, then winced. “I need tofeelit.”

“Feel it,” he repeated, one brow quirked in question. “How do you propose to feel it?”

He loved these moments—when Yun-si’s eyes lit up with stars, talking about what she loved. When she was present with him, and not in some nook of her imagination. When she looked so alive, unlike the demure Third Maiden Shen who drifted through banquets like a puppet offering polite smiles.

“The boat ride yesterday gave me the most wonderful inspiration! You know those scenes where the lady falls into the water, and the hero swoops in to save her? It always happen! All the time! But what is she thinking? What is it like beingin the water?” She leaned in, voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. “Could we... try it? Just once? You could rescue me?”

Ting-zhi choked and set down the papers in his hands with exaggerated care. “Tryit,” he echoed, voice dangerously smooth. “You want me tothrow you into the waterso you canexperiencedrowning?”

She blinked, all wide-eyed innocence. “Notthrow. Just... let me fall. Somewhere shallow. Like yesterday’s lake?”

“Absolutely not.” His tone left no room for argument. “That water’s deep enough to swallow you whole.”

Her shoulders sagged like a wilted lotus. “Oh.” A pause. “Oh.”

The way she bit her lower lip should bebanned. He turned his eyes away.

She turned toward the door, her turtle steps even slower than usual, her hem catching on the leg of a chair. “I’ll... leave you to your studies.”

Ting-zhi pinched the bridge of his nose and tried to convince himself it was the best thing to do. But he couldn’t stop the words coming out of his mouth.“Wait.”

She spun back, hope flickering like a candle in her gaze. He was doomed.

“Fine,” he muttered. “Butnotthe lake. I’ll find a safer spot and tell you when.”

Her smile bloomed, bright and sudden as sunlight through rain. A whispered“Thank you,”and then she was gone, slipping out like a shadow—leaving him to wonder, not for the first time, why he was completely helpless to her unhappiness.

THEIR RENTED CARRIAGErattled to a stop near a quiet stretch of the Lake of Fallen Stars, far from the boisterous main docks. Here, the shore was ringed with willows and wild grasses, and the water was shallow enough to see the bottom.

Sneaking away from Scholar’s Lane into Ting-zhi’s waiting carriage had been heart-poundingly guilty. Her mother had given her permission to visit the bookshops on Scholar’s Lane twice a week. But this...she tried not to think about the betrayal of trust. If she returned home in time, no one would find out, right?

The ride had been blissfully uneventful despite her reservations. Ting-zhi drove the little rickety carriage himself, somehow managing both not to get lost, and not to overturn them. She sat alone inside the carriage while it roiled left and right, wondering about her life choices. But somehow, despite it all—here they were.

Ting-zhi stepped down first, then turned to help her.

“This way,” he said, leading her along the shoreline.

A small boat waited, tied to a weathered mooring stake half-hidden in the reeds. He pulled it in with easy efficiency, tested the rope, then held it steady against the bank.

“Come,” he waved her over.