Page 26 of The Scholar's Improper Wife

Ting-zhi’s fingers tightened around the dark clay cup. “I assumed as much.”

“Political alliances. Advantageous matches.” Master Gu refilled his cup. “Chancellor Shen is pragmatic. He will seek connections that strengthen his position at court—families of high-ranking officials, powerful clans, perhaps even imperial relatives if the opportunity arises.”

“I know.”

“Do you?” His father met his gaze. “Because from where I stood, you looked like a boy playing games. The Chancellor will not give his daughter to a boy.”

Heat crawled up Ting-zhi’s neck. “I’m not—”

“You must score as one of the top three candidates in the imperial examinations.” Master Gu’s voice remained calm, as he poured another cup of tea. “Top three, Ting-zhi. Not fourth. Not fifth. The Chancellormayweigh his daughters’ happiness in mind when he chooses the marriage alliances, but he will accept nothing less—if he considers you at all.”

“I understand.”

“I wonder if you do.” Master Gu lifted his cup. “I have no time to waste talking to people who talk about one thing but do another. If you want Shen Yun-si, you must earn that right. With scholarship. With distinction. Not with stolen moments in courtyard shadows.”

Ting-zhi’s throat tightened. “I will.”

“Then prove it.” Master Gu drained his tea. “The examinations are in three months. You have work to do.”

Chapter 11

The library stood too quiet. Yun-si wandered between shelves, fingers trailing along book spines, but no familiar ink-and-spice scent lingered in the air. No lazy drawl calling her“Si-er”from the reading alcove. Just dust motes floating in the afternoon light.

The silence gnawed at her until she couldn’t bear it anymore. She slipped from the library, crossing the school grounds. From the open windows of the senior students’ classroom, she could hear Master Gu’s measured tones lecturing on the principles of governance.

Safe.

Her pulse quickened.

She shouldn’t. It was improper. Reckless.

This,she assured herself as her feet took off with a mind of its own,is merely a concerned friend ensuring his well-being. Any good friend would do the same.After all, he could have been badly hurt from the fall. She needed to verify that her research partner was unharmed. Perfectly reasonable.

Bamboo Heart Abode’s gate stood ajar. She slipped inside, past the little courtyard where theresearchtwo days ago had ended so disastrously. Ting-zhi’s study door was closed. She knocked once.

Silence.

Twice.

The door jerked open. Ting-zhi stood there, sleeves rolled to his elbows, ink staining his fingertips. His hair was slightly disheveled, as if he’d been dragging his hands through it. “Si-er.”

She took out a small packet wrapped in paper from her sleeves. “I brought your favorite wintermelon pastries.”

He didn’t smile. Just stepped aside. “Come in.”

Yun-si looked around the study. Scrolls lay unrolled across every surface, with discarded brushes and half-empty teacups scattered on the tables. The air smelled of frustration. “You’re studying.”

“Examinations.” He rubbed his temples. “I may need to... pause our research.”

Her fingers twitched. “Oh.”

She flailed around for a response.

“I could help.” The words tumbled out before she could stop them. “The huabens about scholars always mentionred sleeves adding fragrance—the heroine grinds ink for her beloved while he studies. I could... write here. Quietly. You won’t even notice me.”

Ting-zhi stared. Then, slowly, the corner of his mouth quirked. “You’dgrind inkfor me, Si-er?”

She lifted her chin. “For research.”