Page 61 of The Scholar's Improper Wife

Yun-si watched him, a fond, genuine smile touching her lips. This, she could fix. A misplaced wall, an incorrect cushion. She could measure it, order its correction, and see the results materialize before her. It was nothing like the messy, unpredictable geometry of a fractured heart, which offered no clear map for repair.

Chapter 28

The Pear Blossom Teahouse wore each season differently, offering new sweets and seasonal specialties as the year turned. But the warm, welcoming aroma of fresh pastries that greeted every visitor and the quiet contentment that lingered within its walls never changed.

On the second floor, Xu Cheng-yi sat at his favourite corner table, from where he could watch the customers enjoy their delicacies and look out onto the bustling street through the open windows. As he savored the new summer special of chrysanthemum water jelly drizzled with bayberry syrup, he spotted Gu Ting-zhi entering through the front door, his head lowered.

He looked up when Ting-zhi arrived and immediately signaled for a fresh pot and a second tray of pastries, which appeared with the speed that suggested the staff had been watching for exactly this.

“Gu Ting-zhi,” he said, with genuine pleasure. “Flower Scholar. You look terrible.”

“Thank you,” Ting-zhi said, and sat down.

Cheng-yi looked at him with the attentive cheerfulness of a friend who knew something was wrong.

“Tea first,” he said, pouring, “then whatever it is.”

Ting-zhi drank his tea. Outside the teahouse window, Pear Blossom Lane went about its early evening business—a fruit seller calling his prices, two scholars arguing about something that was probably not worth arguing about, a child beingpulled along by a very determined grandmother. Ordinary life, proceeding without him.

“I have a friend,” Ting-zhi said.

Cheng-yi’s eyes widened with interest and he scooped another mouthful of chrysanthemum jelly into his mouth slowly.

“This friend,” Ting-zhi continued carefully, “has done something that upset someone important to him. And this person is now angry and not speaking to him.”

“How not speaking,” Cheng-yi asked. “Politely not speaking or actually not speaking.”

“Actually not speaking.”

“For how long.”

“Nine days.”

Cheng-yi took a steamed osmanthus cake and chewed it thoughtfully. “This friend,” he said.

“Yes.”

“How bad was it. What he did.”

Ting-zhi considered the question with more honesty than was comfortable. “Bad,” he said.

“Bad like my third sister finding out I lost her favorite painting in a bet.”

“Worse.”

Cheng-yi winced. “My fourth sister finding out I told her admirer she had a terrible temper.”

“...worse.”

“Your friend,” Cheng-yi said, with great diplomacy, “has a problem.”

“Yes,” Ting-zhi said. “He does.”

Cheng-yi refilled both their cups and assumed the expression of a man about to dispense the accumulated wisdom of a lifetime of female relatives. “I have five sisters,” he said.

“I know.”

“So, I consider myself something of an expert.” He paused. “Tell your friend to listen carefully.”