Chapter 13: Crowned Jade

Meng Yunshao’s heart skipped a beat, then raced uncontrollably.

She entered the shop with Su Yue; the shopkeeper led them to the reception room on the second floor but said that the master had instructed only Meng Yunshao was allowed inside.

Meng Yunshao hesitated, feeling it somewhat improper.

Yet, in broad daylight on a bustling street, surely no danger awaited—so she went in alone.

Upon pushing open the door, directly facing her stood a man in white garments, his face as flawless as carved jade—the very "master" whom she had once been betrothed to: Jiang Shizhou.

He was the man who appeared in her dreams even during her first year at the He family, no matter how much she feigned ignorance and blindness.

She had even indulged in imagining their reunion.

Perhaps at the scholar’s platform, with him lecturing above and hundreds listening below, basking in his radiant brilliance.

Perhaps in the streets of Bianjing, him adorned with a flower, riding a fine horse, while she hid amidst the crowd, watching him triumph as the top scholar, his smile soaring to the heavens.

But never had she imagined it would be like this—alone in a room, him standing before her, so real it seemed a hallucination.

She also pictured how Jiang Shizhou might react upon seeing her again.

Perhaps with resentment for her abandoning him for a noble family, perhaps disdain for a love that had faded but left scars, or perhaps cold indifference after years of letting go.

Yet it was not like this; he looked at her with the same warmth and youthful kindness as before, even though she had betrayed him, still gazing tenderly and asking, “Li Shengsheng, where is my jade coronet?”

She longed to politely correct him, “I am Meng Yunshao, sir, you have the wrong person.”

Or simply say, “That old, stale matter—I’ve long forgotten it.”

And indeed, she had forgotten.

From the moment she rode the bridal sedan chair to the He family and sent her final letter of severance to Jiang Shizhou, she had resolved to forget; and ever since consummating her marriage with He Zhiyu, she dared not recall him.

Gradually, she truly forgot.

Forgot how he had promised to wed her right after his coming-of-age ceremony, to take her away from the coldness of the Meng household, to share quiet winters and candlelit nights, protecting her for a lifetime.

How she, who always guarded her heart with iron walls, had broken her silence that day beneath the ginkgo tree of the ancient temple, watching yellow leaves fall like snow, and for once told him she would present him a jade coronet after his coming-of-age.

Now, that coronet, for which she had nearly spent her last dowry coin, rested quietly atop a carved yellow wooden box alongside some modest pearls and jade.

Meng Yunshao steadied herself, lifted her gaze to meet Jiang Shizhou’s eyes, and retorted, “Second Master Jiang, isn’t the outcome the same whether you give it now or not?” She added, “I am Meng Yunshao now; please do not call me by the wrong name.”

Jiang Shizhou’s eyes flickered, hesitated, then said, “So, that coronet—is it real?”

Realizing she had let slip too much, she changed the subject: “I do not know why you appear here today, but I am merely here to see the owner of this shop. If it happens to be you, then this business must end. Though our hearts may be clear, our positions are awkward; further dealings are truly improper. The Meng family is strict with its rules; please understand.”

Jiang Shizhou sneered, “Clear hearts? You think my heart is clear? Is it clear because I defied my father and came to this place of open and hidden struggles for a line in your letter refusing to marry a man in white? Or because I set this trap with a female agent to lure you here just to see you once?”

Meng Yunshao lowered her eyes, silent.

After a moment, she said, “Second Master Jiang, be cautious with your words.”

His gaze was piercing, making her flush: “Ah Sheng, you were not so heartless before.”

She dared not look up, murmuring, “You said yourself—that was before.”

Jiang Shizhou said, “You speak in a way that takes one’s breath away.” He turned, seeming stifled, and opened the window.

Seeing this, Meng Yunshao put back on the veil she had removed before entering, shielding her face and the faint stirrings in her eyes from outside view.

Jiang Shizhou noticed but said nothing, softly asking, “Does he treat you well?”

She whispered, “Yes.”

He exposed her: “Is that possible? He’s as cold as ice, that He Zhiyu—how could his father, a man obsessed with power and propriety, be so kind?”

She remained silent a moment, then said, “Even so, how can I speak ill of the Marquis in front of me?”

Jiang Shizhou sounded mournful, “I don’t care about the Marquis—whether he forms factions or sells off his children. But from what I know of him, he would never accept his precious legitimate son marrying into the Meng family. Neither you nor Meng Yunshu were ever possible matches. It was just a matter of timing, something not yet realized. Ah Sheng, if you marry well, I will give up, but you entered the den of wolves—how can I rest easy?”

Meng Yunshao said, “The Marquis’s household is just strict, not as terrifying as you say. I rarely see the Marquis; to him, I might as well not exist.”

He sighed softly, “If he treats you as nothing, what about the others? Do they also pretend you don’t exist?”

She bit her lip, “Second Master Jiang, I really cannot continue this conversation. Besides, these are my private affairs; you need not concern yourself.”

Jiang Shizhou regarded her for a long time, then asked, “If you truly live well, why come buy a shop for yourself? The Marquis’s household is one of the wealthiest in the capital—what can He Zhiyu possibly lack? Could it be… you never intended to stay long?”

He seemed to mutter to himself, “Of course, my Ah Sheng is like the free wind, a swallow of the sky—how could she stay confined in such a place?”

Meng Yunshao was startled; she had not expected him to see through her thoughts so easily.

She had known Jiang Shizhou since she was six, when she fled to Shuzhou with her mother. They were neighbors, childhood playmates for two years; later, after joining the Meng family and spending some years in Shuzhou, they were classmates for three more years.

Back then she was innocent and had confided many things to him, unlike now, when she guarded her heart with iron walls impervious to any blade.

No one knew her as well as he did.

Annoyed at being uncovered, she snapped, “Please do not speculate wildly and ruin my reputation.”

Jiang Shizhou did not press further. After a pause, he said, “Very well, let’s not speak of that. What about something you’re interested in? The shop—do you still want it?”

Meng Yunshao’s expression darkened, “No, I don’t want any further ties with you.”

Jiang Shizhou smiled knowingly, as if all this had been expected: “But your female agent has already taken your seal and signed the letter of intent. If you back out,” he held up four slender fingers, “you still owe forty percent.”

She knew she was trapped and snapped, “Fine, I’ll compensate you.”

He remained calm and courteous, “Compensating or buying are the same process: signing, notarizing, and submitting to the authorities. Why not just buy it outright? Or is it that your heart still clings to me and you dare not meet again?”

After much thought, knowing Jiang Shizhou had long set this trap and she had no escape, she said bitterly, “Give me the sales contract; I’ll sign.”

Jiang Shizhou smiled gently and handed it over: “Read carefully; don’t be fooled. There are four signature spots—all must be signed.”

Meng Yunshao took the contract, read it thoroughly, then began to sign.

Jiang Shizhou stood by, watching her intently, and softly asked, “If that day truly comes, Ah Sheng… will you return to Jiang Wan’s side?” Jiang Wan was his birth name. When they first met, he was not yet of age, and since childhood, Meng Yunshao had always called him Brother Jiang Wan.

She was taken aback, realizing he was referring to her leaving the Marquis’s household.

She felt she should no longer listen to such words.

Looking around to confirm no one was near, she cautiously approached, closed the window, turned, and said, “Second Master Jiang, please do not speak such frivolous words. I am a married woman now, and you have risen high—do not dwell on past shadows. Even if I become a cast-off wife someday, you and I would be worlds apart, impossible.”

With that, Meng Yunshao hurriedly gathered her contract, placed the prepared silver notes on the table, then pushed open the door and rushed downstairs. Su Yue, waiting nearby and unaware of the situation, quickly followed.

Jiang Shizhou smiled, opened the window, and as Meng Yunshao fled the shop, called after her, “Ah Sheng, there are still unfinished matters—when shall we meet again?”

Meng Yunshao angrily stamped her foot but had no choice but to reply, “Wait for my news.” In an instant, she slipped into her carriage, which seemed lightning-fast, speeding away around the street corner.

Across from the tea shop, in a teahouse, a pair of eyes as bright as autumn moons took in everything, flashing with ruthless intent.

...

Meng Yunshao felt her heart thrown into chaos.

She had not expected Jiang Shizhou to still think of her so deeply.

She admitted he had once been the bright moon of her youth.

The bright moon shines brilliantly, illuminating the return of old friends.

But later she understood: he was like the river’s yearly recurring moon, while she was but a springtime flower, blooming only a season.

Their brief crossing of paths was doomed from the start.

Meng Yunshao was a realist; her life could only move forward, not dwell in fantasies.

It was better to let go of what would never be.

Three years had passed; times had changed. She had long since let go of Jiang Shizhou. This meeting stirred her, but more than anything, she felt worry.

Every step a woman takes hangs on a tightrope; before she has all prepared, she must not falter.

She gathered her thoughts and returned to the He household.

Yet, upon entering, several female servants and elder maids awaited at the gate. Among them was the housekeeper of Qingli Courtyard, Chen Mama, the intimate nanny who had served the matriarch for decades.

Chen Mama stepped forward, bowed, and said to Meng Yunshao, “Third Young Madam, the Marquis’s wife requests your presence at Qingli Courtyard.”