After the wine-tasting poetry game, Ning Fu didn’t shine as she had in her previous life. Back then, she’d only wanted to attract a certain someone’s gaze—now, there was no need. This time, the head floral garland was awarded to the Lin family’s young lady.

Xie Ruyi, who never liked to steal the spotlight, gave a gentle smile and said, “Sister Lin, your literary talent is admirable.”

“It’s all thanks to Sister giving way,” replied the blushing Lin girl.

“Sister Lin, don’t flatter me. But Ah Fu, why are you so quiet today? Is your body still not recovered?” Xie Ruyi asked with concern.

Ning Fu wasn’t particularly close to Xie Ruyi, so the unexpected care surprised her. “Maybe so—I still feel a little weary, but it’s nothing serious. You needn’t worry, Sister Xie.”

As the hostess and daughter of the wealthy Madame Ning, Ning Fu had always been generous. The floral prize she prepared was an authentic painting by the renowned artist Mr. Donggui from the previous dynasty. The Lin girl was delighted and repeatedly thanked her.

“I hear Sister also excels at calligraphy and painting. This piece is surely not wasted in your hands,” Ning Fu said, waving her hand dismissively, then quietly sat beside Old Madam Ning.

“Ah Fu is growing up,” the old madam smiled kindly, having clearly seen Ning Fu sneak glances at the third young master of Prince Xuan’s estate.

Prince Xuan’s family was well respected, having saved Ning Fu’s life and being favored by the emperor. The old madam had approved; what remained unclear was Prince Xuan’s family’s intentions regarding Zong Si’s marriage.

“Earlier. Sister Wei teased me; now even Grandma joins in?” Ning Fu teased playfully.

“Grandma wouldn’t dare,” said Old Madam Ning with a laugh.

Meanwhile, on the men’s side, the atmosphere was less lively. Ning Yu and Zong Si were discussing the recent flood disaster. Others, preoccupied with exams and careers, focused on governance and bureaucracy.

“Ning Yu, last year, your sister was just a little girl. Today she’s blossomed into breathtaking beauty,” Wei Fu suddenly remarked.

Zong Si and Lu Xingzhi glanced at him.

“My sister’s not someone you should be thinking about,” Ning Yu interrupted.

The Duke of Ning’s household wasn’t large—only two branches. Ning Yu, Ning Ran, and Ning He came from the elder branch; Ning Zheng and Ning Fu were children of the second branch. With Ning Ran married and Ning He absent, Ning Yu knew exactly who Wei Fu referred to.

“What kind of husband do you think suits her?” Wei Fu asked curiously.

Ning Yu paused and glanced at Lu Xingzhi.

Lu Xingzhi was a quiet, upright man. Though the Lu family wasn’t prominent in the capital, even Ning Yu’s status-conscious aunt had taken an interest in his background. Ning Yu thought someone like Zong Si—a noble scion—would meet her expectations.

“Definitely not someone like you,” Ning Yu answered.

Wei Fu, seeing the situation, wisely dropped the subject.

Zong Si suspected the Ning family was already considering marriage candidates for their young lady. As long as it didn’t involve him, he didn’t mind—it was their family’s matter. He recalled when he’d rescued Ning Fu from drowning. She had panicked at first, but then suddenly clung to him gently and called him “husband” in a weak voice—a term reserved for one’s betrothed.

Though he didn’t want complications from saving her, the situation had been too urgent to ignore. After carrying her ashore, he had asked the passing Lu Xingzhi to stay and watch over her while he went to get help.

After the banquet, Zong Si and Lu Xingzhi walked together.

“You stopped me that day because you didn’t want to be alone with her and risk scandal, right?” Lu Xingzhi asked.

Zong Si stayed silent.

“From my perspective, the Ning household would be a respectable match. If anything questionable had happened, I could bear the responsibility and you’d remain unharmed,” Lu Xingzhi said calmly.

If Ning Fu hadn’t called him “husband,” Zong Si wouldn’t be so troubled. The Ning family was reasonable and likely wouldn’t make an issue of him holding her. But now he had to worry she might push for a formal relationship. After all, for such a young girl to utter “husband” so suddenly, he had to be cautious.

“I apologize,” Zong Si admitted.

“You’re too courteous,” Lu Xingzhi replied. “I just voiced a thought. I don’t regret helping Fourth Miss Ning, and I’ll accept whatever follows. I only hope you won’t regret it later.”

Regret? Zong Si lifted his gaze just as he spotted Ning Fu nearby, looking conflicted while standing beside Ning Yu. She had been brought over to express gratitude, a custom that helped avoid gossip. Both Prince Xuan’s and Lu’s families deserved personal thanks.

“I brought Ah Fu to say thank you,” Ning Yu explained.

“I’m grateful to both Heir Zong and Young Master Lu for saving my life,” Ning Fu said, eyes fixed on Lu Xingzhi—not Zong Si.

Lu Xingzhi was unexpectedly handsome, and Ning Fu realized she hadn’t noticed him in her previous life. Though Zong Si was more striking, his looks had a fierce edge—girls tended to be drawn to such intensity. But now, as a woman who’d been married before, she preferred Lu Xingzhi’s gentle, refined features. Her distracted gaze didn’t go unnoticed by any of the three men.

Ning Yu gave Zong Si a strange look. Just recently, Wei Ziyi had whispered that Ah Fu fancied Heir Zong—and now she seemed drawn to Lu Xingzhi instead. His fourth sister, apparently, judged by appearance.

Lu Xingzhi remained calm under her scrutiny. “Is your health improving, Fourth Miss Ning?”

“I’m well, thank you,” she said gratefully. “I’ve prepared thank-you gifts for both of you.”

To Lu Xingzhi, she gifted rare sandalwood paper; to Zong Si, she presented Collected Poems of Master Bianyang—his favorite poetry book from the previous life. She’d searched tirelessly for it during her recovery, even sorting through her mother’s dowry items, which made her blush, yet she persisted.

Though Zong Si wasn’t a good husband in her past life, that moment still left a curious impression on her—one she hadn’t entirely let go of. She even read some of the poems herself.

Ning Fu had a knack for gift-giving—neither man could refuse these tokens.

A while later, Zong Si found an excuse to leave, while Lu Xingzhi stayed for more conversation. Back at his estate, Zong Si bathed and lounged about. He picked up the gift from Ning Fu to browse. But upon opening it, he froze.

It wasn’t a poetry collection at all. It was a risqué picture book illustrating marital intimacy. The content was so bold it made one flush. Though Zong Si kept a neutral face, his ears turned faintly red as he flipped through. He landed on a page marked with handwritten commentary in elegant script:
“Zong Si’s waist and abdomen likely can’t manage this position.”

A mix of pity and disdain.

Zong Si stared for a moment, then let out a cold laugh and tossed the book aside.