Chapter 24: The Pei Family Rules

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Under the bright moonlight, the entire capital was shrouded in a thick night mist, silent and still. The sound of the night watchmen’s clappers echoed faintly—distant, then near, then fading again.

It was the third watch of the night. Shen Luchu turned over in bed, still unable to fall asleep.

Not only could he not sleep, but his head throbbed like a spike was driven into it, and his chest was filled with restlessness.

With a frustrated whoosh, Shen Luchu abruptly sat up and shouted toward the outside, “Someone, come here!”

Moyu, who had just dozed off outside, instantly snapped awake at the voice. He pushed open the door and entered. “What are your orders, Young Master?”

Sitting on the edge of the bed with a stern face, Shen Luchu barked, “Bring me all the gatekeepers. Right now.”

Moyu was stunned. “Right now?” In the middle of the night?

Shen Luchu’s eyes were bloodshot, his face clearly clouded with irritability. “Yes, now. Bring me those conniving servants. Each one pretends to obey orders but does the opposite. I told them to let her in when she came—so why isn’t she here yet?”

His breathing grew ragged, his chest rising and falling violently. “I want to ask those damn fools what kind of job they think they’re doing.”

Moyu was speechless—was the Young Master seriously losing it?

He’s so clever, surely he knew it wasn’t the gatekeepers who refused to let her in. It was Jiang Shiyuan… who never came at all.

It wasn’t a tactic, wasn’t some clever little trick—this time, Jiang Shiyuan really seemed to mean it.

Moyu looked again at Shen Luchu’s weary and gloomy expression.

Maybe… maybe that’s exactly why the Young Master was so furious and anxious—because he knew. He knew that Jiang Shiyuan hadn’t shown the slightest sign of bowing her head or coming to beg forgiveness.

Moyu didn’t dare think deeper. He only felt like he was facing a formidable enemy.

“You couldn’t sleep again tonight, Young Master?”

Since returning from the palace yesterday, Shen Luchu had tossed and turned all night, unable to sleep.

And now, again…

His insomnia—ever since Jiang Shiyuan started caring for him—hadn’t acted up in a long time.

Shen Luchu seemed to think of something. He asked coldly, “Where’s the sachet?”

Moyu immediately caught on and quickly rummaged through the desk nearby, finally producing the sachet Jiang Shiyuan had given him and placing it in his hands.

A faint fragrance wafted up to his nose. Shen Luchu’s tense expression began to ease, and the taut string in his mind started to relax.

Moyu discreetly wiped the cold sweat from his forehead and casually said, “I don’t think you know this, Young Master, but all the things Miss Jiang gave you—the bookmarks and ink in the study, the incense burner and ornaments in your room, even the sachet you carry—all of them are scented. And that scent? She specially made it just for you. It’s meant to calm the mind and soothe the spirit.”

“I know,” Shen Luchu snorted coldly, his tone full of disdain. “That’s all she’s good at.”

But his mood was visibly lighter.

Moyu saw that it worked and pressed on, “How can you say it’s just a little skill? She’s poured everything she has into you, Young Master. Just look at this incense-blending—she probably learned it just for your sake.”

Shen Luchu recalled how Jiang Shiyuan used to often share her blends with him, even asking what scents he liked.

Three years ago, she had even dreamed of opening a fragrance shop in the capital.

That kind of pastime was nothing more than a little game for women of the inner chambers. That she could use it to try and win over a man was already giving it too much credit—and yet Jiang Shiyuan had actually dreamed of making a name for herself in the capital with something as insignificant as incense.

A powerless, parentless girl wanting to compete with the most successful fragrance houses in the capital? What a ridiculous fantasy.

Besides, what kind of noble lady would ever dirty her hands with the stink of money? Just saying it aloud was shameful.

“Compared to all that useless flair, what matters more is attitude,” Shen Luchu’s tone had calmed. “My patience is at its end. If she doesn’t come tomorrow to admit her wrongs, she can forget about ever coming back to me in this lifetime.”

If she was willing to bow her head and apologize, he was willing to give her one more chance. Even that fragrance shop—he’d look the other way and let her try it out.

“She will, Young Master, don’t worry. She’ll definitely come tomorrow.”

Moyu consoled him like coaxing a child, nodding along despite knowing the truth.

He just prayed Jiang Shiyuan’s marriage would be postponed a little—preferably at least three months. As long as the Young Master finished the imperial exams, then even if the sky fell, it would no longer be his problem.

If Moyu had the mind to investigate the Jiang family a bit more, he might’ve discovered that his world was set to collapse in less than a month.

Or possibly even less than a day.

Because early the next morning—Zhou Jingshen arrived.

The distinguished young master Zhou personally invited Shen Luchu to join him on a trip to the southern part of the city to sample dishes at a newly opened restaurant. Word had it the place served authentic cuisine from Shu (Sichuan).

Meanwhile, another pair was also heading out to taste Shu cuisine—

Right on time at sì shí chen (9–11 a.m.), neither early nor late, a carriage marked with the Pei family insignia arrived at the Jiang residence.

Despite the prior arrangement, Pei Che still had his coachman dismount and present a calling card.

The card was delivered to Jiang Shiyuan’s room—where she was frantically trying to dress herself.

Why did this always happen?

She was the one who scheduled the meeting, and she still overslept.

“Is it done? Is it done? My hair—my hair…”

“Aaah! I put the wrong earring on—where’s the other one?”

“This blush—this side, hurry!”

Her maids scrambled around her like a whirlwind, and somehow, within a quarter of an hour, they managed to get her ready.

Lifting her skirts, Jiang Shiyuan dashed out the door.

Outside, Pei Che stood beside the carriage with his hands clasped behind him.

He wore a simple ink-black robe today—no gold, no jade, not even a hairpin, just a dark silk ribbon tying his hair back. So plain it couldn’t be plainer, and yet Jiang Shiyuan’s heart still skipped a beat.

Pei Taifu, tall and refined—just standing there made him remarkable.

Sensing her gaze, the man who had been facing away slowly turned.

Their eyes met—abruptly and unexpectedly.

Jiang Shiyuan didn’t know why, but she instinctively averted her gaze.

She quickly approached, just about to descend the steps when a voice rang out in her mind:

Pei Family Rule No. 26: No running while walking. No skipping steps. Use the stairs one step at a time. Violators will be strictly punished.

Jiang Shiyuan instantly stopped, pulling back the foot already peeking out beneath her skirt.

Pei Che stood by the carriage, watching her freeze on the steps with a look of deep hesitation, as if she were mentally wrestling with something very serious.

It was the left foot.

Finally remembering, Jiang Shiyuan extended her left foot, gracefully descended the stairs one at a time, and stopped in front of Pei Che.

She gave a deep bow. “Good day, Uncle.”

Pei Family Rule No. 33: When greeting an elder, the voice must be clear, the upper body must bow forward, and the head and buttocks must align.

Pei Che: “…”