Chapter 32 – Coming to Propose Tomorrow

Did Pei Che really sit there all afternoon just to ask her that question?

Was it because of the drunken mess she caused, leading to some misunderstanding?

Jiang Shiyuan looked up at Pei Che, trying to read his expression—was he angry?

But the man’s face was as calm as ever, unreadable like still water. Jiang Shiyuan couldn’t tell a thing. She could only answer from her heart: “I don’t regret it.”

Her tone was firm. “If the Grand Preceptor doesn’t believe me, I can swear to the heavens.”

She was about to raise her hand and swear, but suddenly a warm, broad hand grasped hers.

Pei Che pressed her hand down, holding it firmly in his palm. “In the Pei family, there’s no such thing as divorce. Once you marry me, no matter life or death, you’ll be with me. Do you accept that?”

But Jiang Shiyuan wasn’t listening to the words at all. Her attention was completely drawn to his hand.

He was holding her hand—just like that—naturally, as if it were the most normal thing in the world. His palm was so warm, it felt like it could melt a person.

Her heart skipped a beat again, and a strange thought popped into her head—

So, the Grand Preceptor also thinks a little physical contact in advance isn’t a crime?

She instantly regretted not taking the chance earlier to touch Pei Che’s other cheek when she had the chance.

Such a rare opportunity—and she missed it!

Lost in her random thoughts, she didn’t quite catch everything Pei Che was saying. All she heard was the final sentence:

“Do you accept?”

How could she not?

Worried that just a verbal answer wouldn’t convince him, Jiang Shiyuan extended her fingers and laced them between his—

Their hands, once just held, were now tightly interlocked.

“Grand Preceptor, I do.”

Pei Che was visibly stunned. He looked at their interlocked fingers, then at Jiang Shiyuan’s serious expression, and suddenly let out a laugh.

His soft chuckle brought a wave of warmth to his face, as if spring had just arrived in his eyes. Even his voice unconsciously softened.

“Then don’t run off tomorrow. I’ll invite the Marchioness of Ningde to come propose on my behalf. All the proper rites will be followed.”

The Marchioness of Ningde was a highly respected elder, known for her lifelong love with the late marquis. Every match she had helped arrange had been a harmonious one.

Pei Che’s tone was gentle, almost coaxing her like a child.

Jiang Shiyuan’s ears turned hot just listening to him. Even after getting out of the carriage, the warmth on her face still hadn’t faded.

She remembered it now.

Back at Tianxiang Residence, she had caused a misunderstanding, but she’d also revealed her true feelings to him.

She had asked him if he liked the restaurant she picked.

Pei Che said: “I like it.”

—

“Miss, where’s your pouch?”

As soon as Jiang Shiyuan got out of the carriage, Hong Dou rushed over and immediately noticed the missing pouch at her waist.

It was the first pouch she’d ever made. Though the craftsmanship was rough, Jiang Shiyuan had always cherished it. She’d even dug it out last night to wear specially.

Her expression changed. She looked down—and sure enough, her waist was bare.

She clearly remembered still having it during the meal. Did she drop it at Tianxiang Residence? Or on Pei Che’s carriage?

She couldn’t remember. She didn’t even recall how she’d left Tianxiang Residence, let alone where such a small thing might’ve fallen.

Just as Jiang Shiyuan was about to ask Hong Dou to go check at Tianxiang Residence, Hong Dou guessed, “Could the Grand Preceptor have picked it up?”

“Impossible,” Jiang Shiyuan immediately denied, her tone firm.

Hong Dou was confused. “Why are you so sure, Miss?”

Jiang Shiyuan gave a bitter smile.

Because that pouch had been rejected by Pei Che back then. How could he possibly want it now?

She didn’t even know what she’d been thinking—why she wore that old thing to a meeting.

She must’ve lost her mind.

“It’s lost, so be it. Don’t bother looking. It’s nothing important,” Jiang Shiyuan said.

But Hong Dou noticed how her joyful expression had dimmed in an instant.

She obviously cared deeply about that pouch—so why say otherwise?

Just as Hong Dou was about to persuade her again, someone suddenly appeared at the foot of the steps and called out—

“Miss Jiang.”

Jiang Shiyuan turned her head and saw Moyu, the personal servant of Shen Luchu, panting and running over, eyes fixed anxiously on her.

“Why is it you again?” Hong Dou’s mood soured instantly, her tone full of disdain.

Moyu flushed in embarrassment. In the past, they had always strutted around with their noses in the air because they served Shen Luchu. When had he ever been treated with such contempt?

“Miss Jiang, my young master sent me to ask if you’re ill,” Moyu said awkwardly.

Ha. Shen Luchu actually cared about someone.

In the past, even when her young lady was bleeding and pale, Shen Luchu wouldn’t spare a word. He’d just tell her to stop being dramatic!

Was this really that high-and-mighty Young Master Shen?

Hong Dou was full of contempt.

Men really are the worst!

They treat you like dirt when they have you. As soon as you leave, they suddenly want to be all warm and affectionate.

Too late.

“Open your damn eyes! My lady is perfectly fine! Curse her again and I’ll knock your teeth out!” Hong Dou snapped, fully showing her ferocity.

Moyu was even more embarrassed. Jiang Shiyuan was standing right there—it was obvious she was fine. He didn’t even need to look.

But the young master had instructed him to ask, and he didn’t dare disobey.

Moyu was now completely certain—his young master did still care about Jiang Shiyuan. He didn’t even mind her past behavior. He just wanted her to bow her head and soften a little.

If she’d just agree to see him, he’d definitely forgive her and give her another chance.

Then Moyu wouldn’t have to walk on eggshells every day.

He was terrified. Afraid she’d affect his master’s studies. Afraid his master would be upset. And afraid that the lady of the house would beat him to death with a stick.

“It’s fine if the young lady is sick—my master doesn’t mind. Also—”

Ignoring Hong Dou, Moyu took out a long rectangular brocade box from his robe and presented it with both hands.

“This is a belated birthday gift from the young master. Please accept it and stop being mad at him.”

Jiang Shiyuan recognized the box and let out a cold laugh. “Those your words, or your master’s?”

Shen Luchu, oh Shen Luchu—still treating her like a joke.

The same hairpin, given to someone else first. When they rejected it, he turned around and gave it to her.

Did he think she was that cheap? That worthless?

Her expression turned icy. Beside her, Hong Dou clenched her fists when she recognized the box.

If all men were scumbags, Shen Luchu was the king of them.

Moyu broke out in cold sweat. He shrank back, sensing something very wrong.

“Tell your young master I’m doing just fine. I won’t see him because there’s no longer any need to. As for that thing—he can give it to whoever he wants. I don’t want it.”

She turned to head inside, but Moyu panicked. He quickly chased after her. If he failed to deliver the hairpin, he had no idea if he’d even survive the day.

Sending this gift was already Shen Luchu swallowing his pride. If it got sent back, who knew how furious he’d become?

“Miss Jiang, don’t you like my young master? He’s finally willing to give you something. Stop being difficult and just accept it!”

“If you really don’t want it, then you return it to him. Don’t make us servants suffer!”

With that, Moyu shoved the box into Hong Dou’s hands and bolted, not even looking back.

He didn’t care anymore. He was just a lowly servant—why should he worry about things beyond his rank?

He’d delivered the item. Whether Jiang Shiyuan rejected it or tossed it, let her explain to the young master.

“Stop right there! Who wants your master’s trash?!” Hong Dou rolled up her sleeves, ready to chase him down, but Moyu had already vanished.

She turned and opened the brocade box—sure enough, it was the same gold-and-jade filigree hairpin once meant for Su Liluo.

Hong Dou rolled her eyes and slammed the box shut.

“Miss, what do we do with it?”

Naturally, Jiang Shiyuan had no intention of seeing Shen Luchu. After thinking for a moment—if Shen Luchu could insult her, why couldn’t she insult him back?

“Didn’t Su Liluo like it? Send it to her.”

Their wedding was coming up soon, after all. Let this be her wedding gift to them.

Hong Dou’s eyes lit up and she darted off. “Yes, Miss! I’ll take it straight to the Minister’s residence!”