Chapter 37: This Engagement—My Uncle Is Serious, So Miss Jiang, Please Be Serious Too [Revised]

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“Postponed?”

Jiang Shiyuan’s heart sank with a thud. A bad feeling crept in as she grabbed Hong Dou’s arm and asked urgently, “What about the letter? The letter I left—did you give it to the Grand Tutor?”

She had written her reasons clearly in that letter. If the Grand Tutor saw it, surely, he would forgive her rashness today.

Hong Dou pulled a letter from her sleeve and shook her head. “The Grand Tutor never came by. Then they sent word the date had changed, so…”

Looking at Jiang Shiyuan’s grim expression, Hong Dou suddenly realized she may have made a mistake—a huge one.

“Miss, did I do something wrong? I’ll go deliver it to the Grand Tutor’s residence right away—” Hong Dou was so flustered she was nearly in tears. Miss had waited so long for this good match. It mustn’t be ruined because of her.

“It’s alright, it’s alright. You did nothing wrong. Give me the letter—I’ll go explain to the Grand Tutor myself.”

Jiang Shiyuan knew Hong Dou had only been worried for her, which was why she’d overlooked this. Besides, she herself had been too reckless today.

Shen Luchu’s father worked at the Ministry of War, and the Marquis of Shen had promised to keep an eye on developments in the northwest. So, when Shen Luchu’s letter arrived, she hadn’t suspected anything.

She had never imagined Shen Luchu would make her lose face like this.

Bitterness filled Jiang Shiyuan’s heart. She comforted Hong Dou, then mounted her horse again, letter in hand, and rode hard toward the Grand Tutor’s residence.

She was a general’s daughter—by the age of six, she could ride and shoot. She had only hidden her nature and given up her hobbies because someone didn’t like it.

Her story with Shen Luchu had been hinted at from the beginning. She had simply been too enchanted by that first spark of affection.

Shaking off her thoughts, Jiang Shiyuan spurred her horse faster.

At the Grand Tutor’s residence, she did not see Grand Tutor Pei—but she did see Pei Ziye.

“Uncle went into the palace. He asked me to give this to you.”

Pei Ziye looked like he’d been waiting specifically for her. When he saw her, he handed her a pouch.

The pouch was embroidered with red dogwood berries. The craftsmanship was far from fine—the stitching could even be called coarse.

Jiang Shiyuan’s expression froze as she stared at the familiar pouch. Sealed-away memories surged forward like a flood breaking a dam.

“Pei Xiaofu only pities you because you’re an orphan. You think he actually likes you? Have some shame.”

“Just admit it. You act crazy and ridiculous to get his attention—how pathetic can you be?”

“If you want to flirt, at least make something decent. What’s this ragged pouch supposed to be?”

The sharp jeers and mocking laughter filled her ears and mind in an instant.

Ten years ago, she had given that pouch to Pei Che—yet somehow, it ended up in someone else’s hands.

They had stopped her, thrown the pouch at her head, and mocked her for being shameless, accusing her of disrespecting her teacher.

She had shouted back, insisting she never had such thoughts. She only wanted to thank Pei Che.

To thank him for taking her and her cat in when she couldn’t bear to return to the empty general’s manor.

It was gratitude—nothing more. The red berries embroidered were not lovesick red beans, but dogwood.

Dogwood represented longevity and reverence. She had respected Pei Che more than anyone and had never once harbored improper thoughts toward him.

But no matter how loudly she shouted, they refused to listen. They insisted on slandering her, isolating her.

Why? Was it just because she had no father or mother? Did everyone think they could step on her?

Then why didn’t their parents go off to war? Why did she have to lose hers so the world could be peaceful?

Was that fair?

Jiang Shiyuan took the rough, worn pouch. It was like staring at her eight-year-old self. Her chest ached, years of suppressed emotion nearly drowning her.

Maybe they were right. Maybe Pei Che just pitied her.

Why else would he let someone else hold her gift?

Why else would he leave for Shuzhou without even a word?

And she had been so obedient, so well-behaved. She’d finished all her lessons and earned top marks.

“Thank you.”

Jiang Shiyuan swallowed her tears and softly said thanks, clutching the pouch and lowering her head as she turned to leave.

Pei Ziye looked at her tear-filled eyes and her small, fragile back. He couldn’t bear it and finally spoke:

“Miss Jiang, do you know?”

“The Marchioness of Wende was already on her way back to the countryside to retire. She had left the city. But the day you and my uncle met at Mantingchun for the marriage talk—right after that, he rode out of the city at full speed and personally brought her back.”

Jiang Shiyuan looked up, startled.

“This engagement—my uncle is serious about it. I hope Miss Jiang can be serious too.” Pei Ziye, uncharacteristically, spoke with stern sincerity.

There could be no clearer message. Jiang Shiyuan understood at once.

Clearly, Pei Che knew she had gone to find Shen Luchu.

He delayed the betrothal date not to shame her, but to protect her dignity—and took the blame upon himself.

Jiang Shiyuan looked at the pouch in her hand, returned to her a second time, her heart full of tangled thoughts.

What did Pei Che really feel toward her?

Was it just to preserve the formality of a marriage alliance?

Or… was it still pity?

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After returning from the Grand Tutor’s residence, Jiang Shiyuan had been trying to find a chance to speak with him.

But something seemed to be going on in the palace—Grand Tutor Pei had not left for days, nor had he sent even a word to her.

“I think I really upset the Grand Tutor this time.”

Jiang Shiyuan poked at the dried tangerine peel in her hand and sighed.

Across from her, Hong Dou looked guilty, wanting to speak but holding back.

Jiang Shiyuan glanced at her. “This isn’t your fault. It’s mine.”

Hong Dou bit her lip and couldn’t help but snap, “How could that Shen fellow be so awful? Is he even human? Does he have a conscience? If not for you braving the snow to find him at the Shen family villa, he’d have died long ago—did he forget that?”

How could he hurt someone like this—delaying Miss’s life for years, and now even ruining her marriage prospects?

That man had no heart!

“The past is the past. There’s no use bringing it up again.”

Jiang Shiyuan didn’t want to talk about it. She had sorted out her feelings for Shen Luchu long ago—on her eighteenth birthday.

She had been young and foolish, trusted the wrong person, and clung to it for three more years. That was all on her.

She had no regrets. What mattered now was how to get the Grand Tutor to forgive her.

Pei Ziye’s words had struck a chord.

She had personally agreed to this engagement.

Even if it was a political alliance, the moment she nodded, Pei Che had treated her as his future wife, giving her sincerity and respect. Yet she had kept getting caught up in old feelings, never truly seeing him.

That wasn’t fair to him.

She needed to correct her stance.

Pei Che wasn’t a teacher at Luming Academy. He wasn’t someone’s uncle. He was her future husband.

Barring anything unexpected, they were to spend their lives together.

Just as Jiang Shiyuan was thinking that if the Grand Tutor didn’t leave the palace soon, she’d ask Xie Ruoruo for help, a voice came from outside:

“Young Miss, Young Master Pei is here to see you.”

“Who? Young Master Pei?”

Jiang Shiyuan lifted her skirts and rushed toward the reception hall without a second thought.

Inside, the man in white robes stood like snow, long black hair tied with a jade crown, sword brows framing his eyes. As he heard footsteps, he smiled faintly and turned slowly.

“Pei… Zanxue??”

Jiang Shiyuan halted in surprise.

Pei Zanxue, dressed in male attire, curled her lips into a smile. “Running so fast, little aunt? Thought I was my uncle—or that useless brother of mine, Pei Ziye?”