Eleven thousand eleven

In mid-July, the height of summer blossomed, and the incessant cicadas filled the air with their cries.

Shen Shuyao leaned against the couch, her eyelids fluttering in a losing battle against sleep. She simply couldn't hold on any longer; she was so tired. But she couldn't give in—Xie Yi was home. Just yesterday she had told him she needed to review the account books in the afternoon. If she fell asleep now, wouldn't that mean she was lying?

Ah, if only she hadn’t boasted. She didn’t actually know how to read the accounts; every month Zhiwei managed the books for her. She merely looked on while Zhiwei organized them, then signed off when everything was ready.

But today was unlucky. Xie Yi had initially gone to the government office but returned shortly after because he got injured while interrogating a prisoner—his leg was hurt. He had just finished dressing the wound and was resting in bed.

Seeing her head bobbing like a rattle, the man’s eyes lingered on her a moment longer before his grip on the book slackened unconsciously. Her skin was pale and tender, her profile delicate and exquisite, bathed in soft light that made her look even more gentle and captivating. In her drowsy, quiet state, she seemed especially well-behaved.

Xie Yi swallowed and softly called, “Shen Shuyao, come sleep.”

Startled from light sleep, her eyes snapped open wide and she mumbled, “I’m not sleepy yet, I still have to look over the account books.”

A mountain of ledgers piled on the table beside her awaited her attention.

Shen Shuyao rubbed her eyes, clearing her mind somewhat, though her gaze remained hazy. Xie Yi shook his head with mild exasperation. “You can look at them an hour later; it’s not too late.”

She thought for a moment and agreed—she’d sleep for an hour before tackling the accounts. Since the books were here and Xie Yi had to stay home to recover, she couldn’t avoid it. He would be watching her closely for the next few days until his leg healed. There would be no slacking off.

Sighing at the thought, she weakly climbed onto the bed, accidentally pressing against his injured leg. She heard a muffled groan and instantly snapped awake, lowering her head to check and asking, “Are you alright? Is there bleeding?”

The man’s complexion paled, his brows furrowed in pain as he tried to endure it. Shen Shuyao glanced worriedly at the wound; seeing it hadn’t reopened, she relaxed and looked up at Xie Yi before lying down.

No sooner had her eyes closed than his deep voice whispered in her ear, “Though summer is hot, don’t overindulge in the cold.”

Whether it was her imagination or not, Shen Shuyao felt Xie Yi had grown somewhat nagging lately. No matter what she did, he would say something—sometimes even commenting on what she ate or drank. Like today, he came back just in time to see her drinking something cold to cool off, and now he was scolding her again.

She scratched her cheek, feeling a bit annoyed. She disliked Xie Yi’s nagging—it reminded her of her father. It was better when he was quiet and taciturn, not babbling incessantly to irritate her. She used to wish Xie Yi would talk more to alleviate her boredom, but now, reflecting on it, she realized she had been ungrateful.

Shen Shuyao remained silent for a while, ignoring him. Xie Yi grew displeased and nudged her shoulder, asking, “Are you asleep? Why aren’t you talking?”

“I know,” she responded, her tone tinged with impatience.

Xie Yi noticed the irritation and frowned, turning to look at her closely. His gaze traced from her nape down her back and settled on her pale, flawless profile.

Her skin was translucent, tiny fine hairs visible, with a soft pink hue beneath the white—delicate and tender. Unable to resist, he reached out and gently pinched her cheek.

“Not in the mood to talk to me?”

She did not want to talk to him, but that remained unspoken.

She turned over, forcing a dry laugh. “No, I’m just sleepy.”

His face darkened, and he withdrew his hand sheepishly. “Fine, go to sleep.”

He was angry, looking grim, but Shen Shuyao had no energy to soothe him. She was genuinely exhausted, her eyes burning and sore. She turned her back, just as the housekeeper Liu Mama called outside the door.

“Young madam, the young master has arrived.”

Shen Shuyao’s patience snapped, and she exploded.

“Which young master?” she asked sternly, glancing at Xie Yi. “Is it your brother?”

Xie Yi was already irritated, and now with her tone and words, his expression darkened further, blacker than the bottom of a pot.

“Shen Shuyao,” he warned sharply.

She rolled her eyes and asked Liu Mama who the young master was.

“It’s Young Master Shen Wenwu,” Liu Mama replied immediately.

Shen Wenwu—oh, that was her younger brother.

Without looking at Xie Yi, she slipped on her shoes and got out of bed.

---

Shen Wenwu was fifteen, brash and reckless in his youth, full of restless energy. He had gotten into more than one foolish scrape, sometimes even their father, General Shen, had difficulty controlling him, let alone his married sister.

If Shen Wenwu came looking for her now, it was guaranteed trouble.

He sat in the main hall, surrounded by a cluster of maids whispering and giggling. Shen Shuyao shook her head. Shen Wenwu was handsome and cheerful, a sunny youth, much admired by the young girls. She hadn’t expected him to be so popular even here at the Xie residence.

With a light cough, Shen Shuyao parted the crowd, making a clear path. Lifting her almond-shaped eyes, she froze for a moment when she saw Shen Wenwu’s face—swollen, with bruises at the corner of his mouth. He looked like he had just lost a fight.

No wonder they were staring—if she were them, she’d be looking too.

She approached him, frowning. “What happened?”

Seeing his sister, Shen Wenwu immediately covered his mouth and began to play the victim. “Sister, please go home and talk to Father—he’s going to kill me!”

Shen Zheng’an was strict but fair; he wouldn’t use lethal force, only a stern lesson. But judging by the injuries on Shen Wenwu’s face, his father had been harsh—his features were marred, making him less likable.

“What did you do?”

Shen Zheng’an was upright and wouldn’t punish his son without reason. Shen Shuyao fixed him with a warning glare: no lies. If he lied, she wouldn’t hesitate to help their parents discipline him.

Shen Wenwu, clever but caught off guard by her gaze, lost his nerve to fabricate an excuse and confessed truthfully.

“Well, I... I sold that painting by Master Huaiqiu.”

“The Spring River Scroll?”

Shen Wenwu nodded, seeing the anger flare in her eyes and instinctively shrinking his neck, fearing for his life.

“You deserve it,” Shen Shuyao gritted her teeth. “That painting was a gift from His Majesty to Father. Beating you is the mildest punishment.”

Selling the Emperor’s gift could lead to serious consequences if someone with ill intent stirred trouble.

Shen Wenwu nodded repeatedly, remorseful but still stubborn. “He’s a general; why would he want that kind of thing? Besides, it’s partly your fault. If you hadn’t pushed me to repay that hundred taels, I wouldn’t have had to sell the painting.”

A few days ago, Shen Wenwu had returned the hundred taels to her. She had wondered where he got the money—it turned out to be from selling the painting. She silently thought, “Good, you deserve it.”

“You still blame me?”

She pretended to strike him, and Shen Wenwu immediately hugged his head, shrinking back. When her hand didn’t come down, he smugly lifted his chin, looking annoyingly defiant and provoking her ire.

“Wait here, I’ll go with you.”

Upon saying this, Shen Wenwu happily praised her a few times.

---

Back in her room, after informing Xie Yi, Shen Shuyao prepared to leave, but he looked reluctant. His leg was injured and needed several days of rest at home. If she left, the Orchid Garden would be even quieter.

So she decided, “I’ll go with you.”

She turned, lips slightly parted in surprise. “You’re coming too?”

Xie Yi nodded, his long legs moving as he got off the couch. His injured leg moved freely, showing no sign of pain. She glanced at the leg and then at him, remaining silent, acquiescing to his decision.

---

After returning to the Shen residence, the painting had already been redeemed by Shen Zheng’an, but Shen Wenwu was severely punished—made to face the wall in contemplation and forbidden from leaving the house for half a month.

Shen Wenwu protested but found no allies. His sister and brother-in-law watched amusedly, and his mother remained angry. Helpless, he had to accept the punishment.

Shen Zheng’an was angry, but Xie Yi’s arrival had quickly cooled his temper. He even instructed the staff to prepare for an evening of drinking with Xie Yi.

The two men huddled together, seemingly having endless conversation, drinking two more cups, and continuing their exchange.

Unwilling to stay, Shen Shuyao ate and returned to her room. Her bridal chamber was clean and fresh, maintained daily by servants, so returning home was convenient.

She hadn’t brought her clothes, but her old garments were still there and wearable—though a bit tight across the chest, but bearable.

Xie Yi and Shen Zheng’an chatted late into the night. By the time he returned to the room, Shen Shuyao was nearly asleep. It was his first night staying at the Shen residence, and in her bridal chamber no less, so he curiously wandered around before finally looking at the woman lying on the couch.

His breath, tinged with alcohol, was intoxicating. The warmth from his arm was burning, prompting her to shrink away.

“Go take a bath.”

“My leg’s injured; I shouldn’t move much.”

A poor excuse—she wasn’t fooled. The wound was minor; though painful, it didn’t prevent walking.

“Let A Si come in and help you.”

“It’s so late; he’s asleep.”

Shen Shuyao opened her eyes. Her thin inner garment clung to her body, outlining her curves enticingly.

His fingers were long and defined, veins prominent, radiating an aura of restraint. Slowly, he undid the buttons of his jacket, saying, “Just now, your father-in-law said he’s never tasted your cooking—what a pity.”

“Why mention that now?”

She sprang up nervously, covertly watching his expression, afraid he might reveal something.

“We got to that topic.”

In truth, Shen Zheng’an was worried about his daughter and was testing Xie Yi’s attitude. The father-in-law’s thoughts were plain to see, making it hard for Xie Yi not to notice.

To reassure the elder, Xie Yi spoke honestly: his wife was virtuous and good at managing the household.

“How did you put it?”

The outer robe hung on the clothes rack. The man’s powerful frame filled her vision—broad shoulders, exuding security. Unfortunately, she was too anxious to appreciate it, fearing Xie Yi had misspoken.

“I told the truth.”

And added a few compliments.

“Your father-in-law said he wants to taste your cooking tomorrow.”

At this, Shen Shuyao’s expression shifted slightly, glaring at him in annoyance.

What cooking? She didn’t cook; at the Orchid Garden, it was Mama Wang who did the cooking.

Xie Yi sure knew how to dig a trap for her.