2002

Chapter 2

At this moment, Jinhe Song wished she could just get up and leave immediately. Yet her body remained frozen in place, unable to move an inch. The sudden wave of nervousness rising within her stirred a hint of irritation, as if she were a stranger afraid of this man. But Jinhe Song—when had she ever been afraid of anyone?

“Mother, your daughter comes to pay her respects,” came a deep voice from behind the door.

Jinhe Song stood with her back to the entrance, and upon hearing the voice, her waist trembled slightly, and her neck stiffened further. The man's voice was low and magnetic, somewhat resembling the voice that lingered near her ear in her dreams. But stripped of the hoarseness wrapped in heat and thickness, she could faintly detect a subtle tension threaded beneath his ordinary greeting.

Sheng Yao lifted her eyes, her round, bright eyes curved into a warm smile as she spoke gently, “Qi’an, come in. I want to introduce someone to you.”

Footsteps drew closer behind them.

Jinhe Song averted her gaze and lowered her eyes, unwilling to look.

Sheng Yao said, “The Song family’s eldest daughter is visiting our residence today.”

“Miss Song,” came the same male voice again, though it sounded even tenser than before.

From Jinhe Song’s lowered gaze, a pair of black satin boots appeared. The boots were spotless, and the straight trousers were tucked inside, concealing half of the understated yet noble embroidered golden patterns.

She felt a burning gaze fixed intently on her—somewhat rude, somewhat intrusive. If she just looked up, she could catch it directly and embarrass the other party. But her eyelashes fluttered, and she still did not raise her eyes. That face had been flushed and sweating in her dream that morning; how could she meet his gaze now?

Sheng Yao said, “This is my son, Congyuan Sheng.”

Jinhe Song bowed slightly. “Young Master Sheng.”

The atmosphere froze—odd and unnatural.

Sheng Yao looked between the two with confusion before uncertainly asking Jinhe Song, “You met when you were young. Do you still remember?”

“We…” Jinhe Song started.

“I don’t remember,” Congyuan Sheng’s awkward voice was quickly drowned out by Jinhe Song’s calm reply.

His pupils constricted as he silently stared at her, his expression suddenly tightening, and he fell silent before finishing his sentence.

Not sure if she felt guilty or annoyed by her absurd dream, Jinhe Song softly added, “I was quite young then. Now, I only recall seeing him once from afar at Madam’s birthday banquet.”

That was the truth. From childhood to now, she had always been the beloved jewel in her parents’ hands, introduced and shown off to everyone she met. If she tried to count all the noble children she had ever seen, the list would be endless; it was impossible to remember them all. She had no impression of Congyuan Sheng.

Because of his presence, the previously harmonious atmosphere instantly soured.

After a brief silence, Jinhe Song drew a deep breath and rose. “Madam Sheng, please accept my thanks. When you have leisure, I will come again to express my gratitude properly. For now, I will take my leave.”

Jinhe Song seemed determined to go. Congyuan Sheng, tall and imposing, stood aside, making it inconvenient to continue chatting.

Sheng Yao reluctantly said, “Very well, no need to be so formal. I will have someone see you out.”

An abrupt farewell was somewhat rude, but Jinhe Song, with her eyes lowered, felt even more uneasy and did not refuse, politely replying, “Thank you, Madam.”

No sooner had she spoken than Congyuan Sheng interjected, “Mother, I will go.”

Jinhe Song was speechless. Was it still not too late to say there was no need to trouble him?

Sheng Yao smiled and nodded, “Good, Qi’an, please see Miss Song out.”

*

Jinhe Song followed behind Congyuan Sheng as they exited the bamboo garden, her sleeve concealing the jade earrings she had regained. If not for these earrings, she would have preferred to avoid any entanglement with the Sheng household for now.

Unexpectedly, despite timing her visit to avoid others, she still encountered Congyuan Sheng.

Her steps quickened, eager to leave the Sheng residence immediately. But after only a few paces, she nearly collided with his broad back, like a towering wall, forcing her to halt abruptly and disrupt her pace.

Congyuan Sheng strolled slowly, as if taking a leisurely walk. Had he not been escorting her, Jinhe Song would have reached the gate long ago.

She glared at his back in frustration, wanting to urge him on but unwilling to speak. Though it was not his fault, the intruder from her dream bore the exact same face. Jinhe Song had never faced such an unsolvable matter and could not calm her heart toward Congyuan Sheng.

Fortunately, she likely would have no further dealings with him, and this absurd dream could rot inside her without anyone ever knowing.

Just as she thought this, Congyuan Sheng suddenly stopped.

Jinhe Song, unprepared, almost bumped into him. The black-clad figure so close before her blocked her view, and the scent from him—a mixture of soapberry and something cold and distinct—wafted to her.

Familiar.

Her breath caught, and she hurriedly stepped back two paces, a low exclamation escaping her lips.

Absurd.

For a moment, she had the illusion that the scent she had smelled in her dream was the very one she just encountered.

But how could one smell in a dream?

Congyuan Sheng turned abruptly and unexpectedly met her glaring eyes.

He was startled for a moment, then recovered. “Sorry, I…”

Jinhe Song’s pupils tightened, her irritation vanished, replaced by panic. She quickly averted her gaze and interrupted, “Young Master Sheng, I have urgent matters. You may leave me here.”

Their eyes met briefly, and her heart raced in confusion.

Congyuan Sheng’s image, vivid and real beyond the dream, was etched into her memory.

Jinhe Song was certain that if she had not faced him directly just now, allowing dream and reality to overlap, she could never have depicted his image so clearly in her dreams merely from a fleeting glance a month ago at the birthday banquet.

His face, features, warmth, even his scent...

How was this not possession?

Before Congyuan Sheng could speak again, Jinhe Song bowed slightly. “Goodbye.”

She stepped past him, finally able to quicken her pace, hastening away as if escaping.

*

Seated in the carriage returning home, Jinhe Song’s thoughts still churned uneasily.

They say what one thinks by day, one dreams by night.

But what had she been thinking? What had she dreamed?

These dreams were utterly tangled nonsense!

Not only did she maliciously fabricate stories of an unfaithful fiancé’s double-faced deeds, but she also secretly fantasized about a stranger she had only met once.

Truly perverse!

She was talking about herself!

Jinhe Song returned home, boiling with frustration.

Just as she was about to disembark, she ran into Xiao Song, who was leaving the house.

“Younger sister?” Xiao Song looked up at the figure inside the carriage. “Why are you back so early? Where did you go this morning?”

Jinhe Song shot him a sharp look. Frustrated and needing an outlet, she snapped, “Where are you sneaking off to this time?”

“Sneaking? I’m being perfectly open,” he replied.

Jinhe Song narrowed her eyes shrewdly, lowering her voice, “You’re not going to the woodworking shop again, are you?”

“Shh!” Xiao Song widened his eyes, making a shushing gesture. “Don’t say that. Don’t let anyone hear!”

“If it’s nonsense, why worry about who hears it?” Jinhe Song rolled her eyes and suddenly sat back in the carriage.

She drew back the curtain and beckoned Xiao Song with a finger. “Get in. I’m coming too.”

“I told you, I’m not—” Xiao Song faltered. “What are you going to do there?”

Jinhe Song smiled slyly, and Xiao Song realized he was completely exposed.

He resignedly climbed into the carriage, where she said, “I want to make a few wooden stakes for An’an’s training.”

“An’an? Training for what?”

“Acrobatics. I’ve seen monkeys at the theater jump on wooden stakes.”

“But An’an is a dog!”

“So what? Are you coming or not? If not, I’ll go alone.”

Xiao Song sucked in a breath. He could already imagine the wild rumors Jinhe Song would spread at home if she went to the woodworking shop alone. If their eldest brother found out, his entire domain would be swept away.

He had no choice but to concede, “Fine, I’ll go. No matter how many stakes you want—dozens or hundreds—I’ll get them all for you.”

The Song family had three children: eldest son Ning, second son Xiao, and youngest daughter Jinhe Song. Their father, Qingcang Song, had a leisurely nature in his youth and, now nearly fifty, had entrusted most family affairs to the eldest son, Ning.

The eldest brother was like a father figure. Jinhe Song, as the youngest, was doted on and deeply reliant on her elder brother, while Xiao Song was often fearful of Ning.

After Xiao Song came of age, Ning hoped he would join the court and become his right hand. But Xiao Song had no such ambition; Ning considered him lacking spirit.

Xiao Song wanted to be a craftsman and apprenticed secretly at a famous woodworking shop in the capital, causing frequent conflicts with the family. He still had not persuaded Ning and had to sneak off when visiting the shop.

Xiao Song envied Jinhe Song somewhat.

Their parents, Qingcang Song and Lan Yu, married young; at eighteen, they had Ning. Xiao Song and Jinhe Song were born when the couple was nearly thirty. Ning was already in his thirties, while Jinhe Song was only eighteen.

The family had long hoped for a gentle, soft little darling. As the youngest daughter, Jinhe Song was spoiled by her parents and loved by her brothers, cherished like a precious pearl.

Thus, she was somewhat spoiled and always acted on her own will, unlike Xiao Song, who was burdened with expectations.

She only needed to do what she desired.

Xiao Song often muttered, “Little sister, I wish I were you.”

Jinhe Song heartlessly teased, “What’s the matter? Missing someone to marry?”

Xiao Song gritted his teeth in frustration but had no way to argue.

Now, leading Jinhe Song to the woodworking shop, his first task was to arrange the wooden stakes for her.

He instructed the workers to prepare stakes sized to fit their beloved dog, An’an.

Jinhe Song sat leisurely by the window in the hall, sipping tea.

Her gaze wandered to the workers bustling back and forth, moving wooden mannequins outside.

They had made several trips already; she wondered how many mannequins the client had ordered.

After finishing his instructions, Xiao Song sat beside her, and she could no longer hold back her curiosity.

“Where did this big order come from? Why so many mannequins?”

Xiao Song glanced sideways. “Oh, it’s an order from the Sheng household, for their son, Congyuan Sheng. Apparently, he trains so hard that the mannequins at home are nearly destroyed, so they came here to order sturdier ones.”

Jinhe Song’s expression darkened, regretting her question now that she had heard his name again.

Xiao Song continued, rambling, “You know, those mannequins the Sheng family bought before must have been cheap knockoffs. Congyuan Sheng looks tall and upright but still quite slim—not a rough soldier. No matter how hard he trains, he shouldn’t have broken all their mannequins.”

A strange, untimely image flashed through Jinhe Song’s mind.

Clothes shed, revealing a strong physique hidden beneath fabric—thick arms, full chest, broad shoulders, firm waist and abdomen.

His steady approach cast a heavy, oppressive shadow over her.

Jinhe Song frowned and instinctively said, “Slim? He’s as strong as an ox. No matter how sturdy the mannequins are, they probably wouldn’t hold up against him.”

Her words caused the atmosphere to stiffen suddenly.

She blinked in surprise, realizing too late what she had just said.

Before she could correct herself, Xiao Song turned to her in alarm. “How do you know he’s as strong as an ox?”