Chapter 74: Give and Take

The noisy front hall fell silent in an instant. Every eye fixed on the purple shape behind Luo Xueyan.
The girl's cloak had been removed. Her purple gauze skirt with emerald patterns traced a graceful figure. Chin slightly lifted, she looked straight ahead—as if none of these noble ladies were worth her notice. Her skin was so fair it seemed almost translucent, which only sharpened her clear brows and eyes. Yet the most striking thing was her gaze—round eyes, clear as water, at first glance pure as a newborn creature, yet so still she might have seen decades of life. That mingling of age and youth gave her a contradictory beauty.
She followed Luo Xueyan step by step into the hall. Unlike Luo Xueyan's brisk stride, the girl's hands were folded properly before her—but not stiffly. The gesture seemed practiced a thousand times until it lived in the bone; even done casually it was exact to a hair. Her long skirt drifted faintly with each step like a flower opening—yet a flower that bloomed inward, not loud, like herself. Her movement was natural; every step was pleasing to the eye and carried a quiet authority. These ladies were all from great houses; they too had survived stern tutors and palace etiquette—and thought themselves well taught. Seeing this girl, they were shocked. Swapped into her place, none of them could have walked so beautifully.
Sometimes form can be copied; spirit cannot. The girl in purple was calm as still water, at ease—as if this path were her own back garden. No hurry, no caution, no impulse, no fear. She walked lightly, yet seemed to look down on all living things.
As if she were mistress of the palace itself.
The thought made the ladies pale—for this girl was not anyone else. She was Shen Miao, the rough block!
At the validation everyone had seen her change. After that she had stayed home ill with Shen Qing and stopped attending Guangwen Hall. She had beaten Cai Lin—but that showed only boldness and fierceness, not breeding. Court etiquette was not learned in a day. Shen Miao had lost face at the return feast for years; turning that around should have been hard. Yet today she seemed another person—dress and bearing flawless—and many felt, almost against their will, that she had put every official daughter in the hall in the shade.
Shen Miao followed Luo Xueyan, meeting every sort of look. No one saw the stiffness at the corners of her mouth.
More than ten years—and she was here again. In her past life this had been the cage where she fought fate. She would see whether, in this life, the place could still hold her.
Every brick and tile was carved into her memory; she could find her way blindfolded. The tedious palace rites—done day after day until they lived in her bones. Close her eyes and she could see Wanyu smiling for sweets, Fu Ming reciting state policy with a child's solemn bob of the head. Love and hate together, bitterness and sweetness tangled. Stepping in again, a hundred feelings collided—and what burned in her chest was the fire of revenge.
Xiao Li stared dumbly at the purple-clad girl walking behind the fierce lady, stunned. The garden maid had said General Shen's legitimate daughter was a crude rough block—but this was nothing like that. Nobility wrapped her whole body; one more look might not bear the weight of that gravity. How could she be a rough block?
He was still thinking when the girl's gaze swept him and paused. Xiao Li tensed at once. They had never met—was this the "fate" the old palace hands spoke of? Was the Fifth Miss taking notice of him? Fear and excitement mixed—then her eyes moved on, as if it had been nothing. Loss hit him strangely. He felt that attaching himself to this Shen girl might bring some great fortune—and now it seemed to slip past his fingertips.
Before he could grasp where that thought came from, a tall lady at the front of the hall laughed. "Lady Shen, you kept us waiting!"
Luo Xueyan frowned slightly, then broke into a bold smile. "We were delayed on the road."
"The Fifth Miss grows lovelier every day," the tall lady said, looking at Shen Miao with half-meaning. "Truly a girl of marriageable age. I remember when you were tiny."
Luo Xueyan's smile sank at once. Shen Miao's betrothal was nonsense to her—arranged behind her and Shen Xin's backs without their consent. She did not acknowledge it and did not fear offending the Wei family. By birth the Weis were fine—but they were not Shen Xin. Offend them if she must; nothing mattered more than Shen Miao's happiness, and Lady Wei was not here anyway. Intent on clearing the air, Luo Xueyan said, "What talk is that? Jiaojiao has only just come of age—we're in no hurry to marry her off. I want her at my side a while longer."
The ladies and young misses stared. Days ago Shen Miao's betrothal had been all over the city. At Old Madam Shen's birthday the rest of the family had almost treated it as settled. Now Luo Xueyan spoke as if the match might vanish into air.
The tall lady narrowed her eyes, sensing something wrong. Her smile grew meaningful. "Oh? Lady Shen wants to keep the Fifth Miss longer? But wasn't it said only days ago that she was betrothed?"
"Lady, you jest," Luo Xueyan said. She feared no loss of face—and no exposure of Shen family quarrels before outsiders. With relatives like theirs, what point in saving appearances? She lifted her chin and said clearly, "What daughter is betrothed while her parents know nothing? My husband and I never heard of this—so where does 'betrothal' come from?"
Whispers rose at once. The tall lady was caught off guard.
There was truth in it. No daughter was betrothed without her parents' knowledge. If Luo Xueyan and Shen Xin knew nothing, only one explanation remained—the Shen family had hidden it from them. Why they would do that left room for much speculation.
While everyone turned the matter over, Ren Wanyun and Chen Ruoqiu arrived.
Shen Gui and Shen Wan had gone to the men's hall. Ren Wanyun brought Shen Qing; Chen Ruoqiu walked with Shen Yue.
It was Shen Qing's first outing since taking to her bed. These days she had wasted and aged beyond her years—at the best age for a girl, yet already touched with weary gray. To hide it she wore thick rouge and powder and a red dress that ill suited her pale face—something awkward and wrong about the whole effect. She was with child; though she tried to hide it, her steps still looked heavy.
Shen Yue wore her usual soft pink smoke-gauze long brocade skirt, hair lightly done, powder sparing— a delicate little beauty with a bookish air. Once she would have drawn every eye. Not today. With Shen Miao as jade before them, Shen Yue's steps looked clumsier, her bearing tenser, her folded hands too tight. She could not compare—not in the least. The ladies' expressions turned strange. When had the Shen family's brightest star, Shen Yue, fallen so far behind Shen Miao?
Shen Yue was young and did not understand. Chen Ruoqiu felt the shift in those glances at once. In the past the looks on her and her daughter had been envy, admiration, praise. Today they seemed more… critical? Chen Ruoqiu's brow jumped. Etiquette and bearing were what she was proudest of; she had drilled Shen Yue without mercy and believed no Dingjing lady outdid her daughter. From these faces—who had done better?
She did not know the one who had done better was sitting right before her eyes.
Shen Miao sat beside Luo Xueyan. Though Luo Xueyan was tonight's honoree in a sense, she seemed isolated.
And she was. Dingjing's noble circles had always been closed worlds. Among men, merit and office forced civility even when hearts hated. Among women it was different—proud daughters of great houses, legitimate girls who would not mix with concubines' children, natives of Dingjing who looked down on outsiders.
Luo Xueyan was that outsider.
Had she come from some rich southern province, perhaps—but she came from the northwest desert. When she first married into Dingjing she barely spoke court dialect; the ladies mocked her accent for years. They jeered that desert wind and sand ruined women's skin, that bandits lurked on every road, that goods were scarce and fine silk a rarity. Much was exaggerated; the hostility was real.
And she was the first general's wife in Dingjing to ride to war herself.
What people cannot do, if it is rare enough, they often reject—not women alone, men too. Luo Xueyan was shut out of the ladies' circle. Shen Miao, the rough block, made mother and daughter a shared joke behind their backs.
Lady Bai, Bai Wei's mother, beckoned Chen Ruoqiu to sit with her—they were sworn friends. Bai Wei drew Shen Yue to her side. Ren Wanyun joined Lady Yi. Yi Peilan looked at Shen Qing and complained, "You've been gone so long—ill, they say? You have lost weight… but your face looks a little swollen?"
Shen Qing lowered her head in panic. "Perhaps from lying abed too long." Ren Wanyun had brewed many medicines to secure the pregnancy. Shen Qing hated the child in her belly but feared miscarriage and never being a mother again, and drank them with clenched teeth. To nourish the fetus she took every tonic; naturally she had thickened somewhat. Her shape did not show yet, but her face had begun to swell.
Yi Peilan believed her and patted Shen Qing's hand. "You must take care of your health—you're of marriageable age. Don't ruin your body."
Shen Qing shivered and said nothing. Ren Wanyun had told her of a match with the Huang family—Huang Dexing was a promising young man. Yet something in Shen Qing rebelled against the match, as if beneath its bright surface some hidden danger waited.
Yi Peilan spoke loudly enough for Lady Huang nearby to hear. Lady Huang looked Shen Qing over with a critical eye. She wanted only a nominal wife for her son; Shen Qing was acceptable—but this sickly look… she hoped the girl was not a lifelong invalid. The Huangs needed heirs—a son first; after that Shen Qing could do as she pleased.
Meanwhile Lady Bai whispered to Chen Ruoqiu, "Ruoqiu, that Fifth Miss of your house is no simple girl."
"Oh?" Chen Ruoqiu asked. "Why do you say that?"
"Someone must be guiding her behind the scenes. When she entered, every lady saw it—that bearing and etiquette, more correct than inside the palace. Forgive me—Yue'er looks crude beside her."
Chen Ruoqiu froze. "What? Everyone knows Fifth Girl knows no rules."
Bai Wei was Chen Ruoqiu's sworn friend and also from a house that prized etiquette highly. To hear such praise of Shen Miao seemed absurd—yet Chen Ruoqiu could not help looking toward where Luo Xueyan sat.
Luo Xueyan sat alone, isolated. Shen Miao beside her. Luo Xueyan, older and battle-tested, could sit untouched when no one spoke to her—calm as if mountains crumbled and she did not blink. Yet the girl sat straight-backed too, and the silence did not look like deliberate coldness toward her—it looked as if no one dared speak to her.
Chen Ruoqiu's fingertips trembled.
While the women nursed their separate thoughts, in the main hall Shen Xin's words had already raised a storm.
"General Shen speaks truly?" Emperor Wenhui asked.
The Emperor was nearing sixty yet showed little age. Smiles hung on his face; his eyes were sharp and clear, the edge of his youth still visible. Now he looked down at Shen Xin and asked again, voice heavy.
Before the court Emperor Wenhui had rewarded Shen Xin; Shen Xin had then asked a grace—that he be permitted to remain in Dingjing half a year longer, to stay with wife and daughter.
For all these years the mighty General Shen had fought without ever making such a request. The timing made men think. Was he truly staying only for family?
Emperor Wenhui studied him. Succession struggles had roiled while he still lived; the board shifted daily. Any faction's move could alter the whole pattern. Shen Miao's passion for Prince Ding had been loud news; the Emperor had wondered what would happen if the Shen prize fell to Fu Xiuyi—then the noise stopped. Now Shen Xin asked to remain. Some other plan?
He looked hard at the man below. Shen Xin's skin was dark, his gaze firm, his frame straight as a small mountain. Before the throne he was respectful—a loyal, brave iron soldier. But emperors rule subjects by value, not surface. Whatever threatened the realm, even the greatest merit, must be cut away clean.
After a moment Emperor Wenhui laughed aloud. "All these years General Shen guarded the northwest. Now the enemy is broken—I am deeply pleased. Such a general is Ming Qi's fortune. Your request—I grant it!"
Shen Xin bowed at once. "Your servant thanks Your Majesty!"
The hall turned to look. The Emperor's grace given, he left the main hall himself and the crowd remained. Shen Xin's move had been unexpected. The first to speak was Lin'an Marquis Xie Ding—who had crossed paths with the Shens all his life and clearly did not understand this either. He mocked, "General Shen—have you grown afraid of war? Stay in Dingjing half a year to enjoy yourself?"
Shen Xin did not anger. He grinned, white teeth flashing. "Does the Marquis envy me? No wonder—you have no wife or daughter…"
"You—!" Xie Ding's face went ashen. Shen Xin looked blunt and simple-minded but his tongue was poison. Princess Yuqing's death and Xie Jingxing's estrangement were Xie Ding's old wounds; Shen Xin had stabbed without mercy. Xie Ding wanted to spear him off his horse.
Fu Xiuyi watched Shen Xin, expression rich. The Shen family surprised him again and again. Once Shen Miao had adored him—annoying, but useful. Then she denied it to his face and made him a laughingstock for Prince Zhou and Prince Jing. Now Shen Xin asked to stay in the capital—another riddle. Fu Xiuyi felt a strange sense that the Shen house, once the easiest piece to grasp, had become a stone that might swing anywhere and reshape the whole game…
Shen Xin's irregular move puzzled the court, but tonight's rewards still made men green with envy. One after another they came forward with real or false congratulations; Shen Xin spoke of northwest tales and did not notice the dark gaze fixed on his back.
That gaze clung to Shen Xin like a venomous snake in rough grass, waiting to strike. The man who watched played with a thumb ring; one side of his robe hung empty. It was Prince Yu.
Inside, the mood ran hot enough. Outside, Shen Qiu had cornered Wei Qian in the corridor.
Wei Qian was not ill-looking and carried himself modestly—but beside healthy, bright Shen Qiu he seemed too soft. He frowned at Shen Qiu. "Young Deputy Shen—why do you block my path?"
Shen Qiu looked him up and down. By nature he was open and friendly; in another day he might have befriended Wei Qian. But after Shen Miao said Wei Qian already had someone in his heart, every look at the man made his temper rise. In Shen Qiu's view his sister was beyond compare; it was for others not to want her—not the other way around.
"You're Wei Qian?" His tone was none too warm.
Wei Qian started, sensing hostility. "I am."
"No great matter," Shen Qiu said, clapping Wei Qian's shoulder. "Just so you know—there was gossip that my sister and your Wei family were betrothed. Gossip. Our house didn't take it seriously; yours needn't either." He stepped back, voice casual and yet cold as iron. "Whoever my sister marries will pass my eye first." He did not wait to see Wei Qian's face and strode off.
Wei Qian stood alone, stunned. Shen Qiu had drawn a line clear as daylight—but he did have someone in his heart. Did Shen Qiu have to make him sound like a worthless fool? The Shens protected their own like wolves—and he had never even had a chance to speak on the match!
Outside the corridor Gao Yang watched Wei Qian standing dazed and shook his head, laughing. "These Shens are too overbearing—not even the Wei family in their eyes."
"Seen enough?" The purple-clad youth beside him showed impatience, voice displeased. "Are you finished?"
"Wei Qian is your man," Gao Yang said. "He's bullied like this—you won't stand up for him?"
"You like it— you go." Xie Jingxing glanced at him.
"I wouldn't dare." Gao Yang smiled gently, tone edged with schadenfreude. "Prince Yu is here today—I'm afraid this won't end quietly. I hear he plans to take a princess consort. Guess which Shen daughter he has in mind?"
"I guess he won't get to marry at all." Xie Jingxing raised a brow, gaze forward.
In the garden a familiar figure ran up and spoke to a little eunuch on the other side, pressing a sachet into his hand.
That figure was Shen Miao's personal maid—Jingzhe.