Chapter 92: Closeness

Shen Miao waited in the princess manor a while—changed clothes, hair redone nicely, tea finished—before Princess Rongxin entered.
"Miss Shen—you're well?" Rongxin smiled. "I've ordered ginger tea from the kitchen. Such cold—warm yourself; don't catch chill."
Shen Miao smiled back. "Thank you, Your Highness." Suspicion lingered—Rongxin had never been kind to her before. Same face, none of last life's severity or cold; she wondered if this were truly the same woman.
While she thought, Rongxin studied her, thoughtful. Rongxin rarely left her manor, yet Dingjing gossip reached her ears—stuck, for a long while, on the fact that Shen Xin's legitimate fifth daughter was a rough fool.
In Rongxin's memory Shen Miao was timid yet shamelessly bold in chasing men—no talent, no virtue, vulgar looks—unworthy of Xie Jingxing's face and wit. Now: clear features, eyes like water; even seated, a rare dignity and bearing for her age. Rongxin revised her opinion.
"Wanli Lake was crowded tonight—you must have been frightened, separated from family." Rongxin smiled. "After ginger tea I'll send you home." Testing edge: "My nephew rarely asks my help—but tonight he broke precedent—for you."
"Nephew" meant Xie Jingxing. Rongxin's meaningful look left Shen Miao unsure how to answer. After a beat: "Young Marquis Xie is gallant— tonight we impose." She almost winced at her own words—gallant? Black heart. She was dragged into his mess; now it sounded as if she owed him.
Rongxin noted her distance—deliberately clearing ties to Xie Jingxing—and was pleased. Had Shen Miao clung and hinted romance, Rongxin would have despised her. Royal upbringing frowned on secret entanglements even while indulging young hearts.
"Don't speak of imposition." Rongxin warm. "Jingxing said you're his friend—friends needn't stand on ceremony. He's my nephew; since you're close to him, you may treat me as an aunt."
Shen Miao nearly choked on tea. Treat Rongxin as kin? Last life, married to Fu Xiuyi, Rongxin truly became her aunt by marriage—yet when Shen Miao tried privately to please her, Rongxin had said coldly: "Enough. I have no such niece."
That Rongxin—now saying "treat me as aunt"—Shen Miao felt she must be dreaming.
Her blankness Rongxin read as honest—no scheming great-house miss. She took Shen Miao's hand. "I have no children. Visit when you can." She slipped a bracelet from her wrist onto Shen Miao's. "A meeting gift."
"Too precious." Shen Miao declined. The bracelet—sand-blast peony jade, five linked gold rings—had been Grand Empress Dowager's wedding dowry, given to Rongxin at her marriage. Last life Shen Miao had seen Rongxin wear it always—treasured.
"Wear it." Rongxin laughed. "A trifle. Gold and gems—the Shen house has plenty. Don't disdain it."
"How could I disdain Grand Empress Dowager's gift—still, too costly—"
Rongxin paused. "How do you know it's Grand Empress Dowager's?"
Shen Miao froze— inward curse. Last life as empress she knew every consort's history; this life she was only a minister's daughter—such private royal matters she should not know.
Under Rongxin's suspicious gaze she smiled quickly: "Young Marquis Xie mentioned it—he and Your Highness are close; he speaks of you often."
"So." Rongxin's face softened, pleased. "I've treated him as my own—all these years—he has conscience." Her look at Shen Miao shifted again. "He even told you this—"
Shen Miao stiffened. Sure enough Rongxin sighed: "He truly treats you as a 'friend.'" Smiling at Shen Miao: "Wild as he looks—he's good. All these years I've never seen him care for any girl like this. You're the first."
Inwardly Shen Miao thought Rongxin sounded like a mother-in-law sizing up a bride. Xie Jingxing's interest was not romance—he likely suspected her. Dealing with that mind meant headache every step.
Maids brought ginger tea. Rongxin chatted while Shen Miao drank—the longer they talked, the more Rongxin liked her. No rough fool—well read, broad spirit; simple talk never stiff. Where did a sheltered girl get such horizon? Remembering Shen Miao's old crush on Prince Ding, Rongxin felt a flicker of worry—Ding was also her nephew, but beside Fu Xiuyi her heart leaned to Xie Jingxing. A girl this fine—she would not let her nephew miss her. Praise for Jingxing threaded through the conversation.
Cold and rigid by nature—even with kin facing Wenhui she was icy—yet tonight she talked happily with a stranger, nearly dropping the manor servants' jaws.
Shen Miao, last life, had studied every person around Fu Xiuyi to win them—including Rongxin—with little success. Now one layer of connection to Xie Jingxing hit the mark. If she had known Rongxin was this easy, last life she need not have tried so hard—just Xie Jingxing would have done.
When nearly a stick of incense had burned, Rongxin rose reluctantly. "Late—if I don't send you, General Shen and Madam will worry. Carriage is ready." She gave orders.
Leaving with Rongxin, Shen Miao was startled by the escort—carriage lavish beyond expectation, a full guard with swords. Rongxin smiled: "Streets still crowded—more guards, less accident."
Goodwill she could not refuse—and Rongxin's show of force could discipline certain people in the Shen house. She thanked her and boarded.
Dingjing's streets still thronged; fireworks truly all night. Such a conspicuous procession drew every eye.
On a corner wall stood a youth in fox fur, a middle-aged man beside him.
The man said: "Her Highness sent this many guards to escort Miss Shen home."
"Aunt Rong isn't easy to please." The youth sounded interested. "This Shen young lady—has some skill."
The elder was silent. Then the youth: "The live captures today?"
"Master—all in tower prison. Three were death soldiers—bit poison and died. Three more—jaws removed, won't speak."
"Pick one. Crush every bone inch by inch. Example killing needs no lesson."
"Yes." Hesitation. "Those who slipped into the city—"
"Find them. Kill without mercy."
……
Beneath Dingjing's flowing crowds, unease and danger never reached the general's mansion—until tonight.
In the main hall everyone stood stiff. Shen Xin and Luo Xueyan in the center—worry plain. Shen Qiu's face was guilt.
A whole night without finding Shen Miao—they were not fools. Not kidnappers—a few steps from Shen guards, who would snatch her? Ordinary traffickers would not risk it. Fear was revenge.
Shen Xin did not know the Prince Yu affair; Qiu did. If remnant faction meant to avenge their master, what became of Shen Miao was imaginable.
Shen Xin had mobilized the Shen army, quietly asked the garrison to seal gates—house-to-house search found nothing. Time passing, they neared breaking.
Chen Ruoqiu spoke gently: "Brother, sister-in-law—this won't do. Perhaps report to the yamen—Chief Magistrate might help. Searching like this isn't a method."
"Right," Shen Wan said. "Brother—the longer we wait, the worse for Fifth Sister. Shen army searching openly—tomorrow others will guess."
Shen Yue behind Chen Ruoqiu, head down to hide her smile. Good! Best news today—she hoped Shen Miao ended like Shen Qing—ruined, shamed—so among legitimate daughters she alone stood. Then what if Shen Xin held troops and Qiu protected her? Ruined name—head down forever.
"No." Luo Xueyan's brows knifed; she glared at Chen Ruoqiu. "Report and Jiaojiao's reputation is destroyed!" They had meant to hide her disappearance—but every branch had sharp eyes; word leaked. Search failed; they returned to plan.
"Sister-in-law—" Chen Ruoqiu earnest—"reputation or life? If she dies for reputation you'll regret."
"Chen Ruoqiu—cursing her?" Luo Xueyan exploded—quick temper, but Shen Miao was the line none could cross. Faces turned hostile.
"Enough noise!" Old Madam Shen, silent till now, snapped at Luo Xueyan. "You lost the fifth girl—why rage at others? Second house isn't wrong! Wait too long—no life left—what use is reputation?"
Surface concern—but Luo Xueyan felt wrong, wanted to argue.
"Right, Aunt—" Yuan spoke—"even without reporting, guards searching this loud—tomorrow everyone knows. Report or not—what difference?"
Yuan saw Shen Miao as a nail in his eye; before he moved, calamity struck—why not pour oil?
Shen Gui was happier still but never led. He sighed sadly: "Ah—Fifth Sister, such a good child—how this happened. Brother—enemies?" He hated Shen Xin most—merit overshadowing him everywhere. If Shen Miao fell because of Shen Xin, guilt for life—Gui stabbed where it hurt.
Wan held Dongling behind Shen Gui—concubines had no voice. She listened, said nothing, glad she kept Dongling close. Dongling head down—expression unclear.
"Enough, first branch—others will know anyway. Report now—maybe Fifth Sister suffers less. Report early." Old Madam's eyes flashed. She hated the first wife's son outshining her sons—Shen Miao's failure had pleased her—until lately Miao surpassed Qing and Yue, Qiu swaggering daily—blockage in her chest. This disaster she almost rejoiced. She wanted the whole realm to hear Shen Miao kidnapped—ruined—first branch shamed.
Shen Xin and Luo Xueyan had not spoken when Qiu clenched fists. Young but not blind—every mouth claimed concern; every eye held glee. No wonder in one year Shen Miao grew so deep, so old—not a child—forced by this house. Never clearer: what world she lived in.
Luo Xueyan and Shen Xin exchanged a fierce look. Ancestral hall fire might hold misunderstanding—they had not seen the start. This scene was plain. Luo Xueyan furious; Shen Xin shocked and disappointed.
He had been honest, respectful, helpful—and when his daughter vanished he saw secret joy. All those harmonious family pictures suddenly absurd.
Yue worried aloud: "What will they do to Fifth Sister? She's pretty—pretty girls get sold far—if not kidnappers, after such effort—they won't treat her kindly." Two tears—deeply sad.
Dongling, quiet, flickered irony—still said nothing.
"Brother—report or not?" Shen Wan pressed.
Stalemate—then a servant's gasp from outside: "Madam—Master—Fifth Miss is back!"
He ran into the hall breathless: "Fifth Miss—escorted by the princess manor!"
Shock—then joy for Shen Xin and Luo Xueyan. "Princess manor"—blank moment. Shen Wan's mind moved. "Which princess?"
Servant caught breath, excited: "Princess Rongxin—many guards escorting—still at the gate!"
Princess Rongxin?
Chen Ruoqiu stopped—bit her lip hard.
Rongxin ignored court—but among women, especially capital ladies, mattered. Palace consorts deferred to her—yet Rongxin herself was hard to approach, stern, rigid—many ladies failed to please her. That legendary cold princess personally sending Shen Miao home—and this escort?
Chen Ruoqiu nearly mad with jealousy.
Shen Xin and Luo Xueyan ran to the gate; others followed. A dark mass at the door—armor, blades—frightening close. Crowds gathered, curious what game the Shen house played.
More guards than they expected. A woman in official dress helped Shen Miao down from the carriage.
Luo Xueyan rushed. "Jiaojiao!" She looked her over—normal—exhaled.
The official smiled: "Tonight Her Highness walked Wanli Lake, chanced upon lost Fifth Miss Shen. Carriage accidentally bumped her—Highness took her to rest at the manor—unexpectedly worried General and Madam. Her Highness sends apology."
Clean explanation—some odd corners, but Rongxin had spoken; who would question? Such guards, such crowd—even slander would not stick. Reputation sealed.
Behind the crowd Old Madam Shen's face went iron. Waiting for disaster—Rongxin intervened—she hated the meddling princess too.
"Your Highness is kind—we thank you for saving our daughter." Shen Xin replied.
The maid sidestepped his bow. "Cannot accept General's courtesy. Person delivered—I go." She signaled guards—turning, remembered, came to Shen Miao: "Her Highness favors Fifth Miss Shen—today was rushed. Before leaving she said: when Fifth Miss has time, visit the manor often—Her Highness will welcome you well." Then left with carriage and escort.
Rongxin favors Shen Miao? Invites visits?
The family at the gate, stunned by the last words. Yue nearly shredded her handkerchief—she knew Rongxin, knew how cold. What witchcraft had Shen Miao used—Rongxin impressed—royal connection—path to Prince Ding?
Yue truly panicked.
Dongling's gaze shifted. Wan murmured envious: "Fifth Miss is lucky—that's a princess."
Yuan snorted, turned away without another look at the gate. Shen Miao smiled at the family. "Tonight worried everyone."
Light words—Shen Xin and Luo Xueyan remembered the hall's faces; theirs darkened. Disaster averted—disappointment everywhere; Old Madam scolded Shen Miao; excuses to disperse.
Walking west with Qiu, seeing their ugly moods, Shen Miao understood.
She had deliberately delayed telling the Shen house her whereabouts—hard times reveal true hearts, false ones too. Shen Xin would not turn on the family overnight—as she had not abandoned Fu Xiuyi until the last moment last life. Feelings given cannot be recalled in one night—time yet needed for Shen Xin to see clearly.
Perfect moment to show him: wolves in this house. While still in the estate, fallen Shen Miao drew stones; when Shen Xin was away in the capital, what she suffered—he was not fool enough to miss.
West wing: Shen Xin and Luo Xueyan questioned the night's events, confirmed her safe, told her rest, left—Qiu with them—clearly to confer.
Alone, Shen Miao rolled up her trouser leg. Calf bound in clean white gauze—still seemed to hold someone's palm-warmth.
A night of accidents—yet she knew Xie Jingxing one layer deeper. The more she knew an opponent, the more dangerous he felt. Hereafter—best keep distance.
……
East wing—Yuan sat, face dark.
Since Ren Wanyun's madness he rarely visited her; distance from Shen Gui—he was never sentimental; he killed his own sister—interest ruled.
Tonight he thought Shen Miao doomed—yet she returned whole and tied to the princess manor. Danger prickled. A strong opponent alone is not fearsome—one who keeps growing is.
From bullied rough girl to someone none could dismiss—deep, ruthless—even rigid Rongxin won over. If she sought greater patrons, more allies—would she come for him next?
Making a girl his rival shamed a proud man like Yuan. Yet he had to admit—this newly of-age child had reduced second branch to this. Yuan never left loose ends; Shen Miao would not forgive second branch—the spear would find him someday.
Shen Miao alone was manageable—not Shen Xin and Luo Xueyan behind her. Caution required—but Yuan looked at the letter in his hand and smiled suddenly.
First branch's military power meant nothing without heirs. Break Shen Miao and Shen Qiu—would Shen Xin and Luo Xueyan go mad like Ren Wanyun?