A Willing Mistake, My Lady – Chapter 16

A Fleeting Glimpse

Shen Hetang Pressured to Drink

The maiden, fresh and tender as a water scallion, was dressed in festive colors. Her pretty face bore four or five parts’ resemblance to Jiang Chenyu—especially her eyes, which were also peach blossom eyes¹. But the similarity ended there. Her complexion fell far short of Jiang Chenyu’s porcelain-pink radiance, and her every gesture was far more unrestrained, giving the impression of a lively, curious temperament. Jiang Chenyu’s eyes, by contrast, seemed to peer straight into one’s heart, possessed of an unconscious, bewitching allure—any more pronounced and they would be the eyes of a born enchantress.

            

Standing beside Jiang Chenyu, Shen Hetang noticed the resemblance too. Compared to Chenyu, the girl was certainly a pretty girl from a humble home²—but put her in the same frame as Chenyu, and she would be utterly outshone.

As the son-in-law, Shen Hetang naturally couldn’t escape being pressed to drink. The male relatives, young and old, some clearly resentful that she had landed such a bargain, all came forward to toast her.

“Today’s main character is my father-in-law. How could this one behave so improperly? Two cups will suffice.” Shen Hetang pushed back helplessly. She had never been much of a drinker—why should she sacrifice herself for Wu Daoyuan’s sake?

            

“Brother Shen, that’s where you’re wrong.” One cousin—some distant relation who would need an eight-foot pole just to reach—looked at Shen Hetang, the matrilocal husband who had married into the Jiang family, with eyes nearly green with envy. “You whisked away our Jiang family’s precious pearl without a sound. You have to accept a cup from us cousins. Or is it that now you’ve become a bailiff and killed a tiger, you look down on us common folk?”

“What kind of talk is that, Cousin? Today is the first time I’ve met all our relatives—where would this ‘looking down’ come from? Besides, looking at all you cousins, every one of you cuts a fine figure. This little brother can only look up to you.” The words stung a little—in this whole circle, there weren’t two who had made anything of themselves.

“If you don’t look down on us, then drink this round, eh?” The man wouldn’t let it go.

            

“Fine. Today I’ll drink a round with everyone, for the sake of festivity.” In her heart, she wanted to beat this troublemaker to death. She had made note of him.

This round—old and young, eight people in all—each holding a cup of over two taels. She made it through a full circle, coaxed and bullied along the way, estimating she had downed over a jin of liquor. But to her surprise, she didn’t feel like collapsing. At most, she felt a bit warm. As long as she didn’t make a scene in public, everything would be fine.

Wu Daoyuan was also entertaining friends from his business circles. Jiang Chenyu sat at the women’s table, so Shen Hetang headed toward a covered corridor to clear her head a little.

            

Li Qingmei had been sitting in her mother’s new room for a while, curious about the outside, but as an unmarried girl, she couldn’t exactly sit at the banquet with the other female guests. Besides, her status was awkward. She thought she would wander around a bit.

Spotting a covered corridor not far away, bursting with blooming roses³, she was instantly drawn to that sea of pink flowers. Excited, she hurried to the corridor—before she could even reach for a blossom, her soul was stolen by the young gentleman sitting against the railing below.

She had never seen such a handsome man. He hadn’t even opened his eyes. A breeze scattered a few strands of his hair, draping them over his closed lids, only to be caught by those long, dark lashes and left to slant across that jade-like face. Good heavens—who was this? When she had entered earlier, everything had been a blur; she hadn’t noticed him at all.

            

Shen Hetang had only been resting with her eyes closed for a moment when she felt someone staring at her. She rubbed her forehead and slowly opened her eyes to find that little bonus staring straight at her.

“Miss, is there something you need?” she asked, puzzled.

“No, no—I just wandered over here.” He had suddenly spoken to her, and she was nervous as could be.

            

“Then please, carry on.” Shen Hetang closed her eyes again after speaking, turning slightly away.

“Young Master, have you had too much to drink? Let me find you a pear or two to sober up.” She ran off as she spoke.

“No need.” Shen Hetang’s refusal came too late—she didn’t hear it.

            

Before long, Jiang Chenyu, who had been searching the whole courtyard, found Shen Hetang beneath the corridor. She went straight to check on him. Seeing her husband being plied with alcohol, she had been cursing those men in her heart for some time.

Remembering the few lychees she had secretly kept in her purse, she peeled one and brought it to Shen Hetang’s lips.

“How is it? Sweet?”

            

“Sweet.” She was a little dizzy now, leaning against Jiang Chenyu’s shoulder. The clear, sweet juice of the lychee washed away what little smell of alcohol remained.

“Do you want more?”

“Yes.”

            

Jiang Chenyu found a drunk Shen Hetang wonderfully obedient—no longer pushing her away at every turn, only saying “yes.” A quiet pleasure showed between her brows as she pitted the lychees and continued feeding him.

A young woman came running from not far away. Jiang Chenyu looked up—it was that stepmother’s daughter, holding a pear, staring blankly at her and Shen Hetang.

“So this is Older Sister?” Seeing Jiang Chenyu, she remembered her mother mentioning that her stepfather’s household had an older sister, a beauty who was already married. Now that they had come to the Wu household, they would be the only mistress and young miss.

            

“So it’s Little Sister. You really are quite pretty.” She had no particular grudge against this mother and daughter—they were strangers to her, nothing more.

“Older Sister flatters me. How could I compare to your beauty? But this is…?” Standing before Jiang Chenyu, she had enough self-awareness to know the difference. Older Sister’s air was entirely that of someone raised on gold and silver. Now that she counted as a young lady from a wealthy family, she believed that given time, she would catch up—becoming just as radiant and lovely.

But looking at the young master leaning against Jiang Chenyu, she felt a small pang of loss.

            

“He is my husband. You can also call him brother-in-law.” As a woman herself, how could she not understand the impact Shen Hetang’s face could have on a young girl? Looking at what the girl held—had she already encountered Shen Hetang just now? Seeing her husband, who hadn’t even lifted his head, she felt an inexplicable sense of satisfaction.

“Brother-in-law?” The girl’s eyes showed obvious disappointment, but then she brightened again. “Then can I come find Older Sister to chat later?”

“I like my peace. I don’t like being disturbed. It wouldn’t be convenient for Little Sister to visit.” This person had a way of taking liberties—better to make things clear early.

            

“I see. All right then.” Hearing Jiang Chenyu’s refusal, she replied dejectedly.

“Husband, let me help you home.” She helped Shen Hetang to her feet and headed toward the door.

Shen Hetang only had a bit of a headache and didn’t want to talk. Hearing they could go home, she obediently stood up, took her wife’s arm, and returned to their own courtyard. Right now, all she wanted was a bath, then to crawl into the big bed, draw the curtains, and sleep.

            

“Can you bathe by yourself like this?”

“What—does my wife want to help me wash?” She looked at her sidelong.

“Who wants to help you wash? I’m just reminding you not to fall asleep in the tub.” He rarely joked like this, putting on the air of a dissolute young gentleman—her heart nearly skipped a beat.

            

Steam filled the bathing room. Shen Hetang sat in the tub wearing thin sleeping clothes, the front hanging open. Beneath the fabric, her collarbone ran straight and true, her exposed skin luminous white, nearly reflective. The soaked cloth clung casually to her body, tracing the contours beneath with intimate clarity, while the lines of her lower abdomen stood out in sharp relief. After washing her hair, she bound it back up, wrapping a cloth around the bun to keep out the damp, then leaned her head back and soaked in the warm water.

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