A Willing Mistake, My Lady – Chapter 18

The Strange Horse

When It’s Inconvenient to Live Together

When the crimson embroidered feather satin cloak was brought out, Jiang Chenyu ran her fingers admiringly over the white fur edging the hood and hem, then examined the exquisite embroidery at the border. The deep red, floor-length cloak was cut more generously than ordinary wraps—it draped loosely around her, elegant and mysterious just to look at.

            

“This is too beautiful. I love it. Is it fox fur?” She had many garments, but not a single fox fur coat—and such things couldn’t be bought easily even with money.

“Turn it over and see.” The red satin was merely the lining. The real treasure was the tiger skin—why hide something so rare? But the black-and-white tiger hide would have been too ostentatious, so it had been made into a reversible cloak.

Shen Hetang draped the tiger skin cloak¹ directly over Jiang Chenyu’s shoulders. The lovely young woman was instantly transformed—regal, almost divine, with an ethereal quality. A cloak made from the King of Beasts was rare enough in all the Great Qian Dynasty; the effect was stunning and bold.

            

“What kind of pelt is this? I’ve never seen this pattern before, but it’s certainly luxurious.” She stroked the glossy, smooth surface with delight.

“Guess.” Shen Hetang narrowed her phoenix eyes, curious what reaction she’d get when Jiang Chenyu learned it was tiger skin.

“How is it striped like this? Mink, sable, neither looks like this—and it’s definitely not fox. What is it?” She’d never worn furs, but she’d studied them, and this pattern was unfamiliar.

            

“It couldn’t be… that dachong²?” She suddenly remembered people’s descriptions of the great tiger. Her hands gripped Shen Hetang’s arm tightly, eyes going wide.

“It’s just the skin now—what are you afraid of? Besides, the old tailor treated it thoroughly, sun-dried and perfumed it with meticulous workmanship. It has nothing to do with that tiger anymore. They say tiger skin can ward off evil spirits and cure illness—it’s an extremely rare and precious thing. Keep it. You look beautiful wearing it.”

“Does it really look good on me?” Jiang Chenyu asked, tilting her chin up slightly, still fighting her fear.

            

So she hadn’t listened to any of that—just remembered the one compliment.

“Like a fairy descending to earth.” Shen Hetang praised her without stinting. She seemed to have discovered the joy of dressing up a doll.

“Then when will the incomparable Lord Shen deign to feel some mortal desire?” At his praise, Jiang Chenyu’s beautiful eyes glinted, her voice soft and sultry, her gaze carrying a hint of aggression.

            

“Heh… this… let nature take its course.” She hadn’t expected the conversation to turn back on herself. She pulled her arm free and answered awkwardly. Their current relationship was like the Spider Spirit and Tang Seng—one tangling, the other fleeing. But Tang Seng at least had hope, while she feared she’d be trapped in the spider’s web without even realizing it, like a frog slowly boiled in warm water.

Unlike the tangled situation here, the neighboring courtyard was like a withered tree meeting spring³—their days sweet as oil blended with honey⁴. Wu Daoyuan not only kept the aging widow happy, he treated his stepdaughter with warm affection. Whatever good things her mother received, the stepdaughter got a share too—and even things her mother didn’t have, Li Qingmei managed to obtain.

Neither mother nor daughter had ever seen such treatment. They thought they’d fallen into a nest of blessings. Within half a month, they obeyed Wu Daoyuan’s every word. Only one thing made Li Qingmei uncomfortable: her bedroom shared a wall with Wu Daoyuan’s.

            

The house had originally been a modest two-courtyard Jiang family residence. The main hall was divided into east and west sections because Old Master Jiang had bought two adjacent properties and combined them. He’d thought one too small, so he’d purchased the neighboring lot and knocked through the connecting wall. He’d originally intended the other side for his daughter.

After his daughter had taken a matrilocal husband, his granddaughter had lived with the elderly couple in the east wing. When the estate was divided, half went to Jiang Chenyu. Wu Daoyuan, claiming his bedroom wasn’t ready, had installed Li Qingmei in a side chamber directly behind his own—separated from her mother and stepfather’s bed by only a wall. The room was beautiful and luxurious, and at first she was satisfied. But within two days she grew uncomfortable. She was a grown young woman now; she understood certain things. Every night, the sounds from the next room were unbearable—and they went on for ages before finally stopping. It was mortifying, and they robbed her of sleep.

That widow Li was at the age where women were said to be “thirty, like a Wolf.” Though Wu Daoyuan had behaved himself in Qingyuan Town, he’d frequented his share of pleasure houses elsewhere and had mastered all manner of techniques. Even if his own abilities were ordinary, he knew how to employ various implements to ensure satisfaction—which suited widow Li’s appetites perfectly. When passion seized her, she forgot all about her daughter in the next room. Wu Daoyuan was only too happy to let her have her way. Thinking of that face just one wall away—the face that so resembled Jiang Chenyu’s—he enjoyed taking his time. Sooner or later, she would fall into his trap, and then who would bother with this aging widow?

            

For Li Qingmei, the image of her steady, upright stepfather was slowly blurring, becoming something else entirely. When he bought her hairpins and jewelry, he seemed like a beast that had sheathed its fangs—and that made her uncomfortable. But she couldn’t refuse gold and gems, so she accepted them meekly, even when his hands wandered where they shouldn’t.

She’d mentioned to her mother that her stepfather sometimes touched her face and hands. Her mother said it was just paternal affection—he was treating her like his own child. Later, when she noticed her stepfather giving her gifts her mother didn’t receive, her mother’s expression soured, and she gave Li Qingmei the cold shoulder.

Occasionally Li Qingmei thought of that striking young man she’d seen the day they arrived. She’d wanted to go next door several times to see what he was doing.

            

But remembering that he was already married—and to Jiang Chenyu, no less—made her uncomfortable. Envy and jealousy tangled together. If only I could marry brother-in-law too, she thought. I’d be willing to serve him alongside Older Sister.

Shen Hetang had no idea she’d become the object of someone’s fixation. Every day, the soups and stews the household fed her put a little more flesh on her face, softening her once-sharp features. This body had clearly suffered—on the first day of her period, the pain was so severe she couldn’t straighten her spine, her forehead breaking out in cold sweat. At the Yamen⁵ she could tough it out, but once home she’d collapse on her bed and not lift her head.

Her menstrual pads⁶ were something she’d secretly changed into women’s clothing to commission from an old woman. The woman assumed she simply wasn’t skilled at needlework—and why question it when there was silver to be made from such easy work? Shen Hetang had arranged to pick up a new supply every three months. Two taels per batch for cotton-filled pads, and the woman agreed readily—after costs, she’d still clear more than a tael. For a solitary old widow, earning a tael and a half over three months was like a dream. She practically worshipped Shen Hetang as a god of wealth. Since being unskilled at needlework was embarrassing, Shen Hetang had asked her to keep it secret, and the woman naturally agreed.

            

Whenever her period came, Shen Hetang used official business as an excuse to stay in the study for two days. She genuinely feared an accident at night—that would be more than just mortifying. But even hiding in the study, Jiang Chenyu would notice her pale face and personally cook soup and porridge for her.

“Your forehead is so cold. You shouldn’t be working here—go back and rest,” Jiang Chenyu said, pressing the back of her hand to Shen Hetang’s forehead, worried.

“It’s nothing. An old ailment—some hot water and I’ll be fine. It’s the end of the month, and there are old case files to organize. Can’t be delayed. You go rest first. I’ll come back to sleep in two days, all right?” Having someone care for her felt wonderful, but this person really couldn’t stay here.

            

“You’re just a lowly bailiff—why are you reading case files? Are they pushing their work onto you?” She ladled the ginseng chicken soup into a small white porcelain bowl and pushed it in front of Shen Hetang.

“So worried I’m being bullied? Relax—I’ve made my way inside the Yamen now. I get along with them well enough. Besides, I’m young; I should learn more skills. If I get promoted and become an official, won’t you become an official’s wife⁷?” Shen Hetang’s lips were naturally red, and against her pale face they drew the eye. Her slightly furrowed brow and relaxed smile made her look like the seductive spirits in storybooks, come to steal men’s souls.

“Who wants to be an official’s wife? I think you’d better manage your own health first.” Though Jiang Chenyu was sometimes forward, that was only when Shen Hetang was avoiding her. When she was the one being teased, she crumbled. She turned and returned to her room, afraid that staying longer would make Shen Hetang notice her pink ears.

            

Once she left, Shen Hetang stopped pretending. She bolted the door, drank the soup, and curled up in bed clutching a water skin⁸ filled with hot water, thinking that if she fell asleep quickly, tomorrow would be much better. She could sense the original body’s daily habits and absorb its martial arts—see, she’d said there was no such thing as a free advantage. The side effects came along with it.

In three days would be the Flower Lantern Festival⁹. Jiang Chenyu had made plans with Ah Tang to see the lanterns and release them on the Qingyuan River¹⁰. She’d spent the past two days preparing clothes and transportation. This was her first outing with Ah Tang—and one of her rare chances to leave the house. She’d been happy ever since learning she could go. After growing into a beautiful young woman, she’d rarely gone out, and never wanted to go anywhere with Wu Daoyuan.

But when the estate was divided, she’d forgotten to ask for a carriage. Busy with the shop’s account books, she’d overlooked the need for a vehicle. Now it was too late to find one. But Chuntao dealt with people outside often—she’d managed to find a black horse, coat glossy, temperament stubborn, eyes fierce and murderous. Especially striking was the irregular patch of snow-white on its forehead.

            

“Chuntao, where did this black horse come from?” Shen Hetang looked at the horse with its world-weary expression and cold, handsome face—and fell in love at first sight. She’d never seen a horse with such well-proportioned features, eyes that could cut a person down with a single look.

Before Xiao Tao could answer, the black horse reared like it had gone mad, forelegs churning the air. Its mane stood on end. It bared its teeth and looked down at Shen Hetang—but its eyes looked utterly aggrieved.

Shen Hetang quickly pulled Jiang Chenyu and Chuntao back. She’d wanted to kick the beast a few times, but she genuinely liked this horse. And the way it looked at her… she couldn’t bring herself to strike. Her feelings were strangely complicated.

            

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