A Willing Mistake, My Lady – Chapter 80
by Little PandaPleasures of the Bedchamber
Handling a Long-standing Problem
The lamp extinguished, the stars in the night sky flickered, brightening and dimming.
Shen Hetang lay there in a daze for a while. Even through the quilt, she could smell the fresh, faintly sweet fragrance on Jiang Chenyu’s body.
She could hear the faint sound of breathing beside her ear. When Shen Hetang closed her eyes, she could recall how Jiang Chenyu had covered her chest with a strip of cloth before extinguishing the lamp. She’d thought there might be some titillating proceedings to follow, but who knew that after seducing her, Jiang Chenyu had simply fallen asleep with perfect peace of mind.
Resigned, she could only watch the faint glow outside through the carved wooden lattice, taking a long while before she, too, unwillingly drifted off to sleep.
In the night, there was a rustling stir beneath the bedding.
Jiang Chenyu was woken by an indescribable, faint ache.
She felt a damp patch on her silky belly band, accompanied by waves of forceful tension.
Still adjusting, she half-opened her bleary eyes, her mind not yet catching up—yet the vivid sensation made her sensitive body respond before her brain could.
Her pink lips parted slightly, and broken, lingering sounds scattered one by one through the quiet night, until the tip of her heart itched unbearably. She tried to raise her hands to push away the culprit, only to find her wrists pinned firmly at her sides, unable to move.
Only then did she open her slightly moist eyes and glance around the pitch-dark room.
“Ah Tang?” Her beautiful voice, as if steeped in a summer river, carried a damp, rounded softness.
But no one answered her. The undulation beneath the quilt shifted direction and intensified its assault, making her fingers clench tightly into the bedding she could reach.
Jiang Chenyu grew tense at hearing no response from Ah Tang. Fine beads of sweat formed on her forehead, stray strands of hair clinging to her brow and cheeks. She panted softly, enduring in silence, while inwardly blaming her tormentor—why focus the assault on one spot?
“Ah Tang?” she called again softly, her waist twisting back and forth in resistance.
But the person beneath the quilt still didn’t reply. She struggled to sit up, only to be pressed back down with one firm shove.
Suddenly her hands were released. Before she could say anything, she felt cool liquid glide along her waist and settle between her thighs.
“What is this? Cold and slippery?” She started at the chill and asked in a low voice.
“My wife has worked hard today. Let me help you relax. It’s an essential oil for conditioning the body, with added beautifying effects.” Her voice came through the quilt, hazy and indistinct.
The cool liquid, under constant motion, quickly changed temperature—becoming almost burning hot, rising within her body section by section like fireworks.
Callused fingertips and slightly rough palms, made slick by the oily liquid, felt all the more vivid and clear.
Flames trailed along those slender fingers, all the way to the tip of her heart. Amid ragged breaths and low moans, she felt herself gasping open-mouthed, like a fish flung onto the shore, dying of thirst—struggling desperately but finding no relief.
On her exposed neck, crystal beads of sweat wet the skin one by one. After the hurried, alluring sounds subsided, she lay there as if drained of all vitality, spent and lewd/wanton, her mind a blank.
Shen Hetang, as if genuinely performing a massage, spread the slick liquid outward from the center. The lingering warmth of the brazier was still present, and before long, she could no longer stay hidden beneath the covers.
She lifted the quilt and lit the candle stand. Her hair hung loose, and she wore a white sleeping robe with loosened ties, spots of oil staining the fabric.
Jiang Chenyu shot her a weak glance, silently cursing her as a tormenting vixen. It was the middle of the night—hadn’t she just been teasing her? Did she really need to take such revenge?
The residual heat in her body hadn’t yet faded, and she had no idea what she’d been rubbed with.
“Where did you get this stuff?” she asked with a coy pout after a long moment.
“How does it feel? Someone gave it to me. They said that using it makes you look seven or eight years younger than women your age.” Shen Hetang’s eyes were bright and gentle, shimmering like ripples on water.
“I’m only eighteen right now. Eight years younger? Are you trying to turn me into a ten-year-old?” Having regained her strength, Jiang Chenyu widened her peach-blossom eyes and glared at her.
“That’s not what I meant. It means it helps preserve your current looks, so that when you stand beside other ladies and madams your age in the future, they’ll look like your elders.” Shen Hetang smiled, her teeth still white in the dim candlelight.
“Heh, nonsense. I don’t believe it’s that miraculous.” Jiang Chenyu laughed with a trembling, coy lilt.
“Whether it works or not, we’ll find out by trying. There’s still half a bottle—let’s not waste it.” Saying so, she pulled open the red cloth at her chest and resumed her work as a masseuse.
“Hey, hey… stop!” Jiang Chenyu blocked with both hands, turning sideways to dodge, twisting her waistline, her upper body somehow both slender and full.
Shen Hetang seemed not to hear, her gaze warm as it fell on that alluring waistline. She pulled off the inner robe, knelt, and pressed close.
She poured the remaining half-bottle of liquid onto a flat, soft belly, spreading it upward with her hands. The exquisite slickness, the rich texture beneath her palms—she couldn’t get enough, tracing circles back and forth as if with a toy she couldn’t put down, or like tofu in her hands, free to knead and shape at will.
Jiang Chenyu’s already beautiful face flushed pink, her delicate brows knit tight, long lashes trembling—lovelier than peach blossoms in spring. And where their bodies pressed together, it was like teasing, like grinding.
Murmuring spring waters, wanton blossoms in bloom.1
After a long while, the skin had fully absorbed the faintly floral-scented oil, and Jiang Chenyu, like a red rose blooming to its utmost2, had opened to the fullest, without a single ounce of strength left.
Shen Hetang leaned over her, noticed the dryness at the corners of her lips, and kissed her with tenderness—moistening little by little, enveloping, deepening.
Jiang Chenyu responded with helpless abandon. She swore she’d never eat vinegar3 again, never tease her again—it could truly be the death of her.
The next day, recalling the intelligence she had gathered the previous day, Jiang Chenyu presented Shen Hetang with three candidates.
The first was Madam Gu’s younger half-sister from her natal family. Though not from an official’s household, she was a royal merchant4, from a well-off family with a simple household. Madam Gu’s natal family had only two daughters—Madam Gu herself and the half-sister—and one son, still young.
This candidate’s greatest advantage was tying Shen Hetang to the Left Prime Minister on the same boat, but not too directly. Left Prime Minister Gu Mingzhao was thirty-five this year, and Madam Gu was his second wife5.
And he had always been a neutral faction in court, making it difficult to get him to take a stand, so this was only a backup option.
The second was the legitimate daughter6 of a fifth-rank scholar’s family. On the surface, they didn’t participate in court politics, but had a good reputation—four sons and one daughter.
The third was the niece of the Vice-Minister of Rites. Although the Vice-Minister of Rites held a third-rank position, his younger brother—the girl’s father—was only a sixth-rank sinecure. But the family had not yet divided the household, so by and large, they were considered one family.
Hearing this, Shen Hetang scratched her head. At first glance, all three options seemed to weigh about the same7.
But the Left Prime Minister’s sister-in-law was undoubtedly the most advantageous. If they wanted a peaceful match, the scholar’s legitimate daughter was also fine. And this last one, the Vice-Minister of Rites’ relative, was also suitable for Shen Yunjie.
“Time is tight and the task is heavy, so I only looked into these three families with marriageable daughters. I didn’t inquire further. Besides, Madam Gu seems open and forthright, rather direct in speech. I don’t think Lord Gu would necessarily be unwilling to become brothers-in-law8 with us.” Jiang Chenyu spoke while peeling an orange for Shen Hetang.
“Prime Minister Gu is cautious and careful. I don’t think he’d necessarily want to form a marriage tie with us.” The sweet-tart juice burst in her mouth—getting fresh oranges this time of year wasn’t easy.
“Then I’ll go inquire about these girls’ appearances and temperaments.” Jiang Chenyu peeled another segment and fed it to her.
“I think that’s a good plan. Go find out about the girls’ looks and personalities first. After all, whoever comes through the door will have to deal with you. If you two don’t get along, how chaotic would the Shen Manor be? Having Madam Shen and Madam Ru is already headache enough!” The mere thought of four women arguing around a table was enough to give the household indigestion!
“Why would I argue with anyone? Without realizing it, have I become a tigress9 in your heart?” Jiang Chenyu’s focus was a little unusual.
“Tigress? How could that be? If anything, it’d be a rouge tiger10. My wife is so beautiful and tender—how could she be a tigress?” Shen Hetang smiled, tracing the floral pattern on her clothing.
“Not even a rouge tiger. Hmph!” Jiang Chenyu lifted her chin in rebuttal.
The matter of finding a wife for her brother went fairly smoothly. After much deliberation, they decided not to alert the Gu family prematurely, and chose the Vice-Minister of Rites’ niece.
Although Concubine Ru looked down on the daughters of sixth- or seventh-rank officials, Shen Yunjie currently held no official position himself, so families of higher standing certainly wouldn’t look favorably on him. Moreover, the Vice-Minister of Rites was a proper third-rank high official—this wasn’t the same as an ordinary sixth- or seventh-rank official’s daughter.
If they could live peacefully in the future, that would be enough. As for the family with four older brothers—she really felt nervous for Shen Yunjie’s sake. Better pass on that one!
Hearing that the girl was delicate and pretty, Shen Yunjie readily agreed. When Concubine Ru first heard it was the daughter of a sixth-rank official, she appeared distinctly uninterested. But upon learning that the girl had a third-rank uncle who lived under the same roof, her expression improved somewhat.
In the end, she adjusted her attitude before her son’s wedding banquet and showed up with a smile to welcome the new bride.
Seeing Shen Hetang handle Shen Yunjie’s wedding so efficiently, the eldest, Shen Yunshu, was delighted. She thought to herself that she finally wouldn’t have to lift a finger—they had a successor to manage the household!
Madam Ru took out years of her personal savings to add to the betrothal gifts, and Madam Shen also contributed a share on behalf of the late master.
In marrying the Vice-Minister of Rites’ niece, even if one disregarded the father’s modest status, one had to respect the uncle’s face11. The betrothal gifts naturally couldn’t be slighted.
Still, it was the standard sixty-four lifts12, prepared at half the scale of Shen Hetang’s own wedding. But the contents were practical. Beyond the ladies’ contributions, Shen Hetang and Shen Yunshu naturally showed their support as well. As they say, the youngest child is always the luckiest—before standing on his own, the older siblings above would always lend a hand.
Though their feelings toward Shen Yunjie were only so-so, remembering that he was their father’s son, with the duty of carrying on the family line, they couldn’t help but feel a twinge of guilt.
Fortunately, everything that needed arranging was now settled. Give it a couple more years, let him have a child or two, and the Shen sisters could truly let themselves go free.
Thinking of it that way, they really ought to treat him a little better…!
Lately, joyful events at the Shen Manor had been coming one after another. Masters and servants alike wore smiles, the whole household brimming with festive cheer.
Zhang-biaomei13 had been taken back to her family last month. Despite her extreme reluctance, she was still taken away—they said her aunt had found her a match in a cousin’s nephew. The very idea had made her balk a hundred times over, but marriages were decided by parents’ decree and matchmakers’ words14. As long as her father agreed, even if she were the stubbornest mule, she’d have to obey.
As it happened, the Shen family had been busy with Shen Yunjie’s wedding during this time, so no one paid her any attention. With no other choice, she followed the servants who’d come to fetch her back to the Zhang residence…!
On the second day after the wedding, everyone saw the new bride’s face—a delicate, fair-skinned girl with a reserved and quiet disposition.
Madam Shen, unlike Concubine Ru, didn’t resort to giving some shabby meeting gift. Instead, she presented the new daughter-in-law with a pair of mutton-fat jade bracelets and a set of red-gold hair ornaments.
Only now did she feel that her resentment and guilt toward the late master, her disgust and hostility toward Concubine Ru—all of it had gradually faded quite a bit as the children grew up. The only unfairness was toward her Ah Tang.
Madam Shen’s gaze swept briefly over Shen Hetang, carrying a faint trace of apology.
Only to see her exchanging amorous glances with that “wife” of hers, looking very intimate indeed.
Footnotes
- A poetic euphemism for sexual arousal and intimate lovemaking. 'Spring water' (chun shui) is a classical Chinese literary metaphor for a woman's desire.
- 'Blooming to the tumi' refers to the roseleaf bramble (tumi), the last flower to bloom in late spring in Chinese poetry. The phrase signifies reaching the absolute peak of blooming—the final, most extravagant flourish before the season ends.
- A classic Chinese colloquialism where 'eating vinegar' represents romantic jealousy, originating from a Tang dynasty historical anecdote about a jealous empress.
- A merchant officially licensed by the imperial court to trade on its behalf, combining commercial wealth with semi-official status.
- Literally 'continue the string,' a cultural term for a second wife married after the death of the first wife, holding full legal status as a principal wife.
- The daughter of a man's principal wife, as opposed to daughters of concubines. She holds higher social and legal standing in the household.
- A colloquial Chinese saying meaning 'carrying on the back or holding in the arms, the weight is the same'—all options are equally matched.
- A Chinese kinship term for two men married to sisters, making them brothers-in-law through their wives.
- Literally 'tigress,' a common Chinese colloquial term for a fierce, domineering, or sharp-tongued wife.
- Literally 'rouge tiger,' a classical Chinese term for a beautiful but formidable and domineering wife, combining the alluring connotations of rouge (cosmetics) with the fierceness of a tiger.
- A Buddhist-derived Chinese idiom: 'if not for the monk's sake, then for the Buddha's sake,' meaning one shows respect not for the person themselves but for the more important figure behind them.
- A unit for counting dowry chests or ceremonial gifts, each carried on poles by two bearers. Sixty-four was a respectable but not extravagant number.
- A pinyin kinship term for a younger female cousin on the paternal side, formed from biao (cousin) and mei (younger sister).
- The foundational principle of traditional Chinese marriage: unions are arranged by parental authority and mediated by professional matchmakers, not by the couple's own choice.
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