Page 18 of The Scholar's Improper Wife

“Third Maiden,” Chun-xi called through the door. “Lady Shen requests your presence in the eastern chamber.”

Real life, it seemed, had finally caught up with her.

Two hours later, Yun-si sat cross-legged on the floor, surrounded by household account books again. Her mother had declared it was time she handled some of the household accounts and learn proper household management—“You can’t hide behind books forever.”

Yun-si stared blankly at columns of numbers that refused to make sense. Rice. Oil. Cloth. Servants’ wages. The characters swam before her eyes, her mind drifting back to water-slicked skin and strong arms around her waist.

“You’re holding that upside down.”

Yun-si started so violently she dropped the book. Her elder brother stood in the doorway, amusement playing at the corners of his mouth.

“Big brother! I didn’t hear you come in.” She quickly righted the account book and stood up, hastily rearranging her skirts to a semblance ofpropriety.

He entered with measured steps, the perfect picture of scholarly grace. “Mother mentioned you’ve been sequestered here for the past few weeks. The household accounts must be truly fascinating.”

“Eldest sister used to make it seem so easy...” Yun-si said wistfully, “What brings you here, Big brother?”

Yun-shan’s composed expression cracked, revealing an uncharacteristic discomfort. He clasped his hands behind his back, then dropped them to his sides. “Sister, I need your help.”

Yun-si blinked. Her impeccable and formidable elder brother, heir of Shen Clan—needing help? From her? The third daughter whose greatest accomplishment was sitting through banquets without uttering a single word?

“Of course,” she answered immediately, curiosity burning away her own embarrassment.

They walked serenely through the garden paths, as if it was another perfectly normal day. Snow had fallen that morning, and the garden was frosted in white. Yun-si touched her cheeks, cool. Checked her pulse, normal, definitely not strumming like a crazy doe. She looked at the distance between her real brother and her, wide, wide enough to stuff a real doe inside. And sigh.

When they reached the man-made stone hill that shielded his Clear Mountain Lodge from view, he paused.

“What I’m about to show you—” He inhaled sharply. “I request your utmost discretion.”

“Big brother, you’re frightening me.”

“It’s not dangerous. Well—” He hesitated. “Not exactly.”

Beyond the gate, Yun-shan’s quarters stood in peaceful solitude. He opened the door gently, glancing over his shoulder once before ushering her inside.

Yun-si had barely crossed the threshold when she saw her—a young woman, ghost-pale, sitting cross-legged on Yun-shan’s bed, sharpening a dagger. She wore men’s clothing, had her hair tied in a simple knot, and sported a bruise on her cheek.

“You brought someone?” The woman raised her dagger. Despite her defensive posture, Yun-si could see she favored her left side, her right arm bandaged beneath her sleeve.

“My sister,” Yun-shan explained quickly. “She can help.”

Yun-si stood frozen, mouth agape. Her proper, rule-abiding elder brother was hiding a woman in his rooms. A woman with weapons. A woman not much older than herself.

“This is Lu Qing-he,” Yun-shan said. “She needs a safe place.”

Qing-he lowered her blade but remained tense.

“You’re a—” Yun-si whispered.

“Swordswoman.” Qing-he finished, sheathing her dagger with a practiced motion.

The awkward silence that followed was broken by Yun-shan clearing his throat. “I will... leave you both here to sort out... what Qing-he needs.” He made a swift exit, shutting the door a little too hastily behind him.

Left alone, the two women stared at each other.

“What—” There were so many questions in Yun-si’s head that she didn’t even know what to ask.

“I—” Qing-he started at the same time.