Page 24 of The Scholar's Improper Wife

“I would like...” She swallowed. “I would like to try being heroically rescued.”

“Heroically rescued,” he repeated slowly. “From what, exactly?”

“Just...” she muttered into her shoes, “...that classic heroine rescue where the hero swoops her up.”

Ting-zhi blinked.

Of all the mortifying, elaborate scenarios he’d braced himself for—another underwater disaster, perhaps, or heavens forbid, a trip to the courtesan house with her—this was almost... wholesome.

Almost.

Ting-zhi glanced toward the latticed windows where morning light filtered through. Footsteps echoed somewhere beyond the shelves. “Not here,” he said, lowering his voice. “Someone might come here looking for exam texts.”

Yun-si frowned. “Then where?”

“Bamboo Heart Abode.” He stood, gathering the pages. “We can do it in the private courtyard next to my rooms. No interruptions.”

Her ears heated up. “Your,yourrooms?”

“Unless you’d prefer an audience when you start dramatically collapsing.” He tucked her manuscript inside his sleeve. “We can reenact your rescue scene properly there.”

She bit her lower lip and hesitated, but the urge to write something that felt right won. “Fine. But if anyone asks—”

“You’re consulting me on classical poetry references.” He smiled, the gleam of mischief back.

TING-ZHI LED YUN-SIover the stone bridge and away from the clan school’s main courtyard, then turned down a winding stone path through the bamboo forest at the corner of the school. Sunlight filtered through in broken shafts, dappling the stones beneath their feet.

Ahead, a rustic bamboo gate appeared. A wooden sign carved in masterful calligraphy readBamboo Heart Abodehung above the gate, a constant reminder that a gentleman’s morals should be as straight and unbending as the bamboo. This two-courtyard residence was where he grew up.

The compound sat quiet in the morning light, with only the rustle of bamboo in the wind breaking the silence. Ting-zhi nudged the gate open, scanning the empty space. Father should be lecturing at this hour, Wen-xin was having classes. The servants wouldn’t enter the private quarters until late afternoon to prepare dinner.

Perfect.

He walked her through to the inner courtyard. “My bedroom is still the same one, but the antechamber is now Wen-xin’s room. I’ve moved the study to the bigger room there—” He pointed to a room just beside the private courtyard they were standing in.

Yun-si stood in the center of the little courtyard, blinking at both the familiarity and strangeness. She looked around. “So. How should I—?”

“Twist your ankle,” Ting-zhi supplied. He moved to her side, positioning himself a half-step away. “Stumble forward. I’ll catch you before you fall.”

“That’s it?”

“That’s thefoundation.” He gestured. “Try it.”

She took a breath. Stepped forward awkwardly, wobbling on one foot like a newborn deer.

Ting-zhi caught her elbow, steadying her upright. “You look like you’re stepping on hot coals.”

“I’mtrying!” She swatted his hand away. “You do it, then.”

“I’m the rescuer, not the damsel.” But he demonstrated anyway—a graceful stumble, weight shifting naturally to one side. “See? Subtle. Believable.”

Yun-si tried again. Better this time. She tipped forward, and Ting-zhi moved fast, arm sliding around her back, pulling her against his chest.

Her breath hitched. His pulse hammered beneath his ribs.

“Like this?” she whispered.

“Mm.” He released her and stepped back, ignoring the warmth creeping up his neck. “Next version. More dramatic.”