Page 25 of The Scholar's Improper Wife

She nodded, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear.

This time, when she stumbled, he swept her up entirely—one arm beneath her knees, the other supporting her back.

”Ting-zhi!” Yun-si yelped, arms clutching around his neck involuntarily.

“Research,” he reminded her, though his voice came out rougher than intended. Her face was inches away. Too close. Not close enough.

He set her down carefully.

“One more,” she said, breathless. “The hero lunges to stop her fall—catches her mid-collapse.”

Ting-zhi arched an eyebrow and positioned himself. “On three. One—”

Yun-si attempted another stumble, only to lose her balance entirely on the melted frost. She pitched forward, arms flailing. Ting-zhi dived forward in fear, breaking her fall before she could hit the ground.

He hit the courtyard stones first, cushioning her fall as she landed squarely on top of him. Air rushed from his lungs. Her hair spilled across his face, smelling of peach blossoms.

“Oh!” Yun-si braced her hands against his chest, trying to push up. “Are you hurt?”

Their eyes met.

Her weight pressed against him, warm and solid. His hands had landed at her waist, steadying her without thought. One of her knees had wedged between his legs.

“Are you hurt?” he managed.

“No. You?”

“Winded.” He swallowed. “Si-er. You need to move.”

“I’mtrying—” She shifted, and the movement sent heat straight through him.

“Get up, Si-er.” The words sounded strangled even to him. “That’s—enough research for today.”

Yun-si sat there, looking adorably confused with mussed hair. “But I didn’t—”

“Cough.”

A discreet cough echoed across the courtyard.

Both of them scrambled upright.

Master Gu stood at the entrance to his study, teacup in hand, expression carefully neutral. His scholar’s robes hung neat and impeccable as usual. He said nothing. Merely sipped his tea.

Yun-si’s face went scarlet. She executed a hasty bow, mumbled something incoherent about needing to return home, and fled through the bamboo gate like a startled rabbit.

Ting-zhi watched her go, jaw tight.

Master Gu waited until the gate clicked shut. “Tea?”

“Father—”

“Tea.” Not a request.

Ting-zhi followed him into the study. The familiar scent of books and sandalwood wrapped around him as he knelt acrossfrom his father at the low table. Master Gu poured with careful ceremony, sliding a cup across the polished wood.

They drank in silence.

Finally, Master Gu set down his cup. “The Chancellor is considering marriage alliances for his children.”