Page 40 of The Scholar's Improper Wife

“I should—” His voice was thick, confused. “I should go home.”

“Of course, of course. Just rest first. Just for a moment.”

She followed them quietly, following behind like a shadow, darting behind trees, until the lady-in-waiting showed Ting-zhi into a room and left.

Yun-si quickly sneaked into the room. “Ting-zhi!” she hissed. Then she saw him, swaying on his feet with a dazed expression.

She moved without thinking. Her hand caught his elbow, steadying him, and his weight leaned into her—too much weight, too unsteady.

“Ting-zhi,” she said quietly. “Can you walk?”

He looked down at her. Recognition finally flickered across his face, followed immediately by confusion. “Yun-si? What are you—you shouldn’t—”

“I’m taking you home.” She shifted her grip, supporting more of his weight. “Can you walk?”

“Yes. I—” He pressed his free hand to his temple again. “I don’t understand. I only had a few cups.”

“I know.” Her jaw tightened. “Come on.”

She turned and guided him back out of the room, down the corridor, toward the main entrance, her heart hammering the entire time. Expecting at any moment to hear footsteps behind them, to be stopped, to have palace guards appear and demand explanations she couldn’t give.

But no one stopped them.

The banquet hall was still loud with celebration when they passed it. No one noticed two figures slipping toward the entrance. No one saw the Chancellor’s daughter supporting a scholar who could barely walk straight.

Ting-zhi walked with his eyes half-closed, his grip on her arm tightening. “Si-er—Can’t—”

“Just a little further.” She spotted her family’s carriage outside the palace and steered him toward it. “Almost there. Stay with me.”

“Si-er,” he continued under his breath deliriously, “Si-er—I’m sorry—I’m sorry—I didn’t kiss her—she came at me and I pushed her away—Si-er—I didn’t—didn’t do anything that night—”

“Shut up,” she said, with more feeling than grace.

He made a sound that might have been a wince.

They reached the carriage. Yun-si’s driver jumped down, eyes widening at the sight of them.

“Scholar Gu is unwell,” she said, before he could ask. “Bring us back to the residence.”

The driver didn’t hesitate. He pulled open the door and helped her maneuver Ting-zhi inside. Ting-zhi collapsed onto the seat with a groan, head falling back against the cushions.

Yun-si climbed in after him. The door closed. The carriage lurched into motion.

And suddenly they were alone in the dim interior, and she had absolutely no idea what to do next.

Ting-zhi’s eyes were closed. His breathing was too fast, too shallow and color burned high on his cheekbones. She reached out hesitantly to press her hand against his forehead and felt his skin burning.

He was still murmuring something about flower courtesans and kissing.

Theidiot.I should have just left him there.

Chapter 17

Ting-zhi was vaguely aware that it was Yun-si who was bringing him to his rooms. Just like he was painfully aware now what exactly was in the wine he had drunk in the palace.

“Master Gu!” she called out, but silence answered her.

His father. Where—