Chapter Twenty: Is the Lady Waiting for Someone?

All the arrangements at Puyue Temple had long been made. Shen Nanyuan and the Old Madam stepped down from the carriage in front of the temple and ascended the steps, one by one. The abbot had been waiting at the entrance for some time, and together, they entered the temple grounds.

Inside, the atmosphere was especially solemn and dignified. Shen Nanyuan dared not wander about; she stayed close to the Old Madam’s side, entered the main hall to offer incense, and quietly listened to the monks’ sermon.

Apart from the guards, they had not brought many servants. Only Qingrui and Xiao Yan accompanied Shen Nanyuan, and now they were likely on their way to the quarters where they would be staying.

The Old Madam visited every year and was quite familiar with the place. They were assigned to the east wing; Shen Nanyuan’s room was right next to the Old Madam’s. In the courtyard stood a thick old tree, its branches draped with countless red ribbons—wishes left by visitors. Whenever a breeze passed, the ribbons fluttered and danced, creating a beautiful sight.

She sat at her window, gazing absentmindedly at the tree. Qingrui, having finished tidying up the room, came to her side and called softly, “Miss? It seems you’ve been preoccupied since we arrived.”

Shen Nanyuan smiled and shook her head. “No, there’s nothing on my mind. Don’t worry.”

She asked, “Where is Xiao Yan?”

“He was just called away by the Young Master. I heard he went to the back hill to practice martial arts.”

Shen Sinian truly was attentive—even after coming all the way here, he still thought to teach Xiao Yan martial arts. It seemed her earlier flattery had not been misplaced.

After pondering for a moment, Shen Nanyuan looked at Qingrui.

“Go and find out for me—besides us, has anyone else come to stay here these past few days?”

Though Qingrui was puzzled, she nodded. “Yes, Miss.”

It was supposed to be the fateful meeting of the novel’s protagonists, yet Shen Nanyuan found herself more nervous than anyone. Having read the novel from start to finish, she actually preferred the fleeting, ill-fated original heroine over the main character, but she was still eager to witness the protagonists’ first encounter with her own eyes.

Soon, Qingrui returned with news. “There’s someone staying in the west wing. I don’t know their identity, but they have several guards with them and arrived a day before us.”

Shen Nanyuan propped her chin in her hand and nodded. That must be Meng Chuyue, the heroine.

Dusk was already falling. She quickly said, “Go to the back hill and bring Xiao Yan back. It’s late, and he hasn’t fully recovered. He should rest.”

“Yes, I’ll go at once.”

She had to bring the male lead back quickly—what if the timing was missed and the protagonists never met?

Shen Nanyuan thought to herself that she was truly worrying overmuch.

But to her surprise, that night passed in peace. She slipped out alone, avoiding Qingrui, and wandered outside for a long while, yet heard not the slightest stir.

At first, she felt at ease, even a little excited, but as she waited, she grew increasingly anxious and restless, doubts piling up in her heart. In the novel, it was clearly written that Xiao Yan would encounter Meng Chuyue on their first night at Puyue Temple. Why, after waiting so long, had there not even been a shadow of an assassin after Meng Chuyue?

Her agitation lasted into the next morning, so much so that when she ran into Xiao Yan and Shen Sinian, even Shen Sinian noticed her tired appearance and grew concerned.

“Yuanyuan, why do you look so haggard today? Didn’t sleep well?”

Shen Nanyuan waved her hand. “I suppose I’m just not used to this place.”

She stifled a yawn and, out of the corner of her eye, sensed someone watching her. She glanced over and met Xiao Yan’s dark, inky gaze.

“Miss, what were you doing near the west wing last night? Waiting for someone?”

His voice was light and calm, but Shen Nanyuan’s expression froze. She raised her eyebrows in surprise and whispered, “How did you know I was there last night?”

She had been crouching quietly in a corner!

Xiao Yan lowered his gaze, a hint of the obedience he usually showed in Shining Spring Court. “I happened to pass by and saw you there, Miss.”

She had hidden so well that only his habitual vigilance allowed him to notice—a small figure tucked away in the shadows, waiting, her excitement fading to disappointment as the hours wore on and the person she waited for never arrived, until at last she left in dejection.

She had waited so earnestly, yet never noticed him watching from not far away.

Shen Sinian asked, surprised, “What were you doing there?”

“I…” Shen Nanyuan’s expression didn’t waver. “I couldn’t sleep, so I just wandered around.”

“You silly girl,” Shen Sinian said helplessly. “This isn’t the Duke’s manor; you’re brave to go out alone. No more of that tonight—what if something happened? Father would kill me if anything went wrong.”

“I understand,” Shen Nanyuan replied with a smile. “I only felt safe because you’re here, brother. If you hadn’t come, I’d have stayed obediently in my room, no matter how restless I was.”

Shen Sinian couldn’t help but smile fondly. “You always know how to talk your way out.”

He gently patted his sister’s head. “Enough. We’re off to the back hill. After breakfast, go find Grandmother—and no more wandering.”

“Alright~”

Watching the two disappear from sight, Shen Nanyuan finally exhaled in relief.

She would wait one more night.

—

“Young Master, Miss Lin sent you a birthday gift.”

Jun Ci set down his teacup, his gaze falling on the sachet before him.

Because of his previous engagement, even if gifts arrived, he could not openly wear them. This was the first time Lin Yan had sent him a sachet she had embroidered herself.

It was adorned with lotus flowers, exquisitely crafted, and carried a faint fragrance. He smiled faintly, studying it for a moment, then handed it to a servant. “Put it away in my room.”

He could not wear it yet. Only after he officially proposed to the Lin family would that be appropriate.

Lady Jun entered, followed by a maid carrying a bowl of noodles. She smiled. “Longevity noodles, fresh from the pot—eat them while they’re hot.”

There was an egg in the bowl, steam curling upwards. On his birthday, Lady Jun always made him a bowl of longevity noodles by hand—a tradition since his childhood.

He picked up his chopsticks, then paused, his smile stiffening as a memory surfaced.

He could not recall which birthday it was. Shen Nanyuan had come to the Jun residence but did not seek him out. After a long while, she finally appeared, brimming with mystery, and brought him a bowl of longevity noodles, her eyes shining brighter than the stars.

“Brother Jun, eat it while it’s hot. It’s my first time making this—try it and see how it tastes.”

It had not been long since their engagement had been decreed. He had been restless and irritable, and simply replied coldly, “I’ve already eaten my mother’s longevity noodles.”

All he remembered was that, in that instant, the light in Shen Nanyuan’s eyes was snuffed out.