Chapter 22: A Match Unraveled

Madam Shen spoke in a single breath, and Shen Jiyun remained kneeling, head bowed in silence.

He could not refute her—he knew, deep down, that she was right. He was angry only at his own helplessness. As a child, he had believed that passing the provincial exam would grant him boundless freedom; as an adult, he discovered the many chains that held him fast.

Madam Shen sipped water and set down her teacup, about to continue, when a maid’s voice called from outside: “Madam, someone from the Patriarch’s study requests your presence.”

“I know,” Madam Shen replied. Turning back to her son, still kneeling like a statue, she said, “You see? Your grandfather is no fool. We arrived without warning—of course he’ll question me. I shall explain everything to him. Matters in the Yin household are for your grandfather to decide.”

“Think carefully on what I told you.”

With that, she rose and left.

The maid closed the curtain behind her. From the slatted bamboo screen, she watched the tall, lean youth still knelt motionless, his head bowed to the gleaming green bricks.

After a long while, Shen Jiyun rose, smoothed the folds of his robes, and—without waiting for the maid to draw the curtain—lifted it himself and departed.

———

The aged Patriarch lived apart from his wife in her later years, dwelling chiefly in his study. Madam Shen therefore came to see him there.

The Patriarch—never one for pleasantries—greeted her at once: “Fourth Daughter, you’ve returned so suddenly—what brings you home?”

When she last returned, six months’ notice by letter had preceded her, as she rode ahead of her escort to visit Huaixi. But this time, a courier on the swift boat had only just arrived by the time she herself was already en route—surely some pressing matter must lie behind such urgency.

Indeed, Madam Shen sighed and confessed to her father: “Father, I will be frank: I have come home to choose a wife for Shen Jiyun.”

Had the First or Third Masters overheard, they would have rejoiced. But the Patriarch’s face fell with shock. “Has Jiyun taken ill?”

To the Yin family’s standing, saving even one daughter for the Shen house had been a boon; no patriarch in his right mind would ask for more. Now his mother’s daughter urged a second match—surely some misfortune must have befallen the young scholar.

Madam Shen’s brow furrowed. “No—please, do not assume so. There is no ailment.”

“Then why?” the Patriarch pressed. “Don’t be daft—forced matches bring only bitterness. If a union turns sour, you forge an enemy, not an in‑law!”

“Father, you overthink.” Madam Shen’s patience wore thin. “I implore you—listen to my explanation.”

She told him of Jiyun’s first engagement: to the daughter of Minister Feng in the Ministry of Rites, a perfect match of talent and rank. They had agreed that once Jiyun passed the provincial exam, their marriage would be celebrated with great pomp.

Then, at the end of the year before last, disaster struck the Feng family. Her father was implicated in a succession dispute—treated as treason—and exiled. The women of the house, stripped of their status, fell into servitude. Without a general amnesty, they would remain in lowly bondage forever.

The Patriarch drew a long breath, sympathy and regret mingling in his gaze—as head of a great lineage, he felt profoundly the tides of a family’s fortunes.

“He was abroad when the scandal broke,” Madam Shen continued, “and we, bound by the betrothal, rescued the young lady from confinement and sheltered her as our own. We did our duty by her.”

“When Jiyun learned of it, he rushed home ahead of schedule—and got himself into a great fury with us: how could we wait until the verdict? By rights, we should have brought her here first!”

The Patriarch stroked his whiskers in approval. “That boy has a good heart.”

Because the crime did not concern a married daughter, rescuing the betrothed before her family was officially condemned had spared her from disgrace.

“It’s not that the Shen family lacks conscience,” Madam Shen explained. “Minister Feng had crossed the Emperor’s will—no one dared defy the palace at that time.”

The Patriarch nodded. “I know—official life brooks no choice. One must tend one’s own affairs first, lest in reaching for another you drag yourself down.”

Madam Shen agreed.

The Patriarch asked, “So the betrothal was called off?”

“Of course. By law and custom, the chaste and the disgraced do not wed. She entered servitude—there was nothing else to do.”

“But Jiyun,” the Patriarch said, “that stubborn boy insisted on the match.”

The Patriarch’s eyes lit. “And the young lady—was she beautiful?”

“More than beautiful,” Madam Shen admitted. “A rare talent—she read more books than I ever did.”

“And now?” he pressed.

Madam Shen sighed. “Last year was his turn to sit the metropolitan exam. At such a crucial time, we could not allow his mind to wander over a broken engagement. His father told him to postpone all discussion until after the palace exam. If he so much as mentioned it, he would see her sold away.”

“So he focused on his studies—topped the provincial exam, second in the metropolitan, but only third in the palace. A pity not the highest honor.”

Madam Shen’s regret was genuine.

The Patriarch thought wryly: Here he frets over “only” third place, while some celebrate even a mere provincial pass.

“And now?” he asked again. “Why seek another match so soon?”

Madam Shen’s lips twisted in frustration. “With Shen Jiyun’s title known throughout the capital, suitors flocked at our door. He, however, told his father: ‘Because I cannot marry Feng Luoyi, I will not marry at all.’”

“Bless his youth,” the Patriarch said fondly, “passion is natural.”

“But now? What has changed?” the Patriarch continued.

Madam Shen sighed again. “His father would never allow him to remain unwed. He wanted to protect Feng Luoyi at all costs.”

“When two are locked in such conflict, I gave one solution.”

The Patriarch’s eyes gleamed. “A clever daughter!”

He had guessed perfectly.

Shen Jiyun refused to wed only because every intended match was a perfect equal—yet he feared each bride’s family intrigues might imperil Feng Luoyi’s safety.

His father, as head of the household, held absolute authority over his son’s marriage. Whether Shen Jiyun would willingly or not, his father could command a bride for him, even conduct the wedding ceremony without the groom’s attendance.

Thus Jiyun’s only recourse would be to accept a bride of lower rank—her presence would satisfy the promise of marriage while ensuring she lacked the power to threaten Feng Luoyi’s position.

Since he must have a lawful wife, better she be of humble birth—unable to wield the household’s authority.

Madam Shen—herself of modest merchant origins—needed no persuasion on this point. She only insisted that the match appear to originate with Jiyun, rather than herself, lest anyone suspect her motives.

The Patriarch laughed heartily. “That is my daughter—clear‑sighted, not easily fooled!”

He had selected well.

Madam Shen laid out her reasoning: by marrying a bride of lower status, they would preserve decorum and protect Feng Luoyi. The grateful girl could serve safely as a concubine, while the lawful wife, of humble birth, would maintain the proper hierarchy.

“How many suitable nieces do we have?” he asked, counting on his fingers. “One from the First Branch, one from the Second… and from the Third and Fourth Branches…”

They were too many to name. At last he waved a hand. “Several! Choose as you will.”

Then he added, “I recall two already betrothed—if Jiyun chooses one, tell me. I will resolve the other marriages amicably, leaving no trouble.”

A second marriage alliance with the Shen family would bind the houses ever closer—only benefits for the Yin line.

The Patriarch clapped his hands in delight.

Madam Shen sighed. “Father, do not cause a scandal. We cannot break existing matches—there would be lawsuits.”

She cleared her throat, her eyes bright. “Actually… I have someone in mind already.”

The Patriarch’s smile widened. “As I expected!”