Chapter 47: The First Battle Won

The wedding chambers were called Jingrong Courtyard.

In the main room of Jingrong Courtyard, Shen Ti stepped out of the washroom and saw the maidservants quietly exiting, closing the lattice doors behind them.

Yin Zhi sat at the table, dressed in only her undergarments.

She had one leg crossed over the other, sitting casually on an embroidered stool.

She really didn’t treat him like a husband at all—so at ease.

So Shen Ti also relaxed.

Though it had only been a day, he already felt comfortable around Yin Zhi in just her underclothes.

He walked over. “What are you looking at?”

“My dowry list. Have you seen it?” Yin Zhi asked.

Shen Ti nodded. “Father showed it to me briefly.”

Briefly? Yin Zhi pressed, “Did you look at it properly?”

Shen Ti admitted, “Not carefully.”

Yin Zhi unfolded the list. “Then look carefully now.”

Shen Ti glanced down at it for a moment and nodded. “Your dowry is quite generous.”

Indeed, the relatives they’d met recently all said the bride’s dowry was impressive.

He hadn’t paid much attention before. A dowry was a woman’s private property, and he wasn’t the kind of man to covet a woman’s money—especially since their marriage wasn’t even real. He felt it wasn’t his business.

Yin Zhi pointed at a line on the list with her fair fingers. “There’s 2,000 taels of silver in the dowry chest, which is mine personally. But actually, there's another 10,000 taels, plus a large batch of raw silk. These two major portions didn’t go through me, so they aren’t listed here. My brothers told me they were handed directly to your father. Also, there’s a mulberry grove in Huaixi. It was transferred to the Shen family under the pretense of this marriage, and its future profits will be handed over regularly.”

Shen Ti looked up in surprise.

No need to ask—Yin Zhi could tell from his expression that he knew none of this.

This society was ridiculous in a way—they expected children to marry and bear heirs at fifteen or sixteen, yet legally considered them adults only at twenty.

Even after coming of age, getting married, and becoming a father, you weren’t allowed to own property. Everything remained communal until the parents died and the estate was divided.

Shen Ti was lucky to be an only child. No siblings to split the inheritance with—everything at home was essentially his. So he didn’t really feel the constraints.

He was eighteen, the same age as her, and hadn’t come of age yet. Clearly, the Shen couple hadn’t shared details of the family’s major assets with him.

Probably because he’d been studying classics and preparing for the civil exams. After joining the bureaucracy, he was placed in the prestigious Hanlin Academy. He’d never lacked money, wasn’t married yet, so his parents probably felt it wasn’t necessary to discuss such matters.

Thanks to his brilliance, he passed the exams at a young age. Most scholars—men pursuing official careers—studied into their thirties or forties without passing, relying on their wives for support. And the more scholarly they were, the more clueless they tended to be about money.

In her previous life, Yin Zhi had read many historical romances where the female lead or side character brought in a sizable dowry but lived miserably afterward.

She wouldn’t let that happen.

She had to make sure Shen Ti knew: she came with 10,000 taels, a large batch of raw silk, and the Huaixi mulberry grove wasn’t hers personally—its earnings went straight to the Shen family.

“I brought all this not as private savings, but for the household,” Yin Zhi said. “I’m guessing Uncle thought you were still too young, so he hasn’t told you yet.”

“Now that you’re married, you should be aware of your family’s assets. Don’t let them treat you like a child and keep you in the dark.”

That struck a nerve.

Shen Ti said quietly, “I’ll ask about it tomorrow.”

“It’s really just a cooperation between two families,” Yin Zhi added. “I don’t know the exact details, but the Shen family surely supported the Yin family in some way. Now the Yin family is giving back. It’s mutual benefit—a good thing. That’s probably the nature of it. Just keep that in mind. Don’t go confronting your uncle without any idea of what’s going on.”

Shen Ti nodded. “Alright.”

Yin Zhi folded up the dowry list and stored it in the secret compartment of the canopy bed’s cabinet. She pulled out the hairpin loosely holding up her bun. “Cover the lamp. Let’s sleep.”

Shen Ti placed the lampshade over the lamp, and the room instantly dimmed.

The shade wasn’t transparent, but it had a small opening. The lamp stayed lit all night, and a faint light filtered through the opening, giving the room a soft glow.

This was the night lamp—convenient for getting up at night without fumbling in the dark. Just lift the cover.

Yin Zhi let down half of the bed curtain, leaving the other half open for Shen Ti to enter.

He stepped onto the footstool just as she climbed into bed, having removed her shoes.

Her delicate feet, never exposed to daylight, appeared snow-white even in the dim light.

She crawled into bed, her slender waist arching.

Shen Ti quickly turned away and pulled down the other half of the curtain. The faint glow from the night lamp was cut off, leaving the enclosed bed space in complete darkness.

Perfect.

Shen Ti took off his shoes and lay down flat.

For some reason, his body felt hot. He closed his eyes and silently recited Daoist calming mantras, once, twice—but the heat remained.

Was the bed curtain too thick? Too stuffy?

He wondered if he should ask the maids to change to a lighter curtain tomorrow.

No—that wasn’t it. There was a fragrance in the closed space, unfamiliar to him.

“What fragrance are you using, Sister?” he asked.

“It’s not incense—just some floral soap I made myself,” Yin Zhi realized. “Is it too strong?”

Last night, everything was prepared by the Shen family for the wedding. Today, her own toiletries had been placed in the washroom by the maids.

In this era, daily bathing wasn’t common—not just because of cost, but because it took a lot of effort. But Yin Zhi cleaned herself daily to stay fresh.

She had used her handmade soap today, so her body carried a different scent than yesterday.

People here prized incense partly because there weren’t many scented products available. Unlike her previous life where everything—face wash, shampoo, body lotion—had its own scent.

So here, people were very sensitive to fragrance. Some could even identify ingredients just by smell.

“Mm, it is a bit strong—mainly floral,” Shen Ti said.

Yin Zhi used to live alone. But now—and going forward—she would share a bed with Shen Ti. With the curtains drawn, it was a sealed space.

Living together meant she couldn’t do things as she pleased anymore—she had to consider him.

“I won’t use it anymore, then,” she said. “That was my last piece anyway.”

Shen Ti asked, “Do you know how to blend incense?”

Incense was popular across all social classes. Even ordinary households bought ready-made blends from apothecaries. Wealthier families made their own.

“I’ve learned a little, but I’m not good at it,” Yin Zhi said. “Since my courtyard is full of flowers, it’s usually fragrant enough—I rarely use incense.”

“You should start using it,” Shen Ti said. “Otherwise, people will keep asking you why not. It gets annoying.”

“So we’ll have to socialize with a lot of relatives?”

“Plenty. Most of the clan lives nearby. It’s only half a day out of the capital to the ancestral home.”

“Alright, I’ll look into it.”

Shen Ti offered, “Let me make some incense for you.”

“Hmm?”

“The one I use, I blended myself. The scent is light and refreshing—very comfortable. It’s called ‘Three—’”

He suddenly stopped.

In the dark, a shadow leaned in toward him.

She brought her body heat with her.

And her breath.

And her scent.

Shen Ti froze, completely stiff.

Yin Zhi leaned close to his shoulder and sniffed.

“It smells really nice,” she praised. “Called ‘Three’ what?”

“S-San Yun,” he stammered.

“Mhm, it’s very elegant. Mine does feel a bit aggressive by comparison,” she admitted.

Actually, soap’s scent fades quickly—it doesn’t last like incense burned into clothing.

Because she’d just bathed, it was more noticeable now.

But she said, “You know other blends, right? Make me a new one. Something as light and mild as this.”

Then added, “If you’re busy, just give me the formula—I’ll do it myself.”

“I’m not busy.”

She moved back, and Shen Ti could finally breathe. “Don’t you like San Yun scent, Sister?”

He wanted her to use the same scent as him.

Then there’d be no clashing fragrances in the bed.

No distractions.

He firmly believed he harbored no improper thoughts toward his cousin.

She supported his relationship with Feng Luoyi and had no intention of being his true wife. That was clear. He accepted that. Since she was so open about it, how could he entertain any unseemly thoughts?

That would be dishonorable.

But the body... the body was a different matter.

Sometimes it didn’t listen to the mind.

The mind was clear, but the eyes saw, the nose smelled, the ears heard—and the body had its own ideas.

Thick bed curtains had their advantages—like blocking light.

And sight.

Shen Ti abandoned the idea of changing the curtains.

Faced with this dense, clueless young man, Yin Zhi could only sigh.

“Silly little brother,” she said. “If I use the same scent as you, Miss Feng will definitely be upset.”

Shen Ti paused. “But... it’s just incense…”

In the dark, she clicked her tongue.

“Forget it—you wouldn’t understand even if I explained,” she said. “But she’s already pitiful enough. No need to upset her over little things.”

Her voice was soft and pleasant.

She spoke with the gentle cadence of someone from the South.

It made her sound even more tender.

His body, oddly enough, began to calm down—just like it had become agitated without warning earlier.

If not for Feng Luoyi, marrying such a gentle wife… would be nice, he thought.

He’d never really thought about marriage before.

His parents had arranged his match long before he was old enough to consider it himself. Young men didn’t have much say.

Who to marry, what kind of person—it was all decided for them.

But then he thought: if the Feng family hadn’t fallen, if Feng Luoyi hadn’t been disgraced, she would’ve been his bride—not this cousin from far-off Huaixi.

In that case, he and Yin Zhi might’ve only met once as children, and never crossed paths again.

He would never have thought, “Marrying her wouldn’t be so bad.”

Fate really was strange.

As he sighed at this thought, Yin Zhi suddenly reached out—her hand crossing over his body—and pulled a corner of his thin blanket over his stomach.

“No matter how hot it is, you mustn’t leave your belly exposed,” she scolded.

“Let me tell you, we—our Zhong… our Hua… no, our Great Mu people—if there’s only one leaf left in the world, we’ll still use it to cover our bellybuttons,” she lectured. “Cold there, and your whole body will catch cold. Then you’ll get sick.”

In the darkness, Shen Ti fell silent.

She… she saw he wasn’t covered.

Then did she… also see what had just happened to his body?

Shen Ti felt like lightning had struck him.