Chapter 25: The Pact in Sunlight
He truly was waiting for her.
Shen Jiyun cupped his hands in salute. “Cousin, may I have a word?”
They stood deep in the temple’s inner cloister, beyond the reach of ordinary pilgrims. Only the three of them lingered beneath the covered walk; distant monks passed to and fro in the courtyard beyond. Yin Zhi turned to Kui’er. “Wait here.” She pointed through the colonnade. “We’ll speak out there.”
Shen Jiyun raised his hand in invitation. They walked together into the open courtyard and came to a halt beneath the wide blue sky.
Here, their words would be plain for all to see—utterly aboveboard, utterly above suspicion. Any onlookers would only think them deep in conversation, not conspiring in secret.
He recalled his mother’s praise of this cousin as “steady and reliable,” and nodded to himself.
Yin Zhi faced him squarely. “What is it? Speak freely.”
Before this handsome cousin, she showed no trace of embarrassment—only seriousness. In truth, she and Shen Jiyun had little shared history; she feared he might have some private message for one of her younger cousins—something she must fend off.
She steeled herself to rebuke any improper proposal: this was a feudal era—if one wished to court someone, one must formally seek parental approval, then invite a matchmaker for a proper proposal. No foolish dalliance! If he dared make any improper request, she would tongue-lash him soundly—for in this society, a young man might emerge unscathed from scandal, yet a girl’s reputation could be ruined for life.
As his cousin and guardian of the younger sisters, she was prepared to protect them at all costs.
To her astonishment, Shen Jiyun spoke at once: “Cousin, did you not know? My mother came here to arrange a match between you and me.”
Time seemed to freeze. He watched her expression shift from shock to confusion.
Yin Zhi blinked. “Arrange for whom?”
“For you and me.”
“For what?”
“For betrothal—our betrothal.”
She pointed first at him, then at herself, then back at him, then herself again, before finally fixing her finger upon her own chest: “…?!”
“It is no jest,” he said calmly. “My mother means exactly that—us two.”
“That can’t be.” Her first instinct was denial. “You know how social rank—”
Her voice caught.
Shen Jiyun saw her eyes soften with pity.
He braced himself, uncertain of what thoughts raced through her mind.
“Cousin,” Yin Zhi said as gently as she could, hiding her astonishment behind a courteous tone, “you need not worry so. Truly, life holds far more than marriage—your talent and learning, the honor of a tanhua! To spend one’s life beside someone of your brilliance is every woman’s dream.”
In their world, children often died in childbirth, and love held little sway against necessity. The highest priority was simple survival. “If children are the concern,” she added, “they can be adopted. Our clan is large; many relations share our surname. Blood ties are but a formality.”
She paused, but the courtyard felt charged with silence.
Shen Jiyun stood motionless.
Though her words stung, his face remained composed—but he felt color rise in his neck.
At seventeen, newly a tanhua, he had the right to pride—but even so, he understood perfectly what she implied: that a proper match, matching family status, was the only honorable path. His mother’s scheme had been a compromise to protect the Feng daughter. Yet here before him stood the person she had chosen instead.
After long moments, he spoke with measured calm. “Cousin, do not leap to conclusions. I am in full health—no ailment dares claim me.”
Her eyes flickered with sympathy. “Of course, of course!”
She even began quoting the Taoist incantation she had heard him silently recite—how perfectly in control of himself he was!
At last, Shen Jiyun cleared his throat, and his voice steadied. “In truth, you were right. My mother did come seeking a match for me—yet I already love another. Her status bars her from becoming my formal wife, and so I refuse to marry.”
“Oh?” Yin Zhi’s disbelief was palpable. A scholar of his caliber, with the world at his feet, driven by love?
She gathered her wits. “Let me see if I follow… You were once betrothed to another, whose family fell into disgrace. She was reduced to servitude, forbidden to wed you as your wife. To protect her, you refused any new match. And now—your family, seeking a compromise, came here to find you a wife of known character but lower status, so that no legal wife could harm your true love. Is that so?”
Shen Jiyun, struck by her grasp of the tangled scheme, admitted, “Yes, just so.”
He had long assumed countryside maidens would be narrow‑minded. Yet here stood Yin Zhi—alert, logical, clear‑eyed.
Impressed despite himself, he said, “You understand all too well.”
Yin Zhi studied him coolly. “Since I am but a pawn in your plan, why come to me at all? You need do nothing: wait, and your own protest will undo the match. Why involve me?”
He stared at her.
“Surely,” she went on, “you could have protested at home. If you had perseverance, the betrothal would have been canceled without my help. Yet you came to enlist me in your rebellion.”
“You expect me to do your fighting,” she said bluntly, “while you hide behind filial duty. And you disregard the fact that, in our world, to refuse an arranged marriage is a crime of impiety. To tarnish a young woman’s reputation… you don’t care?”
Her tone was gentle, yet her logic was relentless—she had cut straight to the heart of the matter.
Shen Jiyun’s cloak fluttered in the breeze, but he stood rigid. The bright shell of his social triumph cracked under her words.
He felt a bitter shame—but Yin Zhi’s next words were softer still.
“It matters not,” she said with unexpected warmth. “I forgive you—for not foreseeing these consequences, for not considering the fallout to me.” She smiled kindly. “You won the tanhua title, but you remain only seventeen—still a child at heart.”
Her forgiveness was sincere. In that moment, he saw not scorn but understanding in her clear, compassionate eyes—an acceptance that neither pride nor station could match.