Chapter 36: The Weight of Compromise

The daylight was no longer as bright as it had been earlier.

Shen Ti lifted his robes and strode forward at a brisk pace.

Changchuan's short legs struggled to keep up, panting, "Young Master! Young Master! Please slow down!"

Shen Ti broke into a sweat by the time he reached a garden and finally stopped under an apricot tree.

Though he was a scholar, he was well-versed in the six gentlemanly arts. Every day he practiced horseback riding and swordsmanship, and his body was far from weak. Scholars traveled the land in pursuit of learning—how could they afford to be frail?

Even so, he was gasping for breath now.

Too humiliating!

It was perfectly normal for a young man in his prime to wake up in the mornings in such a state. At that age, full of youthful vigor, even the sway of willow branches could stir physical reactions.

Sometimes even an empty chair could inexplicably provoke such a response—it was normal.

But not in front of a woman! That was too disgraceful!

He couldn't even maintain a steady speaking pace when talking to her; all his cultivated calm was shattered!

But what could he do? He was wearing newly changed summer robes—thin and soft. Feng Luoyi had hugged him tightly from behind, and the softness of her body against his back had been too real, too vivid.

Even if a sage were reborn, he might master his words and actions, but not even he could control the body's involuntary reactions.

Shen Ti had no choice but to flee, before they discovered anything.

"Young Master! Young Master!" Changchuan finally caught up, panting. "Why were you walking so fast?"

He looked like he’d been chased by a tiger.

Shen Ti braced himself against the tree, hands on his hips, glancing at Changchuan without answering, turning away to calm his breathing.

Women… what was it with them?

In truth, Shen Ti understood—but facing it directly still hurt.

He had defied his parents to reject an arranged marriage for Feng Luoyi’s sake, only to compromise in the end by agreeing to a match with a country squire’s daughter. And even so, Feng Luoyi now wanted to bear him a child out of wedlock.

Did she not realize the implications? A child born out of wedlock, without even the status of a concubine's son, would be labeled a bastard.

She was an educated woman, a jinshi’s daughter; her father had once served as a Ministry of Rites official. How could she not understand?

But she was willing to abandon propriety and shame just to ensure her place in the Shen household.

It was clear—everything he had done, all the security he thought he’d given her, had failed to make her feel safe.

It was as if everything he had worked for over the past year was all in vain.

Shen Ti felt an indescribable sense of defeat.

“…Young Master?” Changchuan looked up at him with bright, questioning eyes.

Shen Ti shook out his robes. “Let’s go back.”

This time, his pace was finally normal.

Changchuan couldn’t help asking, “Young Master, what just happened?”

Shen Ti didn’t answer. Instead, he asked, “Why did you run off to the courtyard gate earlier?”

“It was Sister Zhaoxiang,” Changchuan said indignantly. “She said you and Miss Feng needed to talk privately and told me not to eavesdrop.”

“I wasn’t eavesdropping! Pingmo-ge taught me that we errand runners are supposed to wait by the window for orders.”

Shen Ti asked, “If you knew that, why did you still leave?”

“Ah, well, it was Sister Zhaoxiang…”

“And who is Zhaoxiang to you? You listen to her but not to Pingmo?”

“Huh?”

Shen Ti’s face hardened. “You’re to copy ten pages of text and submit them to Pingmo tomorrow.”

Changchuan’s eyes widened in horror. “What?!”

Shen Ti asked, “Do you understand now whose instructions you should follow?”

Changchuan wilted. “Yes, sir…”

Shen Ti huffed and slowed his steps, regaining his calm, scholar’s composure.

The sun dipped westward. It hadn’t yet set, but the light had turned bronze-golden, casting a golden sheen over the stone path.

Shen Ti walked slowly along it.

In the inner quarters, children were everything to women.

His mother had only one child—him. Not long after he was born, his paternal grandmother passed away. Though his mother had no mother-in-law above her, several aunts and great-aunts from the extended family pressured her to let his father take a concubine for the sake of carrying on the family line.

But his grandfather and father, both of whom had nearly died in exile, had a broader view of things. They shielded his mother, preserving the household peace.

His mother had often told him:

“Thank goodness you grew up strong.”

“They don’t care about descendants—they just look down on me.”

“Thank heaven I have you.”

So although Shen Ti had pushed Feng Luoyi away, he didn’t want to be too harsh with her. He understood her.

She had been trembling when she hugged him, her body and voice both shivering with shame.

She had once been a cultured, well-mannered girl. Her talent was known even in her boudoir. His mother had secured one of her poems to show to his father and him; they approved, and so the engagement had been arranged.

Shen Ti's steps faltered.

He suddenly remembered that his mother, Madam Shen, had had hopes for her daughter-in-law.

She, born low and poorly educated, had long been scorned by the women of the Shen clan. So she had always hoped her son would marry a well-educated girl from a good family.

When people heard that his fiancée was a cousin from his mother’s side, they sneered, thinking Madam Shen had used her son’s marriage to elevate her humble family.

But in truth, Madam Shen had also given up her dreams—for his sake. She had compromised too.

In this whole affair, everyone had compromised. Not just him.

Shen Ti fell silent for a long while, then let out a soft sigh.

He truly had been immature.

As he walked on, his thoughts turned to his cousin Huai Xi—his current fiancée, Yin Zhi.

He could understand Feng Luoyi’s desire for a child—it was for her own security.

But what about his cousin?

Back when things were still uncertain between him and Feng Luoyi, she had directly advised him to give Feng Luoyi a child, as that was the best way to secure her future.

To make such a suggestion, she clearly understood the dynamics of the inner court all too well.

And yet she was the one who would become the main wife.

She wanted to marry him not for romance or harmony, but because, as she said: “Since no one can escape marriage, might as well find a good match—team up and live life together.”

At the time, Shen Ti had his doubts.

He and Yin Zhi both knew that this marriage was a step up for the Yin family, and it would naturally be highly advantageous to her. It wasn’t impossible that she’d put on such a show just to win the match.

But now, walking slowly with hands behind his back, Shen Ti murmured something.

Changchuan stepped forward, “What was that?”

“Cousin…” Shen Ti looked toward the orange-red sunset and softly sighed, “is a true gentlewoman.”

Her advice may have seemed absurd, but it only proved her honesty.

“Changchuan.”

“Here.”

“If anything happens on Miss Feng’s side and Zhaoxiang comes to you, ask clearly and report back to me.”

“Yes, sir!”

“If they want to see me—refuse.”

“Huh?”

“Do you understand?”

“Understood!”

—

Inside the small courtyard house, Feng Luoyi lay face-down on the bed, sobbing into her hands, overcome with shame.

Zhaoxiang couldn’t believe it. “How could he reject you? How…”

How was that even possible?

Among servants, things weren’t as restrained as among noble ladies. The older women often spoke lewd jokes, laughing together. They’d say all men are cats—unable to resist the scent of something tempting.

Zhaoxiang hadn’t understood at first, but over time, she learned.

Most young noblemen had a bed companion by fifteen or sixteen—it was the age when they couldn’t restrain themselves.

But Young Master Shen was different. He’d gone off to study at twelve. By the time he was fifteen or sixteen, the Feng family had already fallen, and he’d made promises to her family concerning both the exams and marriage.

He secluded himself in study and never touched the servant girls.

The Shen family was determined that he pass the imperial exam on the first try—failure wasn’t an option. Unlike others who could try again and again, Shen Ti had no such luxury.

So for over a year, the household hadn’t arranged any companions for him, fearing distraction.

Now he was seventeen—youthful and brimming with energy. And her lady was so beautiful, so pitiful. Zhaoxiang truly couldn’t understand—how did Shen Ti resist Feng Luoyi?

Shouldn’t it have been passion at first touch?

“What exactly happened?” Zhaoxiang paced anxiously. “Tell me, how did he act?”

She suspected Feng Luoyi had been too reserved, too proud.

“Don’t ask me, don’t ask!” Feng Luoyi refused to lift her face or speak further.

It was too humiliating.

Shen Lang had spoken to her with a stern face.

He had always been gentle, always courteous. It was the first time he had looked at her with such severity.

“I know you’re afraid, grasping at straws. But this is not a good plan. In fact, it’s the worst.”

“We are not even betrothed. If a child is born, people will say I’m licentious. But you—they will condemn you for life.”

“It would only cause people to look down on you.”

“Feng Luoyi, can you…”

Even his voice had turned hard.

What was he going to say with that last sentence?

Feng Luoyi didn’t know that Shen Ti had actually felt helpless in the end. He had wanted to say, “Can you trust my arrangements?” But he held it back and simply walked away.

Because he hadn’t finished his sentence, Feng Luoyi’s heart was left in turmoil.

She filled in the gaps with self-condemning thoughts—each one striking deep.

Each one calling her shameless.

She had been foolish, insecure, and let her maid’s bad advice cloud her judgment.

What would a maid know of virtue or honor? They only sought to rise up. In the past, there had even been maids in her household who tried to climb into her father’s bed.

She had lost her mind—to stoop to something so base.

Would Shen Lang… ever cherish her again?

Zhaoxiang tried to speak again, but Feng Luoyi cried, “Leave me!”

Zhaoxiang froze, managed a weak “yes,” and stepped out.

She stood at the edge of the courtyard, staring at the lengthening shadows on the ground.

The world was unfair.

She was just a common maid. Feng Luoyi, now reduced to a government-servant concubine, was technically lower in rank—but still lived like a noble lady.

She lived in the main house, had no worries about food or chores, gave orders like a mistress.

Zhaoxiang listened to Feng Luoyi’s weeping from within and twisted the handkerchief in her hand with growing resentment.