Chapter 38: Shadows of Shame

It was several days later when Feng Luoyi finally learned that Shen Ti had moved out to the outer residence.

Having been overwhelmed with shame for days, Feng Luoyi remained withdrawn. Her maid, Zhaoxiang, couldn’t take it anymore and urged her to at least sew a couple of pairs of socks for Shen Ti. Once Feng Luoyi finished, Zhaoxiang took them in hand. “I’ll deliver them,” she said. “It gives me a reason to ask around about the young master. We can’t just leave things hanging like this.”

Feng Luoyi was silent for a long while and only said, “Don’t stay too long.”

“I know,” Zhaoxiang replied. “I won’t bother him.”

“Don’t do anything unnecessary. Don’t say anything unnecessary,” Feng Luoyi warned.

Zhaoxiang had initially wanted Feng Luoyi to write a poem for Shen Ti—after all, Feng Luoyi was known for her literary talent, a reputation that had even influenced Madam Shen’s decision to choose her.

But Feng Luoyi refused. In her current situation, sending poetry would be an intimate exchange—crossing a line.

Shen Ti had already asked her to conduct herself with dignity. She couldn’t allow herself to act cheap or desperate anymore.

With no other option, Zhaoxiang pushed Feng Luoyi to sew the socks instead. “We owe everything to the Shen family now. Two pairs of socks to express gratitude—no one could say anything about that.”

And so Feng Luoyi compromised. She stitched each thread with care and sincerity.

Zhaoxiang thought Feng Luoyi was being contradictory—wanting Shen Ti’s affection but also clinging to her pride. Things had reached this point; how could she still hope to keep both?

Unwilling to lower her pride or bend her back—when the official wife enters, she’ll be the one crying.

Still, she was Feng Luoyi’s maid. Her own future depended on Feng Luoyi’s fate.

It was frustrating.

When she brought the socks to Shen Ti’s residence, she learned that he had already moved to the outer courtyard.

Startled, she asked, “Why? When did he move?”

The two oldest maids in the courtyard had already left to prepare for marriage. The remaining girls were all visibly upset. Shen Ti’s unexpected move had thrown their future into uncertainty and threatened their prospects.

They had fought to get into the young master’s household, thinking it was the best post. But Shen Ti spent most of his days studying in the study; he only returned to the residence at night.

He preferred to use male attendants and wasn’t particularly affectionate toward the maids—not cruel, just distant.

Still, they had hoped to endure until he passed the imperial exams. But now he had not only placed as third in the national exam but had also become engaged—and then promptly moved to the outer residence.

The maids were heartbroken, pulling Zhaoxiang aside to complain.

She comforted them outwardly but felt even worse inside. After probing around, she discovered it had happened the night her mistress’s attempt to seduce Shen Ti had failed.

The reason was all too clear.

Everyone knew Miss Feng was the designated future concubine. The master and madam had already agreed. They were just waiting for the official wife to enter the household before making it official.

So the maids accepted the socks Feng Luoyi had sewn.

Zhaoxiang asked, “How should I deliver these?”

In scholarly households, the rules were strict—even inner-courtyard maids weren’t allowed to go freely beyond the second gate.

One maid replied, “Give them to Changchuan. He’ll take them out.”

Just then, Changchuan arrived.

“Young master asked me to fetch something—the box with the pine-and-crane carving. Is it here?” he asked. “Sister Zhaoxiang, are you here for something?”

Zhaoxiang mentioned the socks. “Perfect,” he said. “I’ll take them along.”

A maid retrieved the box, and Changchuan tucked the socks away too. As they left the courtyard, Zhaoxiang pulled him aside and asked, “What if our young lady needs something, now that the young master’s in the outer courtyard?”

“You still have me, don’t you?” said Changchuan. “If Miss Feng needs anything, just come to me. I’ll pass it along.”

“When can I see the young master again?” Zhaoxiang pressed.

Though young, Changchuan was clever. Shen Ti had instructed him, and he had also spoken with Pingmo, another servant. Pingmo had made it clear: “Young master doesn’t want to see them—but that doesn’t mean he’s abandoned them.”

Changchuan understood.

“You won’t be seeing him,” he said innocently. “He returns to the main courtyard after class, eats, and goes straight back.”

Zhaoxiang’s heart sank. She regretted encouraging Feng Luoyi to cross that line.

“Don’t worry, Sister,” said Changchuan, patting the socks tucked in his chest. “If Miss Feng needs anything, you know where to find me.”

With that, he dashed off toward the second gate and quickly disappeared.

When Zhaoxiang returned to the small courtyard and relayed the news, Feng Luoyi silently wept again.

Zhaoxiang braced herself to comfort her—but to her surprise, Feng Luoyi suddenly began to laugh through her tears.

She cried and laughed, laughed and cried.

Startled, Zhaoxiang asked, “Miss, why are you laughing?”

Was she losing her mind?

Feng Luoyi wiped her tears. “You don’t understand.”

“Shen Lang…” she lowered her eyes, tear-drops still clinging to her lashes, “is a true gentleman.”

He had chosen to leave.

But she was nothing now—merely a servant of a government family. Why would a top-ranked scholar need to avoid someone like her?

Yet, in his heart, he still treated her like the young lady she once was.

Feng Luoyi deeply regretted her rash behavior. She had degraded herself and insulted a noble man.

Never again. Never again.

She looked at Zhaoxiang. Of course the maid didn’t understand.

But she didn’t need her to. These were things only she and Shen Ti could understand—things shared between them alone.

“No more visits unless it’s truly necessary,” Feng Luoyi said.

“What? But—” Zhaoxiang objected.

“My family still provides for us. We don’t need to bother him. Quietly, steadily, let’s wait for his wedding.”

Zhaoxiang grew anxious. “But how can that be? If we don’t win his favor before the main wife arrives, we’ll lose even more!”

“So you want me to gain his affection?” Feng Luoyi replied. “Foolish girl.”

“What matters most to me now isn’t affection—it’s a proper title. Remember, Lord and Lady Shen don’t truly want to keep me.”

Zhaoxiang fell silent.

“Without a title, what affection could possibly matter?”

“I must behave myself. I cannot let anything happen that might cause Lord or Lady Shen to want to cast me out. If I stay quiet and cause no trouble until Shen Lang’s wedding, and I am formally recognized, only then will I be safe.”

Zhaoxiang had nothing more to say.

She was just a maid. Though she had learned to read and recite some poems, her vision was still limited—focused only on gaining favor and securing benefits in the inner court.

“All right. I’ll listen to you,” she finally said.

Feng Luoyi glanced at her.

She had noticed how Zhaoxiang’s tone had changed. Once, she was just a third-class maid and would never have dared speak like this.

It was only because her mistress’s status had changed.

Shen Ti had moved out to keep distance—but in doing so, he had shown her respect.

Zhaoxiang still served her daily, but the respect was no longer there.

Feng Luoyi now saw it clearly.

Lord and Lady Shen were pleased with Shen Ti’s decision to distance himself from Feng Luoyi before marriage. The Shen family was known for its upright values, and Lord Shen had long worried about the two of them. Seeing that his son had acted wisely, without being told, made him proud.

Lady Shen kept a close watch and told her husband, “That side has been quiet—no secret meetings.”

She meant Feng Luoyi.

Pitiful as she was, her misfortune was not caused by the Shen family. They had already extended help out of old engagement ties.

Lord Shen had never supported his son taking Feng Luoyi as a concubine. If she disgraced the family’s name, he would not tolerate her.

It was Lady Shen who spoke up on her behalf: “She’s a well-educated girl. Pitiful, really.”

She added, “Shiniang is a kind-hearted girl—surely she can be generous.”

Women are softer by nature. Seeing a girl of the same background fall so far, Lady Shen couldn’t help but feel sympathy.

After all, she had once handpicked Feng Luoyi as her son’s bride.

Seeing no objection from her husband, Lady Shen quietly elevated Feng Luoyi’s status to that of a concubine.

Servants were added to her courtyard, and Zhaoxiang no longer had to do all the chores alone.

Meanwhile, Lady Shen focused on preparing the newlyweds’ home. It was larger than Shen Ti’s previous courtyard, and she even had a new fish pond dug. She deliberately left space open, planting no flowers.

When someone asked, she replied cheerfully, “When Shiniang arrives, she can tend it herself—she likes that sort of thing.”

The servants understood Lady Shen’s attitude toward her future daughter-in-law: she was affectionate. They were blood relatives, after all.

But while the inner court was important, Lord Shen was more concerned with Shen Ti’s career.

Upon taking office, Shen Ti was supposed to spend some days familiarizing himself before being assigned. Normally, he would start at the Hanlin Academy and rotate into palace duty later.

Unexpectedly, the emperor caught wind that Shen Ti had returned to the capital and asked about him. The academic supervisor responded by moving all his palace duties forward.

Soon, Shen Ti was working directly under the emperor.

Young, talented, and handsome—so long as he made no grave errors, he would follow a steady path, and within thirty years, he could easily rise to the top of the court.

This was always meant to be Shen Ti’s destiny.

Ten months passed in the blink of an eye.

The Shen family in the capital and the Yin family in Huaixi completed all six stages of betrothal according to tradition. By the second month of the next year, a boat was sent to escort the bride.

Like Shen Ti, Yin Shi had kept a low profile for ten months, patiently awaiting her wedding.

She had waited so long for this day. Though reluctant to part with her carefree girlhood, she felt genuinely emotional and cried as she left, bidding farewell to her youth.

Her third uncle cried with her—much more than he had when his own daughters married.

His wife nearly rolled her eyes.

Wearing her wedding dress, Yin Shi boarded the bridal boat, escorted by her eldest brother and two cousins from the main and second branches of the family. They journeyed upstream toward the capital.

Against the wind, the boat zigzagged, moving slowly.

Yin Shi ate so much fish along the way that she nearly got sick of it. At last, they reached the capital in April.

Though the wedding involved many tedious details, Yin Shi had no worries—she just ate and slept. After all, brides weren’t allowed to be seen.

Her brothers were speechless. They had never seen a bride so carefree and relaxed—she truly could eat and sleep anywhere.

At last, the big day came. She was woken early, yawned through her makeup, donned her full bridal gear, veiled her face, and got into the flower sedan.

With drums and gongs, the procession made countless turns, and by the time they reached the Shen household, Yin Shi was starving.

Beneath her veil, she saw a pair of beautiful hands holding out a red silk ribbon and gently calling, “Cousin.”

Yin Shi softly replied, “Long time no see,” and took the ribbon.

Led by that hand, she stepped into the Shen residence.

They bowed to Heaven and Earth, to the ancestral elders.

And finally, to each other.

In this ancient world, it was as if she had been reborn once more.