Chapter 22: The Warrior Who Never Returns

Shen Residence, New Moon Pavilion.

At this moment, Lu Jin had no idea that the two poems he had casually written to vent his feelings had already reached Shen Yanxi. Nor did he know what awaited him next.

Normally, he would have eaten something at this hour, but today he had snacked quite a bit in Plum Garden. Looking at the dishes brought by the little maid, he had no appetite. Truth be told, he was sick of it already—only a month had passed, how was he supposed to endure this in the future?

It wasn’t necessarily that food from ancient times was inherently unpalatable; rather, Lu Jin had tasted the fare of later ages, especially all sorts of tempting seasonings. The offerings before him now felt bland by comparison. But there was nothing to be done—he would simply endure it and hope for better opportunities ahead.

Hadn’t his aunt said she would send something over? Yet nothing had arrived. He’d asked Pei Yunrui about it just now—surely he wouldn’t have lied? Lu Jin was still waiting to broaden his horizons.

What he didn’t know was that the gifts had been delivered to Creek Garden, not to him. As a son-in-law, he had no authority; the one in charge was Shen Yanxi, the true master of the household.

Bored and idle, Lu Jin wanted to sort out his thoughts, but picking up the brush and scribbling a few lines proved intolerable. He could write with a brush, but it was hardly suitable for everyday use—far too laborious.

He used to indulge in lamenting the seasons and feeling sorry for himself, but now, having decided to engage with this world, he found inconvenience at every turn. Not to mention the oil lamps in the room—several of them, not particularly dim, but he wondered if their fumes wouldn’t eventually suffocate him. He’d rather be allowed to smoke.

Just as Lu Jin was about to postpone today’s matters to tomorrow, the commotion outside grew loud.

Was Caiyun Lang back? Lu Jin rose from his chair and headed out of the study. At the doorway, he saw Shen Yanxi standing in the middle of the courtyard.

She wore a dark cloak, the hood shrouding her entire head. In the lamplight of night, she seemed enigmatic and indistinct. Her slightly tousled hair drifted in the evening breeze, lending her an air of desolation.

A group of maidservants stood quietly behind Shen Yanxi, saying nothing, but their bright eyes were fixed on Lu Jin.

He was taken aback. What was this situation? It didn’t feel promising. He quickly reflected for three seconds—he hadn’t done anything wrong.

Though he couldn’t make out Shen Yanxi’s face clearly, he felt her gaze on him, which made him uneasy. Why wouldn’t she just speak?

“I’ll go in alone. None of you are to come in.” Shen Yanxi withdrew her gaze and strode purposefully toward the study.

“Miss!” “Miss!” The voices of the maids rose and fell behind her, filled with concern.

“I said only I will go in!” Shen Yanxi’s voice was low and resolute, brooking no argument. The maids halted, worriedly watching their mistress walk into the wolf’s den. Oh heavens, what should they do? Perhaps they should call for help.

What did that mean? Was he supposed to eat their mistress? Lu Jin found the situation even stranger—what kind of drama was this?

Watching Shen Yanxi enter, Lu Jin, helpless, turned and followed her inside.

Upon entering the study, he saw Shen Yanxi standing before the desk with her back to the door, her silhouette solitary and determined in the flickering lamplight.

What on earth had happened? Who could be so blind as to bully such a beautiful girl? Lu Jin’s heart skipped a beat; at that moment, Shen Yanxi stirred a deep protective instinct within him.

“Close the door…” Her voice was gentle yet firm, each word carrying a chill and an aura of inviolability.

“Huh?” Lu Jin hesitated. Was it wise for a lone woman to close the door?

“I have something to say to you!” This time, Shen Yanxi’s tone held a clear note of entreaty.

Lu Jin turned and closed the door, approaching Shen Yanxi. If she, a stunning beauty, wasn’t afraid, what reason did he have to be coy?

“What do you want to tell me?” Lu Jin stood beside her at the desk, puzzled.

Shen Yanxi didn’t hurry to speak. Instead, she removed the hood from her cloak, revealing her exquisite features under the lamp.

Lu Jin was speechless. Was she here to seduce him? Her expression didn’t suggest it.

“Do you hate the Shen family and me?” Shen Yanxi’s eyes were cold as a winter pond, fixed intently on Lu Jin. Her delicate hands were twisted together—he could only guess how tense and anxious she felt.

“Eh? What do you mean?” Lu Jin was surprised—coming in the middle of the night to ask such a strange question?

“Can you tell me?” Shen Yanxi was determined not to drop the matter, her gaze burning.

“It’s not hatred, but there is resentment. Even if my memory loss led to misunderstandings between us, your father made me kneel in the rain without considering right or wrong. How would Miss Shen feel in my place?” Lu Jin didn’t bother to speculate about her motives, simply giving her a direct answer.

“Just because of that?” Shen Yanxi was stunned.

In her view, though her own hesitation had indeed contributed to the misunderstanding, Lu Jin shouldn’t have spoken so carelessly, especially casting doubts on her fidelity as his nominal wife. That was something Shen Yanxi could not tolerate—the reason for her anger.

Most importantly, even if Lu Jin was innocent, in a powerful family like the Shen clan, the rules were strict. For a son-in-law to confront his wife (the head of the household) was a serious offense. If it had been any other son-in-law, kneeling would not have sufficed as punishment. Her father actually regarded Lu Jin differently and had not been excessively harsh.

Besides, in such a family, reason was not the guiding principle—family law, rules, seniority, any of these outweighed so-called reason. She herself, if punished irrationally by her father, could only endure it.

Thus, she never imagined that Lu Jin would still harbor resentment over this matter.

It was a conflict between two worlds, two classes, two kinds of people.

“So, for Miss Shen, this is insignificant? Am I simply lacking magnanimity?” Lu Jin sneered.

“Oh, no. It’s all my fault! I wronged you.” Shen Yanxi, realizing her error, quickly apologized.

“No need for Miss Shen to apologize again—you’ve already explained last time. I only answered truthfully because you asked today.”

A single incident was not enough to explain everything, but the differences in understanding and the deeper contradictions revealed in between were what drove Lu Jin to consider leaving.

Shen Yanxi heard Lu Jin’s reply, her eyes flickering as she lowered her head in hesitation. She could see the sincerity in his eyes, which was why she had stared at him so intently just moments ago.

“This is your writing, isn’t it?” Shen Yanxi hesitated for a long time before finally placing the rolled-up paper she held onto the desk.

Only now did Lu Jin notice she was holding something. Following her hand, he looked at the paper. It seemed familiar…

Unrolling it on the desk, he realized it contained the two poems he’d written that afternoon.

“Hm? How did these end up with you?” Lu Jin looked at Shen Yanxi, puzzled.

She lifted her beautiful eyes to glance at him, then lowered her gaze to the two sheets on the table.

“…” Lu Jin, helpless, answered honestly, “I wrote them this afternoon. Is there a problem?”

He had never considered the concerns that troubled Shen Yanxi. At the time, he was simply venting his frustration and happened to recall Brother Gongming, so he scribbled whatever came to mind.

“…” Now it was Shen Yanxi’s turn to be speechless. The poems were filled with anger and violence, threatening bloodshed at every turn, and he was asking her what was wrong?

Having spoken, Lu Jin leaned in to study the verses more closely, unconcerned by Shen Yanxi’s expressive face.

Why did Brother Gongming insist on rebellion and official proclamations? Wouldn’t it be better to be a poet? The Song emperor would surely keep him close to discuss poetry and painting every day.

These two poems really did have vigor—a heroic spirit impossible to suppress.

He was quite pleased with his writing. After so long, he hadn’t lost his touch. It felt as if the pent-up energy from this afternoon had fueled the smooth flow of his brush.

“Well? Isn’t it good?” The more Lu Jin looked, the more delighted he became, his words full of pride, his demeanor growing buoyant.

Lu Jin’s nature was inherently lively, often irreverent. Early on, the oppressive environment had made him subdued.

But now, with his resolve set, everything seemed clear and open. His lively side began to emerge unconsciously.

Shen Yanxi: “…”