Chapter 23: Twists and Turns Dispel the Clouds of Doubt

Shen Yanxi was somewhat speechless.

You watched me for so long just to tell me this? Did I spend all that time contemplating, only to come here and hear you say this? Shouldn't you be explaining why you wrote such a bloody poem? Shouldn't you be telling me whether you intend to destroy the Shen family?

“So why did you write it?” Shen Yanxi had no choice but to ask herself.

“Ah, I just thought of it at the time, so I wrote it…”

Shen Yanxi: “…”

Shen Yanxi was getting anxious; what kind of answer is that? Of course I know you wrote it because you thought of it, but is that really the point?

“I mean, why did you write such… such an intense, violent poem? Is it what you truly think? Do you feel the Shen family has made things difficult for you, so you want to…” Her voice grew softer and more hesitant as she spoke, nervous and uneasy.

“Huh?” Lu Jin glanced at Shen Yanxi, then at the two poems, puzzled for a moment before a sudden realization dawned on him.

“You don’t actually think I’m targeting the Shen family, do you…?” Lu Jin exclaimed, surprised.

“Isn’t it so…” Shen Yanxi looked up at Lu Jin, puzzled. Did you have some other ordeal?

Heavens! Lu Jin was utterly speechless, realizing he’d dug himself into yet another hole.

Besides, I just wrote it for fun—how did it end up with you? Wait, I saw Caiyun standing over there earlier, that traitor!

But how to explain? Should I say someone else wrote it? That I was frustrated about not receiving the inheritance, felt the heavens were against me, and so I copied it down to vent?

I do have grievances against the Shen family, but not to the extent of wanting to wipe them out. You’re noble, I can’t reach your heights, so I’ll leave. That’s all!

Still, I must explain, given tonight’s situation. If I don’t clear things up, there’ll be trouble.

Once Lu Jin understood her suspicions, he realized the gravity of the situation. If the Shen family found out, would he have any way out?

“Um, um… who else has seen it?” Lu Jin asked, uneasy.

“If my father had seen it, do you think I’d still be standing here? Do you think you would?” Under the lamplight, Shen Yanxi’s eyes sparkled.

Lu Jin breathed a sigh of relief at Shen Yanxi’s answer. As long as no one else knew, there was hope. Otherwise, he’d really have to abduct this beauty and flee.

“It’s all a misunderstanding. I was just in a bad mood this afternoon and wrote it to vent…”

Shen Yanxi’s gaze was blazing: Do you think I believe that?

How to explain—God help me! Lu Jin’s mind raced faster than ever, searching for a way out.

“You look so lovely, but you can’t frame me. I’m just a scholar—I don’t even dare kill a chicken, let alone do anything so bloody…”

Shen Yanxi: Then tell me something concrete, or how am I supposed to believe you?

You have no idea what I went through earlier, nor the resolve I brought to this meeting…

“It wasn’t me; it’s from a storybook…” Lu Jin, exhausted from the afternoon’s turmoil, couldn’t think of a better solution and had to confess honestly.

“From a storybook…?” Shen Yanxi was incredulous, completely caught off guard.

“Yes, it’s the experience of a character in a storybook. He killed someone, was caught by the authorities, and sent to a place called Jiangzhou—not our Jiangzhou, but the Jiangzhou in the book. There, he made several friends and lived fairly well. One night, he got drunk and, feeling his ambitions thwarted, wrote these two poems on the tavern wall…” Lu Jin summarized succinctly. He had no choice; today he couldn’t get past this.

“What’s his name?” Shen Yanxi asked.

“Song Jiang.”

Shen Yanxi’s beautiful brows knitted lightly. “What storybook?”

“Water Margin.”

“I’ve never heard of a storybook like that,” Shen Yanxi mused, puzzled. Aren’t storybooks usually about romance under the moon?

Enough, enough, let it end with me—no more digging holes.

“I thought it up myself, haven’t written it yet…” Lu Jin replied helplessly.

“Then isn’t it your own writing? How is it someone else’s?”

As Lu Jin spoke, Shen Yanxi gradually relaxed. He didn’t seem like someone capable of staining Jiangkou with blood. But his excuse was painfully weak. Where was that knack for spinning tales he showed in the plum orchard earlier?

Lu Jin: I’d like to know myself. My mind’s quick with others, but stalls only with you! Do you have some kind of intelligence-draining effect on me?

“It’s inspired by the character’s experience; written from his perspective…” Lu Jin hurried to explain, unsure if Shen Yanxi would understand.

Shen Yanxi visibly relaxed, circling Lu Jin as if trying to see through him. Lu Jin remained silent, his expression constipated.

“I never imagined the husband I brought home would be such a talent—not only skilled in music and calligraphy, but also able to write storybooks. Your poetry is impressive, though a bit heavy in tone…” Shen Yanxi’s mood lightened as she spoke.

Lu Jin: Ha. Underestimating me, are you? In my past life, I was a true arts enthusiast. But artists seldom meet good ends—self-indulgence is social suicide.

Wait, how do you feel pride in kidnapping someone? In another world, you’d be singing prison songs, not swaggering here.

Who was it just now, looking so pitiful? I’m just too soft-hearted.

“When do you plan to write this storybook?” After circling for a while, Shen Yanxi turned and asked, eyes full of sly mischief.

“Ah, I never said I’d write a storybook.” Lu Jin was stunned.

How did this end up with me writing a storybook? I only mentioned it to save my neck, never promised anything.

“How can I know you’re telling the truth unless I see the storybook?” Shen Yanxi’s gaze flickered, her lips tinged with grievance—as if suspecting he was deceiving her.

Lu Jin’s head ached. He was already entirely at this girl’s mercy, and if they really became a couple, he’d be in for a rough time.

“So what do you want?” Lu Jin asked, apprehensive.

“Write the storybook. If you don’t finish, you can forget about leaving the Shen residence…”

Once Shen Yanxi was sure Lu Jin wasn’t plotting against the Shen family, she became cheerful, unconsciously revealing another side of herself in front of him.

This afternoon, Lu Jin had truly given her shock after shock.

Music, chess, calligraphy, poetry—he wasn’t just proficient, but excelled at all four. The music wasn’t crucial, but such a composition was rare; even a master might not create a piece like that in a lifetime.

Most importantly, this husband she’d brought home was a bit of a fool, amusing, and very talented—different from anyone she’d ever met.

She found him interesting: not one to hide his emotions, everything written on his face.

He spoke directly and openly, neither false nor insincere, easy and natural to be around. When he saw her, he even seemed a bit shy, making her want to tease him. Especially when he looked helpless and flustered—it made her want to laugh.

If Lu Jin knew how Shen Yanxi was internally criticizing him, he’d probably spit blood. In his past life, if only he could master emotionless composure, he wouldn’t have lived so insignificantly.

Back to the present: how did it come to writing a storybook, and not being allowed to leave if he didn’t? Isn’t this like chatting casually with your boss, only to be told to draft the proposal overnight? How do you escape such a curse?

“Not writing is fine.” Lu Jin relaxed a bit.

“Then you can go see my father and explain everything to him…” Shen Yanxi tried to keep her expression steady, her eyes sparkling.

Lu Jin: “…”

Ha, meet the father-in-law? What a joke. I just stabbed him twice today, and he’s probably