117: I'm here to pick you up

Su Mingyue’s carriage rattled its way onto the small road in Qingzhou.

As the carriage rolled, its wheels left deep ruts in the rain-soaked mud.

“Young Miss, when Young Master Shen sees you, he’ll be so happy he’ll forget to drink his medicine.”

Cuiliu held a teacup, handing the freshly brewed Junshan Yinzhen to Su Mingyue.

“I wonder how Shen Lang’s body is now? When he left the capital… he couldn’t even hold a medicine cup steady.”

Cuiliu’s hand, holding the tea, paused, then steadily offered the tea.

“Young Miss, Young Master Shen will surely understand your feelings. Didn’t they say Qingzhou is blessed by a deity?”

“Young Master Shen will definitely get better.”

Seeing Su Mingyue’s low spirits, Cuiliu silently retreated to the outside of the carriage.

The Su Family was a General’s Residence, so logically, there shouldn’t have been any connection with the merchant Shen Family, but the Young Miss of the Su Family was utterly devoted to the third Young Master of the Shen Family.

Madam Su and Master Su, loving their daughter, saw that they couldn’t stop her, so they let her be.

Their mutual affection was once a celebrated story in the capital.

Fortunately, Shen Jianxing was quite promising, showing strong Cultivation talent at a young age, and everything was so coincidental.

But alas… fate played a cruel trick.

“Shen Lang…”

Su Mingyue wiped away her tears, looking utterly distraught.

Although she was the legitimate daughter of a General’s Residence, she had been pampered since childhood, innocent and straightforward.

Her maidservant was also specially chosen for her by her father, fearing she might suffer later.

What Su Mingyue didn’t know was that the little maidservant, whom she thought was loyal, turned grim after leaving the carriage compartment.

Cuiliu was loyal, true, but her loyalty was to the Shen Family’s patriarch, Su Lie.

“Bitch, three years as a living dead, and still not dead!”

Thinking of the master’s secret instructions, the little maidservant gritted her teeth.

“This General’s Residence really doesn’t keep idlers. One salary, two jobs.”

***

The carriage swayed along, then suddenly stopped.

A white horse neighed, halting ten meters from the carriage, the raised dust turning into a golden mist in the morning light.

Leading them was Shen Jianxing, looking dashing.

Su Mingyue gripped the window frame tightly, her fingernails scraping faint lines on the sandalwood—she feared this was another dream that would vanish upon waking.

The young man on horseback dismounted gracefully.

His way of walking had changed; it was no longer the suppressed endurance of someone enduring illness to stand tall before her, but a briskness like bamboo growing tall.

Yet, his eyes hadn’t changed, reflecting the morning glow, as clear as they were three years ago when he guessed riddles for her at the Lantern Festival.

“A Yue.”

Shen Jianxing stopped before the carriage shaft, his Adam’s apple bobbed, his voice soft as if afraid to startle the birds on the branches, “I’ve come to pick you up.”

Su Mingyue suddenly lifted the curtain and stepped out.

The crimson ruqun she had specially worn today fluttered in the morning breeze, and the pearl hairpins at her temples jingled.

But before she could steady her feet, she stumbled forward—and was caught firmly by a pair of warm hands.

“Be careful.”

Shen Jianxing’s palm rested on her lower back, the body heat transmitted through her clothes made Su Mingyue tremble.

This person, who once couldn't even hold a teacup steady, now had arms as solid as ironwood.

It made one want to lean on him.

Su Mingyue’s cheeks flushed, and she suddenly grabbed his lapel, the cloud brocade fabric wrinkling in her fingers: “Shen Jianxing!”

Only after shouting these three words did she realize they were laced with a sob.

“You’re really well!… Do you know that every time I received a letter from you saying you were ‘getting better,’ I’d study the handwriting for a long time to see if it was a ghostwriter?”

Shen Jianxing let her tug at him, his hair falling as he lowered his head, and he nervously touched his nose.

“The very first letter was indeed written by Xiaotao. But I swear, the ones after that were all written by me, genuine articles.”

Su Mingyue let go, tears falling onto the back of his hand.

“Liar.”

“A Yue…”

Shen Jianxing looked aggrieved.

Su Mingyue chuckled, tears still clinging to her eyelashes, looking very charming.

She suddenly reached out and touched his chest; there was no longer the gauntness of a sickly frame, only a steady, strong heartbeat: “Are you really completely well?”

Shen Jianxing suddenly took her wrist, guiding her hand to grip his.

“A Yue, feel it. Not a single trace is left.”

Su Mingyue looked at the vibrant man before her, gradually feeling at ease, then withdrew her hand, her ear tips slightly red.

Would Shen Lang think she was too forward?

“A Yue, you’re so beautiful.”

Whether she was forward or not, Shen Jianxing was completely smitten, his heart felt steeped in sweet water, constantly bubbling with pink.

The words were too hot, and Su Mingyue’s cheeks began to flush.

She turned her face away, but her peripheral vision caught sight of Cuiliu outside the carriage—the maidservant had retreated three zhang away at some point, her head bowed, staring at the ground, her fingers twisting her handkerchief almost to wring water from it.

“Cuiliu, come and greet Young Master Shen.”

Su Mingyue called out loudly.

Cuiliu suddenly looked up, a hint of panic flashing in her eyes, then quickly replaced by a respectful smile: “This servant greets Young Master Shen. Congratulations on your recovery, Young Master…”

Shen Jianxing nodded in acknowledgment, not thinking much of it.

This Cuiliu must be new; the head maidservant beside A Yue before wasn’t this one, Shen Jianxing couldn’t help but glance at her again.

However, Cuiliu had a guilty conscience, and just that glance, she suddenly stumbled forward, the hand warmer in her hand clanged to the ground, rolling to Shen Jianxing’s feet.

Shen Jianxing frowned slightly, and as he bent down to pick up the hand warmer, his fingertips touched the Su Family’s hidden pattern carved on the bottom of the stove—that was a marking for items exclusively used by Su Lie.

Shen Jianxing picked up the hand warmer, not thinking much of it; Su Lie was Su Mingyue’s father, his future father-in-law.

Shen Jianxing only thought at the time that this hand warmer was a sign of Su Lie’s deep love for his daughter.

“Young Miss, I’m sorry, this hand warmer…”

Cuiliu’s voice trembled, “Perhaps the road was bumpy, and the lid came loose…”

“It’s fine.”

Su Mingyue didn’t notice anything unusual, smiling as she tugged on Shen Jianxing’s sleeve, “You just said Chang Sheng Village has osmanthus cakes? How do they compare to your Shen Family chef’s skill?”

“Naturally, each has its own merits.”

He discreetly returned the hand warmer to Cuiliu, then pulled out a paper-wrapped package.

“I also prepared your favorite sugar-steamed cream, kept warm with Qi so it wouldn’t get cold on the way.”

Su Mingyue’s eyes lit up, and just as she was about to reach for it, she saw Cuiliu suddenly cough violently, a trickle of blood seeping through her fingers as she covered her mouth with a handkerchief.

“Cuiliu!”

Su Mingyue was startled and reached out to support her, “What’s wrong? Did you catch a cold?”

“This servant… this servant is fine…”

Cuiliu stepped back half a pace, avoiding her touch, “Perhaps the morning wind is chilly… Young Miss, please go with Young Master Shen for tea, this servant… this servant will come to serve you later…”

When the carriage set off again, Su Mingyue leaned against Shen Jianxing’s shoulder, looking at the wheat fields rushing past the carriage window, and suddenly said softly: “Just now Cuiliu looked unwell, I’m afraid…”

“Perhaps it’s travel fatigue.”

Shen Jianxing gathered her cape around her, his fingertips inadvertently brushing the diamond-like ice crystals in her hair.

“A Yue, rest assured, once you are settled, I will send someone to invite the best doctor in Qingzhou to examine her.”

As he said this, his gaze passed through the carriage window towards the distant official road.