Chapter 17: Won’t This Charm Completely Bewitch You

Speaking softly, Mei Zhen gently removed a small piece of cloth from her hair ornament. She unfolded it carefully; the writing upon it was already somewhat blurred, yet the character of the script still shone through with clarity.

“What distinctive handwriting," Ying Shuo remarked offhandedly, "like the words left by someone of high position, solitary and cold.”

This casual comment made Mei Zhen tense.

“Master Ying, please, take it and look,” she said.

He took the cloth and examined it closely.

“An old man lives alone, enduring the passing years.”

The phrase struck him with a sudden wave of melancholy. The couplet itself was not difficult, but the fact that Mei Zhen had produced this as the upper line hinted at a deeper meaning.

He guessed her mentor must be an elderly man, perhaps one who spent his life immersed in the study of medicine, seeking only mastery of healing arts and finding solitude in his later years. Perhaps even in death, he remained alone—a white-haired elder living in isolation.

Even the two medicinal ingredients referenced—one cooling the blood, the other driving away the cold—had opposing effects and could not be used together, adding to the sense of tragedy.

Was Mei Zhen using this couplet to hint at the loneliness of guarding an empty room alone?

That serene, withdrawn temperament—was it not born of nights spent without a companion at her side?

Teacher and disciple, even their emotional lives seemed to follow the same path.

“It seems I must put real thought into answering this couplet,” Ying Shuo mused, after a moment’s contemplation, handing the cloth back to Mei Zhen.

As their hands touched, he distinctly felt Mei Zhen’s gentle, jade-like hand tremble with excitement.

“What’s the matter? Can’t come up with an answer?” Jiang Qingyue teased, waggling her eyebrows at Ying Shuo’s thoughtful expression, her manner anything but that of a proper lady.

“If you can’t do it, don’t pretend to be something you’re not!”

“All that ‘poetry in seven steps’? It’s just trickery and deception!”

“I suppose your refusal to leave makes you no different from that so-called flower thief.”

She muttered the last part quietly, not daring to say it aloud, since even her own mother wasn’t on her side.

Ugh! What sort of people are these! No skill, yet so eager to boast!

It was all her grandfather’s fault—such an old fossil! Why couldn’t he arrange a marriage with a wealthy family?

What was Ying Shuo, after all? How could he possibly be worthy of an engagement with the eldest daughter of the Jiang family?

With these thoughts, Jiang Qingyue felt justified, her face full of disdain.

After a long while, Ying Shuo finally exhaled and smiled, unperturbed.

“Who says I can’t answer it?”

“I’ve already thought of the lower line.”

“But…”

Jiang Qingyue’s ears nearly stood upright at his words, and as he paused, she continued to mock him.

“But what? But you’ll tell us in your next life?”

“Enough, Master Ying. Don’t blame others for looking down on you—it’s your own lack of ability.”

Did he really think he was some young poet-immortal? He was just a fraud!

Ying Shuo was not offended. Those who truly possess talent rarely bother with mockery, for such words are meaningless.

He simply smiled and spoke lightly: “I’ll share the lower line only with Aunt Mei.”

Mei Zhen was startled, then grew uneasy.

Only… only with me?

What did Master Ying mean by this?

The others were equally puzzled.

“Master Ying, why only with Aunt Mei? Can the rest of us not hear it?” Jiang Lanfen asked with wide-eyed curiosity.

The sentiment was shared by the others.

“You cannot, especially you, little girl,” Ying Shuo replied, lowering his head and smiling at Jiang Lanfen’s large eyes.

He couldn’t help but marvel again—this girl was truly adorable.

At Ying Shuo’s rather ambiguous words, a faint blush crept across Mei Zhen’s calm face, and her fingers began to unconsciously fidget.

“Why?” Jiang Lanfen pressed, refusing to let it go, unable to understand.

Madam Jiang glanced around, equally perplexed, and asked directly, “Master Ying, we really don’t understand why.”

“But, if you insist, it’s no trouble. Your Aunt Mei studied medicine under her mentor, and naturally had to read. She can judge the quality of poetry and couplets, so it’s fine.”

With Madam Jiang’s approval, Ying Shuo said no more. He took up paper and brush, and with the fine calligraphy honed from years of study, wrote the lower line:

“May the beauty’s union bring longevity and joy.”

Ambiguous, romantic, and suggestive, the lower line was meant only for Mei Zhen.

After all, such a direct declaration of affection was not something people of this era would openly accept. If others saw or heard it, it would surely invite gossip.

Rolling up the slip, Ying Shuo handed it to Mei Zhen with a faint smile.

“Aunt Mei, keep this slip well.”

As she turned away from the crowd to receive it, their view was blocked. Seizing the moment, Ying Shuo grasped Mei Zhen’s hand tightly, earnestly.

Her hand, held fast, sent waves through her normally tranquil eyes, and the blush on her face deepened.

“You!”

With a soft, angry exclamation, Mei Zhen dared not meet his gaze.

Her delicate hand was powerless, no matter how she tried to pull away from his grasp.

The warmth of his touch—it had been so long since she had felt it.

Biting her lip, Mei Zhen’s eyes grew hazy, but after a moment’s composure, she slowly unfolded the slip.

“May the beauty’s union bring longevity and joy.”

Such surprising, audacious words were like the final key, prying open the lock on Mei Zhen’s heart.

Her hands trembled, and the slip fell to the ground.

“What’s wrong, Ah Zhen?” Madam Jiang saw the slip fall and was curious; were it not for propriety, she would have rushed over to look.

The others craned their necks, as curious as giraffes.

Reminded, Mei Zhen covered her face with her hand, as if it were burning, and quickly picked up the slip.

Just then, Ying Shuo crouched down as well, their eyes met, and their fingers touched inadvertently—Mei Zhen felt as if struck by lightning.

Instinctively withdrawing her hand, Mei Zhen composed her chaotic thoughts, turned back, and forced a laugh.

“It’s nothing. It’s just that Master Ying’s lower line is excellent—very interesting.”

“It seems Master Ying truly possesses talent; perhaps ‘poetry in seven steps’ is not merely legend.”

Ying Shuo smiled in satisfaction at this assessment.

What does “excellent” mean? Are you saying I’m an excellent man?

Surely this is enough to charm you, little widow.

Watching Mei Zhen’s heart gradually conquered, Ying Shuo felt a surge of pleasure and laughed heartily.

“Not at all! Just a modest effort!”

“Is it true? I don’t believe it!” Jiang Qingyue’s brows knit together, and she reached for the slip.

Mei Zhen quickly tucked the slip away.

“Qingyue, since Master Ying said he doesn’t want others to see it, we ought to respect his wishes.”

With no other option, Jiang Qingyue had to back down, stubbornly protesting,

“Hmph! Another lucky guess, I’m sure!”

With that, she turned and left, unable to stand being there any longer.

“Aunt Mei, are you alright? Why is your face so red?” Jiang Lanfen asked innocently.

That simple question nearly unmoored Mei Zhen, making her voice tremble with nervousness.

“Ah?”