Chapter 5: The Claimant

                           

How could no one choose Shen Qingwu?

Because anyone with eyes would immediately pick Shen Qingye.

Shen Qingye had always been thin-skinned, so naturally she couldn’t let the spotlight fall on herself. She lowered her voice, soft and warm:
“Why would he choose me? That Zhang family Saburo… to be honest, it was my sister who saved him alone. She carried him into the carriage and helped him escape the assassins. He only fell into danger again because of him. If anything, he should have a fate with my sister.”

Shen Qingwu countered calmly, “So what if I saved him? He didn’t recognize me. What kind of fate is that?”

Shen Qingye froze for a moment before murmuring, “Well… saving a life means…”
Her cheeks flushed pink. She couldn’t get the words out. Shen Zhuo stepped into the room at that moment and finished for her with a grin:
“It means he’ll promise himself to you. Silly Qingwu—if he doesn’t know, can’t you just tell him?”

Shen Zhuo’s gaze lingered on Shen Qingwu. Although she didn’t like to talk, she always sat upright, straight-backed, eyebrows carrying a faintly heroic air.
She wasn’t as delicate or pretty as Shen Qingye, but she had her own quiet beauty.

He wrapped an arm around her shoulders and teased, “Sister, I think the Zhang family’s little moon must be destined for you.”

Shen Qingye laughed too.

Shen Qingwu remained unconvinced, but she still lifted a bronze mirror to look at herself.

She hadn’t expected anything from Zhang Xingjian’s matter. She hadn’t imagined that saving him would lead anywhere. Yet Shen Zhuo and Shen Qingye both insisted on believing those dramatic stories—“promise with the body,” “repay a life debt,” “he’s bound to choose you.” They even said this blind date banquet was practically held for her.

In their joking, Shen Qingwu took it seriously.

She knew she was like dried reeds and mud—ordinary, easily overlooked. But even weeds hoped the moon would cast them a single glance.

She knew she shouldn’t expect anything. Yet if she could marry, leave the Shen household, and finally live freely… perhaps her life could be different.

It was because of others’ words—because of these fragile hopes—that Shen Qingwu began paying attention to Zhang Xingjian in ways she couldn’t explain.
She wondered secretly:
At the blind date banquet, will he recognize me? Will he choose me?

And she reasoned:
If he doesn’t know I saved him, then I’ll tell him myself.

—

The Great Zhou Dynasty held early court four days a month. Coincidentally, Zhang Xingjian’s recovery aligned with a court day.

At the fifth watch, after the tower drums sounded, the distant clang of iron plates and wooden fish echoed through the alleys. Monks walked the streets, chanting the final reminder—
“Today is the morning audience.”

And so the people of Great Zhou began their day.

Mist still clung to the streets; lanterns wavered in the pale dawn. Zhang Xingjian rode through the morning haze, servants guarding him on both sides as he made his way toward the imperial city.

Colleagues approached along the road, exchanging bows. Their gazes lingered on him—the youngest jinshi, envoy of peace, Hanlin scholar, newly appointed inspector of the Censorate.

Zhang family’s third son: promising, brilliant, unstoppable.

High above, Shen Qingwu perched on a wall, half-hidden among pine branches, watching the young lord on horseback. One look, and she knew—it was Zhang Xingjian, the man she had carried through danger.

She followed him lightly through the treetops, shadowing him as he rode. Sunlight flickered behind him, gilding his figure.

The light wasn’t dazzling, but it suited him perfectly.

Shen Qingwu stared, stunned and delighted. She fell behind without noticing, then hurried to catch up, whispering in her heart:
Zhang Xingjian…
She didn’t even know what his name meant, but she liked the way it sounded.

Below, Zhang Xingjian heard Changlin move closer and whisper,
“Sanlang, someone is following us. Could it be Kong Xiang’s spies?”

Kong Xiang had long been at odds with the Zhang family, even sending assassins several times. Zhang Xingjian had used himself as bait to lure them out. Today was his first return to court; no one dared be careless.

Zhang Xingjian smiled faintly. His eyes rippled like a quiet lake. “Send someone to—”

He suddenly lifted his gaze.

A figure stood atop the wall.

He froze.

It was a young woman in a light martial robe, standing tall against the morning sky. Brushing aside a stray branch, she turned slightly—golden light rising behind her, casting her slender figure into shadow.

Her eyes—
black, bright, steady, cold.

A flowing galaxy: a girl’s innocence mingled with a warrior’s clarity.

Zhang Xingjian rode forward; she moved along the wall, neither too near nor too far. Every time he glanced sideways, she was there. High martial skill. That calm, steady gaze. Following him silently, yet never approaching.

Zhang Xingjian lowered his eyes.

Changlin prepared to send someone after her.
“Langjun?”

Zhang Xingjian looked again.

The morning light slipped through thin clouds, glimmering in the girl’s dark pupils. The gentle breeze lifted her robe. Light reached for her but could not catch her as she leapt away.

The contrast of brilliance and shadow stirred something deep in his chest.

“…Don’t worry about it,” he said.

Changlin blinked.

Zhang Xingjian asked instead, “Have you found out who saved me?”

Changlin bowed. “Still investigating.”

Zhang Xingjian’s gaze drifted once more toward the girl.
Maybe she was just a curious young miss. Such skill, wasted on a sheltered lady… what a pity.

—

So when the blind date banquet in October arrived, Shen Qingwu prepared seriously.

While everyone fussed over Shen Qingye’s makeup, Shen Qingwu also dressed herself carefully. She patiently brushed her brows, dusted on powder, and—under her grandmother’s careful guidance—applied makeup properly for the first time.

She clumsily slipped into a stone-blue long dress with flowing sleeves, added bracelets and jade ornaments.

Shen Qingwu felt unusually light-hearted. Held her skirt, stepped out. Passing a wind curtain, she paused, plucked a flower from a clay pot, and tucked it casually into her hair.

The maids gaped.
“S-Second Miss?!”

Who would have thought their wild, carefree Erniang could look like this?

But Shen Qingwu ignored their astonishment and strode off.
The maids watched her go, whispering:
“At first glance she looked like a proper young lady, but once she walks… back to a wild boy again.”

—

The banquet was for flower viewing. Shen family’s sons and daughters accompanied the guests. The Shen madam and Zhang Wenbi chatted cheerfully, pretending to discuss flower arrangements. Zhang Xingjian followed behind his sister, smiling absentmindedly.

The Shen madam looked exceedingly pleased with her future son-in-law.

Suddenly, Zhang Xingjian heard a small commotion. He glanced over—
A girl in a light blue dress lifted her skirt and tiptoed her way into the banquet with quick, nimble steps.

In passing, she bumped a few tea cups, causing whispers. But she steadied each cup instantly, movements sharp and practiced. Those wanting to criticize her ended up choking on their words.

Zhang Xingjian burst into a quiet laugh.

“Zhang Yuelu.” Zhang Wenbi’s gentle call pulled him back.

She smiled teasingly. “You always follow me. Aren’t you tired of it? Go talk with the young people.”

The elders watched him with encouraging smiles.

A blatant hint.

Zhang Xingjian nodded and bowed. “Very well.”

He walked toward the tables—toward Shen Qingye.
Everyone knew she was the star today. Beautiful, elegant, surrounded by admirers.

But as he approached, he saw Shen Qingwu beside her—the girl who had snuck into the banquet.

Her eyes were dark and clear, expression blank. Next to shy, delicate Shen Qingye, her calm indifference stood out. She looked straight at him, a bright chrysanthemum crooked awkwardly in her dark hair.

Sunlight skimmed her lashes.

Who taught her to wear a chrysanthemum like that? It’s crooked.

Zhang Xingjian’s gaze sharpened—
It was her. The girl on the wall.
The girl who followed him silently.

He reached for a flower from the arranged blossoms. Dew dripped across his hand—
and he suddenly remembered waking on the forest floor, someone’s back disappearing into the plane-tree leaves, bathed in golden morning light.

The golden glow of that day layered itself over the memory of her standing on the wall, and over the sunlight now.

His hand trembled slightly.

He composed himself and walked toward Shen Qingye.

Laughter filled the hall.
Everyone watched him.

Shen Qingye sensed his approach. Blushing, flustered, she lowered her head further. She saw the hem of his moon-white robe, drifting like mist.

An elder chuckled, “I heard it was the Shen family’s daughter who saved his life. Such fate! Our Zhang family must repay this kindness.”

Madam Shen asked playfully, “And how should we repay it? Let Sanlang marry our girl and promise himself?”

Shen Qingwu finally understood.
He was walking toward her cousin.

That wasn’t right.

It was she who saved him.

A realization struck her—
She had forgotten to tell him she was the savior.

So, before anyone could stop her, Shen Qingwu stood up.

Madam Shen and Zhang Wenbi both turned sharply. Madam Shen paled with fear—certain this troublesome girl would ruin everything.

And this troublesome girl indeed caused trouble—

Zhang Xingjian smiled and extended the flower toward Shen Qingye. Shen Qingye rose nervously, trembling fingers reaching for it.

At that exact moment, under countless shocked gazes, Shen Qingwu seized Zhang Xingjian’s other hand.

Light and shadow split across them.
Zhang Xingjian turned.

Shen Qingwu lifted her chin, voice cool and steady—

“I saved you. You must promise yourself to me.”

The entire hall gasped.

Except Zhang Xingjian.

He simply kept his gentle, moonlike smile—
and looked at her as though she had just become the only person in the room.

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