“Shen family girl, does Jing Dianshi have a grudge against you?”
Shen Miao quietly studied the youth before her.
His features were handsome, yet his aura carried immense weight. Though his expression was carefree, there was a maturity beyond his years—an impression that if the sky itself collapsed, he would shoulder it. Even in her previous life, whether in Qin country or the imperial palace, she had never encountered such a transparent person. With a single sentence, he pierced directly to the heart of matters.
Such extraordinary talent, cut short in youth—truly heaven’s envy.
A flicker of regret passed through her eyes, but her tone remained calm:
“Yes.”
“Your chess game is quite circuitous.” Xie Jingxing’s gaze was sharp. “Taking such a roundabout path just to usher Gao Yan into officialdom. Could it be that you want to disrupt Ming Qi’s official circles?”
Though Shen Miao had lived two lifetimes, inwardly she was startled. If before Xie Jingxing had seemed merely intelligent, now he appeared frightening. Ordinary people saw one step, clever people ten—but his question suggested he could see a thousand miles ahead. His directness left her momentarily uncertain.
After a pause, she answered:
“What concern is this to the young marquis?”
“This marquis doesn’t care about Ming Qi’s official circles, but Lin’an Marquis cannot be touched.” His tone carried warning. “If you set your sights on the Lin’an Marquis household, don’t blame this marquis for being impolite.”
Shen Miao glanced at him. He always displayed disgust toward the Lin’an Marquis household, opposing his father at every turn. Yet it seemed he still held them in his heart. Otherwise, in her previous life, he would not have died pierced by arrows, preserving their reputation.
That he suspected her of targeting the Xie family was understandable. The Shen and Xie families had long been at odds, and her recent actions were difficult to interpret. From outside, it was plausible the Shen family sought to trip the Xies.
“Marquis Xie can rest assured,” she said evenly, her tone casual as if discussing the weather. “The Xie and Shen families won’t interfere with each other. What you fear won’t happen. Life is but a few decades, fortunes rise and fall. Today the Xie family views the Shen family as enemies, but in the future, they may share the same boat in storms, united against a common foe.”
“Are you trying to curry favor with me?” Xie Jingxing raised a brow.
“Yes,” Shen Miao replied calmly.
Xie Jingxing studied her. Since childhood, he had encountered countless women—those seeking his father’s favor, later his own. He had seen delicate beauties, skilled swordswomen, and cunning strategists. Yet none had surprised him like this one.
Perhaps it was battlefield intuition, but he sensed blood upon her. She was like a still pool concealing a ferocious beast, waiting for the right moment to break free in a storm of violence.
Though laughable—a secluded daughter raising such a storm—he never dismissed his instincts.
Wrapped in a lotus-green brocade cloak, her pretty face frosted with coldness, Shen Miao stood in the plum forest with the presence of a palace tower—noble, solitary, decisive, unfathomable.
“So the Shen family has a clever person after all.” His words were sarcastic, yet serious. “Since that’s the case, go ahead with your plans. Consider today’s encounter as watching a good show—don’t disappoint this marquis.” He straightened, preparing to leave.
“Marquis Xie,” Shen Miao called after him.
“What else?” he asked without turning.
“The two concubine-born brothers of the Xie family will also participate in today’s examination,” Shen Miao said calmly. “Will Marquis Xie just let them be?”
Xie Changwu and Xie Changchao, sons of Concubine Fang, were second-year students at the national school. Xie Jingxing, a third-year at Guangwen Hall, acted freely, unconstrained by rules. In her previous life, he had not participated, leaving his brothers to shine. Both were capable, ranking high in martial arts, catching the Emperor’s eye, and later serving Fu Xiuyi.
Shen Miao had always thought the Lin’an Marquis and his son intelligent, yet their fate had been tragic. Though the imperial family compensated them posthumously, benefits flowed to Concubine Fang and her sons. Suspicion lingered. Could the Xie family too harbor internal rot?
“You don’t expect this marquis to go up and compete with them, do you?” Xie Jingxing turned, surprised. “Just as you competed with your sister?”
“Isn’t Marquis Xie’s situation the same as mine?” Shen Miao ignored his mockery. “The deepest stabs come from those closest. I know someone of your noble status wouldn’t quibble with concubine-born sons. But a thousand-mile dike can collapse from an ant’s hole. Seemingly insignificant things can be venomous snakes in the dark.” Her tone was deliberate, her eyes clear as a child’s. “They must be cut off at the bud. They must never be allowed to sprout.”
“Compared to letting them shine with powerful support, pretending brotherly respect, wouldn’t it be more satisfying to knock them down one by one, embarrass them in public, and never endure their act at home?”
Xie Jingxing’s heart stirred.
His mother, Princess Yuqing, was noble. He avoided quarreling with concubine-born brothers, lest people accuse her of jealousy. He protected her name fiercely. Yet daily he faced their false respect, their masks of submission. Shen Miao’s words struck deep.
If he extinguished their hopes, wouldn’t it be more satisfying? To tear off their masks, leaving them humiliated?
Her voice carried enchantment:
“It’s been too long. Don’t endure it anymore.”
Don’t endure it anymore.
He looked down at her, inches away. A faint fragrance surrounded her—pure yet cold, heartless. Though he knew her motives, he could not refuse.
He smiled, flicked his sleeve, and the begonia flower from her hair fell into his palm. In its place, a small jade begonia appeared.
Holding the flower, he said with a half-smile, tone ambiguous:
“You’re quite interesting. This flower is a reward for you. Your suggestion isn’t bad—thank you.”
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