Chapter 16: The Hairpin Gambit

Cheng Wenque was not at all certain whether Pu Jinyu would actually come.

In the stillness of his waiting, he thought of that day at the homecoming banquet—the way she had gazed at him, lost in thought, her focus so absolute that time itself seemed to halt around her.

Surely she found something of interest in his countenance, else she would not have looked at him so long, so openly, before the eyes of others.

“Master Cheng, our young madam has arrived.”

The young maidservant knocked gently to announce her presence.

Cheng Wenque startled from his reverie, swiftly composed his robes and posture, and rose to open the door.

Perhaps because his heart was burdened with so much unspoken intent, when the door swung open and he found himself face to face with the young woman—her features flawlessly painted, her smile warm and gracious—his apprehension only deepened.

Yet he betrayed nothing.

“…Young madam, may peace attend you.”

He lowered his gaze.

Pu Jinyu inclined her head in acknowledgment of his greeting.

They entered the courtyard pavilion to speak, and she was the first to pose the question.

“May I ask what matter Master Cheng wished to discuss with me?”

Cheng Wenque did not answer immediately.

Pu Jinyu did not press him.

She waited in patient silence.

Before long, Cheng Wenque withdrew a brocade box from his sleeve and placed it upon the table between them.

“What is this?”

Pu Jinyu watched as he slid the box toward her.

Cheng Wenque did not reply.

He kept his eyes lowered, veiling his expression.

To all appearances, he was nervous, bashful, uncertain.

Pu Jinyu reached out and lifted the lid.

Within lay a hairpin, its gold wires woven into the shape of blooming flowers, delicate tassels cascading from the blossoms.

She understood perfectly well what game this man was playing.

Yet her countenance remained guileless, even admiring.

“What a lovely hairpin,” she said.

“Master Cheng, is this…”

Cheng Wenque kept his eyes downcast, waiting for her to finish.

He did not see the faint, fleeting amusement that flickered at the corners of her eyes.

Nor did he anticipate the sudden turn of her words.

“…for my younger sister-in-law?” she asked.

Much as she had asked, that day before, about the rouge and powder.

He looked up swiftly, as he had done then, and denied it.

“No—no, it is not.”

“It is not?”

By the time his gaze met hers, the playfulness that had danced in her expression was already gone, smoothed away without a trace.

Only pure puzzlement remained, and the lingering appreciation of a woman who beheld something beautiful.

She held the hairpin in her hands, examining it closely.

“I quite thought you meant it for my young sister-in-law.

I was away at my family home for several days, and upon my return I learned that she has spoken rather approvingly of you.

Even my mother-in-law has remarked upon the affinity between you and the fourth young lady.”

She had simply misunderstood.

Cheng Wenque hastened to explain.

“The young madam misunderstands.

I hold no sentiments for the fourth young lady beyond those of ordinary friendship.”

Perhaps it was because of her station—after all, she was the mistress of the Yan household, its reigning matron.

Whatever the reason, in her presence he found himself strangely ill at ease.

He could not summon the easy fluency with which he charmed the merchant daughters and officials’ misses back in Lanling.

“Master Cheng may hold no such sentiments for my young sister-in-law.

But my young sister-in-law has certainly conceived them for you.”

She returned the hairpin to its brocade box.

At this gesture, Cheng Wenque’s heart plummeted, anchorless.

He had been so certain.

Last time, she had told him plainly that she adored the rouge and powder he had sent.

Why, then, did she now seem so unwilling to accept this hairpin?

Was it because the master of the household had turned his attention toward her?

Because the intimacy between husband and wife had deepened?

The Yan servants whispered that Madam Yan was pressing the young couple to produce an heir.

To conceive a child, they must share a bed.

And if they shared a bed, surely their relations must have drawn closer.

At this thought, Cheng Wenque’s spirits sank further.

How could he ever compare to Yan Chiyun in character or accomplishment?

His only advantages were his youth and the slight claim of prior acquaintance.

But if even that acquaintance had been superseded by the husband’s sudden attentions, then youth was all that remained to him.

As if reading his thoughts, she spoke of it herself.

“My young sister-in-law is beautiful and young, and her family is illustrious.

Why does Master Cheng not find her to his liking?”

Cheng Wenque noticed that though she had returned the hairpin to its box, her gaze still lingered upon it.

Perhaps she was not as indifferent as she appeared.

Perhaps she was testing him, probing his true intentions.

Could it be that she had heard the servants whispering of his frequent encounters with Yan Mingxi?

And that this news had unsettled her?

“But I… truly, I feel nothing for the fourth young lady beyond the affections of simple friendship.”

Pu Jinyu listened to this clumsy, transparent falsehood.

Her lips curved in a smile.

She reached out, her slender, elegant fingers tracing slow circles upon the hairpin’s gleaming surface.

Her voice was soft, unhurried.

“If Master Cheng feels nothing beyond friendship for my young sister-in-law, then for whom does he feel something more?”

He had not expected such directness.

“I…”

He thought he understood the implication beneath her inquiry, but he dared not reveal himself too soon.

What if this were a trap?

He must gamble, yes—but he must gamble with exceeding care.

Every word, every gesture must be flawless.

“Is it for the one Master Cheng wishes to gift this hairpin?

For its intended owner?”

She grew bolder still.

Her gaze held his directly, and the smile at her lips deepened.

Still, he could not bring himself to speak aloud.

But as he turned his face away, he inclined his head in the faintest of nods.

At this small confession, Pu Jinyu’s smile curved into something brighter, her eyes creasing at the corners with evident pleasure.

Cheng Wenque caught the glimpse of her smile from the periphery of his vision.

Some measure of ease returned to his chest.

And when she tucked the brocade box away, his heart settled further.

“I thank Master Cheng for this gift of a hairpin.

Like the rouge and powder you sent before, I find it very much to my liking.”

She mentioned the cosmetics.

Cheng Wenque’s confidence swelled.

So it was as he had always believed.

There was no cat that did not crave fish, be it male or female.

And he needed her to crave, to covet, to take what he offered.

If she did not, if she remained beyond his reach—

If he failed the imperial examinations, he would have no recourse left.

He could not stake his future on Yan Mingxi’s fledgling regard.

Not only because he had no desire to become a son-in-law taken into a wife’s family, but also because he had endured enough of living on others’ charity.

He would not spend the rest of his days as a target for veiled mockery and open scorn.

Moreover, great houses like the Yans selected their sons-in-law from families of equal standing.

If he passed the examinations with distinction, the Yan household might yet deem him worthy.

But if he failed, everything would crumble.

He could not afford to take that risk.

If, however, he could establish some connection with Pu Wange…

She would become his bridge, his stepping stone, his… contingency.

His mother’s debts in Lanling were insurmountable.

Even if he passed the examinations and obtained an official post, it would be years—decades, perhaps—before he could repay what was owed.

But Pu Wange was the legitimate daughter of a noble house, the young mistress of the Yan household.

Surely she commanded no small wealth.

Even the merest crumbs that slipped through her fingers would be more than sufficient.

The cosmetics and the hairpin had cost him dearly.

But one could not catch a wolf without sacrificing a child.

“Did the young madam finish the rouge and powder I sent before?”

He looked at her.

Pu Jinyu inclined her head, then shook it.

Cheng Wenque did not understand.

She explained.

She had loved them so much she could not bear to use them up.

“I have put them away for safekeeping.”

“The young madam need not be sparing.

If you enjoy them, use them freely.

I shall send more in due course.”

“How kind of you.”

She smiled, her eyes curving into soft, happy crescents.

Her pleasure was unmistakable.

“…”

Pu Jinyu did not linger long in the courtyard.

After the evening meal, Cheng Wenque received a delivery dispatched by her hand.

At first glance, the items appeared to be ordinary daily necessities.

But when he shifted the upper layers, his breath caught.

Beneath lay a collection of essential treatises on policy discourse—precisely the sort required for the imperial examinations.

And with them, examination papers from years past, each one annotated in a neat, elegant hand.

There was even a set of robes.

He glanced quickly toward the doorway, ensuring the young maids had withdrawn.

Then, with trembling fingers, he measured the garments against his frame.

They were his size.

A slow, easing smile spread across Cheng Wenque’s face.

This gambit had proven sound, it seemed.

Quite… useful.

***

In her chambers, Pu Jinyu received the young maidservant’s report.

The items had been delivered to Master Cheng.

“Did he accept them all?” Pu Jinyu inquired.

Before the maidservant could answer, a man’s voice sounded from beyond the threshold.

“Accept what?”

It was Yan Chiyun.

He had returned.

Though he had not come back in time for the evening meal, he was nonetheless earlier than his custom—a rare occurrence indeed.

“Husband.”

Pu Jinyu rose to greet him, her face brightening with a smile.

Yan Chiyun met her gaze.

His heart stirred.

“…Mm.”

She crossed the room toward him, explaining as she came.

Today, Master Cheng had been in need of certain provisions.

She had directed the maids to deliver them.

At the mention of Cheng Wenque’s name, Yan Chiyun’s thoughts drifted, unbidden, to that day at the homecoming banquet—the way she had stared at the man, so lost in reverie she seemed to forget where she was.

She had offered an explanation, of course.

Yet he found it… insufficient.

Perhaps it was simply his nature, honed by years of interrogation, to sense discord where others saw only harmony.

He did not like that she maintained any intercourse with this man.

Yet he could not well object.

Cheng Wenque was a guest of the household, and she was its mistress.

His own mother had charged her with attending to the guest’s comfort and neglecting nothing.

Still…

Yan Chiyun unfastened his traveling cloak and passed it to the attendant at his side.

His tone was carefully neutral.

“Fourth Sister appears to hold some regard for him.”

This surprised her.

Yan Chiyun, perpetually consumed by official business, leaving at dawn and returning long after dusk—

How had he come to know this?

Yan Mingxi’s inclination toward Cheng Wenque was certainly evident enough, but Yan Chiyun had never once troubled himself over his sisters’ marriage prospects.

He scarcely paid them any mind at all.

A flicker of interest kindled in Pu Jinyu’s eyes.

She drew closer to him, tilting her face up.

“Does my husband deem the match between Fourth Sister and Master Cheng a suitable one?”

He looked at her smiling countenance.

“What do you think?” he countered.

“I cannot say, but…”

“But what?”

He washed his hands, his back half-turned to her.

Yet his gaze, reflected in the bronze mirror, studied her expression with quiet intensity.

“But Fourth Sister has indeed, as my husband observes, conceived an affection for this Master Cheng.

My mother-in-law is also observing the situation.

I believe the match may well be possible—it will depend upon Master Cheng’s performance in the examinations.”

“And do you hope that Fourth Sister’s match with him succeeds?”

He dried his hands on the cloth, his eyes downcast in seeming indifference.

His tone suggested the question was casual, incidental.

Yet his attention, peripheral, remained fixed upon her.

Pu Jinyu was not unaware of this.

She smiled.

“I do hope so.

And my husband?”

At this answer—the answer he had wished to hear—the corners of the man’s lips curved upward, almost imperceptibly.

“My wish is the same as my wife’s.

I hope Fourth Sister obtains her heart’s desire.”

Her stature was somewhat shorter than her elder sister’s.

To ensure no discrepancy was noted, the soles of her shoes had been built up with deliberate care.

Even so, she must tilt her face upward to meet his gaze.

“Since my husband speaks thus, surely it will come to pass.”

Pu Jinyu’s smile did not waver.

He met her eyes, and her expression drew an answering curve from his own lips.

“Mm.”

At this moment, Yan Chiyun’s attendant stepped forward, bearing an unusually large brocade box.

Pu Jinyu asked what it contained.

Yan Chiyun inclined his chin slightly, indicating she should open it and see for herself.

Puzzled, she stepped forward and lifted the lid.

Within lay a profusion of rouge and powder—the finest quality, the most prestigious brands, arrayed in lavish abundance.

Her fingers stilled.

“…”

He observed her reaction.

“Do you not like it?”

He had, before leaving his office today, specially instructed someone to purchase these for her.

Behind her carefully composed countenance, revulsion pooled, dark and viscous.

Yet her voice, when she spoke, declared otherwise.

“I like it very much.”

Yan Chiyun was not convinced.

Her response was too measured, too stiff.

Her eyes held no discernible spark of joy.

“I thought perhaps you did not.”

Pu Jinyu lifted her gaze to his face.

She stepped closer, closing the distance between them.

She rose upon her toes.

A soft warmth alighted upon Yan Chiyun’s cheek.

The young woman’s lips touched his skin, then withdrew, hovering at the shell of his ear.

Her voice was a whisper, delicate and low.

“I truly do like it.”