Unintentional Surprise (GL) - Chapter 7

Wen Dinglan had a feeling she would see Jiang Shunyao again, but she hadn’t expected it to happen so soon.

So soon, in fact, that Wen Dinglan didn’t have time to prepare—didn’t even have time to think about what else she might want to ask from Jiang Shunyao.

They met again at the gates of the Prime Minister’s residence.

Jiang Shunyao had left the banquet early, which was how she happened to run into Wen Dinglan’s party, just returning to the pavilion.

Wen Dinglan had already boarded the carriage. If she hadn’t, out of sheer boredom, lifted the curtain of the window, she wouldn’t have seen Jiang Shunyao.

But she did lift the curtain—fate, perhaps—and so, beneath the soft, dim lantern light, their eyes met again.

“Wen… Wen Pavilion Master.” Jiang Shunyao hadn’t touched any wine, yet looked thoroughly intoxicated.

That one word, “Pavilion Master,” elevated Wen Dinglan’s status, revealing Jiang Shunyao’s respect.

Wen Dinglan deliberately brushed aside the gesture, replying with a graceful deflection: “Top Scholar is too kind. I am merely a ‘zitherist,’ not deserving of such a lofty title.”

Jiang Shunyao wasn’t familiar with the nuanced ranks among performers. Having just met Wen Dinglan of the Pavilion of String and Sound that day, she had instinctively assumed the leading figure must be the Pavilion Master.

She hadn’t expected to misspeak and inadvertently offend.

The bright red of the scholar’s robe only deepened the blush on her face.

Wen Dinglan found herself quite enjoying the teasing of this seemingly solemn “young lord.” Despite the disguise, Jiang Shunyao’s every movement—her gaze, her expressions, even her way of smiling—was clear and radiant like the morning star or the bright moon, untouched by worldly cynicism.

Such innocence was rare in court circles.

Wen Dinglan couldn’t help but hope that this newly minted zhuangyuan might always preserve that childlike sincerity.

“Miss Wen, the zitherist?” Jiang Shunyao corrected herself, still courteous, but now tinged with confusion. She didn’t understand why Wen Dinglan had suddenly spaced out while staring at her.

Lost in thought—but not out of composure. In fact, it looked rather charmingly dazed?

Ahem. Jiang Shunyao lowered her gaze to the tips of her boots, trying to rein in her wandering thoughts.

And then, with a trace of reluctant hesitation, she looked up again—and met the beauty’s eyes once more.

There was something important she had meant to say to this woman… What was it? But in front of her, all logical thought dissolved. Enchanted by the rise and fall of her expressions, Jiang Shunyao couldn’t bring herself to recall anything at all.

“Top Scholar, are you leaving the banquet to return home?” Wen Dinglan asked. The banquet had been held in Jiang Shunyao’s honor. With her gone, it surely wouldn’t go on much longer.

“Yes, I was just heading off… And you’re leaving as well?”

“Naturally. Pity, though—we’re not headed in the same direction.” The implication was that, if they had been, they could have shared a carriage.

“That wouldn’t be… it wouldn’t be proper.” Jiang Shunyao, always conscious of her role as a woman posing as a man, dared not overstep and risk tarnishing a lady’s reputation.

Wen Dinglan raised a sleeve to hide her laughter—she saw through it all but said nothing.

Their eyes remained locked. Wen Dinglan waited for Jiang Shunyao to say more, but Jiang Shunyao had already become lost in the gentleness of her gaze.

“My lord.” The imperial guard, Song Tianlang, finally caught up and called Jiang Shunyao back to herself.

Ahem. Jiang Shunyao quickly masked her smile and furrowed her brows, putting on a serious demeanor in front of Song Tianlang.

Song Tianlang looked like he had more to say, but with Wen Dinglan present, he couldn’t speak freely.

“It’s all right—go ahead and speak. Miss Wen saved my life,” Jiang Shunyao said, signaling her trust in Wen Dinglan.

Only after the words left her mouth did she realize: Ah, that’s what I forgot. She had meant to say thank you.

How could she not say thank you?

But before she could utter the word thanks, Song Tianlang pulled her away, eager to get her out of the treacherous grounds of the Prime Minister’s estate.

He tugged so urgently that Jiang Shunyao, even as she tried to look back, couldn’t find a chance to properly say what she had meant to say.

She never got to say that one word—“Thank you.”