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Chapter 8

The atmosphere suddenly stiffened.

Song Jinhe’s fingers stiffened slightly, realizing she had been somewhat impolite. Hastily, she withdrew her hand, only to see that Sheng Congyuan’s once bright eyes had instantly dimmed. Before she could look further, those beautiful eyes closed briefly. When he looked up again, his expression had returned to normal.

Song Jinhe eyed Sheng Congyuan, who was sitting on the ground, with suspicion. Only then did she belatedly realize—how had she run into Sheng Congyuan again, and in such a remote place? A ridiculous thought suddenly surfaced: Could he be following her?

Rustling sounds came as Sheng Congyuan stood up from behind a tree trunk, cradling a small dog in his arms.

“The time I went to the Glazed Pavilion before was to select a birthday gift for my father. The last time I went to Yuntai Mountain, it was to seek a talisman for my mother, who has been unwell recently. Today, I am here because...” Sheng Congyuan’s words faltered, giving an awkward impression as if he hadn’t yet come up with an excuse.

But he quickly opened his mouth to say something else.

Song Jinhe hurriedly interrupted, “I didn’t mean that, Young Master Sheng. There’s no need for you to explain.”

Although that was exactly what she meant, it was a bit embarrassing to have her suspicions seen through before she could voice them.

Her words caused the atmosphere to freeze once more.

Only the small dog in Sheng Congyuan’s arms looked between them in confusion, letting out a low whimper, as if unwilling to let the mood grow so awkward.

Snapping out of her thoughts, Song Jinhe spoke up, “Young Master Sheng, please return my dog to me.”

“Is its name An’an?”

Song Jinhe reached out to take the dog, nodding slightly, “Yes.”

Originally, Song Jinhe and Sheng Congyuan should have been strangers—perhaps having met once at the Sheng family’s birthday banquet, but never crossing paths afterward. Yet, a series of coincidences forced them into repeated encounters, inevitably intertwining their fates.

The coincidences were simply too uncanny.

But Sheng Congyuan’s earlier explanation left no room for criticism.

Cradling An’an securely, Song Jinhe glanced stealthily at Sheng Congyuan. Half of his profile was bathed in light, while the other half sank into shadow, outlining his sharply defined features.

She had to admit, after having those dreams about him, it was impossible to see him without feeling some effect. Yet, the influence was nothing more than that.

The atmosphere was awkward now, and she didn’t know what else to say—at most, she could thank him and leave.

But the dog whimpered again, breaking her train of thought.

Seizing the moment, Sheng Congyuan spoke first: “It’s good the dog found its owner. I happen to be leaving as well, so I’ll take my leave.”

With that, he made no further pause, not even casting another glance at Song Jinhe. Just as before whenever she took her leave, he lowered his eyes slightly and strode off.

Yet, his parting words echoed oddly in Song Jinhe’s ears, carrying an inexplicable tone. He sounded somewhat envious.

Envious of what?

Envious that the dog found its owner?

Tall and long-legged, Sheng Congyuan strode away, disappearing from her sight in the blink of an eye.

Song Jinhe withdrew her thoughts and began scolding the little dog for wandering off: “An’an, how could you run into the woods by yourself? That’s too dangerous. What if I hadn’t found you just now?”

Whether the dog understood or not was uncertain. It simply curled up lazily in her arms, silent as if exhausted from play.

Song Jinhe sighed helplessly. No matter how angry she was, she couldn’t take it out on the dog. Secretly, she resolved that when she saw Song Xiao later, she would vent her frustration on him instead.

With that in mind, Song Jinhe held An’an and stepped forward. But a strange sensation underfoot made her pause. Looking down, she saw that her embroidered shoe had shifted, revealing a corner of a jade pendant embedded in the soil beneath her foot.

The white jade was translucent, the carving delicate.

Even dirtied with earth, its preciousness was unmistakable.

Bending down, Song Jinhe retrieved the pendant from the dirt. In its hollow center was a boldly inscribed character: “An.”

Her breath caught. Suddenly, she remembered: Sheng Congyuan’s courtesy name was Qi’an.

This jade pendant had fallen from Sheng Congyuan just now.

Recalling the strange coincidences, a flush crept across Song Jinhe’s fair cheeks.

Qi’an.

An’an.

No wonder the dog had looked at him with such watery eyes, as if responding to its owner.

A baseless, inexplicable thought sprang up in Song Jinhe’s heart.

Could it be...

Sheng Congyuan likes her?

*

On the return journey in the carriage, Song Xiao was spared the brunt of her ire since Song Jinhe remained lost in thought all the way.

Once that thought took root in her mind, she couldn’t suppress it.

She was no stranger to male admiration. From a young age, she had never lacked suitors.

From when she was innocent and unaware of love, older boys had coaxed her with questions: “Jinhe, when you grow up, will you be my bride?”

As she matured, whether in the capital or back in Yuxiang City, men who showed her affection had never ceased.

Thus, Sheng Congyuan’s supposed affection merely caught her off guard.

After all, his stern, austere, and cold demeanor was like that of a stubborn, unyielding block of wood who would never be moved by anyone.

Besides, it was only her guess.

But if it were true, then the strange dreams she had been having might form a coherent thread.

Because of Zhu Mingxuan’s vicious scheming, as her wedding approached, she was used as a tool to climb social ranks, only to be disgraced and rejected.

Sheng Congyuan, who had always admired her, seized the opportunity to propose, and so the man she married was Sheng Congyuan.

Song Jinhe: “...”

No, no.

If such a dreadful thing had truly happened to her, shattering both body and soul, leaving no peace, would she have the heart to marry anyone?

And Sheng Congyuan?

Would he still be willing to marry her after her reputation was ruined and her engagement broken?

Was he a fool?

“Little sister?”

The sudden call startled Song Jinhe.

Her shoulders jolted, which in turn startled Song Xiao. “What are you doing? I called you several times and you ignored me.”

Her thoughts disrupted, logic muddled.

Song Jinhe shot Song Xiao an angry glare but ultimately took him as a vent for her frustrations, picking a quarrel with him all the way.

*

In the girl’s chamber,

Beaded curtains swayed gently.

Song Jinhe lay on the bed in a thin nightgown, uncovered by blankets.

In her hand was the jade pendant she had found earlier, turning it over and over. Aside from the flowing character “An” at its center, it revealed no other clues.

At this point, even if she couldn’t explain the strange occurrences surrounding her, she had to take those odd dreams seriously.

Suddenly, she tucked away the pendant and quickly pulled out the yellow talisman she had obtained earlier from under her pillow, balling it up and tossing it on the nearby table.

She covered herself with the quilt, closed her eyes, and replaced the talisman under her pillow with the jade pendant.

Before sleep, she whispered softly, a warning in her voice: “If you dare to do that again in my dreams, I’ll smash your jade pendant. Show me something useful tonight.”

It was like a prayer, like a plea.

Clearly, such dreams were beyond her control.

Unexpectedly, those words actually worked.

In her dream, Song Jinhe saw Sheng Congyuan standing before her in broad daylight, and they were no longer inside the room.

For a moment, she felt relieved—no longer would she be entangled with him in such intimate ways.

But in the next instant,

Song Jinhe suddenly raised her hand without hesitation and struck Sheng Congyuan.

Smack—

A crisp sound.

Sheng Congyuan turned his head aside, red marks faintly visible across his cheek.

The slap held all its force, no restraint.

Song Jinhe gasped inwardly but could not alter the dream’s course.

She had—she had just slapped Sheng Congyuan.

Unaware of the cause or consequence, she only knew that even though Sheng Congyuan did not dodge, turning his head from the blow, he still stood before her like an immovable mountain, ready to overpower her at any moment.

His sideways face bore no expression. His half-closed eyes were dark and oppressive, terrifyingly so.

Song Jinhe’s heart trembled, yet in the dream, she clenched her fists, as if ready to strike back should he make any move.

But Sheng Congyuan was a towering man, nearly a head taller than her; she could never be his match.

“Sheng Congyuan, you shameless man!” Song Jinhe heard herself curse.

At last, Sheng Congyuan responded, slowly turning to face her, his black eyes suffused with an unbearable pressure. Within them churned a complex emotion she could not comprehend.

He advanced instead of retreating, closing the distance step by step: “Why can it only be him? Why can’t it be me?”

Despite her fierce spirit, Song Jinhe unconsciously took a step back.

Until her back hit the cold wall, leaving her nowhere to run.

Knowing she couldn’t escape, Sheng Congyuan pressed a hand against the wall beside her, blocking her path.

His face was dark and grim, no longer the usual stern and composed young master.

His agitated expression was unsettling, twisted by inner torment.

He ground his teeth and growled, “He is a scoundrel!”

Song Jinhe’s expression changed. Summoning all her courage and strength from somewhere, she suddenly pushed against Sheng Congyuan: “What right do you have to say that? Aren’t your intentions impure too?!”

But her strength was insufficient to budge him, only igniting anger in his eyes.

Unable to restrain himself, Sheng Congyuan grasped Song Jinhe’s neck with one rough hand, his fingers pressing into her delicate skin, leaving a circle of crimson.

She did not feel suffocated but could not avoid the pressure his fingers exerted. A burning warmth spread around her neck.

His fingertips lightly stroked, sending a shiver through her—more unbearable than suffocation.

Trapped by Sheng Congyuan in the corner like a lamb awaiting slaughter, she was trapped, utterly helpless.

The tense atmosphere was suffocating.

Since dreaming of Sheng Congyuan, this was the first time Song Jinhe felt this way.

Even during their intimate moments, even when he held her captive in his arms, those scenes had been merely acts of marital closeness.

But now, this standoff shattered all tenderness, leaving only wary eyes.

After an unknown interval, Sheng Congyuan slowly lowered his head.

Though he was the one in control, he seemed humble, powerless to the core, as if she could shatter him effortlessly.

He bowed his head, loosening his grip.

Song Jinhe couldn’t see his expression but heard his hoarse, lonely voice: “I cannot deny my feelings, but I would never harm you.”

He withdrew his hand completely and turned slowly to walk away.

“Don’t compare me to that kind of scoundrel.”