Chapter 105: The Deal with Zhao Qingchan, Stricter with Herself
A gentle breeze swept through, making the birch trees in the courtyard sway softly. Shen Yanzhou still sat on the stool, composed and calm, ignoring the lofty gaze Zhao Qingchan cast down upon him.
“What benefit is there in marrying you?”
After a moment, he lazily picked up his teacup, not to drink, but to toy with it between his fingers.
Zhao Qingchan’s tone remained steady as she said, “You can have me.”
“And then?” Shen Yanzhou asked.
“In the imperial capital, countless men covet me. Even the Crown Prince wishes to take me as his consort. Do you not wish to have me?”
“To possess everything about me?”
Her tone was calm yet confident.
That confidence stemmed from her absolute belief in her own allure.
Shen Yanzhou smiled faintly, set the cup down, and began to carefully and seriously scrutinize her—her pure, flawless, and exquisite face, her dark brows like distant mountains, her refined nose, her lips rosy without rouge, her slender, snow-white neck, her porcelain-like skin, and her graceful, curving figure. Even though it was hidden beneath a plain robe, it was still clear that her chest was not modest.
“There is no affection between us. To take such a risk merely to obtain your body—I don’t think that’s a reasonable bargain.”
He withdrew his faintly appreciative gaze and spoke evenly.
Zhao Qingchan did not lose heart. Her voice remained confident as she replied, “Do you think I’m not worth the risk?”
“No, I mean you’re not worth giving up an entire forest for.” Shen Yanzhou waved a hand, clearly signaling that their talk was over.
Zhao Qingchan froze, not immediately grasping his meaning. When she did, she frowned. “You’re worried that after marrying me, you won’t be able to frequent brothels and courtesan houses as before?”
She almost wanted to laugh.
How insatiable must he be? Which of those women in those brothels could possibly compare to her?
“No, I simply think you would get in the way of my interactions with other women,” Shen Yanzhou said bluntly, his tone plain and straightforward.
He had no interest in political marriages.
Playing around was fine, but why shackle himself with a chain? That would only bring endless unnecessary trouble.
“……”
Even with Zhao Qingchan’s composure, she couldn’t help but falter for a moment.
Did she truly have no charm in Shen Yanzhou’s eyes? He had rejected her again and again.
“Shen Yanzhou, don’t regret this.”
Zhao Qingchan still had her pride. Her eyes grew calm once more as she turned to leave.
She had already lowered herself so much—coming to him on her own initiative, needing only his word to seal the matter—and yet he still refused.
To her, this was nothing short of trampling upon her dignity.
“……”
Shen Yanzhou raised an eyebrow slightly. “You won’t hold this against me, will you?”
“I’m not that petty.”
Zhao Qingchan took a deep breath. Beneath the plain robe, her ample chest rose and fell.
“Wait.”
Shen Yanzhou suddenly seemed to think of something.
Zhao Qingchan halted and turned back, saying coolly, “Feeling reluctant now that I’m leaving?”
“A little.”
Shen Yanzhou nodded. Possessiveness—no man could escape it. Upon seeing a beautiful woman, one naturally wished to claim her.
Zhao Qingchan seemed about to sneer but restrained herself, her eyes calm as she looked at him.
“Why don’t you wish to marry into the Demon Suppression Prince’s Mansion?” Shen Yanzhou asked instead.
Zhao Qingchan had thought he meant to explain himself, but when she heard the question, her brows furrowed slightly. “I don’t think much of Shen Tian. Moreover, I believe this marriage will drag the Marquis of Divine Might’s Residence into an abyss of no return.”
Shen Yanzhou narrowed his eyes slightly.
In the original plot, Zhao Qingchan had never said such a thing. Back then, when the Demon Suppression Prince’s Mansion rebelled, the Marquis of Divine Might’s Residence was also executed to the last. She hadn’t been that resistant to the True Heir, Shen Tian.
Of course, the current course of events had already deviated far from the original storyline.
That Zhao Qingchan would think this way wasn’t impossible—she was indeed intelligent enough to notice details others ignored.
“In that case, why not turn to the Crown Prince, Xia Chongming? If he marries you and you become the Crown Princess, wouldn’t that be better? You’d be the future mother of the nation,” Shen Yanzhou said.
Zhao Qingchan’s tone stayed even. “Being the Crown Princess isn’t as enviable as it seems. Anyone who’s witnessed the Empress’s methods would understand. Moreover, if I became the Crown Princess, the Marquis of Divine Might’s Residence would undoubtedly be swallowed by the Cui Clan of Hejian, which stands behind the Empress.”
“My father and the clan elders would never wish to see that happen.”
Political marriages required far too much consideration—family backgrounds, the balance of power afterward, and the shifting tides of the future.
In Zhao Qingchan’s eyes, what the Marquis of Divine Might’s Residence needed most at this moment was a young man with no strong background but boundless potential—someone who could marry into their house.
And clearly, Shen Yanzhou was the ideal choice.
Hearing this, Shen Yanzhou nodded thoughtfully before asking, “Qi Haoran, the hostage prince of Qi, is still a royal son. He’s deeply infatuated with you. If he were to marry into the Marquis’s household, wouldn’t that be exactly what you need?”
Zhao Qingchan’s brows knitted tightly, her gaze turning cold. “What kind of woman do you take me for, Shen Yanzhou? Any random man would do?”
Her tone brimmed with displeasure.
Indeed, calling her proud and high-minded was no exaggeration. She wouldn’t settle for ordinary men. Even if forced into marriage for political reasons, she would see it as a reluctant compromise, a helpless concession.
Though Qi Haoran was talented, he was still inferior to Shen Tian. At least Shen Tian bore the additional identity of being the disciple of the Sword Immortal of the Ten-Thousand-Mile Sword Court.
Qi, after all, was but a small vassal state on the frontier. The title of “prince” sounded impressive, but if he truly were so noble, why would he be sent to the Great Qian Dynasty as a hostage?
“What a clear-headed realist you are,” Shen Yanzhou said, tapping his fingers lightly on the stone table.
Emperor Mingde had tasked him with this case, clearly expecting results.
As of now, his strength wasn’t sufficient to guarantee smooth progress through the plans ahead.
He needed more negative emotions to grow stronger.
And among all in the imperial capital, the best sources for such emotions were Qi Haoran—and that still uninvestigated Ye Xingchen.
Clearly, Zhao Qingchan was the best way to stir emotions from Qi Haoran.
To watch the woman he idolized, the goddess he dreamed of, being… taught and humiliated—
Tsk…
Shen Yanzhou inwardly despised himself for such thoughts, yet his body acted honestly. He stood up, approached Zhao Qingchan, and said with interest, “I’m a normal man. Since you’ve come to me of your own accord, if I keep refusing, that would be unreasonable. But I will not marry you, nor will I marry into the Marquis of Divine Might’s Residence.”
“Heh, so you’re only interested in my body.” Zhao Qingchan mocked openly, her gaze calm.
“That’s the only thing about you that still interests me,” Shen Yanzhou replied bluntly.
“What do you really want to say? If you don’t wish to marry me, then stop wasting my time,” Zhao Qingchan said coldly. She was calm and rational; she would never surrender her body until she achieved what she wanted.
“I’m saying we can make a deal.”
“I can guarantee that even if you go through with the marriage, once the Demon Suppression Prince’s Mansion encounters trouble, you and the Marquis of Divine Might’s Residence will both retreat unscathed—and even profit from it,” Shen Yanzhou said.
“Why should I believe you?” Zhao Qingchan looked at him, her eyes filled with doubt.
“Because no one knows Shen Jingxiao’s ambitions better than I do. And no one knows better what he intends to do.”
“Heh, trying to get something for nothing? Do you expect me to trust you on mere words?”
“What if I add this?”
As he spoke, a flash of light appeared in Shen Yanzhou’s palm—a simple yet ancient thumb ring engraved with a qilin pattern.
He didn’t yet know what it was, as it hadn’t appeared in the original story.
But Zhao Qingchan, being a renowned scholar and talented woman of the Great Qian Dynasty, well-versed in all manners of knowledge, and having accompanied her parents to royal banquets and palace events many times, would surely recognize it—or at least grasp its significance.
As expected, the moment Shen Yanzhou revealed the qilin-patterned ring, Zhao Qingchan’s beautiful eyes widened, her pupils trembling slightly.
“How could this be in your hands?”
She couldn’t hide her shock, her tone losing its earlier calmness.
The Purple Qilin Thumb Ring—an item said to belong solely to the royal family of the Purple Qilin Dynasty. It was once part of a complete set: the Purple Qilin Armor, Ring, Sword, and Thumb Ring. Three of them had long been destroyed.
The only surviving piece—the Purple Qilin Thumb Ring—was known to be in the possession of the ruler of the Great Qian Dynasty himself, Emperor Mingde.
And now, that ancient ring appeared in Shen Yanzhou’s hand.
“Now, do you believe me?”
Shen Yanzhou did not linger on the display. With a simple motion, he withdrew the Purple Jade Qilin-patterned Thumb Ring back into his Sumeru Ring.
Zhao Qingchan fell silent.
Why would His Majesty entrust such a precious relic to Shen Yanzhou? In a sense, it even symbolized the personal authority of Emperor Mingde himself.
Was it mere favor—or something else entirely?
“You truly have many secrets hidden within you.” Zhao Qingchan exhaled softly before sitting back down again.
Since Shen Yanzhou had Emperor Mingde as his backing, what he said earlier now carried far more credibility.
“Do you believe me now?” Shen Yanzhou asked with a faint smile.
Zhao Qingchan hesitated slightly, but after a moment, she nodded.
“The tea’s empty…”
Shen Yanzhou looked at his empty teacup.
Zhao Qingchan still appeared reluctant, but she stood up, picked up the teapot, and found that it, too, was empty.
“The kitchen for boiling water is that way.” Shen Yanzhou gestured.
Zhao Qingchan pursed her lips. What did he take her for—a maid to order around?
Still, she said nothing more. She picked up the teapot and walked toward the kitchen.
Shen Yanzhou watched her elegant, graceful figure from behind, considering that despite the size of his estate, he truly lacked a few proper servants.
Zhao Qingchan was proud and aloof by nature—but that could be slowly worn down.
Before long, Zhao Qingchan returned with a steaming teapot, her expression calm as she refilled his cup.
“Can we talk about the deal now?”
Shen Yanzhou lifted the tea, taking a sip. It was still a bit too hot. Indeed, no one was as considerate as Wu Ruyue.
“You may speak.” Zhao Qingchan sat opposite him.
……
Dragon-Tiger Institute, Confucian Courtyard, Loft of Vast Righteousness.
A group of Confucian students sat at their desks, heads buried in study. Qi Haoran was among them, but his expression was distant, his thoughts still adrift in the absurdities of the previous night at Chunshui Pavilion.
“Senior Sister Zhao…”
After a moment, Qi Haoran collected himself and turned his gaze inward to his Literary Heart, which now appeared dimmer.
He didn’t mind much—his Literary Heart could be rekindled, but unless he dispelled the demons of his heart and severed his delusions, he could never break through to the Fifth Rank of the Confucian Path and enter the Realm of Governance.
“The expenses at Chunshui Pavilion were heavy. Brother Zi’an paid that night—it cost nearly a thousand silver notes.”
“Father’s people haven’t yet sent over this year’s study stipend. I’ll need to find a way to earn silver through calligraphy and painting…”
Qi Haoran sighed inwardly.
He thought the key to dispelling his inner demons and illusions might lie within Chunshui Pavilion.
Only when his obsession with Senior Sister Zhao truly faded could he see his true heart.
Yet, the memory of that night still lingered vividly in his mind.
As he thought so, a graceful figure approached from outside the Loft of Vast Righteousness. Many of the scholars reading within couldn’t help but lift their heads to look.
“Senior Sister Zhao.”
Qi Haoran’s heart stirred slightly, a strange feeling he couldn’t describe welling up within him.
Upon reaching the Sixth Rank, Literary Heart Realm, one became immune to illusions, so he was certain that the woman he’d seen that night at Chunshui Pavilion hadn’t been using illusion arts, but rather a lifelike transformation technique.
Still, she hadn’t truly been Zhao Qingchan. Her expression, bearing, and aura—none could truly imitate the real one.
“Junior Brother Qi, you’re here? I’ve been looking for you.”
Zhao Qingchan seemed to be searching for someone. Her gaze found Qi Haoran in the corner, and her delicate face blossomed into a gentle smile as she walked toward him.
“Senior Sister Zhao, what brings you to me?”
Qi Haoran was momentarily dazed. Zhao Qingchan rarely sought him out on her own—it was usually he who approached her first.
He quickly stood, meeting her halfway, his face bright with an eager smile.
The surrounding students looked on enviously at the sight.
“I’d like you to walk with me for a bit—are you free?” Zhao Qingchan asked softly, brushing a strand of hair aside. A faint fragrance rippled through the air around them.
“This…”
Qi Haoran’s heart trembled. Even with his years of scholarly discipline, he couldn’t help but show his delight, afraid that a delayed response might make her change her mind. He hurriedly said,
“I’m free—of course I’m free. Where would Senior Sister Zhao like to walk?”
“Let’s just walk around the Confucian Courtyard.”
Zhao Qingchan said as she turned to lead the way outside.
Qi Haoran followed quickly behind, though he dared not get too close, maintaining a courteous distance befitting a gentleman.
“Is something troubling you, Senior Sister Zhao?”
Though he had read countless classics, Qi Haoran wasn’t dense. He could tell Zhao Qingchan was not in good spirits—there was something weighing on her mind.
For her to seek him out specifically to accompany her for a walk—didn’t that mean there might still be hope for him?
After all, she had always known about his feelings for her.
The stagnant pool of his heart rippled once more.
“There is something troubling me. The Marquis of Divine Might’s Residence still insists on marrying me to the Demon Suppression Prince’s Mansion…”
“But I don’t wish to marry there.”
Zhao Qingchan sighed softly.
Qi Haoran clenched his fists. Naturally, he too didn’t want Zhao Qingchan to marry there. Political marriages held no true affection.
He had met the True Heir, Shen Tian, before—an ordinary-looking man, hot-tempered, no better than a street ruffian. He was utterly unworthy of Zhao Qingchan.
“Is that what troubles you, Senior Sister Zhao?” he asked, though he already knew the answer.
Zhao Qingchan nodded, her gaze distant. “I’ve lived my entire life for the Marquis of Divine Might’s Residence, and now I can’t even control my own marriage. I wish to escape this cage, yet I don’t know where I could go once free.”
Qi Haoran wanted to say she could go with him to the Kingdom of Qi—but as a hostage prince, even he couldn’t freely leave the imperial city.
The words caught in his throat and faded away.
“It’s my incompetence. I can’t help you right now, Senior Sister Zhao.” Qi Haoran felt powerless, his fists clenched tightly.
Zhao Qingchan looked at him and smiled faintly. “I don’t blame you. You’ve been good to me all these years, helping me often at poetry gatherings. Your kindness is enough.”
Frustration welled up in Qi Haoran’s chest. He couldn’t help but ask, “Then what do you plan to do, Senior Sister Zhao? Will you follow your family’s arrangement?”
“I don’t intend to. For now, I’ll take things one step at a time.”
Zhao Qingchan shook her head, then suddenly added, “I’ve spoken with Shen Yanzhou.”
Qi Haoran froze, discomfort flickering through him. Why would Senior Sister Zhao go to Shen Yanzhou?
“He’s in the height of glory now—so young, yet already dual Sixth Rank in martial cultivation, the most outstanding of his peers, and the youngest Thousand-Household Commander of the Chilin Guards, with limitless prospects.” Zhao Qingchan seemed to know his thoughts, her tone calm as she spoke.
Jealousy surged in Qi Haoran’s chest. Though he knew she spoke the truth, hearing her praise another man so highly before him filled him with bitterness.
Shen Yanzhou…
He gritted his teeth, his fists creaking.
“Do you think he can help you, Senior Sister Zhao?” Qi Haoran asked.
“He’s the adopted son of the Demon Suppression King. If he himself brings up the marriage, it might be ruined altogether…” A faint smile curved Zhao Qingchan’s lips.
But Qi Haoran thought that smile looked bitter—born of helplessness.
Still, it wasn’t a bad idea. If Shen Yanzhou stirred up the matter, perhaps other noble families in the capital would secretly act to obstruct such a powerful alliance.
“If Shen Yanzhou agreed so easily, it must be with ulterior motives,” Qi Haoran said, his heart trembling as he sensed what might come.
Zhao Qingchan nodded, her voice calm. “Indeed. I agreed to it—I accepted his pursuit.”
Boom—
The words hit Qi Haoran like thunder. His ears rang; his vision blurred red.
Did that mean that from now on, Shen Yanzhou and Senior Sister Zhao would be considered a legitimate couple?
Qi Haoran’s heart quivered violently, as if about to shatter.
The woman he admired and loved had accepted another man’s pursuit—even if it was out of helplessness…
“Senior Sister Zhao, you don’t like him, right? You even despise him, don’t you?” Qi Haoran took a deep breath, forcing himself to remain calm. He needed to confirm her true feelings.
Zhao Qingchan nodded, her tone tinged with complexity. “Yes, I do dislike him—but I have no choice but to agree, at least on the surface.”
Qi Haoran drew another deep breath.
He would find a way.
Once he broke through to the Fifth Rank, the esteemed Confucian scholar who favored him would accept him as a disciple, granting him entry into the Hanlin Academy.
When the upcoming imperial examinations arrived, he would earn his title, pass with distinction, and with the prestige of the Hanlin Academy behind him, he would have the standing to propose marriage to Senior Sister Zhao.
She must have come to him today to say this deliberately—to give him a chance, to entrust him with hope.
“Senior Sister Zhao, I’ll do everything I can to break through to the Fifth Rank—and claim first place in the examination.”
“For now, you’ll have to bear this grievance a little longer.” His eyes burned with determination as he made his vow.