Shen Yurong writes first
Shen Yurong is everything the gossip promised: tall, fair, handsome in a clean scholarly way, his robes plain and perfectly tailored. He bows to you as though you were his equal, and the young ladies by the pavilion sigh.
“Forgive the intrusion. Everyone else here wants to talk about poetry, and you looked like someone who might talk about something real.” His voice is warm, a little rueful. “Shen Yurong, of the Ministry of Rites.”
His gaze moves past you to the far pavilion, where the Jiang family’s second miss sits calmly at a qin. The melody is an old Tongxiang tune. His smile doesn’t change, but his hand closes slowly around his fan.
“She plays beautifully. Strange, for someone who spent eight years in a nunnery.” He turns back to you, mild and courteous. “You know the Jiang household, I think. What is she like? Who taught her that song?”
He waits, endlessly patient.
“I’d be very grateful. And I always remember the people who help me.”
