Chapter Text
As suspected, the very dinner after you submitted your report to the record-keepers, your mother spoke up in that way of hers that had your father mentally checking out of the conversation.
“It’s good to hear that Sect Leader Jiang is willing to do business with us,” she said once the servants excused themselves, cheerful as ever. “But, you know, he’s unmarried, and word is he refuses to go to a matchmaker. It wouldn’t be a bad idea to get in his good graces, dear.”
You did your best not to reject the idea by default—a bad habit of yours. It was true, you did have a decent chance of worming your way into the sect leader’s life on pure technicality and questionable luck. But being advised directly made the prospect feel more than a bit slimy, just on principle.
“Sure, Mama, but have you considered that he doesn’t want to get married?” you pointed out. Not that you knew Jiang Wanyin’s marital preferences, but your intuition was sensing something different about him, in a similar way to yourself; it was hard to pinpoint, and maybe was more of a defensive attribute than an intuitive one. Even if you planned on asking, you doubted that Jiang Wanyin was well attuned to that aspect of himself—a genuine answer wasn’t likely. Also, he would probably yell at you.
Maybe out of a sense of kinship, you felt compelled to defend him even though he would never hear of this conversation. You’d sooner bathe in a frozen pond than let your parents bring this topic up to Jiang Wanyin’s face.
Your father chose then to interject, glancing up from the spoon of broth cooling in his hand. “Like how you don’t want to get married?”
Sheesh. Rarely a break around here.
“I don’t know,” you said snippily, “I’m just not interested in what men want from me. Maybe Jiang-zongzhu is the same, or maybe he doesn’t want a wife at all.” (In more than one sense, you didn’t say. But that was conjecture on your part.)
“Regardless,” your mother said breezily, “he’s in need of an heir. Now, I know you aren’t interested in childbearing—”
“Thank you so much for remembering that quite essential detail,” you muttered.
“—but that means it will at least be on his mind. You never know, he may be more open to the idea than you’ve assumed. He seems to like you, and these quirks of yours mean you might just be the wife he needs. It would be wise not to let this opportunity slip through your fingers.”
You knew she meant well. As your mother and as a businesswoman, she could be deceptively straightforward, but her intellect was a rare match among non-scholars, and she was skilled in the art of negotiation. Of your parents, she was the one born into the merchant lifestyle, and you had to wonder whether she’d been reincarnated several times over into this very family, from how exceptionally she took to the business. Her talents balanced well with your father’s knack for finances and optimization—his family was full of engineers by trade, which was how they met all those years ago. They became a power couple that elevated their respective trades by collaboration, and the rest was history. They made a good team. And naturally, as their only child, you were shafted with the creative laziness of an heir apparent who grew up with worlds of opportunities that others could only dream of.
Therefore, when they joined forces against you, the odds were unbalanced for all the reasons above.
Perhaps due to this, or perhaps because of the stars’ alignment on the day of your birth, you had a dormant side of yourself that was pulled from its slumber for special occasions. Right now, for example.
Under the expectant looks of your parents and their presumption of your agreement, your stubbornness rooted itself deeper and stronger. They believed there were no downsides to accepting their request of you, but you wouldn’t agree for the sake of it. You stared back, eyes darting between them, and your lips thinned in displeasure.
“Is that an order?” you said slowly.
They exchanged a glance, but you knew it was due to your tone more than your question.
“We already promised not to arrange your future marriage,” your mother assured. “I’m only saying that this is the best opportunity you’ve encountered so far.”
“At least, you haven’t outright refused to associate with this man,” your father added. He was still salty over the past several attempts to set you up with wealthy heirs. But as well-connected as your father was, his friends’ sons were all either boring or pretentious, with hardly a brain cell of social awareness among them—not suited to you at all.
They were right to observe that you liked Jiang Wanyin. He was handsome, competent, and brash in a way that made you want to wriggle into his crevices and pick him apart. It was a simple infatuation, if it was even strong enough to be labeled as such; and though you doubted it would ever happen, you wouldn’t oppose a relationship if Jiang Wanyin somehow caught feelings. But your family’s insistence only spurred your stubborn roots to spread, locking you in the place where you’d stand your ground.
Any old argument wouldn’t work on your parents. Luckily, you’d grown up around them, so the path of least resistance was clear.
Posture straight as if you were leading a presentation, you asked, “Why should I jeopardize our new business partnership just to bother him about a sensitive and personal topic? There’s no guarantee how receptive he would be to such a suggestion, especially when we’ve met so few times. I’d like to prioritize the project I’ve been assigned, if that would please your distinguished selves.”
Okay, you may have been heavy-handed on that last part, but you were feeling a little jittery. You didn’t know why this was affecting you so much, but you could only hope your face wasn’t too red. Something in you was burning, and you didn’t like it.
Your parents were quiet for long enough that everyone went back to their meals, the tension undermined by the pensive look on your mother’s face. It seemed like your father had dropped it, though you were sure it was because he’d already spent a full decade coming to terms with your unwillingness to be married. A win was a win.
When your bowl was empty, your mother caught your eye. “It’s just a suggestion, Xiao Bao,” she said reassuringly. “We won’t bring it up again.” She elbowed her husband until he grunted in agreement. Whether he was listening or not, you couldn’t help but smile.
“Noted,” you said, because you couldn’t show weakness. Then, you stood and patted both parents on the head, grinning down at them cheekily. “We’ll see what happens.”