In the depths of winter, the Shen family came to the capital to find a match for their eldest daughter, Shen Qingyuan, and stayed at their maternal grandparents’ estate just outside the city. Shen Weiwan went with her mother to burn incense at Xiangguo Temple. On their way back, their horses bolted and she was thrown from the carriage. Just as she was about to hit the stone steps, a tall figure caught her securely. Her nose hit the armor on his chest, which carried a faint scent of rust and cedar. When she looked up, all she saw was the young general’s taut jaw and a hint of barely perceptible alarm in his eyes. “Stand steady.” Only later did she learn that he was Xiao Che, newly returned from the northern frontier, the “cold-faced young marshal” feared by everyone in the capital. Rumor had it he could lift a bronze cauldron with one hand, yet rarely smiled.
