That day Qingluo rose early, dressing first in a snug inner robe, then loosely draping a silver-white outer robe over it, binding up her hair and fastening a jade belt. Looking in the mirror, she saw a handsome young man of refined bearing, his face as fine as carved jade.

The Seventh Madam helped darken her exposed skin to a tan complexion and thickened her eyebrows. A’Luo lowered her voice as she spoke, recalling how to walk with a wide, confident stride, and moved with not the slightest trace of maidenly shyness. A’Luo was quite pleased with the result, and the Seventh Madam felt reassured too, laughing, “Unless someone already knew you well, they’d never guess you were a girl.”

This first outing carried a thrill of nervous excitement. A’Luo climbed easily over the wall, then lowered a rope ladder made of coarse hemp, thinking to herself this was far simpler than free climbing bare-handed. If only she knew lightness skill — how freeing it would be to fly about at will! She thought of Liu Jue’s lightness skill and felt a pang of envy. If they hadn’t become enemies, what a fine thing it would have been to ask him to be her teacher.

Landing safely, A’Luo winked up at Xiao Yu on the wall, gathered up the rope ladder, and buried it in a hole she dug at the base of the wall. She’d made two of these ladders — in case Xiao Yu heard the flute signal but couldn’t come in time, she could climb back in herself.

Getting her bearings, A’Luo lifted her foot to head toward the commercial district, then glanced at the nearby stream and changed her mind. She walked to a secluded corner of the courtyard wall and took out her flute, playing the tune she usually used to harmonize with the reed-pipe player. As the flute notes rose, A’Luo kept watch around her, and before long, the sound of the reed pipe came drifting back. Listening closely, she realized it was coming from the direction of the riverbank. She put away her flute and walked that way.

The flute fell silent, and the reed pipe paused as well, as if puzzled why the tune had ended so abruptly today. Then it started up again.

As A’Luo drew nearer to the river, she slowed her pace, pretending to be simply out enjoying the scenery. She saw a young man sitting beneath the willows by the riverbank. He wore a purple robe and held a jade reed pipe in his hands. So this was the one who had been playing the reed pipe all along. Why did he come here every day to play? Just to harmonize with her flute?

Sensing someone behind him, the man turned around, and seeing a handsome young gentleman gazing intently at the reed pipe in his own hands, he smiled. “Little brother, do you enjoy the reed pipe too?”

A’Luo took in the man’s features — sword-like brows sweeping up into his temples, eyes deep and penetrating, the faintest hint of a smile lingering at the corners of his mouth. Another prime specimen. He didn’t seem the lecherous sort, and having accompanied her, in a sense, for so long already, she felt a certain fondness toward him and answered, “I was just enjoying the scenery by the river when I heard the sound of your reed pipe and followed it here. I hope I haven’t disturbed you, sir.”

The man let out a hearty laugh. “Not at all, not at all. Today, well — this is about all the time I have for it, I suppose.”

Sensing a note of wistfulness in his voice, as though he’d missed having a flute to accompany him, A’Luo smiled and said, “I enjoy playing the flute myself. Might I join you for a duet?”

A flash of delighted surprise crossed the man’s eyes. “Little brother can play the flute? Wonderful!”

The two of them then played a duet together, flute and reed pipe. By the time the piece ended, the two felt considerably closer. The man looked at A’Luo and said, “It’s a joy to encounter a kindred spirit. Little brother, you seem quite congenial — would you care to join me at the Qianfeng Pavilion?”

A’Luo guessed this Qianfeng Pavilion was probably some kind of restaurant or teahouse, and thought it would be good to have a companion, so she agreed with a smile. “My name is Luo Shan. May I ask your honored surname, elder brother?” — thereby drawing their connection a step closer still.

The man smiled and said, “Wonderful, wonderful. Today I’ve not only found a kindred spirit, but gained a younger brother as well. My surname is Chen — you may call me Zili, or elder brother, either is fine.”

A’Luo affectionately called him “elder brother,” and the two walked along chatting. A’Luo was pleased to discover that her newfound elder brother knew Wind City extremely well — having him along was like having a guide, a living map at her disposal. She secretly congratulated herself on her good fortune.

The two of them followed the riverbank eastward, climbing up onto the embankment, where tea stalls had already begun to appear. This was A’Luo’s first time walking the streets of Wind City, and she took in everything around her with fresh curiosity, her head turning this way and that. Looking back, she realized they’d already left that upscale residential district far behind. Suddenly she heard Zili call out to her: “Brother Shan, at this pace, we won’t reach Qianfeng Pavilion even by sunset.”

A’Luo’s face flushed, and she looked up at Zili. “Elder brother, how much farther is Qianfeng Pavilion?”

Zili said, “By horse, about three-quarters of an hour. On foot, it would take a full two hours.”

A’Luo thought — walking for two hours? This Wind City really was enormous. Having a horse would clearly be for the best. No sooner had he mentioned it than a horse’s neigh sounded. A’Luo looked over and saw a large horse’s head already thrust right in front of her.

Zili said, “I had my attendant bring the horse here and wait. Brother Shan, do you know how to ride?”

A’Luo asked him, “Does having someone lead the horse while I ride count as knowing how?”

Zili watched as A’Luo’s clear, crystalline eyes gazed at him without blinking, and felt a flicker of admiration — what remarkable eyes. He swung himself up onto the horse with practiced ease and extended a hand to A’Luo. “Come, ride together with your elder brother.”

A’Luo took his hand without hesitation, felt a surge of strength, and found herself lifted lightly onto the horse. Zili laughed. “Hold on tight!” With that, he spurred the horse forward.

The horse’s four hooves shot forward at once. A’Luo clenched her jaw shut to keep from crying out, gripping the reins tightly, her whole body pressed into Zili’s embrace. She felt his warm breath just above her head as he spoke in a mellow voice: “Don’t be afraid. Elder brother’s got you. You won’t fall.”

A’Luo could only laugh helplessly to herself — as if saying not to be afraid made it so. She kept her body rigid as usual, cold sweat breaking out, her heart lurching with every jolt of the horse’s stride, the scenery around her rushing past in a blur as she finally called out, “Elder brother, can you slow down a little!”

Hearing the tremor in her voice, Zili assumed Luo Shan must simply be a pampered young master from some wealthy household, too timid and inexperienced with horses. Seeing they’d already entered the eastern gate, he slowed the pace. “Brother Shan, it’s fine now — we can amble along and you can take in the marketplace from up here.”

Only then did A’Luo sit up straight, taking in the sight of the eastern avenue, a good twenty or thirty meters wide, with carriages and sedan chairs constantly passing by without needing to yield to one another, the ground paved evenly with large blue flagstones fitted seamlessly together. From this alone, one could imagine the grandeur of Wind City.

Bustling activity filled both sides of the street, lined with buildings two to three stories tall stretching endlessly along the avenue. Shops occupied the ground floors, while the upper floors seemed to house restaurants and teahouses; the road was scattered with men and women in twos and threes, dressed in bright colors.

Zili turned the horse south, riding into a street somewhat narrower than the eastern avenue. Here, the buildings gave way to private courtyards, each small building enclosed by lush greenery.

They arrived before a building, and A’Luo saw three bold characters written above the entrance: “Qianfeng Pavilion.” She knew they’d arrived. Zili dismounted and helped A’Luo down. After a few steps, A’Luo realized her backside ached. She couldn’t help rubbing it, and seeing Zili watching her with a look of barely suppressed amusement, felt a twinge of grievance. “Elder brother rode the horse a bit too fast.”

Zili burst out laughing. “That’s on me. My apologies.”

A’Luo said magnanimously, “I forgive you. It’s not your fault I don’t know how to ride.” She’d only ever ridden a horse being led by someone at tourist sites before, and naturally couldn’t gallop on her own. Suddenly recalling something, she smiled and said, “Perhaps elder brother could teach little brother to ride sometime?” Zili nodded in agreement.

The two of them walked into Qianfeng Pavilion. The attendant’s eyes lit up — greeting guests day in and day out had honed his instincts, and the guests of Qianfeng Pavilion were mostly people of standing. The bearing and manner of these two — the taller one carrying himself with an air of natural nobility, the shorter one likely also a young master from some wealthy household — made this plain. He greeted them attentively: “Please, gentlemen, this way upstairs.”

A’Luo noticed there wasn’t a single table on the ground floor, only an ebony tea counter set up. Around the walls hung several landscape paintings and calligraphy scrolls, giving the place a rich cultural air.

Upstairs, latticed screens divided the seating into private compartments, with separate rooms available as well. Zili requested a private room and, once A’Luo was seated, said, “It’ll be quieter for our conversation here, Brother Shan.”

A’Luo nodded and sat by the window, taking in the view outside. She heard Zili say to the attendant, “I’ve long heard that Qianfeng Pavilion has three legendary dishes and three legendary wines. This is my first visit — I hope not to be disappointed.”

The attendant smiled broadly and nodded. “First time here, sir? Then you must sample our head chef’s craftsmanship.”

Before long, the dishes arrived — plain tofu, plain greens, plain eggplant. A’Luo looked at Zili, who smiled and shook his head, indicating he hadn’t tried them before either. She knew that the simpler the dish, the harder it was to prepare well, so she picked up her chopsticks and tried a piece of the tofu. Before she could even say anything, she heard Zili, having also taken a bite, praise it: “Excellent — the tofu is tender and smooth, true to its natural flavor, and leaves a lingering fragrance after swallowing.”

A’Luo quickly tried the plain greens and plain eggplant as well, and heard Zili continue praising them, calling them refreshing and full of lingering flavor. Unable to resist, she asked Zili, “Elder brother, are these dishes really this good?”

Zili said, “Does little brother’s palate differ from everyone else’s? The tofu we get at my household hardly tastes like tofu at all — no wonder the young lord of Prince Anqing’s estate recommends that if you want to taste real tofu, you have to come to Qianfeng Pavilion.”

At the mention of the young lord, A’Luo choked and coughed, drinking down some tea to steady her breathing before asking, “Elder brother, are you well acquainted with Liu Jue?”

Zili’s tone was even. “Not especially close — we’ve met a few times, that’s all. Does little brother know him?”

A’Luo said, “I saw him at the peach blossom banquet.” She looked at the three legendary dishes before her and changed the subject: “I imagine Qianfeng Pavilion caters to wealthy families who’ve grown tired of rich, heavy fare, offering them these simple boiled vegetables for a change of pace. The taste really isn’t anything special.”

The corner of Zili’s mouth curved into a smile again as he listened to A’Luo’s commentary. Watching her shake her head and purse her lips, her eyes sparkling with genuine expressiveness, he found her thoroughly captivating. If he weren’t averse to such inclinations, he would have been tempted to bring her home with him.

He thought again of that morning’s brief flute melody, how he’d chanced upon it by the river and harmonized with it, how the flute’s tone had grown steadily more refined, until eventually it seemed to carry countless unspoken thoughts. Several times he’d been tempted to leap over the courtyard wall to see who within the Right Chancellor’s residence it was, yet he preferred answering with his reed pipe instead, sensing the shifting moods of the flute player through the music. And so every morning he waited by the river. Today, just as he’d been feeling downcast that the flute had ended so abruptly, along came this clever, quick-witted, and handsome young brother instead. His whole being was drawn to him.

Zili found himself, without quite realizing it, drinking down several cups of the three legendary wines. Looking again at Luo Shan now, he was suddenly reminded of a leopard he’d once hunted, whose eyes had carried that same crystalline brightness. He thought to himself — if only his complexion were fairer, even a woman might not surpass him.

Having finished describing all her impressions of the food, A’Luo noticed Zili had drifted into a distracted daze and said, “Elder brother, if the chance ever arises, I’ll cook a few dishes for you myself sometime — I guarantee your tongue will be so delighted it’ll want to swallow itself!”

Zili came back to himself and smiled. “Someone who looks down on even Qianfeng Pavilion’s three legendary dishes — you’re the first in all of Wind City.”

A’Luo exclaimed in surprise, “Surely not? I thought Wind City was so prosperous — could the food really be this disappointing?”

Zili asked curiously, “You’re not from Wind City?”

A’Luo said, “This is only my second time out of the residence, and my first time eating at a restaurant. The food at home suits my taste well enough.” A’Luo usually ate at Tang Garden, prepared either by Nanny Zhang or the Seventh Madam herself. She and the rest of Chancellor Li’s extended household might share a single meal together once a month, and even then everyone was careful not to reach for too many dishes. She’d always found the food from the main kitchen far less appetizing than what she ate at Tang Garden, and had assumed it was simply because Chancellor Li neglected Tang Garden and the food there wasn’t up to standard. She never expected that coming to Qianfeng Pavilion today, tasting these so-called three legendary dishes, would turn out to be nothing more than this — simple, natural cooking!

Zili then explained to her, “Qianfeng Pavilion specializes in vegetarian cuisine, and it’s counted among the most renowned restaurants in all of Wind City. I imagine the cook at little brother’s household must be exceptionally skilled indeed.”

A’Luo thought for a moment and said, “Elder brother, next time, could you take little brother to try some of the other famous restaurants? Sampling good food is one of little brother’s great passions.”

Zili saw her eyes shining, looking at him with earnest pleading, and agreed without a second thought. “Brother Shan, you should know that when you look at someone with an expression like that, it’s hard to refuse you anything.”

A’Luo blushed and lowered her eyes. Zili smiled. “Having a little brother like you, I find myself wanting to give you anything you ask for. Brother Shan, I’m truly glad you call me elder brother.”

After finishing the meal, they settled the bill. The attendant said with a smile, “That comes to one hundred and thirty-six taels of silver.”

A’Luo was so startled she stammered, “Th-that much, for three simple vegetable dishes?”

Zili looked at her with amusement. “That’s not expensive at all, Brother Shan.” He handed the attendant a silver note.

As A’Luo walked out of Qianfeng Pavilion, she glanced back once more. Now she finally understood why there wasn’t a single table set up on the ground floor, and why it didn’t matter that so few people occupied the upper floor. A single meal here had cost as much as a full year’s food expenses for all four people at Tang Garden combined. Not expensive? She found it hard to wrap her head around it — and found herself thinking that if she ever opened a restaurant like this herself, wouldn’t she make an absolute fortune?

Seeing it was still relatively early, Zili said to A’Luo, “The three legendary wines have quite a strong kick — I’ve had a bit too much. Shall we walk for a while to clear my head?”

A’Luo nodded. Zili led the horse by its reins, and the two of them walked south along the road from Qianfeng Pavilion, just turning into a narrow alley, when suddenly several masked men brandishing blades leapt out and, without a word, swung their swords straight at the two of them.