The banquet was divided into separate sections for men and women, with a long decorative screen running down the middle. The screen was carved in an openwork design — a mere ornamental feature.

“This screen must be incredibly expensive,” Ling’ai said, eyeing the gold and silver inlaid into it, glittering brilliantly in the light.

“Not only expensive — it looks like an antique as well.” Yan Qing was genuinely impressed by the Qian family’s extravagance. They truly were Shun Cheng’s wealthiest household; it seemed as though even every blade of grass and every tree here bore those two unspoken characters: money to spare.

The Yan family was also a wealthy merchant household, but Master Yan had never spent lavishly on material things. The Yan estate was large, but the plants and flowers were nothing rare, and the furnishings were quite ordinary — Master Yan had always preferred to preserve greater wealth for the generations to come.

As the old saying went, wealth does not last past three generations. Master Yan was one who planned for the long term.

As they spoke, maids were already beginning to carry out dish after dish on serving trays. When one exquisite delicacy after another was set before her, Ling’ai nearly lost her composure entirely.

This was likely the most extravagant meal she had ever been presented with. Most of the dishes she could not even name — let alone having tasted them, she had quite literally never heard of half of them.

“Makes you glad you came today, doesn’t it?” Yan Qing teased her.

Ling’ai swallowed, her appetite thoroughly aroused by the magnificent spread in front of her, but constrained by the presence of others at the table, she was making a valiant effort to hold herself in check.

While Ling’ai was barely containing herself, there was still Master Qian’s speech to endure. He had navigated the business world his entire life and was a man of considerable eloquence — once he started speaking, the words flowed without end.

Watching him, Yan Qing was reminded of a senior official she had seen at city meetings, the kind who, once he opened his mouth, could go on for several hours without pause.

“Why is he still talking?” Ling’ai complained under her breath. “He’s already gotten to Madam Qian’s mother’s life story. We came here to eat, not to listen to a performance. The food is going to go cold.”

“You and your appetite,” Yan Qing laughed. “Have some dignity.”

Ling’ai surveyed the ladies and young misses around the table — though they all wore appropriately elegant smiles, she could tell they had long since lost patience as well. No amount of good manners could hold up against one person’s prolonged monologue.

At last, Master Qian completed his tearful “speech.” Ling’ai thought, finally, they could use their chopsticks — only to hear Master Qian say, “To thank you all for coming, my mother would also like to say a few words.”

Ling’ai’s expression went blank.

Heavens help her — she wanted to flip the entire table.

Yan Qing looked at her with quiet amusement. Just how hungry was this girl?

Hui Village, though a man of considerable standing, was not a person of extravagant tastes, and he was certainly nowhere near as wealthy as the Qian family. As a result, the food and clothing in his household were all very ordinary.

Yan Qing, on the other hand, had grown up in the Yan family, where considerable attention was paid to dress and cuisine. Most of the dishes on this table were ones she had eaten regularly — naturally, nothing here particularly surprised her.

Fortunately, Madam Qian the elder was advanced in years and far less prone to lengthy speeches than her son. After she had spoken for a little while, Master Qian announced that the meal could begin.

Glancing through the screen, Yan Qing noticed that the Marshal was seated in the place of honor. Liu Yin stood behind him, and guests were now coming up one after another to offer toasts.

Yan Qing could sense clearly that the Marshal was visibly distracted — raising his glass with one person while his gaze drifted elsewhere. It was apparent that the woman in that courtyard had stirred something in him. What exactly that was, only the Qian family would know for certain.

On this side of the hall, the banquet was lively. The opera performance on the central stage was going at a spirited pace as well. The program had been personally selected by Madam Qian the elder — all popular pieces at the moment. The assembled ladies and young misses ate their meal while listening to the opera, thoroughly enjoying themselves.

The only difference was that all the other ladies sat with their lips delicately parted, selecting one morsel at a time with their chopsticks and chewing with unhurried refinement. Ling’ai was the lone exception — eating with uninhibited enthusiasm, taking large mouthfuls of food and rice.

Now and then, a few of the young misses would glance over with expressions of mild surprise, but she had never cared about such things. She liked what she liked and ate what she wanted. When she was tired, she slept. Why should she concern herself with what others thought? No one could live her life for her.

When one opera piece concluded, everyone assumed another would follow. Instead, a group of people walked onto the stage and began setting up frames around its perimeter. White gauze curtains were hung from the frames, encircling the stage and rendering its center only faintly visible.

“What is this for?” Several of the ladies and young misses immediately grew curious.

“Is there some special performance about to take place?”

Seeing all of this, Yan Qing had a fairly good idea of what was coming. The Qian family intended to use this occasion to present their prized centerpiece to the world.

Indeed — a few servants carried an elegantly styled piano onto the center of the stage, set it in place, and then quietly withdrew.

Master Qian walked back up to the stage, beaming. “Today is my mother’s sixtieth birthday celebration. My daughter has prepared a piece especially to honor her grandmother. I hope you will all bear with us.”

From somewhere in the crowd, a curious voice called out, “Mr. Qian, since when did you have a daughter?”

This was precisely the question Master Qian had been waiting for. No sooner had the words been spoken than he launched into an emotional and tearful account of a child lost for over twenty years who had at last been reunited with her family.

Down at the table, Madam Qian and the elder Madam Qian listened, and were so moved that they fell into each other’s arms, weeping openly.

“My daughter’s name is Qian Lan — the character for orchid. Before she came back to the Qian family, she had been teaching young children to play the piano.”

“Mr. Qian, is your daughter married?”

“My daughter is of pure and upright character, and as of now remains unwed.”

Yan Qing heard this and inwardly laughed. What exactly did “pure and upright character” have to do with being unmarried — as though a married woman would be somehow lacking in virtue? The implication of Master Qian’s words was perfectly transparent: he wanted everyone to know his daughter was still an unmarried young woman, entirely untouched and without blemish.

“Today is a joyous occasion, and so I intend to introduce her to you all.” Master Qian said with great feeling. “Lan’er and I were separated for many years, and I have always felt a debt to her. When it comes time for her to marry, I will present her with a dowry of one-third of the Qian family’s entire fortune.”

One-third of the Qian family’s assets — just how astronomical a sum that must be. Everyone in the room began quietly calculating.

There were quite a few unmarried young men from prominent families in attendance, and upon hearing this announcement, their hearts leapt with eager anticipation. To marry a daughter of the Qian family would be to walk away with a third of the Qian estate — an undeniably favorable arrangement. The only slight drawback was that Qian Lan was on the older side, and most of the unmarried young men present were no more than twenty-something. Any older than that, and they would already have wives and children. Those still unattached were few and far between.

“A few years older isn’t such a problem,” someone in the crowd murmured to their neighbor. “She’s only four years older than my son. I can accept that.”

“As they say, a woman three years older is worth her weight in gold. My son happens to be three years younger than her. Not that I’d mind at all.”

The Marshal listened to the murmurs of discussion all around him. Many families were clearly dangling their interest in the Qian family’s daughter. They all spoke of not minding her age, but what they truly had their eyes on was the Qian family’s wealth.

Even as the Marshal inwardly dismissed these people, the image of Qian Lan’s refined and serene face rose in his mind, along with the piano music that had struck so deep a chord in him.

As everyone waited in eager anticipation, a woman dressed in a qipao glided onto the stage with light, graceful steps. Her figure came and went in a single fleeting glimpse — all one could clearly make out was a pale blue qipao, as noble and elegant as a magnolia blossom.

The white gauze curtains on the stage rippled gently in a breath of air. The woman seated behind them settled before the piano, and as the first note was softly pressed, the melody began to flow, unhurried and beautiful.

Many of the ladies present were knowledgeable about music. The piano was a fixture in any household of wealth and status, though some had only a passing familiarity with it and others had made reasonable progress. But among all of them, none could truly compare to Qian Lan in the depth of her mastery — the way she coaxed from the instrument something so transcendent and effortless.

The piece Qian Lan played was a bright and joyful birthday song, utterly unlike the sorrowful “Love Unattained” that Yan Qing had heard from outside the courtyard earlier. With her level of artistry, Qian Lan could pour whatever emotion she wished to convey entirely into the music.

She could make you grieve. She could make you glad. She could make you feel at ease. These were all things she could command at will.

The atmosphere in the hall lifted with the piano music, becoming light and cheerful. Some people began keeping time without even realizing it.

When the piece came to an end, the audience burst into warm applause.

Qian Lan rose from the piano bench, bowed deeply to the assembled guests, and then returned to the piano to begin a second piece.

This too was a relaxed and easy composition. As the notes filled the air, the listeners felt as though a gentle wind were moving over them — as though they stood beside a mountain stream, or sat at a hilltop gazing out over the sea.

Qian Lan performed three pieces in succession, each one distinct in character. Under her guidance, the listeners were carried through sweeping landscapes, through the colors of dawn and dusk.

Even as she took her bow at the end, the audience remained suspended in the music, unable to bring themselves back for quite some time.

Yan Qing glanced over at Ling’ai beside her, who was lost in a state of blissful absorption.

She had only read in novels about the bewitching power of music — she had never imagined that in reality, someone could truly achieve such an effect.

Yan Qing frowned slightly. This Qian Lan was truly unfathomable.

After finishing her pieces, Qian Lan departed from the stage. Throughout the entire performance she had remained behind the white gauze, and what the audience had seen was only her silhouette, shifting in and out of view. Yet even that fleeting outline of her figure had been enough to set minds wandering and hearts stirring with admiration.

Yan Qing looked toward where the Marshal sat. His brows were knitted tightly together, his expression deeply complex.

“The Marshal has become captivated by this Qian Lan.” Luo Huaimeng’s voice drifted softly to her ear. As the person who understood the Marshal best, she could read his feelings from his expression alone.

The Marshal did not often reveal his inner state. The fact that he looked like this now meant he had already lost control of himself.

—