A’Cuo followed Ye Lingbo obediently around the covered walkway. Yanyan had long since wandered off somewhere to amuse herself. The inner room Ye Lingbo had mentioned turned out to be the main chamber of the Chenxiang Pavilion itself — Han Yueqi’s very own bedchamber. Such familiarity between the two households said everything.

The Chenxiang Pavilion was planted throughout with plum trees, just coming into bud at this season, their faint fragrance already drifting in the air — all of them the same variety, green-calyxed white plum, clean and elegant, as though a light snow had fallen on every branch. Han Yueqi’s bedchamber was scented with plum blossom too, the fragrance seeping through the curtained partition as they entered. The room within was indeed exquisite and richly appointed, furnished entirely with antiques, a row of eighteen panels of kesi tapestry serving as a screen. In the outer section stood a rosewood table carved all over with trailing clusters of grapes, draped in a red-and-gold brocade table cloth. Ye Lingbo led A’Cuo into the inner room to see the famous canopied bed, rumored to have taken a thousand days of labor to complete. The curtain tassels were embroidered with flowers of all four seasons — the needlework was indeed extraordinary, combining the spontaneous, boneless style of literary painting with the graceful refinement of a young lady’s bower, like a cascading wall of blossoms in full bloom. The artistry was breathtaking.

A’Cuo was studying Han Yueqi’s stitchwork in earnest when a commotion erupted outside the glass window. Through the pane she caught a flash of red — something like a tongue of flame sweeping in — and the anxious cries of a maid calling after her mistress.

She had barely looked up before the visitor came bursting inside.

“Ye Lingbo, are you tired of living?” The voice arrived before the person did — sharp and clear and cold, like icicles in the twelfth month, and yet somehow threaded through with sweetness, making even her insults sound pleasing. “I thought you must have lost your mind — I was waiting for you to come to your senses and turn up at my door to kowtow and beg my forgiveness. But no — you actually have a death wish! You set me up deliberately, didn’t you?”

A’Cuo looked up in startled confusion, and was momentarily dazzled by the newcomer’s beauty. She was dressed in a deep crimson brocade robe cut in northern barbarian style, and appeared to have just returned from riding — her hair not pinned up at all, but gathered in a man’s topknot and cap. Her whole bearing was unrestrained and decisive; she wore riding boots and still held a whip in one hand, her expression imperious and cold as frost.

A’Cuo’s instinct was to step in front of Ye Lingbo to protect her — but Ye Lingbo was not frightened in the least, and only laughed coldly: “Kowtow to you? You’d be lucky not to lose years off your life for that. I’m the one waiting for you to come kowtow to me, you ungrateful thing.”

At those words, the newcomer’s expression grew even more furious. She raised her hand in a sharp motion and cracked the whip down on the table with a loud snap. A’Cuo flinched, half-convinced she was about to strike someone.

“Your skin must be itching!” And having said it, she genuinely lunged forward. A’Cuo moved to intercept her, but the girl was impossibly fast — she was already in front of Ye Lingbo before A’Cuo could reach her. Ye Lingbo tried to dodge, but there was no escaping it: she was seized around the middle, and with some inexplicable strength, hoisted bodily off the ground.

“Put me down, you lunatic.” Ye Lingbo struggled on her shoulder. The girl only laughed and deposited her onto the bed, then pinned her down with one hand when she tried to scramble up, grinning: “Surrender and I’ll spare you! Do you surrender?”

Ye Lingbo was already pinching her arm. “Shen Biwei, if you keep this up I will actually lose my temper! You madwoman — can’t you see we have a guest? If you frighten my A’Cuo, I will skin you alive.”

The girl called Shen Biwei released Ye Lingbo at that, turned, and studied A’Cuo. Then she smiled.

She had been all willful abandon with Ye Lingbo, but facing A’Cuo, her manner settled somewhat. A’Cuo had also heard things — that the Shen patriarch had placed third in the imperial examinations, and that all his children were remarkably handsome. One look at Shen Biwei confirmed it: here was a daughter who had grown up at the center of everyone’s admiring attention, and she carried it naturally, a single raised eyebrow enough to project an air of cool, patrician indifference. She gave A’Cuo a measured look and smiled: “What a pretty little sister. No wonder she is ‘my A’Cuo.'”

Ye Lingbo scrambled up, muttering: “Stop being snide — she is my genuine cousin.”

Shen Biwei did not bother making any particular overtures to A’Cuo, only crossed her arms and turned back to needle Ye Lingbo: “Ye Lingbo, from the looks of it, you have truly given up on your own Flower Festival Banquets? Surrounding yourself with all this beauty — is this what defeat looks like?”

A’Cuo felt a small jolt of surprise at that. It was no wonder she had initially misread the dynamic between these two — Shen Biwei’s words really did carry a barb in every sentence.

In truth, A’Cuo had noticed the matter the very day she arrived at the Ye household, though she had said nothing. Of the three Ye sisters, Ye Lingbo was accomplished in every respect — quick-witted, decisive, sharp of tongue, fast in reaction, and genuinely strategic. But in one thing she fell short: her looks were ordinary. Placed beside Ye Qinglan’s elegant beauty and Yanyan’s sweet charm, she was plainer still — merely pleasant to look at, no more. And while the Flower Festival Banquets were primarily an occasion for the elder ladies to assess prospective daughters-in-law, the four outer banquets for the gentlemen ran alongside, and there were also the Lantern Festival outings and the temple visits to Dengwen Temple — all occasions where young men and women might catch a glimpse of one another. The capital’s noble sons had grown up surrounded by beautiful women. It was said that a man should choose a virtuous wife and a beautiful concubine — but who truly wished to marry a plain wife?

Fate worked in such perverse ways. Ye Qinglan, without a single flaw, lacked the will to fight for herself. Ye Lingbo possessed every drive to excel, yet her looks did not match even a tenth of her sisters’. It was enough to make one’s heart ache.

And for such a thing to be said aloud — that alone spoke to the depth of the friendship between Shen Biwei and Ye Lingbo.

Sure enough, Ye Lingbo heard it and refused to concede an inch: “Since you’re so worried about me, why don’t you lend me your face? You have no plans to marry anyway — what use is a pretty face if you’re not going to use it?”

Shen Biwei was indeed strikingly beautiful — not in A’Cuo’s willowy, delicate way, but with a blazing, incandescent radiance all her own, a brilliance so intense it was almost difficult to look at directly.

Hearing Ye Lingbo’s retort, she laughed immediately.

“You wish. This face has very important uses ahead of it.”

“What uses? You acted like going to Baode Temple was asking for your life — and you expect me to count on you at the Flower Festival Banquets?” Ye Lingbo said in disgust.

“I may not be taking a husband,” Shen Biwei said with a grin, “but one day I intend to take a wife. So this face is quite useful.” She laughed and threw her arms around Ye Lingbo again. “And you are not planning to put yourself forward at the banquets this year anyway — so why don’t the two of us pair up? Tell me, which of the young lords and princes there could possibly be more dashing than me, or treat you better?”

Ye Lingbo couldn’t be bothered to engage with this and only said dismissively: “Stop being ridiculous. Who says I’m not putting myself forward? I have my own plans for this year.”

Shen Biwei’s teasing was nonchalant to the point of genuine indifference. Her background was indisputably fine — principal daughter of the Shen family, cherished by her parents like the apple of their eye, accustomed to moving through the capital’s noble circles however she pleased. She had been comfortable with her own whims for so long that she brought that ease to everything. Even the mention of the Flower Festival Banquets made her wrinkle her nose. She moved sideways to perch on the edge of the nearest table and poured herself a cup of tea.

“Don’t drink cold tea.” Ye Lingbo swatted her hand, then pressed: “On to real matters. When you went to Baode Temple — did you see the Grand Princess? Your father holds such a high post now, the palace would know your face. What did the noble parties say when they saw you?”

“What noble parties — it was just the Grand Princess and a few Commandery Princess Consorts.” Shen Biwei was already impatient. “The Grand Princess saw me, called me over for a few words, had me stay at the temple a few nights, and sent me home. That was all.”

“Did the Grand Princess not ask why you had come?”

“She asked.” Shen Biwei said lazily. “I told her I had nothing better to do and had come to burn some incense. The Grand Princess heard that and said nothing further.”

“You absolute — ” Ye Lingbo grabbed and pinched her in exasperation. “You are entirely incapable of saying the right thing, aren’t you? Even if you couldn’t be bothered to invent some clever reason, you could have grabbed the first decent one available. Burning incense to pray for your grandmother’s well-being — was that so hard to say? Or at the very least, praying for your parents? I told you again and again: the Grand Princess was raised by the late Empress Dowager and places filial piety above all else. One gesture toward filial devotion and she would be charmed. I spelled it out for you.”

“Oh — is that what you were going on about every day with all that talk of the Grand Princess?” Shen Biwei was completely unruffled.

“What else would I be on about?” Ye Lingbo rolled her eyes in pure exasperation. “Truly like a pig eating ginseng fruit — all my careful planning thrown away for nothing. Every young lady in the capital would kill for a chance to distinguish herself before the Princess. Only you could stumble into that kind of luck, and with me doing all the work of scheming for you. I calculated that the Grand Princess would visit Baode Temple at the winter solstice, coaxed and cajoled you into making the trip — and what a chance it was. You wasted it entirely. My efforts were completely lost on you.”

That was all Shen Biwei needed.

“So you admit it!” She sat up with sudden energy. “You lied before — you told me you needed me to draw a fortune slip for you at Baode Temple. And all along you had it planned out, that you wanted me to go grovel in front of the Grand Princess!”

She had come to settle a score, but Ye Lingbo was, if anything, even more self-righteous about it.

“And what of it? Your elder sister was acting in your interests. What is so terrible about performing a few kowtows for the Grand Princess? I’ll have you know there are young ladies who would beg for that opportunity and can’t have it. You threw it away without a second thought and dare to look indignant. I should be the one giving you a scolding.” Ye Lingbo shot her a withering look and continued: “You were the only one there that day, surely? If anyone else managed to take advantage of that opening, I will not forgive you.”

At that, Shen Biwei’s expression shifted to one of deliberate silence. She raised her teacup and drank.

Ye Lingbo’s face darkened immediately — as though she had already felt this coming. “Who else was there?”

Shen Biwei only drank her tea, unhurried: “The person you’re already thinking of.”

In that instant, something almost murderous flashed through Ye Lingbo’s eyes. A’Cuo, watching from the side, felt a genuine start of alarm. So this was what Ye Lingbo looked like when she was truly angry — no wonder Madam Meng had always said that Lingbo was too severe, that even she had to step back three paces when Lingbo’s real temper came out.

“Lu Wanyang?” She said the name directly. When Shen Biwei nodded, Ye Lingbo’s face went pale with fury. “You actually let her take that opening from you?”

“What opening — the Lu family is close with the palace’s inner attendants, so of course their information is sharper. The Grand Princess’s temple visit was told to no one outside the palace, and the Lu family found out through their connections. Every bit of the speech about praying for her elders’ well-being and demonstrating filial devotion — Lu Wanyang had it all prepared in advance, and delivered it with such feeling that her eyes went red. I was sitting nearby and actually laughed out loud.” Shen Biwei recounted this with a cheerful grin.

Ye Lingbo pinched her repeatedly in outrage.

“All you could do was laugh — your tongue went missing? What is the Lu family worth, really? Too proud to acknowledge their own maternal uncle because his post is too minor and his house too small, barely deigning to stay for the New Year’s meal when they visit their own grandmother’s cousins — and their grandmother lives right across the lane from our Old Madam. Every time she sees me and Yanyan she pulls us close and asks when her own granddaughters are coming to visit, so she can have a hot meal ready. It is almost too sad to hear. People like that — they dare put on a performance of filial devotion in front of the Grand Princess?” She went on scolding while trying to instruct at the same time: “I know you are hopeless, so I never expected you to cleverly expose her in front of the Grand Princess. But couldn’t you at least have repeated what I told you? Who was it who ran out in the dead of winter to catch woodpeckers for your grandfather’s headaches, and nearly lost her ears to frostbite? You can do it but not say it — what is the use? To think a person like Lu Wanyang walked off with that chance instead. I am absolutely furious.”

Shen Biwei was a remarkable character in her own way — even hearing Ye Lingbo rail like this, she was not the least bit put out, and actually patted her on the back to help her calm down, saying consolingly: “Don’t get yourself worked up. It is only the Grand Princess — it is not as if I haven’t met her before. Worst case, I go home and mention it to my mother and she takes me to call on the Princess at her estate. It is not that difficult.”

This was precisely the wrong thing to say, and it made Ye Lingbo fix her with a stare of such disbelief that she could barely speak.

“I give up trying to explain things to you. Do you truly not understand the difference between a planned formal visit and an accidental encounter? Do you understand how much is riding on this year’s Flower Festival Banquets?” Seeing that Shen Biwei nodded along agreeably while clearly doing nothing but drink her tea, Ye Lingbo let out a long sigh and gave up entirely. She beckoned: “Fine. I won’t waste any more words on you. A’Cuo, come here.”

A’Cuo had been sitting obediently to one side through all of this. She came forward when called.

“Let me introduce you. This is Shen Biwei — a stray urchin the Shen family picked up outside a temple and accidentally raised to adulthood, resulting in this specimen before you.” Ye Lingbo said in a tone of great distaste.

Shen Biwei heard it and laughed.

But that air of aloof pride never quite left her, even when she laughed. She turned to A’Cuo and said: “Don’t believe her nonsense — I am very much my own parents’ child. The Flower Festival Banquets will be crowded this year. Little Sister, don’t be afraid — if anything happens, come find me.”

Even Ye Lingbo was surprised at that: “Why the change of heart? Are you actually attending the banquets this year?”

Shen Biwei twirled her teacup lazily: “I have no choice. My father issued a firm command. He says the Northern Garrison army is returning this year, and many of his old subordinates are among them — he wants to find me a good match from among them.”

Ye Lingbo’s expression shifted. A’Cuo understood at once.

“In that case — could you find out something about a person for me…”

“No need to ask. Cui Jingyu — am I right? My sister-in-law already had me look into it.” Shen Biwei said, clearly already informed: “From what I hear, he distinguished himself at the Mingsha River campaign and is returning to the capital specifically to receive his marquisate. Half the families in the city are sharpening their claws, hoping to land him as a son-in-law. My father had some thoughts along those lines too, but I told him to stay out of it.”

Ye Lingbo pressed her lips together and was a long time silent.

“I know you intend to enter the fray this year. But let me say one thing — Elder Sister Qinglan has her own considered views on this matter. You would do better to keep clear of it.” Shen Biwei said, turning her cup in her fingers.

Ye Lingbo only gave a cold smile.

“Staying out of it is not possible. An occasion like this comes along once in ten years. Even if I were not entering the fray for my own sake, Yanyan and A’Cuo both need someone at their back. Hmph — so Lu Wanyang and her kind are already making their moves? Do they think everything is already in their pockets? Let everyone compete on their own merits.”

Seeing that Ye Lingbo could not be dissuaded, Shen Biwei did not press further and simply called for her maids to bring things in. It emerged that her temple visit had produced nothing of spiritual value, but on the way home she had taken a small detour to do some casual hunting. Her maids were evidently capable women — one carried a string of small birds and pheasants in each hand, the other a dozen or so rabbits — and they moved to deposit everything on the table, whereupon Ye Lingbo scolded them again.

“Were you not thinking about that woven-feather satin? Here are plenty of feathers — enough to weave with?” Shen Biwei had her own logic about it. “These blue-green birds are very hard to come by — not a one at any of the shops. I hunted them specifically for you. Nearly lost a shoe doing it.”

“The Flower Festival Banquets are in two days — what weaving? There is no time even to buy ready-made fabric.” After finishing her reproach, Ye Lingbo grabbed the maid’s arm: “Did you take any deer? A’Cuo is slight and easily fatigued — some venison and deer blood before the banquets will help her keep her energy up.”

Shen Biwei cast another glance at A’Cuo, then said with easy nonchalance: “I will have some brought over — it should still be in time for dinner.”

The Shen family’s banquet was, as one would expect, extraordinarily lavish — different in character from Ye Qinglan’s refined ingenuity, being rather more robust in ingredient and fresh in quality. The evening meal in particular, having been prompted by Shen Biwei’s inquiry about deer blood, featured fresh velvet antler at the table, braised together with mountain ginseng and wild poria mushrooms in a nourishing chicken soup so fortifying that Ye Lingbo laughed: “One bowl of that and none of us will sleep until midnight.”

“Perfect — then stay the night here, all of you. Qinglan and I still have so much to say. Let Biwei keep the rest of you entertained — her room is full of interesting things.”

“Yes!” Yanyan responded immediately. She was clearly an ardent admirer of Shen Biwei and had been clinging to her since the moment they met, pestering her to tell stories of the world outside.

Ye Qinglan smiled and said: “I am happy to stay, but first let me see the others home. They all need to prepare for the banquets — they cannot spend the night away.”

“I heard that your Concubine Pan has been saying around town that you will also be attending this year’s banquets. Is there any truth to that?” Han Yueqi asked in a lowered voice.

“She whispered it to Master Ye, of course — her aim is to put Elder Sister in an awkward position.” Ye Lingbo said. “For my part, I think Elder Sister attending is no bad thing. We will all be there — we would not let anything happen to her. Until the very last moment, nothing is decided.”

She almost never said “Elder Sister” in ordinary conversation — she used Qinglan’s name. A’Cuo caught the subtle, deliberate weight beneath those seemingly casual words. To her surprise, when she looked up, Han Yueqi was already looking over at her too. Their eyes met, and Han Yueqi gave a small, knowing smile.

What a perceptive girl indeed.

In truth, Ye Lingbo was sharper still — it was only that concern had made her careless and let the slip show. Fortunately, Ye Qinglan’s temperament was warm and trusting by nature, not given to clever suspicion, and she had not noticed anything amiss. Han Yueqi smiled and played along smoothly: “That will depend on Qinglan’s own wishes, in any case. As for me, I will certainly be attending — my own eldest young miss is participating this year, and I cannot very well be absent as her chaperone. Our household is taking the Paulownia Blossom Banquet again this year. Qinglan, you can make your decision right up until the last moment.”

Ye Qinglan had taken a little wine but remained entirely composed. Through all of this conversation, she only said: “We’ll see.”

Perhaps because of the loneliness of her early years, A’Cuo always found a deep sense of peace in the midst of gatherings like this. Coaxed by Ye Lingbo into drinking two cups of deer blood wine, she felt a gentle warmth stealing through her. The heated floor of the warm pavilion had the room as mild as spring, and outside the glass panes the snow drifted slowly down — and all around her were sisters, kind and protective. A mellow, contented calm settled over her, like being a child again at New Year’s: her parents were gone, but her grandfather had taken her by the hand to write spring couplets and prepare for the festival, and on New Year’s Eve they had stayed up to welcome the new year, and he had told her the story of the Nian beast while the sounds of firecrackers rang across the city of Yangzhou, and she had drifted off to sleep feeling as though she might never have to grow up.

She sat quietly in the warmth of the gathering, drowsy with wine, smiling without quite knowing why, until she realized she had begun to nod off — and she never quite registered when the banquet ended. By then the snow had stopped. Ye Lingbo came and wrapped her in a fox-trimmed cloak, and A’Cuo let herself be arranged like a small, docile puppet.

“Let me see the guests out.” Shen Biwei helped her into the carriage, then seized Ye Lingbo’s legs just as she was climbing up and hoisted her bodily onto the carriage step. Ye Lingbo had also been drinking and was laughing even as she swatted at her; the two of them tussled and giggled together on the carriage step.

“Stop fighting with Han Sister.” Ye Lingbo threatened Shen Biwei through her wine haze. “Whatever arrangements Han Sister has made for you at this year’s banquets, you just wait and see.”

“Sort yourself out first — that is the real business.” Shen Biwei had a good head for wine and showed no outward sign of it. She turned to look back and said: “What are Yu Boya and Zhong Ziqi still murmuring to each other about over there? Could they possibly have more to say?”

She was referring to Han Yueqi and Ye Qinglan, standing at the foot of the steps with lanterns to see the guests off. The two had been inseparable since the moment the guests arrived that morning, and apparently there was an inexhaustible supply of things to discuss — they had spent upward of ten exchanges debating the proper way to make sweet bird’s nest soup for the New Year.

Ye Lingbo sat inside the carriage, lifting the curtain with one hand and laughing.

“They are clearly Liang Shanbo and Zhu Yingtai in the middle of their eighteen-mile farewell.” She was, if anything, more mischievous than Shen Biwei, and her jokes had a sharper edge. “Go and hurry them along — at this rate it will be dawn before they part.”

“Lingbo is talking nonsense again.” Han Yueqi’s ears were sharp, and though she said this with a laugh, she finally did see Ye Qinglan to her carriage, pressing a last reminder: “If the snow gets heavy, don’t bother — but if it stays light, come back again. I keep feeling as though there were so many things left unsaid today, and the day went by so quickly.”

“All right, all right. If the snow gets heavy, I will come to fetch her myself.” Shen Biwei called out to move things along. “Even Shen Yunze doesn’t get this treatment.”

Only she could say such a thing — referring to her own elder brother by his full name with not a title of address, something no proper young miss would ever do. The young ladies all burst out laughing, and even the head housekeepers looked over with gently reproachful “Young Miss—”es.

“Don’t worry — on the morning of the Flower Festival Banquets I will be coming over anyway, to borrow your calling cards.” Ye Qinglan said, unhurried as ever.

Han Yueqi frowned.

“That Concubine Pan of yours should not push her luck too far. Three principal-born young misses setting out for the Flower Festival Banquets, and she dares to keep the calling cards in her own hands? The gall of it — and what good does she think it will do her daughter’s reputation when word gets out?”

“We are not attending every single banquet, so borrowing your household’s cards is simply more convenient.” In truth, Ye Qinglan had also taken wine, yet she maintained every propriety of a well-bred young lady — she would not speak poorly of anyone in company, not even a word.

Han Yueqi could only sigh.

“Of course. Come and collect them whenever you need. For as many of the twenty-four banquets as I can manage to get away, I will come with you. And on the days I cannot, I will have Han Niangzi accompany you.”

“There really is no need for that — the year-end is so busy for you, why should such a small matter take up your time?” Ye Qinglan said. “I know what I am doing. Trust me.”

Worry showed plainly in Han Yueqi’s eyes, though she could not say it plainly.

Shen Biwei began: “Then I could—”

Ye Qinglan stopped her before the promise could be made.

“Attending the banquets at all is already a concession. To ask you to attend every one would be asking too much.” She smiled — rare enough to see — and reached up to touch Shen Biwei’s hair lightly. “A wild goose belongs to the open sky — why would she need to cast herself into a net?”

That single sentence made something shift in Shen Biwei’s expression, and she found she could say nothing more that was not truly meant.

“All right, it is snowing harder — everyone go home. Mind you do not catch cold.” Ye Qinglan smiled and sent each person on their way. “Once the Plum Blossom Banquet is over, I will host a dinner at home to celebrate and thank everyone. I have not yet had a proper gathering this year — none of you are permitted to miss it.”

“Certainly not,” came the reply from all sides.

The closer the friendship, the harder the parting. A’Cuo could still hear Han Yueqi calling out to Ye Qinglan about what dishes to plan for the next gathering even as the carriage began to move. Yanyan had already succumbed to the wine; Ye Lingbo was drowsing too. A’Cuo curled up against Ye Lingbo in a half-daze, then felt a warmth settle around her — Ye Qinglan had tucked the fox-trimmed cloak over all of them, and was now pressing a hand warmer into each person’s arms one by one. Outside, the north wind howled. Inside the carriage, the sisters were already drifting warmly, peacefully toward sleep.