Ye Lingbo’s manner of doing things had always been like an antelope hanging from a branch by its horns — leaving no trace to follow. Even when it came to the spectacle at the Wei household, she only watched the first half of the show before slipping away early, sparing herself from being caught in the crush of ladies when the gathering dispersed, which would have kept her carriage stuck for half a day.

She had not been part of the chatter and conjecture among the ladies and young misses at all. She returned home early, drank a bowl of ginger broth to ward off the cold, played a few rounds of cards with A’Cuo and Yanyan, and went to bed early. The next day she slept thoroughly to her heart’s content. Looking out at the crystalline brilliance of the snow, she stretched out a lazy, unhurried stretch, and asked Xiao Liu’er: “What hour is it?”

“It is already the chen hour.” Xiao Liu’er was preparing tea. In the end she could not help herself, and added: “That person has come.”

Lingbo only gave a soft “oh,” and turned herself over in bed, picking up a bronze mirror to lazily check whether her face had gone puffy from sleep.

“Miss, that person came at the mao hour.” Xiao Liu’er said again: “It is very cold outside.”

“I heard you.”

After saying so, Lingbo got out of bed without haste, washed up, combed her hair, changed her clothes, and even remembered to have Xiao Yue go and change the water in the bowl of narcissus flowers. Only when Xiao Liu’er was about to lose patience again did she slowly drape the white fox-flank cloak over her shoulders and head out the door.

After a night of heavy snowfall, the world was a spread of crystalline brilliance. Three years ago, Lingbo had earned a sum at the antique shop and renovated the small lane behind the rear courtyard, replacing the tiles with translucent blue-green glazed ones. Against the rime frost on the persimmon tree, the sight was indescribably beautiful.

Such a beautiful view called for a beauty to accompany it.

A person like Pei Zhao was naturally one who could not be frozen to death. In this bitter cold, he did not even wear a fur cloak, dressed only in a blue-gray cape, holding a tattered umbrella. Against the backdrop of all that falling snow, his striking appearance carried an additional air of cool detachment — truly like something from a painting.

By comparison, Lingbo was far more ordinary. Even the white fox-flank cloak worth a thousand in gold could not change the plainness of her features. When Pei Zhao blocked her path and pressed her against the wall, the smile on her face was only composed — there was no trace of captivating charm.

“Well, well — General Pei is angry.” She still smiled, teasing him.

Pei Zhao was not actually angry. He was only disappointed. When he did not smile, he looked like this — his brows and eyes as sharp as brushstrokes, the fine lashes dusted with light snow. So beautiful — a single person surpassing a thousand mountains under evening snow.

“So Miss Ye has been deceiving me all along.” Pei Zhao remained calm, only his expression conveying distaste: “All that talk of knotting cords, of finding work for them — so it was only to trick Second Girl into going to her death.”

“Is Second Girl dead?” Lingbo asked in return, still smiling.

Pei Zhao did not answer. He only pressed his lips together and let out a cold laugh.

“You were merely using them as a blade to turn against the Wei family.”

“And so?” Lingbo asked languidly: “What of it? Are they not permitted to be a blade? Is being a blade such a shameful thing? General Pei thinks that Second Girl and the others can only spend their whole lives in narrow little lanes, learning to wash clothes, cook, knot cords, sniffling away without even the means to buy a single pear — but I believe that wealth and status are things one can strive to attain. General Pei only knows how to pity and provide for them, while I helped her go and gamble for a wealth of extraordinary fortune. Between the two of us, who is truly the one who looks down on them?”

She spoke words that no young miss of the capital would ever say. Her plain face bore not a trace of powder or rouge, and she stood there calmly in the bright light of the snow, looking into Pei Zhao’s eyes with a relaxed and unhurried expression.

Even Pei Zhao found himself unable to withstand the force of it.

“And if you lose the gamble?” Pei Zhao asked her.

“Then we lose. Is it not said that nine out of ten gambles are losses? Wealth has always been sought in the face of danger. You soldiers go to war knowing it is a matter of nine deaths for every chance of survival — and all for a place on the Lingyan Pavilion, for the rank of a ten-thousand household marquis! Their fathers once also died on the battlefield for the sake of glory and name. They carry that same spirit in their blood — why should they be left to die, yoked side by side like horses, in an ordinary stable? I spoke to Second Girl clearly. She was willing to gamble on this chance. General Pei wants to keep her in a gilded cage — and that is what truly looks down on them!”

Such sharpness — her words sparked wild ambition and set blood boiling. Her pupils were deeply black and brilliantly bright, and within them seemed to burn a roaring flame.

Even Pei Zhao could only laugh and turn the jest back on himself.

“No wonder Miss Ye guessed at our very first meeting that I was a gambler.” He laughed at Ye Lingbo: “It turns out Miss Ye herself has the spirit of a gambler through and through.”

“Life is like rowing upstream — if you do not press forward, you fall back. If one wants to strive toward the heights, how can one do so without gambling?” Lingbo only told him calmly: “General Pei need not regard me as some fearsome flood or raging beast.”

The world is full of those who are slow-witted, who believe only in candor, who trust in goodness as pure as blank paper, who believe in an honest simplicity that is nearly naïve. They do not know that in truth, to move people, one must ultimately bring a measure of genuine feeling as well. At the very least, yesterday afternoon, when the Grand Princess rose to depart, no one had hoped more sincerely than Lingbo herself that the little girl called Second Girl would win her gamble.

But she had not anticipated Pei Zhao’s response.

“It is not to that extent.” The look he directed at Ye Lingbo even carried a trace of admiration: “I am not afraid of Miss Ye. Only…”

“Only that we walk different paths and need not scheme together?” Ye Lingbo finished the rest of his words for him.

“Not that either.” Pei Zhao’s answer once again caught her off guard. He smiled, teasing her: “Only that I am wondering — with Miss Ye having lost a hundred and fifty households’ worth of leverage, how is she going to cooperate with me?”

Lingbo was somewhat taken aback. In her eyes, the men of the world fell into only two kinds: those too slow-witted to see through her true nature, and those who, once they did see through it, kept a respectful distance. Even her own father, Master Ye, was somewhere between the two — maintaining the dignity of a father with one hand and, with the other, faintly afraid of her. After all, compared to Qinglan’s open and upright manner, Lingbo — Ye Lingbo — was someone who had long walked in the shadows.

But the look Pei Zhao directed at her was unlike anyone else’s. It was not fear. There was not even the keeping of respectful distance. It was more as though he were studying her — without even a trace of surprise. Even when she was at her most boldly ambitious, he had not done as all the other men in the world did and felt himself affronted. It was as though he had long since encountered someone of her particular type.

It was precisely this particular quality of Pei Zhao’s that led Lingbo to say what she said next.

“Pei Zhao — in all sincerity, I truly do think you are a remarkable talent…”

“A talent for keeping watch on Cui Jingyu.” Pei Zhao unhurriedly supplied the rest.

Ye Lingbo rolled her eyes at him. She had long since stopped caring about the image she projected before him — otherwise she would not have come out without even applying powder.

“A talent for mending the red thread of fate.” She corrected him with disdain. She was secretive in her actions, and few people knew of them. Even among close sisters, none knew the full course of her stratagems. Even Han Yueqi was only privy to hints. This was the first time she had spoken of her plans aloud — and even for someone as seasoned as herself, her heart stirred with a surge of feeling: “You do not understand, Pei Zhao. I am going to do something of tremendous consequence. If it succeeds, it will be the work of one who can reverse the very heavens. This matter is extremely difficult — but I must succeed. There is no other choice.”

A’Cuo had asked her about love. In truth, love was something she was cut off from in this life. The person she loved most was Qinglan. She had to mend that red thread of fate. She had to see through whether Cui Jingyu was someone truly trustworthy. The seven years since her mother’s death had been too bitter. She wanted Qinglan to be content and happy for the rest of her life, and for that she was willing to expend every last ounce of her strength and wit, whatever it cost.

Pei Zhao looked at her fierce ambition, and an expression of wondering admiration crossed his face.

“This tremendous matter of Miss Ye’s requires my assistance?” He asked, though he already knew the answer.

“Of course.” Ye Lingbo immediately fixed her gaze on him and asked: “Pei Zhao, what do you want? Wealth, or renown, or position? You know — a title of nobility is not beyond reach. In the Battle of Mingsha River, those five thousand soldiers of yours should not have died for nothing…”

Pei Zhao smiled and made a gesture to stop her.

“Save that kind of rousing speech for Second Girl. No need to use it on me. There is nothing I want.”

“Not a single thing?” Lingbo clearly did not believe it. She immediately stared at Pei Zhao with narrowed, suspicious eyes, trying to find some crack in that face as striking and still as an idol’s.

Pei Zhao only smiled.

“Then how about this?” He smiled and proposed to Lingbo: “I will help you — and all I ask is that at some point along the way, you figure out what it is I want.”

“Truly?”

Lingbo naturally knew it was not truly so. There was something about Pei Zhao that gave the feeling of one who plays at life and watches from a distance — perhaps he was only standing by to watch when her wishes would come to nothing. That might well be it.

But since he had said “truly,” Lingbo did not press any further.

“Very well.” Lingbo looked him over, and tossed him a page of paper — it was precisely the record of Cui Jingyu’s years of service that she had prepared earlier: “Tomorrow, the Grand Princess’s residence is hosting a banquet. All the Northern Garrison’s generals will be attending. You should go as well.”

“We shall see.” Pei Zhao said.

Lingbo truly marveled at him — clearly someone who had not even managed to secure a title of nobility, and yet carrying on day after day as though he had all manner of important affairs demanding his attention.

So she let Pei Zhao bid her farewell and began to walk away. He had already reached the end of the lane when she called out to him.

“Hey — Pei Zhao.”

Pei Zhao turned back, and saw a flash of blue-gray hurtle toward him — it was a blue fox-flank cloak, every bit as fine as the white fox-flank Lingbo wore herself, and worth a thousand in gold if it was worth a coin.

“For you.” Ye Lingbo was as casual as a patron throwing gold around in a romance tale: “Stop walking around looking like a pauper — you embarrass me.”

She had such audacity — and her maidservants were no less imperious. After Lingbo had tossed the fox-flank cloak, one of her maids stepped forward and offered Pei Zhao a fine umbrella, with a parting remark thrown in: “Our Miss has no need of leverage. Those who follow her have always been wholeheartedly devoted.”

Pei Zhao found this vastly amusing and was just about to ask exactly how many people were following her — when they had already hurried away, leaving behind only a trail of footprints in the lane.