After all the uproar, it was finally time for the Walking Away of Ailments. The young women descended from the upper floor one by one, flowing into the crowd below — some in pairs, some in groups, and some following at a careful distance those they had quietly agreed to meet. The eastern side of Baixi Street ran along the city wall; the western side bordered the moat, where pavilions and waterside gazebos had been erected. Many people were releasing river lanterns, and the surface of the water was covered with lotus-shaped lights that drifted on the current like a sky full of stars.

The elder sisters were all ahead. A’Cuo deliberately fell behind, lantern in hand, and sure enough, after no more than two steps, a familiar figure caught up with her.

Though the Lantern Festival granted young women a degree of freedom, the ones who truly made the most of it were the young scions of noble houses — gathered in groups along the roadside, ogling every girl who passed and making an open spectacle of admiring them, with some of the more brazen ones even daring to step forward and ask for names. A’Cuo, as beautiful as she was, could hardly escape this; two separate parties approached her in succession, and both were deflected by Lin Niangzi. When a third man opened his mouth to speak, someone shoved him away.

“Get out of the way.” Wei Yushan’s manner was as overbearing as ever. The man stumbled and fell from the push, and was just about to demand an accounting — when he looked up and recognized who had pushed him. He immediately swallowed every word, apologized repeatedly, and fled.

Having driven the man off, Wei Yushan himself said nothing either. He held a fish-shaped lantern — an exceptionally large one — and walked beside A’Cuo, sneaking glances at her by its light, smiling to himself for reasons that no one could quite determine.

“Look at me,” he called to A’Cuo. A’Cuo turned, and he lifted the fish lantern — its lower jaw suddenly fell open. A’Cuo’s goldfish lantern was small, and when he brought his lantern up against it, her entire goldfish lantern was swallowed whole by his.

Wei Yushan grinned at her: “See that? Big fish eats the little fish.”

Even Lin Niangzi could not help laughing. A’Cuo, however, showed not a trace of amusement. She looked at him once, then turned and walked on.

Wei Yushan, seeing he had failed to make her smile, immediately circled around to her front and walked backward, watching her face intently.

“What’s wrong? Are you upset again?” He offered an earnest apology: “Did I say something wrong? Shouldn’t I have eaten your fish?”

A’Cuo only turned her face away and refused to look at him.

“No.”

“Then what is it? If someone’s wronged you, tell me and I’ll go sort them out.” Wei Yushan asked seriously: “Or is there something you want? Tell me, and I’ll make sure you get it.”

A’Cuo only shook her head.

“It has nothing to do with you.”

She was no fool. A moment ago upstairs, she had watched every effort Lingbo made to provoke Cui Jingyu, and had seen it all clearly. Elder Sister Qinglan and Cui Jingyu — it was Lingbo’s deepest wish, and therefore her own as well.

But what if, in the end, nothing came of it?

What if, because of all this, Wei Yushan were deeply hurt? Or what if he came to learn the truth — that every kindness shown him, every moment of connection he thought he felt, this very first Lantern Festival encounter of his life, the first girl he had ever cared for, had been nothing more than a means to use him?

But Wei Yushan was clearly incapable of guessing any of this.

“Never mind,” he said, looking ahead at the crowd. “I’ll take you somewhere to clear your head.” He suddenly reached out and took A’Cuo’s hand.

A young man’s hand — broad and warm, with the light calluses that years of sword practice leave behind, gripping in a way that allowed no struggle, as though it would never let go.

“Come on, let’s go solve riddles on the lanterns — I saw a ring toss stall over there, and I’m very good at it. Whatever you want, I’ll toss a ring around it. Let’s go win you a real goldfish.”

A’Cuo did not struggle. She seemed to have given herself over to something, letting him lead her by the hand through the crowd — shielding her from those who might jostle her, stopping at a sugar figure stall to buy an enormous candy sculpture, bringing her to the ring toss booth and winning prizes that drew envious looks from passersby. The nineteen-year-old young general, blazing with satisfaction, shone like a flame amid all the festival lights as he turned to smile at her — like the loyal little dog she had kept at ten years old — winning A’Cuo admiring glances from everyone around her.

At the end of the Lantern Festival, Wei Yushan brought her to a pavilion on the waterside, spread all the prizes out across a table, and waited with great self-satisfaction for her praise.

A’Cuo only turned her face to the side and watched him feeding the goldfish.

“Wei Yushan, do you like me?”

His ears turned red with remarkable speed.

“Of course,” he answered without hesitation.

“But what if I’m not the person you think I am? What if you feel later that I’ve changed? What if I’ve deceived you?”

Wei Yushan looked at her steadily, his eyes bright as stars.

“Then I’ll deceive you once in return, and we’ll be even.”

While everyone else was wandering the festival, Lingbo found Pei Zhao on the city wall.

When General Pei was in a bad mood, it showed as clearly as ever — no more smiles, no more teasing, no more remarks about brocade. He merely leaned against the wall in cool silence, watching Lingbo walk toward him.

Lingbo found it almost funny. Things had only been good between them for a short while, and she had already managed to offend him again. She herself felt fine about it, but she suspected even Xiao Liu’er would be laughing at her by now.

So she said: “Xiao Liu’er, the rest of you wait for me over there. I need a word with General Pei.”

“I have nothing to say to Miss Ye,” Pei Zhao said coldly.

“Then I have something to say to you — all right?” After finishing a piece of mischief, Lingbo was usually in her most agreeable mood. She raised her lantern and walked closer to him, not getting straight to the point, but instead asking first: “Where’s your lantern?”

“Threw it away.”

Lingbo laughed.

She was a full head shorter than Pei Zhao, which actually made it easier for her to look up at his expression when she leaned in close. She mimicked the way he always teased her, moving in to peer at his face: “You really are angry, aren’t you?”

Pei Zhao, who was obviously well familiar with this scene, became even more irritated because of it.

Lingbo smiled and poked his arm with the little wooden handle of her lantern: “Don’t be angry. All I did was have a little fun with you and Qinglan — and I couldn’t help it. I had no one else nearby to make use of, so naturally it had to be you. The whole point was mainly to provoke Cui Jingyu, and since you’re my person, of course you help me with my needs — it’s only natural…”

“Wasn’t your Shen Biwei sitting right beside you?” Pei Zhao said irritably.

“She wasn’t in men’s clothing today, and besides, Cui Jingyu knows what she looks like.” Seeing him unmoved, Lingbo abandoned all pretense and began laying on flattery after his own fashion: “The main thing is that our General Pei has everything going for him — fine-looking, skilled in archery and horsemanship, good at leading troops — and when you loosed those three arrows from the望 Tower and bested Cui Jingyu, all of the capital heard of it. Cui Jingyu is at the height of his power right now, and only you can be set beside him. Who else should I use, if not you?”

Pei Zhao still had his chin raised, but something in his expression had begun to yield, however slightly.

“Is that all? What else?”

“And General Pei was born to wear fine clothes — this robe was made for you to begin with, absolutely not as any scheme against you. I simply acted on the inspiration of the moment. When I saw how magnificently you wore it, I couldn’t resist using it to vex Cui Jingyu a little…”

Pei Zhao raised an eyebrow.

“Then give me a ‘zhe’ and I’ll forgive you.”

Lingbo was so annoyed she laughed.

“You wish!” She reached out and pinched him: “I’ve spoiled you rotten, haven’t I! It was just a harmless little joke, and now you want to lord it over me? You want me to give you a ‘zhe’ — you should be giving me a ‘zhe’, you hear me? Say it right now, or I’ll thrash you! Go on!”

Pei Zhao burst out laughing as she pinched him, laughing as he dodged out of reach, and in the same motion caught both her hands. The city wall was dark, but his face held a pale, soft light in that darkness — and because of the darkness, it felt more real than it ever did elsewhere; because this was a side of him the rest of the world never saw, this was a Pei Zhao only she ever got to see.

Lingbo felt an instinctive pang of unease, especially when Pei Zhao leaned in toward her with that smile.

He brought his face close — the high, narrow bridge of his nose and the ridge of his brow, and those peach-blossom eyes — all suddenly filling her vision in an instant, close enough that she could almost catch the scent of grass and timber about him.

“What are you doing?” Lingbo broke into a cold sweat.

But he did nothing at all. He only lowered his voice and breathed a soft “zhe” against her ear.

He had such a gift for it, too — not the menace of a wolf pack, but the languid ease of a tiger. Talking with him always carried the sense of being toyed with as prey; you could not run, and the moment you truly lost your temper, he would roll over and show you his belly. Even Lingbo, sharp as she was, was no match for him.

“Now that’s more like it,” Lingbo said, making a brave show of authority as she withdrew her hands.

She felt she cut quite a dignified figure — if one overlooked the slight stammer.

Pei Zhao only smiled and turned back to look down from the wall. Lingbo knew, of course, that beneath Pei Zhao’s careless, flippant surface, there ran deeper currents — she had always sensed it, and perhaps it was precisely because of that, that she so often felt the urge to peel back his facade and touch the real Pei Zhao beneath.

“They all know it was a joke — only you’re being petty about it.” She resumed her needling: “I brought you to the Lantern Festival in the first place so you could make a name for yourself. I know you don’t care for competing and getting ahead — but standing out is always worthwhile. You look the way you do, and you’ve been shutting yourself indoors — isn’t that a waste? Tonight is the Lantern Festival; every young lady in the capital is out. Perhaps some family’s daughter might take a liking to you, and you could become a fine husband in a good household.”

“You think I’m Gao Huan?” Pei Zhao said, exasperated.

“And what’s wrong with being Gao Huan?” Lingbo’s teasing held a genuine note of persuasion: “Power is what lets you do things that are good for the country and the people.”

“And what if I simply have no desire to do things that are good for the country and the people?” Pei Zhao asked with a smile.

“Don’t try to fool me. You fought in battles like Mingsha River — you endured hardship of that kind, so how could you have no desire to serve the country and its people?” Lingbo said. “I know there’s a reason behind all of this. In peacetime, getting ahead only requires walking the right path — and you’re clearly capable of walking it. You must have your reasons for refusing to.”

Even with this much provocation, Pei Zhao still would not say. There was nothing left for her to try, so she simply stood beside him and looked out with him at the teeming crowd below the city wall.

In truth, she and Pei Zhao had something in common. Neither of them seemed to belong to the crowd — both always drifting at the edges of the dark, and so they were always running into each other. Like right now: they both agreed that the thousand lights of the city below were beautiful, that people being happy and at peace with one another was good — only they had both grown accustomed to watching all of this from the shadows.

“Pei Zhao,” Lingbo suddenly called him by name.

Pei Zhao turned quietly to look at her, but she was not looking at him. She was looking at the crowd below the city wall. Her features were fine-boned and delicate, the kind that dissolved easily into darkness — but Pei Zhao could recall with perfect clarity the precise location of every mark on her face.