Ming Huashang’s heart lurched wildly and then settled — so it was about that. She had nearly frightened herself to death, thinking Ming Huazhang had found out.
Once her pulse had steadied, Ming Huashang felt quite exasperated. What a minor thing to remember — she had said it off the top of her head without giving it a second thought, and here Ming Huazhang was, still holding onto it.
But Ming Huashang had been maintaining appearances for so many years, and in front of Ming Huazhang of all people, she certainly knew how to talk her way through this. Ming Huashang immediately launched into an unbroken torrent: “Second Elder Brother, I have absolutely no doubt that you’ll take first place. Only, with Brother Xie right there in front of me, I couldn’t very well say it so plainly — it wouldn’t look good for him.”
That mouth of hers — Ming Huazhang knew perfectly well that she said one thing to one person and something entirely different to another, and yet, for no clear reason, the nagging frustration he’d been carrying inside quietly dissipated. Ming Huashang laid out a fresh sheet and began writing. Ming Huazhang sat in the lamplight, his gaze resting quietly in her direction. Then, without warning, he asked: “Huashang, do you think first place in the examinations matters?”
Ming Huashang’s heart drummed. Ming Huazhang was invariably firm and decisive; this was the first time he had ever spoken to her in a tone of uncertainty. Ming Huashang chose her words carefully, adopting a deliberately casual manner: “First place is nothing but a stroke of good fortune. There are so many scholars in the world, yet there can only ever be one who takes the top position — does that mean all the rest who failed to take first place had no talent and put in no effort? As long as one can face oneself without regret, that is enough.”
Ming Huazhang was still for a moment, then rose and came to stand beside her, and said slowly: “You’re right.”
Ming Huashang had assumed Ming Huazhang had come to supervise her writing — but he didn’t look at her at all. He came to a stop before the lamp stand. The flame’s heart flickered, and the inked shadows on the paper jumped along with it. Ming Huashang, in the interval of dipping her brush, glanced over in puzzlement: “Second Elder Brother, what are you doing?”
Ming Huazhang watched the slip of paper burn to ash in the flame, and said with quiet indifference: “Nothing. Just discarding some useless and decaying dust.”
The tongue of fire leaped rapidly, reflected in his pupils, alternately bright and dark. Yes — this much ought to have been obvious. And yet he had needed Ming Huashang to remind him of it.
He conceded that Han Jie’s words were not without truth: the most essential skill in officialdom was balance and flexibility — reading one’s superiors and accommodating their will. If one wanted to accomplish things, one had to yield to the world of human relations.
But he was unwilling. If first place had to be handed to him by another, he would sooner go without.
Ming Huashang found Ming Huazhang’s behavior very strange — he had barged into her room late at night, burned a slip of paper, said nothing else worth noting, watched her finish her policy essay, and left. After Ming Huashang had bolted her doors and windows as instructed, she was completely bewildered.
What exactly had he come for tonight? Was it truly, really, only to check her assignment?
…He was carrying his role as elder brother a little too conscientiously, wasn’t he.
·
The procession of the capital’s relocation was drawing nearer day by day. According to reports from scouts, at the current pace, the Empress’s imperial entourage would arrive in Chang’an the following afternoon. These past few days, Chang’an had been thrown into a frenzy, and even the reclusive Zhongnan Mountains could not escape the commotion — there was a palpable stir on the mountain.
Today the final assessment ended. One by one, people received their scores, then quietly and without ceremony descended the mountain. In the blink of an eye, the base felt as though it had emptied.
Ming Huashang was among the last to receive her results. Around midmorning, she followed Ming Huazhang to see Han Jie — and when the door was pushed open, she found the room already full of people.
Xie Jichuan, Jiang Ling, and Ren Yao being there was no surprise — but Ming Huashang hadn’t expected Su Xingzhi and Su Yuji to be there as well.
Ming Huashang was somewhat taken aback. Ming Huazhang, by contrast, looked perfectly composed. He walked unhurriedly toward Han Jie as the crowd instinctively parted to make way for him: “Commander Han.”
Ming Huashang quietly fell in behind Ming Huazhang and settled herself in the second row. With Ming Huazhang’s broad shoulders and long legs in front of her, she was easily shielded, and she took the opportunity to ask Jiang Ling beside her in a low voice: “What’s going on?”
Jiang Ling shook his head, then jerked his chin meaningfully in the direction of Su Xingzhi and Su Yuji, and spread his hands.
A contorted expression, but Ming Huashang understood it inexplicably. At this point Han Jie finished his pleasantries with Ming Huazhang and said: “Good — now that everyone is here, I’ll speak to you all at once. First, congratulations. Your performance over these four months has been good, and the Xuan Xiaowei has decided to station you in Chang’an to carry out your assignments. Here are your scores — take them.”
No wonder Su Yuji and Su Xingzhi were here too. They were to remain in Chang’an.
Ming Huashang couldn’t help but quietly look up in Su Yuji’s direction.
Judging by Su Yuji’s appearance alone, she was actually quite clear and delicate in her beauty — but her bearing was cold and proud, and the thin straight line of her back dissolved any impression of fragility in an instant. She was like chrysanthemum under autumn frost: slight and fine in form, yet unyielding in spirit. In terms of bearing, she and Ming Huazhang were actually somewhat alike.
With that thought in mind, Ming Huashang looked again at Su Xingzhi — and the longer she looked, the more she felt the siblings resembled each other.
According to the prophetic dream, Su Yuji would come to Duke Zhenguo’s estate next year and reveal that she was in truth the Ming family’s daughter. Ming Huashang — who had taken the wrong place — would die without a sound in the fragrance of osmanthus blossoms.
The thought struck her, and Ming Huashang suddenly noticed something strange: in the dream, she had died in Luoyang’s Duke Zhenguo estate — yet now the capital had clearly already been relocated. The Duke Zhenguo estate had moved into Chang’an with the rest of the family. If she never returned to Luoyang next year, might she not die?
Ming Huashang turned this over in her mind for a long time and felt that this line of thinking was like marking the boat to find a sunken sword. Unless she found the person who wanted her dead, what difference would it make whether she was in Chang’an or Luoyang? Su Xingzhi seemed like a decent person — if she used this year to build a good relationship with him, and then moved out of Duke Zhenguo’s estate to somewhere nearby where they could keep an eye on each other, would that not be too late?
Ming Huashang’s mind was occupied with thoughts of the future, and without realizing it she had been staring blankly at Su Xingzhi’s back — until someone nudged her sharply and she jolted back to herself.
Ming Huashang looked up, disoriented, to find Jiang Ling staring at her with wide eyes and an expression of astonishment. Ming Huazhang was standing in front of her holding her assessment scroll, and she had no idea how long he had been waiting.
Jiang Ling asked oddly: “What were you thinking about?”
Ming Huashang quickly swept the room with her eyes. Her gaze had been so obvious just now — not only had the Su siblings noticed, but Han Jie above them had as well. She cringed inwardly, but held her expression together and took the file, saying: “Nothing — I was just thinking that we’re about to leave, and felt a little reluctant.”
Jiang Ling looked like he wanted to say something but couldn’t. He was entirely baffled. She complained every day about how this place was a desolate wilderness with terrible food — he’d never seen her be reluctant to leave. And besides, even if she really were reluctant, what was she doing staring at a man from another group?
Ming Huashang had realized the moment the words left her mouth that it was a terrible excuse. Now, with everyone’s eyes on her, she wanted nothing more than to sink into the floor. She hurriedly changed the subject: “Commander Han actually finished reviewing everyone’s papers this quickly — that must have been a great deal of work. Oh — am I scored first class?”
The last few words shot out at a high pitch. Ming Huashang was instantly overjoyed, and, no longer caring about her embarrassment from a moment ago, she asked Jiang Ling with delight: “What about you?”
Jiang Ling had been looking rather smug, but at her words his brow furrowed: “You’re first class too?”
Ming Huashang’s smile gradually stiffened: “Too?”
Ming Huashang and Jiang Ling stared at each other in a peculiar silence.
Both of them were mediocre at best, and yet they were looking down on each other — and they had both nearly arrived at the same thought at the same moment: the other person also got first class? First class must be worth nothing at all.
On the surface, though, they both wore beaming smiles, offering each other congratulations and heaping on flattery. These words landed in Ming Huazhang’s ears like knives, stabbing his hearing.
She had deliberately stood at the back after walking in — just to steal a glimpse at Su Xingzhi’s profile. And now she was being so lively and easy-going with Jiang Ling, so unlike the restrained way she behaved around him.
She was at the age when young women began to harbor tender feelings, and her nature was so endearing, so amiable and perceptive — it would be hard for anyone not to be drawn to her. Would he very soon be hearing the news that she wished to marry?
Ming Huazhang said coolly, cutting across Ming Huashang and Jiang Ling’s exchange: “Quiet. Commander Han still has more to say.”
Ming Huashang truly let out a long breath of relief and shut her mouth at once, standing up straight and well-behaved. Han Jie gave a noncommittal sound — he himself wasn’t entirely sure he had more to say.
He thought hard and said: “In truth, there isn’t much else. You’ve all worked hard during this time. Go back and pack your things — prepare to descend the mountain. If it gets any later, the night roads will be difficult. Tomorrow the Emperor will arrive in Chang’an, and your families will be coming back as well. Spend tonight working on a convincing story, and don’t let anyone see through it.”
Han Jie put it rather pleasantly, but translated plainly, the meaning was roughly: Get out, and don’t cause him trouble.
The seven of them fell silent, and then, in unspoken agreement, took their leave. Ming Huazhang walked out last, his expression still cool and distant. Ming Huashang fell in beside him: “Second Elder Brother, I couldn’t see you just now — you’re not angry with me, are you?”
Ming Huazhang said evenly: “No. What grounds would I have to be angry with you?”
Something sounded off about those words. If Jiang Ling had said them, Ming Huashang would have been certain he was being sarcastic — but hearing them from Ming Huazhang, she felt sure she was being a petty person casting a petty heart upon a noble mind. She silently chided herself for overthinking it, then said cheerfully to Ming Huazhang: “Good then. Second Elder Brother — can I not go back to stay at Duke Zhenguo’s estate?”
Ming Huazhang’s dark pupils contracted sharply. He turned his head and looked at her. Su Xingzhi, walking a little ahead of them, also gave a visible start and came to a distinct halt.
Su Yuji found it strange and looked back at her brother involuntarily: “Elder Brother?”
Ming Huashang was startled by the cold look in Ming Huazhang’s eyes and didn’t notice the unusual reaction from Su Xingzhi ahead. She blinked and, thinking Ming Huazhang had misunderstood, hurried to explain: “Second Elder Brother, I have no objections to your arrangements — you went to so much trouble to find me the Virtue and Learning Temple, and I’m very grateful for that. But back in the fourth month I swore confidently that I was going to the temple to cultivate spiritual practice, and only four months later I’m moving back to the estate — wouldn’t that be going back on my word, and arouse even more suspicion? Wouldn’t it be better for me to rent a small residence outside, live on my own, and make it easier to carry out future assignments as well?”
Everyone present knew the full picture. The only ones who didn’t yet know their true identities — the Su siblings — would be staying long-term in Chang’an, and they would even be sitting the examinations alongside Ming Huazhang next month. By then Su Xingzhi would easily be able to learn of Ming Huazhang’s background, so there was no need for Ming Huashang to conceal it — she simply spoke plainly.
Besides, the person inside Duke Zhenguo’s estate who wanted her dead had not yet been identified. It was better to move out and turn a passive situation into an active one.
Ming Huashang looked expectantly at Ming Huazhang. But this time, her usually perceptive elder brother did not yield to her. His eyes were cold as the stars, his gaze pressing and relentless, yet his voice was placid as still water: “Why do you want to move out?”
“Ah…” Ming Huashang faltered, racking her mind: “Living outside I’d have freedom of movement — I could see whoever I liked, buy whatever I liked, come and go without needing anyone’s approval, and it would also make the cover story easier to maintain…”
“All right,” Ming Huazhang said with quiet composure. “I’ll resolve all of those problems. Come home with me.”
The expression on Ming Huashang’s face went stiff. She couldn’t make sense of what Ming Huazhang was doing. He raised his eyes, took Ming Huashang’s hand, and strode past Su Xingzhi at a pace.
Ming Huashang was pulled into a stumbling step or two. As she passed the Su siblings, she gave them a friendly smile.
Then felt the grip on her wrist grow noticeably tighter.
Ming Huazhang and Ming Huashang had walked quite some distance before Su Xingzhi finally lifted his gaze from the direction they had gone in. The look in his eyes struck Su Yuji as very strange. Su Yuji followed his line of sight forward, then turned back in bewilderment: “Elder Brother, what are you looking at?”
Su Xingzhi came back to himself. He looked at Su Yuji’s round almond-shaped eyes, worked his lips slightly, and in the end said nothing. He bowed his head, concealing the expression in his eyes.
Su Xingzhi watched an ant crawl across a crack in the ground. He thought, with no small degree of self-mockery: so they were from Duke Zhenguo’s estate — they were the Ming family that Grandmother had served.
And that composed young man — brilliant and proud, with a record of no defeats — was the Ming family’s eldest son, Su Yuji’s birth elder brother.
·
Familiarity made the second journey easier. This time Ming Huashang descended the mountain far more calmly than the first, and arrived at the city gates while the early evening watch was barely underway. Unlike the last time, when she had only glimpsed things in passing, this time Ming Huazhang led Ming Huashang directly into the city and headed straight for Changxing Ward.
Ming Huazhang hadn’t said much of anything the whole way. Ming Huashang had no idea why her elder brother was upset and followed along quietly, not daring to tempt fate. It wasn’t until they stopped in front of a gate and she looked up to read the inscription above it that she realized where they were: “Duke Zhenguo’s estate? This is our home?”
Ming Huazhang heard her naturally say “our home” and felt the fire in him ease a fraction. He gave a quiet sound of assent: “Yes.”
Ming Huashang’s eyes grew even wider. Ming Huazhang dismounted and knocked on the estate gate at an unhurried pace. After quite a long wait, the gate finally cracked open a little. An elderly servant who was slightly hard of hearing heard that it was the Second Young Master and Second Young Miss, and wept great tears of joy, ushering Ming Huazhang and Ming Huashang inside with great fuss.
There weren’t many people in the estate. It was so quiet one could smell the scent of wood and roots. Ming Huazhang didn’t ask the elderly servant to lead the way and took Ming Huashang to find their quarters himself.
Ancient trees blocked out the sky. Ming Huashang followed behind Ming Huazhang through one corridor after another. The entire compound seemed to hold only the two of them. Along the way, Ming Huashang looked left and right — this estate was different from the Duke Zhenguo estate in Luoyang. Gray walls, green roof tiles, lush and flourishing trees: though it was not as large in area as the Luoyang estate, it had its own quality of ancient, unhurried time.
A pity that she had no memory of it at all. Ming Huashang thought of how this was the place she had lived in as a young child and was filled with a deep sense of feeling: “So this is the Ming family’s ancestral home. I wouldn’t have thought it would be preserved this well — you’d never guess no one has lived here for over ten years.”
Ming Huazhang said indifferently: “I had people carry out the repairs.”
“…” Ming Huashang couldn’t believe it: “But haven’t you been on the Zhongnan Mountains all this time?”
“Yes — but that doesn’t prevent the repairs from being made. Grandmother and Father have been away from this place for many years — now that they are finally coming home, how could we as their juniors let them live in discomfort?”
Ming Huashang fell silent. It was confirmed — she was an unfilial daughter, especially compared to Ming Huazhang. Raising her was no better than raising a dog.
Ming Huashang said sincerely: “Second Elder Brother, you are thorough and meticulous, bold yet careful. Father is truly fortunate to have you.”
Ming Huazhang gave a quiet laugh, slowing his steps to walk abreast with her: “No — that’s what I’m supposed to do. You are Father’s good fortune.”
Those words were not something Ming Huashang could bring herself to accept in good conscience. She smiled and hooked her arm through his: “There’s no need for us siblings to keep trading this back and forth — let’s be filial to Father together.”
Ming Huashang leaned in, easy and shameless about it, and Ming Huazhang could no longer maintain his stony expression. Whatever displeasure had come before was considered written off.
Though Ming Huashang still didn’t know what she had done to put him out of sorts.
Ming Huazhang led Ming Huashang through the bamboo grove and into the side courtyard at the northeast corner. This place was tucked away, with the bamboo grove encircling it outside, and became quiet the moment the surroundings changed. The courtyard was lush with plants, elegant and generous in design — close the gate, and it was an enclosed compound of its own; open the gate, and one could pass directly out of the estate. Not far from the gate was the perimeter wall and Xiamen Street beyond it. It was a haven of peace in the midst of activity, and it was exquisitely arranged.
But of course, what suited Ming Huashang’s heart most was the grape trellis under the eaves. Ming Huashang had none of those literary and refined sensibilities — she simply liked things she could grow and eat, things that were practical, like this trellis of grapes.
Ten different ways to prepare grapes had already surfaced in Ming Huashang’s mind. The flower beds in the courtyard looked lovely too, but they were all for show and couldn’t be eaten — it might be worth digging them over next year and replacing them with edible flowers. And the bamboo grove outside could certainly be put to good use as well.
Ming Huashang made a circuit of the inside and outside of the courtyard, thoroughly delighted: “Second Elder Brother, is this prepared for me?”
“Yes.” Ming Huazhang clasped his hands behind his back and said slowly: “How does it compare to living outside on your own?”
Ming Huashang hadn’t seen this coming at all — he had been so silent all the way here, and it was for this reason?
Ming Huashang couldn’t quite sort out how she felt. She stood under the grape trellis looking at Ming Huazhang, and suddenly felt a sense of distance, something strangely unfamiliar.
Time was like a wind that howled through the inside of her, and when she lifted her head again, she found everything had changed.
In childhood, the two of them had been placed side by side in their swaddling clothes, sleeping and eating together, sharing the same quilt at nap time. She couldn’t recall the specific details anymore — only that feeling of warmth and fullness, of having someone beside her no matter what she was doing, utterly at ease. After their fourth year, Duke Zhenguo took Ming Huazhang to the outer quarters to be educated, and he and Ming Huashang rarely met after that. And with that, her childhood came to its end.
In the years that followed they had little connection — but Ming Huazhang had always paid attention to news of Ming Huashang. She had lost her mother when she was very young and grown up alone, with only maids and older servants for company, not even a person to talk with. Ming Huazhang was worried that she would be wronged within the inner courts with no one to protect her, and worried too that she might be stirred up by wicked servants and led astray. Fortunately, she was far more kind and courageous than he had imagined. Even without anyone to nurture her, she had grown into a small, bright sun that radiated warmth of its own.
Ming Huazhang was both comforted and ashamed, and had therefore worked ever harder at being a good elder brother, doing his best to treat her well. But the inner courts and the outer quarters had little interaction, and she was so perceptive and sensible that she never really needed him for anything. The only thing Ming Huazhang could do was to join the Xuan Xiaowei and prove the Ming family’s loyalty through action — working to restore Duke Zhenguo’s estate to its former standing.
At the beginning of the year she had suddenly come after him and taken the initiative to speak to him, and Ming Huazhang had been genuinely surprised and moved. He had heard within the Xuan Xiaowei about Prince Luling’s secret return to the capital and knew that the Fei Hong Banquet had been planned with ill intent. He would have gone regardless — but he could not allow Ming Huashang to be put in danger. Yet Ming Huashang had been as immovable as a swallowed weight of iron, absolutely determined to follow him. Ming Huazhang had no choice but to relent in the end and take her with him.
Many things had changed from that banquet onward. They came to know Ren Yao and Jiang Ling, encountered many princes from the Li and Wu families, and were unwittingly drawn into Prince Wei’s conspiracy. This had all been within Ming Huazhang’s calculations — he had placed life and death out of consideration before ascending the mountain. But what he had not anticipated was that the greatest variable would turn out to be her.
With an almost uncanny ability, she had described the appearance of the perpetrator, greatly accelerating the resolution of the case. The conspiracy against Prince Luling was eventually navigated without lasting harm — but she had been marked by someone with designs.
To this day Ming Huazhang still couldn’t figure out what condition Han Jie had used to persuade Ming Huashang to join the Xuan Xiaowei. He had tried to stop her, but Ming Huashang’s resolve was astonishingly firm, and his repeated attempts at dissuasion had come to nothing — he had nearly caused a mission to fail through his own bias.
After that failure, Ming Huazhang had reflected deeply and concluded that blockades were less effective than guidance. Rather than gambling on Han Jie’s conscience, it was better to keep her directly under his eye — at least that way he could ensure she wouldn’t be assigned anything too dangerous.
Ming Huazhang had tried hard to be a good elder brother, and would have preferred to have her tethered before his eyes at all times. But somewhere along the way, he had applied too much force.
The degree of closeness they had developed had repeatedly crossed the boundary of what was appropriate for siblings — yet wrapped in the outer shell of the sibling bond, they had both overlooked it, and so had the people around them. Ming Huashang didn’t know — but Ming Huazhang could not pretend he didn’t.
His thoughts wound through a thousand turns, yet in reality only a few breaths had passed. Ming Huazhang stood in silence beneath the grape trellis. His upbringing from childhood had left no room for delay or wishful thinking — once a problem was identified, it had to be confronted.
Ming Huazhang thought quietly about how to resolve this misguided obsession that should never have taken hold.
Without question, the best course was to act as though nothing had happened — to continue maintaining proper sibling conduct, and quietly pull back over time, letting everything be washed clean by the passage of days. But even as steady as Ming Huazhang was, he was still only sixteen, and he couldn’t restrain the impulse in his heart. He heard himself ask: “Huashang — what kind of person do you want to marry?”
Ming Huashang was mildly startled. The young maids often teased her about future husbands, and Ming Huashang was well used to it. But when the same question was spoken by a young and handsome elder brother, the impact was entirely different.
Ming Huashang suddenly felt a wave of sorrow — and she knew that sorrow had no standing whatsoever. An elder brother caring about his younger sister’s future, eager to introduce her to promising young men — what was wrong with that?
Ming Huashang even felt that if she pushed her own petty desires and tried to force Ming Huazhang’s hand, he would likely agree, simply to spare her suffering.
But Ming Huashang could not do that. In terms of what was right and proper — he was the only son of the Duke Zhenguo estate and would one day inherit the title, while Ming Huashang was a falsely placed daughter. Being swapped at birth was already enough to invite censure; if a former elder brother and sister were to marry on top of that, it would become fodder for gossip on every street corner.
He had been dedicated and diligent his entire life, accomplished in both scholarship and martial arts, and was already renowned throughout Chang’an as a paragon of young talent. The road to a brilliant future stretched before him. How could Ming Huashang, for the sake of her own selfish desires, ruin his reputation and obstruct his career?
And in terms of private matters — the true daughter would be returning next year. Anyone who had been swapped for sixteen years would find it impossible to remain entirely at peace with the person responsible. If Ming Huashang continued to stay in Duke Zhenguo’s estate, she would only put Su Yuji, the Duke, and Ming Huazhang in a difficult position.
He was a very good elder brother. Ming Huashang treasured this bond deeply, and she truly did not want things to end in ugliness and resentment between them.
It was better to remain in the relationship of siblings. She would quietly leave. At least when he looked back on this one day, she would be a little sister who wasn’t very clever, but was still, all things considered, rather endearing.
Ming Huashang averted her eyes from Ming Huazhang’s gaze and said softly: “Marriage is so far off — I haven’t thought about it.”
On ordinary days, Ming Huashang was the one who shamelessly followed Ming Huazhang around, while he remained cool and distant — it seemed as though Ming Huashang was always the one taking the initiative and Ming Huazhang the passive one. But in moments like this, their roles reversed completely. Ming Huashang bowed her head and curled inward on herself, while Ming Huazhang pressed forward step by step, his gaze burning and full of forward motion.
Ming Huazhang would not allow Ming Huashang to be evasive. He had the manner of someone who would not give up until he had what he came for: “If you haven’t thought about it, think about it now. You are young and your path has been smooth — surely you weren’t born with a monk’s heart, longing to take refuge in an empty doorway of faith? There’s no need to consider practical circumstances. Just tell me — what kind of person do you like? What kind of husband do you want to marry?”
If an ordinary grandmother or aunt had asked this question, Ming Huashang would have laughed it off and moved on. But this was him. He was pressing her to say what kind of man she liked — and then what? Would he play matchmaker for her?
Ming Huashang’s own temper flared. She said out of spite: “Second Elder Brother needn’t trouble yourself finding someone for me. The person I like doesn’t come from any grand and distinguished household. He doesn’t need a prestigious family background, doesn’t need outstanding talent — it doesn’t matter how much land, how many servants, or how much property he has. All I want is for him to be gentle and kind, for him to hold faithfully to me alone for the rest of his life, and for us to live a quiet and happy life together. Rank and wealth, high office and heavy honors — none of that means anything to me.”
Ming Huazhang fell abruptly silent. He almost felt that Ming Huashang was saying the opposite of what she meant just to provoke him. Because every single point she had described was almost entirely contrary to him.
Before Ming Huazhang’s eyes there immediately appeared a face — Su Xingzhi’s.
Ming Huazhang assessed Su Xingzhi as fairly as he could: of humble birth but talented and driven, not a bad choice for a husband — especially for someone like Ming Huashang, who came from a prominent family. If she married Su Xingzhi in the future, Su Xingzhi had no relatives of his own, his parents both gone — he would be nearly like a son-in-law who had moved into the Duke Zhenguo estate. Ming Huashang wouldn’t have to leave her family, wouldn’t have to wait on a mother-in-law or ingratiate herself with sisters-in-law, and with the Duke present, Su Xingzhi would not dare take concubines. For Ming Huashang, it might not be the most illustrious match — but it would be the most fitting.
And given Ming Huashang’s nature, there would be no risk of her treating a son-in-law with such dominance that the marriage soured, nor of being soft-natured enough that a live-in husband drained the family’s resources. Married to Su Xingzhi, she could live exactly the quiet, happy, uncomplicated life she dreamed of.
And what of Ming Huazhang? He couldn’t even guarantee his own tomorrow.
Ming Huazhang was silent for a long while, and the sharp, pressing intensity in his gaze slowly dimmed as reason reclaimed its authority. Ming Huazhang gave a rueful smile and drew back within the limits of what siblings owed each other. This had always been the best solution — and yet he had let something cloud his judgment, foolishly wanting to test her feelings.
And now here he was. Nothing but vexing himself for no reason.
The wind moved through the courtyard, carrying a trace of cold. After all, autumn had arrived — the evenings were different from summer. Ming Huazhang brushed away a fallen flower petal that had drifted onto her hair bun, and said quietly: “Sleep well. Tomorrow — Father will be home.”
Everything would return to how it was meant to be.
Ming Huashang ducked her head and gave a brief sound of assent. Tonight Ming Huazhang had behaved entirely out of his usual character — it was the first time he had not waited for her to go inside before turning to leave.
Ming Huashang stood in the empty courtyard, with only starlight and a cool breeze for company. She tilted her head back and looked up through layer upon layer of grape leaves toward the vast and flowing Milky Way above.
The instructors at the base had taught them how to navigate by the stars. Ming Huashang searched for a long time but couldn’t find where the Cowherd Star and the Weaving Maid Star were in the sky. She felt her strength drain away all at once, and sank into a tired crouch, arms wrapped around her knees.
Once Father returned, she would go back to being the sheltered young miss of the estate — rarely setting foot beyond the inner gate or the outer gate — and would spend the last half-year that belonged to a noble’s daughter. After that, they would truly have very few chances to meet again.
The four months she had spent on the Zhongnan Mountains — four months living side by side with him, talking about everything under the sun — had those been nothing but a dream?
·
The ancestral estate in Chang’an had only just been renovated. Aside from the few servants needed to keep essential functions running, the rest of the compound was empty and hushed. Fortunately, four months on the mountain had taught Ming Huashang to be entirely self-sufficient. On the second day, she woke naturally at the hour of Mao, dressed herself briskly, and washed up. She looked at the sunlight slowly climbing beyond the grape trellis and thought: the sun rises all the same. There’s nothing that can’t be gotten through.
Today the Empress was to enter the city. Ming Huashang, like the ladies of many households throughout Chang’an, had her carriage readied and set out early in the morning to stand along Vermilion Bird Street and await the imperial procession.
Vermilion Bird Avenue was already packed well beyond capacity. The carriages of aristocratic households, the jostling crowds of spectators — all of it pressed together into a single mass. Before long, Ming Huashang’s carriage came to a standstill.
Ming Huazhang rode on horseback alongside the carriage, brow furrowed as he looked ahead, searching for an alternate route. Ming Huashang pulled back the carriage curtain and said: “Second Elder Brother, there are too many people here. I’ll just get down and walk.”
There was nothing but a dense press of heads as far as the eye could see — there was no passage to be found anywhere. Ming Huazhang sighed and dismounted first to block the crowd: “There’s nothing else for it.”
Ming Huashang gathered her skirt and stepped out, and was just about to jump down from the carriage step when a pale, slender hand appeared at her side. Ming Huashang darted a swift glance at him, then, without a word, took the hand and stepped down from the carriage.
On both sides the crowds surged, people pressing constantly against Ming Huashang. Ming Huazhang’s height proved its advantage in this moment — he stood in front of her and, with barely any effort, held the crowd at bay.
He held her hand and carved out a passage through the sea of people. Ming Huashang couldn’t see anything clearly in the press of bodies — she only knew to keep close behind him.
She looked up during a gap in the jostling and saw his shoulders, which seemed lean, yet stood firm as a mountain. He was like a sharpened sword parting the waves, and not an inch of the noise and chaos on either side touched Ming Huashang.
Ming Huashang curled her fingers slightly and felt the warmth of his palm — and the composure she had managed to rebuild through the night began to slip again.
The Empress, who had been away from Chang’an for many years, was returning — and the city had been turned out in full for the occasion, grand and sweeping beyond all precedent. The further forward they pressed, the harder it became. In conditions like these, having a large area cleared in a prime location along the street was a particularly conspicuous thing. Ming Huashang recognized the figure standing beneath the trees and called out in surprise: “Jiang Ling?”
Jiang Ling seemed to sense the eyes on him. He turned, saw them, and waved with great enthusiasm: “Come over here, quickly!”
Vermilion Bird Street was truly overwhelming with people today — and not safe either. Ming Huazhang made no ceremony of it, and led Ming Huashang into the canopied enclosure that Marquis Jiang’an’s estate had staked out. Ming Huashang stood in the shade, wiped the sweat from her brow that the crowd had pressed out of her, and then looked at Jiang Ling in front of her — dressed in fine and splendid clothes, beaming cheerfully for no reason in particular — and understood very thoroughly that power and influence truly were a wonderful thing.
Ming Huashang asked: “What are you doing here?”
“Waiting for my father,” Jiang Ling said. “Today the Emperor, the princes, and the princesses will all be passing through here. My father specifically told me to stand somewhere obvious. I think this spot is obvious enough, wouldn’t you say?”
Ming Huashang nodded. There was nothing left to say: “You’re right.”
They had come out early in the morning and waited — it wasn’t until well past midday that they finally heard the beating of gongs in the distance. Ming Huashang rose up on her toes and saw the solemn and magnificent procession winding its way past, followed by a carriage adorned with nine dragons and a phoenix.
Without a word needing to be said — even the decoration atop the carriage was enough to tell anyone who rode inside. Ming Huazhang reminded her to observe the proper courtesy, and Ming Huashang hastily lowered her head as the great cry of ten thousand voices shouting “Long live the Emperor” rolled over her like a tide that could move mountains.
As the carriage wheels passed before her, Ming Huashang couldn’t resist stealing a look upward. The brocade curtains on both sides of the imperial carriage had been drawn back, revealing the woman inside dressed in dragon robes. Her hair was neat and dark, her eyes sharp and bright with age, and her every movement carried an authority that needed no anger to be felt.
One could sense that she was quite old — yet that did nothing to diminish how imposing and formidable she appeared. Ming Huashang looked for just a moment before quickly pulling her gaze away, her heart beating hard.
So this was the Empress whose name was known throughout the realm. And she had deposed three of her own sons — no wonder she was truly extraordinary.
After the Empress’s carriage, came the carriages of the various princes and princesses. In the past it was always Prince Liang and Prince Wei who flanked the Empress — but on this occasion, the very first carriage behind the Empress’s was the Crown Prince and Crown Princess Consort Wei’s.
The Crown Prince and Wei Consort sat side by side in the open carriage. The Crown Prince had been confined for many years; now, faced suddenly with this many people, his hands trembled slightly. And especially when he thought of how many pairs of eyes were watching — if he showed the slightest undignified conduct, it would be a disgrace to the Li family name.
At that thought, the Crown Prince grew even more anxious. Crown Princess Consort Wei listened to the surging cries of “Long live the Crown Prince” and “Blessings upon the Crown Princess” on either side of them, and felt a surge of overwhelming feeling in her chest. And to think, the Empress rode at the very front — what heights of splendor were those? At this moment she noticed the person beside her trembling, and shot a quick, sidelong glance at the Crown Prince with an expression of deep frustration. Using the cover of her sleeve, she pressed firmly down on the Crown Prince’s hand, and barely moved her lips: “Your Highness, so many eyes are watching. You must not let yourself be seen in this state.”
This was the first battle in their return to Chang’an, the most critical one in establishing the Crown Prince’s position — it could not go wrong. The Crown Prince felt his wife’s resolve beside him and finally found his anchor. He slowly steadied himself.
Behind the Crown Prince and Crown Princess’s carriage came Prince Liang and Prince Wei, then Prince Xiang, Princess Taiping, and the Prince of Ding.
As Prince Xiang’s carriage passed, the Prince of Linzi and his brothers rode on horseback guarding their father’s carriage on either side. The spectators on both sides, catching sight of the Prince of Linzi — young, martial, resplendent in his fine clothes, and mounted on a splendid horse — gave a roar of an entirely different tone. Many women, whether married or not, threw perfume pouches and handkerchiefs toward the rider on horseback with unbridled enthusiasm.
Tang dynasty women — and no less bold and passionate for it.
Jiang Ling stood with his arms crossed, clicking his tongue: “Do those pouches have rocks in them? They throw so far — see that one that just hit the ground, it made a thud! Something that heavy aimed at someone’s face — you’d need iron luck to make it down the whole street alive. Tch — a street parade like that, I wouldn’t do it even if someone invited me.”
Ming Huashang gave Jiang Ling a long look: “The fox who couldn’t reach the grapes says the grapes are sour. Outside of the imperial family, only a triumphant general returning from battle and a newly ranked scholar can ride down the Imperial Street. Rest assured — you won’t have that problem.”
“Hey!” Jiang Ling raised an eyebrow, displeased. “Who are you looking down on?”
“Then tell me — which of those three categories could you reach? Marrying a princess, passing the imperial examinations, or winning a battle?”
Given Jiang Ling’s mind, the path of literature was entirely closed to him. When all was counted, the only option left was to use his looks and talk his way into a position as a prince consort. Yet Jiang Ling seemed to have been provoked, and said: “Who says I can’t lead soldiers into battle?”
Ming Huashang gave a short laugh and said nothing further. The meaning was unmistakable. Jiang Ling was furious and rolled up his sleeves to have it out with Ming Huashang — but at that moment Ming Huazhang’s cool voice cut through the air: “Marquis Jiang’an is coming.”
Jiang Ling instinctively stiffened at the mention of his father’s name. He looked up — and sure enough, Princess Taiping’s ceremonial carriage was rolling past. Marquis Jiang’an and the Prince Consort Ding were both on horseback, riding on either side of the carriage.
Marquis Jiang’an saw Jiang Ling and shot him an expressionless glare. Jiang Ling deflated at once and turned away in a thoroughly dejected manner.
Once the imperial family had passed, what followed were the households of the ordinary dukes, marquises, earls, and barons. Ming Huashang quickly spotted Duke Zhenguo, and jumped up waving eagerly: “Father!”
By this point the Empress’s carriage had long since returned to the palace. The crowd’s attention had mainly been on the princes and princesses — a half-measure title like theirs counted for little. The crowd along the road had already thinned considerably, and as they had no need to return to the palace and report in, they were free to scatter and go their own ways.
Duke Zhenguo saw from a distance a young man like clear wind and brilliant moonlight, and beside him a lively and vivid young girl. Duke Zhenguo’s heart ached at the sight of both his children, and he quickly dismounted and walked toward Ming Huazhang and Ming Huashang: “Second son, Huashang — four months, and not a single letter from either of you. How your father has missed you!”