After the New Year, time seemed to suddenly slow down. Sunlight like spilled gold dust filtered through the straight-barred windows, drifted through the slowly rising wisps of smoke, and settled across the rosewood table.
Ming Huazhang sat up straight, his wrist suspended in the air, and slowly drew several names down onto the paper. The brush hair traced across the xuan paper with a barely audible whisper of sound.
These past few days, Ming Huazhang had been turning it over in his mind: Prince Wei had wanted to kill the Twin Jades, so he had imitated the cold case from four years ago to deliberately lure them out. But why had he chosen this particular case? How had he known that this case had almost no evidence, that the authorities were completely without leads, and that it would be easy to imitate?
Who had access to the case records? Who had supplied him with information?
The hidden informant who had betrayed them — who was it?
Ming Huazhang stared at the names written beneath his brush, his gaze lowered and silent. He weighed each one in turn, occasionally lifting his hand to draw a line and cross out a name. Slowly, only half the names remained on the list.
He was deep in thought when footsteps suddenly sounded outside the door. Ming Huazhang’s vigilance snapped into focus at once. He lit a candle and burned the paper. A manservant knocked and entered, caught the motion of Ming Huazhang covering the lamp, and asked in surprise, “Young Master, were you just lighting a lamp?”
Ming Huazhang did not answer. He waited until the ash was completely burned, replaced the lamp cover, and asked, “What is it?”
The manservant folded his hands and said, “Second Young Master, there are guests. The Old Madam and the Duke request that you come to the main hall.”
In the first month of the new year, many families paid New Year calls. Ming Huazhang was accustomed to this and thought nothing of it. He pushed back his sleeve and rose, asking casually, “Who is it?”
“The Cheng Family of Duke Chengguo’s residence. Duke Chengguo and the heir both came.”
Ming Huazhang went quickly to the main hall, and as he stepped up onto the stairs he heard someone speaking inside: “We owe so much to Second Young Master Ming for this. If not for him, the one who murdered Siyue would not have been brought to justice so quickly.”
The Old Madam said, “Madam Cheng is too kind. Now that he holds the position of Deputy Jing Zhaoyin, this is simply his proper duty.”
The expressions on the faces of Duke Chengguo’s family were quite solemn, however. The heir’s wife said, “Old Madam, that is not quite right. If Second Young Master Ming had not pursued this to the very root, investigating with such clarity and brilliance, I am afraid it would have turned out just like four years ago, and the true culprit would have escaped. That Lu Du villain was far too crafty. We had all assumed the murderer was some great brigand from the rivers and lakes — who could have imagined it was him all along. I had even put my faith in the Lu family of Fanyang and sent my son to be taught by him. I must have been blind.”
At the mention of this, everyone in the hall let out sighs of regret. Second Madam Ming chimed in, “Indeed — who could have imagined that Dr. Lu, with his fine bearing and cultured manners, would turn out to be a murderer? To kill one’s own kin and slay one’s own father — simply shocking beyond words.”
At that moment, the manservant by the door noticed Ming Huazhang and said hurriedly, “The Second Young Master has arrived.”
Everyone turned at once. Ming Huazhang entered, raised his hands, and bowed in greeting to all: “My respects to Grandmother, Father. My respects to Duke Chengguo and Madam.”
Duke Chengguo did not stir, but the heir and his wife both stood up and moved to stop Ming Huazhang, saying, “Second Young Master Ming, we owe you everything for clearing Siyue’s name and vindicating her. You are our savior in this life. Please allow us to bow to you.”
Ming Huazhang quickly moved to stop them. “Heir, Madam, this is not proper. In my official capacity, it was simply my duty. As for privately — you are my elders. How could I accept such a bow?”
Duke Zhenguo also said, “You are far too courteous. We serve together at court — we ought to help one another. Please be seated.”
After much mutual deferring, both sides were finally seated again. A manservant placed a seat beside Duke Zhenguo, but Ming Huazhang did not go there. Instead, he walked over and sat beside Ming Huashang.
Ming Huashang had not expected him to come to her, and shifted a beat too slowly to one side — but there was only so much room on a single cushioned seat, and his presence had trapped the hem of her skirt beneath him. She was entirely absorbed in trying to tug free her own skirt, when the topic suddenly landed on her: “I heard that Second Young Miss also encountered Lu Du, and very nearly came to harm. Are you all right?”
Caught completely off guard at hearing her own name, Ming Huashang looked up and met the eyes of the Duchess of Chengguo, startled for a moment before catching up: “Thank you for your concern, Madam. Fortunately, my elder brother and the Imperial Guard arrived in time. I am fine.”
Ming Huashang had put herself in harm’s way to lure Lu Du into repeating his crime. After Lu Du was captured, she had not let slip that she had deliberately engineered the chance encounter, but had attributed everything to coincidence.
The Duchess of Chengguo made a sound of acknowledgment. “That is well. Second Young Miss must have been badly frightened — do rest and recover.”
Ming Huashang expressed her thanks, feeling somewhat overwhelmed by the Duchess’s warmth. Ming Huazhang knitted his brow, noticed Cheng Xun — Cheng Dasheng — sitting behind the heir, and felt a stab of unease.
Why did he have the feeling that the Cheng family had come with ulterior motives?
The heir’s wife beckoned Ming Huashang over to her side and took her hand, looking her over carefully. “Thank goodness nothing happened. When I heard you had also encountered Lu Du and barely escaped, I was frightened nearly to death. Luckily it was a false alarm. I always felt you and Siyue were alike — if only she had been as quick-witted as you.”
As she said this, the heir’s wife could not hold back her grief. Cheng Xun stepped forward and murmured in his mother’s ear, “A’Niang, we are still at the Duke Zhenguo’s residence.”
The heir’s wife dried her tears and apologized to everyone for her loss of composure. Ming Huashang sighed inwardly and spoke softly to comfort her: “Madam, perhaps the reason I was able to escape is precisely because Siyue was watching over me from beyond. She was so clever and filial. With all the blessings you and the Duchess have accumulated for her sake, in her next life she is sure to live in peace, comfort, and ease, without a care in the world.”
These words greatly eased the heir’s wife’s grief. She knew in her mind that the dead are gone like a lamp extinguished — what next life is there? Yet when faced with the death of someone dearest to her, she preferred to deceive herself in this way. The heir’s wife looked at Ming Huashang, and the more she looked, the more she liked her. She could not help asking the Old Madam, “Second Young Miss is so clear-eyed and lovely — perceptive and understanding. Might I ask — is Second Young Miss promised in marriage?”
At these words, a heavy throb went through Ming Huazhang’s brow, the premonition he had felt taking solid form, and his expression chilled all at once.
The Old Madam and Duke Zhenguo both understood the implication. Duke Zhenguo’s expression was exceedingly complex, but it was the Old Madam whose crow’s feet relaxed slightly. She said in an even tone, “That one? She was spoiled senseless by her father. She has always been willful and troublesome. This old woman has been meaning to keep her under closer supervision for a while yet. No marriage has been arranged.”
The heir’s wife realized that her last remark had been rather too transparent. Their entire family had come to Duke Zhenguo’s residence today not only to express gratitude, but also, naturally, to sound out the prospect of a marriage alliance.
The Duchess of Chengguo trusted her own eye for people. She was confident that Ming Huazhang was a hidden dragon in the deep — that he would rise on the wind in days to come — and she had long wished to forge a connection with this outstanding young man ahead of time. It was a pity that Cheng Siyue had died, and Duke Chengguo’s residence had no other suitable young ladies. After much searching, the Duchess of Chengguo had set her sights on Ming Huashang.
All across the capital, people said that the Second Young Miss of the Ming family was uneducated and useless, a good-for-nothing. Yet the Duchess took a great liking to this young lady’s clear-sightedness. She had never been fond of so-called talented women — those who put on the airs of a talent. Whatever talent they possessed was rarely on show, while faults like arrogance and an inflated sense of self were plentiful enough. For living a life together, you wanted someone like Ming Huashang — grounded and luminous. She seemed ordinary and unremarkable at first glance, yet she was like water: no matter what difficulty arose, she could endure it through.
Their eldest son Cheng Xun had studied the Four Books and Five Classics until he’d grown a bit rigid — steady and proper to excess, but lacking in flexibility. If Ming Huashang were there to assist him, the Cheng family would surely flourish in the generations to come.
The Duchess of Chengguo had originally intended to come today simply to feel out the Ming family’s inclinations. Her daughter-in-law had done her the favor of asking the question outright. No matter — the Duchess of Chengguo abandoned all roundabout approach and said plainly and directly, “How can Second Young Miss be called willful? If she were born into our family, this old woman would certainly hold her as a treasured jewel. Second Young Miss first stood up for Siyue’s grievance, and then comforted our son — she is our Cheng family’s benefactor. Dasheng, go and thank Second Young Miss.”
The Duchess’s words came on like a tidal wave, one surge higher than the next, connecting sky and sea. Ming Huashang had no time to react before she was caught in the current. She hurried to decline: “Madam, what are you saying? I am quite unworthy of such…”
Ming Huashang had assumed the Duchess was merely being polite, but Cheng Xun truly did rise from his seat. He stopped in front of Ming Huashang and bowed: “My thanks, Second Young Miss.”
Ming Huashang was startled and quickly stood to return the bow. “First Young Master, you are too courteous.”
Ming Huazhang sat across from them, watching Ming Huashang and Cheng Xun seated side by side on the heir’s wife’s bench, now rising to bow facing each other in turn — like a well-matched young couple paying mutual respect. His fingers curled into a fist without his noticing. Against the cold white of his hand, blue veins stood out across the back.
Yet besides himself, everyone else in the room was pleased to see it — even Duke Zhenguo had not intervened.
Ming Huazhang felt as though his body were split in two. His blood churned and roiled like lava, yet his mind was frozen as if in a glacier, forcing him to stay calm, to watch what was unfolding before him without missing a single detail.
She had spent every day by his side with that lively, obedient way of hers. He had not known when she had become acquainted with Cheng Xun, nor that she had helped him untangle whatever weighed on his heart.
If Cheng Xun had not said something himself, how would the Duchess of Chengguo have known? So this visit had been made with Cheng Xun’s full knowledge — he had even helped bring it about. What was he after? Was he seeking to wed Ming Huashang?
Was Ming Huazhang the only one who knew nothing at all?
Ming Huashang was so embarrassed she could have exploded on the spot, and yet every single person in the room — the Old Madam, her female cousins, the maids — was watching her with teasing, knowing eyes. She wanted nothing more than for a crack to open in the floor and swallow her whole. But the world still had no mercy for her. The Old Madam smiled and said, “You young ones must be long tired of listening to us talk. Very well — we will not keep you. First Girl, accompany the guests for a stroll around the courtyard and look after your younger sisters.”
That single sentence effectively ushered Ming Huashang and Ming Shuo out as well — clearly a deliberate attempt to create space for Ming Huashang and Cheng Xun. Ming Yu understood her grandmother’s intent and rose gracefully to curtsy. “Yes, Grandmother.”
Ming Huashang was screaming internally — she was not the least bit tired of listening! But Ming Shuo had already stood, cast her a look of gleeful amusement, and pulled her by the arm. “Let’s go, our great meritorious one.”
Ming Huashang was dragged out against her will. Cheng Xun looked somewhat ill at ease, but still bowed to Duke Zhenguo, the Old Madam, and the others before lowering his head and withdrawing.
After Cheng Xun left, Ming Huazhang, who had been silent for a long while, suddenly rose. His movement was too abrupt — like a sword wrenching from its scabbard, the edge cutting a sharp line through the air. Duke Zhenguo was startled and looked back in astonishment. “Second Son, what are you doing?”
Even in this moment, Ming Huazhang’s face retained its usual noble composure. He bent slightly to bow to the elders, his voice calm to the point of strangeness. “I am also going to walk in the garden.”