Ming Huashang and Ming Yuji had not wanted to remain near the Eastern Palace, and had found a secluded corner to take in the view. As chance would have it, they had encountered Prince Linzi, who had come out to clear his head after drinking.

Prince Linzi saw them and came forward to offer his greetings of his own accord, his manner open and forthright. Ming Huashang was just considering how to decline him gracefully and tactfully, when another voice cut in without the slightest ceremony.

“Huashang, Third Brother — how are you here?”

Ming Huashang turned and, upon seeing Li Huazhang, felt an odd pang of guilt — then caught herself: he was no longer her elder brother. He could, at most, concern himself with Prince Linzi. What did she have to feel guilty about?

Ming Huashang said with complete composure, “Just taking a stroll — we happened to run into Prince Linzi here.”

Prince Linzi smiled and greeted Li Huazhang: “Second Brother. We hadn’t seen you for a while and were just looking for you — how is it that you’re here alone?”

Li Huazhang glanced at Prince Linzi. Happened to run into each other? In a man’s vocabulary, there were no such words as “happened to.”

Li Huazhang said mildly, “I couldn’t find anyone to walk with, so I was just wandering the boat. What were you all talking about — do you mind if I join you?”

Now that Li Huazhang had said as much, Prince Linzi could hardly say that he minded. He immediately and cheerfully invited Li Huazhang to enjoy the lake excursion with them; along the way he enthusiastically directed questions at Ming Huashang — every single one of which was smoothly intercepted by Li Huazhang in a cool and unhurried manner.

Prince Linzi talked at length and found he could not get in a single word with Ming Huashang. Ming Huashang was smiling gently and sweetly, murmuring to Ming Yuji in a low voice, and was genuinely pleasant to look at — but when Prince Linzi caught sight of Li Huazhang, standing without drawing attention to himself, cold and composed, directly in front of Ming Huashang, he had the good sense to hold his tongue.

When the beauty would not speak to him and the scenery held nothing of real interest, Prince Linzi found an excuse to leave before long. After he had gone, Ming Huashang quietly breathed a sigh of relief. Li Huazhang asked, “How long had he been there? Did he say anything offensive to you?”

“No,” Ming Huashang replied honestly. “We had only just begun speaking when you arrived.”

Li Huazhang felt some relief, then could not help frowning: “It seems I’ll need to have a word with him some other day. Going about Chang’an trifling with one woman after another — what manner of conduct is that?”

Although Ming Huashang disliked Prince Linzi’s romantic nature, in all fairness, his manner had been perfectly open and aboveboard, and there was really no fault to find with it. She said, “He probably saw us standing alone and was concerned we might be uncomfortable, and came over to keep us company — he had no ill intent.”

Li Huazhang’s brow gave an almost imperceptible lift; he lowered his gaze to look at Ming Huashang and said slowly, “No ill intent?”

Ming Huashang did not fully believe that herself. She gave a light cough and said, “Well, Prince Linzi is good-looking, is he not? A young, handsome gentleman who comes to speak with me of his own accord — what is there to be angry about?”

Li Huazhang regarded her with an expression of profound displeasure: “You are remarkably quick to defend him.”

Ming Huashang had only been making allowances for Prince Linzi out of consideration for the fact that he was Li Huazhang’s cousin — and yet Li Huazhang showed no appreciation for it. She shot him an irritated look and said, “Well, Prince Linzi has a far better-looking cousin. To stay in that cousin’s good graces, I can only try to think the best of things, can I not?”

Li Huazhang paused. His linguistic faculties briefly failed him and he had no idea how to respond. He had read a great many books since childhood, had remained composed before the Empress herself in moments of peril, had conducted himself with the utmost propriety under the eyes of the entire world — and yet he had never learned what to do when his younger sister paid him a compliment that bordered on a declaration of feeling.

Not only was Li Huazhang stunned; Ming Yuji, too, gave a quiet “hmm” of surprise inwardly, and could no longer hold out. She said, “You two take your time — I’ll go take a walk over there.”

“Where are you going, Sister?” Ming Huashang immediately pulled Ming Yuji back and said, “Most of the people on this boat you don’t know. It’s too dangerous for you to move around alone.”

Ming Yuji glanced at Li Huazhang and said haltingly, “But it doesn’t seem appropriate for me to stay here, does it?”

“How is it not appropriate?” Ming Huashang said. “You’re my sister — since I came out with you, it’s my duty to keep you safe. Second Brother, isn’t that right?”

Li Huazhang had by now recovered some measure of composure. He pressed down the unfamiliar and overwhelming feeling — a joy so great it almost left him at a loss — and put on the cool and rational manner of an elder brother, saying, “Naturally. If you don’t wish to stay for the lake excursion, I’ll have the boat put in to shore and send you home.”

He appeared on the surface to have recovered his calm — but on closer inspection, the tips of his ears were red, and his fingers were busy with unnecessary little movements.

Ming Huashang’s way of speaking was… truly excessive in its directness. He was unwilling to admit that he was actually quite pleased by it, and also unwilling to admit that his earlier inexplicable vague displeasure had not been because Ming Huashang was defending Prince Linzi — but because she had called Prince Linzi good-looking.

Ming Huashang hesitated: “We’ve only gone halfway around the lake — if we put in now, won’t that rather spoil the fun?”

“It won’t,” Li Huazhang said. He had already accomplished his purpose for today; compared to Ming Huashang, the thoughts of everyone else on the boat were entirely beside the point. He said, “The road is not easy. I’ll see you both back to the residence.”

Ming Yuji had no idea how the wide, straight, and orderly streets of Chang’an could be said to be anything other than easy to travel — but regardless, Li Huazhang abandoned a boatful of imperial relatives and insisted on seeing them home.

The carriage made its way slowly through the streets of Chang’an. Whether moving or stopped, there was always a steady and measured rhythm of hoofbeats keeping pace just outside the window, neither too near nor too far. Ming Huashang quietly lifted one edge of the curtain and looked out.

Li Huazhang was riding alongside, standing guard. His shoulders were erect, his legs long; he sat upon his horse straight and composed, as commanding as a jade mountain, as supple as a tall bamboo. He was truly, in his own way, peerless in his brilliance — there was no one else like him in the world.

Simply looking at him, one felt as though time itself had grown still and peaceful, and the days had turned into song.

He seemed to sense her gaze and looked back toward where it came from, catching Ming Huashang right in the act of watching him.

Ming Huashang was a moment too slow in dropping the curtain, and was caught in the act by the very person she was looking at. She felt a flash of embarrassment — then thought: so long as I’m not the one embarrassed, the embarrassment belongs to someone else. She went decisively on the offensive, and greeted him with confidence: “Second Brother.”

Li Huazhang was entirely at ease, and asked, “What are you looking at?”

“At you.”

Li Huazhang had readied himself to hear her improvise some excuse — and then she went entirely off script and admitted it outright. Li Huazhang was briefly at a loss for words, and told himself he certainly could not be outmaneuvered by Ming Huashang; he feigned indifference and asked, “Oh? Is there something on me?”

“No.” Ming Huashang shook her head, and said with complete sincerity, “Because you’re good-looking.”

It proved that as long as she was willing to be brazen and throw all shame to the wind, even someone as astute and commanding as Li Huazhang would be flustered. Li Huazhang’s expression remained one of perfect composure, but his white horse beneath him inexplicably quickened its pace, clip-clopping forward ahead of the carriage. Ming Huashang had felt a little embarrassed herself — but when she saw how he was trying to affect calm when he clearly was not, her embarrassment instantly dissolved into something new and curious. Knowing that too much of a good thing would spoil it, she stopped teasing Li Huazhang, and let the curtain fall back with a satisfied air, turning to find Ming Yuji’s gaze waiting for her.

Ming Huashang dared to act outrageously and go on the offensive when facing Li Huazhang — but facing Ming Yuji, she immediately lost all her nerve. She picked at her fingers with awkward discomfort and said with a squirm, “Sister.”

Ming Yuji swept a look over Ming Huashang’s scarlet face, her eyes — darting away yet bright and warm as clear water — and understood everything without needing to be told. She said slowly, “It seems the rumors in the household are not entirely without basis.”

“Hmm?” Ming Huashang feigned ignorance. “What rumors?”

Ming Yuji raised an eyebrow and said, “The rumor that Duke Zhenguo’s household will soon have a Princess Consort of Yong.”

Ming Huashang’s entire body twisted up like a pretzel. “I haven’t… I haven’t made up my mind yet.”

That was as good as saying she was willing. Ming Yuji could not help being caught up in the happiness of it, and a smile touched her lips. She thought of something and asked, “Does he agree?”

Ming Huashang immediately understood that Ming Yuji’s “he” referred to Duke Zhenguo. She smiled and said, “He already spoke to Father. Father said it was up to me — that I could marry whomever I liked, and apart from my own wishes, nothing else needed to be considered. And if anyone had something to say about it, Father would stand up for us.”

Li Huazhang had actually already been honest with Duke Zhenguo, and had asked his former father’s permission to marry his daughter — that scene, Ming Yuji could not even bring herself to imagine. She paused for a moment, then sighed: “You two really are alike.”

Li Huazhang and Ming Huashang appeared to be complete opposites — one cold, one warm; one tireless, the other easygoing and casual — but at their core, they were the same.

Equally ardent, courageous, and willing, for the sake of fairness and justice, to fill up the sea and pursue the sun — souls that shone brightly.

Ming Huashang said nothing definitive; she twisted the tassel of her dress around her fingers and said quietly, “It’s not that we are alike — it’s that he made me believe I could become that kind of person too. I admired him greatly when we were young. He seemed capable of everything, always doing it well; by comparison, I felt uselessly out of place. Later, as I grew closer to him, I discovered he was not naturally born this way. He is disciplined, diligent, and calm; strict with himself, and generous toward others. A mistake made once, he will not permit himself to make a second time. I came to see that my elder brother was not the perfect figure I had imagined — yet he was even more admirable than I had imagined — and slowly, I wanted to be a little better myself, worthy of standing alongside him.”

Ming Yuji said, “It seems you truly care for him. In this short time, you have already praised him three times.”

“Because that is honestly what I think.” Ming Huashang looked sincerely at Ming Yuji and said, “Life’s road is full of unexpected turns. Some words, if left unsaid, may never find their moment. I care for him, and I hope he will come to care for me more with each passing day — these things should of course be said to him directly. Otherwise, how would he know?”

Ming Yuji was suddenly startled, and a figure flashed before her eyes. At that moment the carriage gave a small lurch, scattering the image before Ming Yuji’s mind. The driver’s voice came from outside: “Young ladies, we have arrived at the ducal residence.”

Ming Yuji came back to herself, responded absently, and gathered her skirts to step down from the carriage. Li Huazhang was already waiting outside; seeing her, he reached out to assist her. Ming Yuji shook her head and stepped down from the carriage herself.

Once Ming Yuji had her footing, Ming Huashang emerged from the carriage. Toward Ming Huashang, Li Huazhang was far more forthcoming — he directly took hold of her arm and half-lifted her down. Ming Huashang steadied herself with a hand on Li Huazhang’s shoulder as she landed, darted her eyes about quickly, and said with an air of covering something up, “I’m not a child anymore — I can walk perfectly well on my own.”

“However old you grow, you will always be my younger sister,” Li Huazhang said. “Mind the steps. I’ll walk you to your rooms.”

As soon as the words were out, he remembered that Ming Yuji was there as well, and without drawing attention to it, he corrected himself: “I’ll walk you both in.”

Ming Yuji privately rolled her eyes, and with long, quick strides headed toward the gate: “No need to see us in. You two walk so slowly — I’d rather go on my own.”

Ming Yuji’s steps were brisk and decisive, and she vanished from sight in no time. At the entrance, only Li Huazhang and Ming Huashang remained. The attendants in the household, seeing how things stood, discreetly stepped aside. Li Huazhang straightened the sash of her outer garment, and said composedly, “Shall we go.”

The household servants, upon seeing this, all made themselves tactfully scarce. Li Huazhang and Ming Huashang walked along the covered corridor, and without speaking a word about it, both slowed their pace, savoring their rare moment of being alone together.

The sunlight was bright, a gentle breeze drifted through, and from the flowering trees on either side a layer of soft pink petals cascaded down like rain. Time seemed to carry them back to their childhood — the two of them romping about the residence, playing wildly and without a care from morning until night.

Ming Huashang stretched out a hand and caught a petal, and said, “I remember that when we were little, we used to love playing hide-and-seek. One time I dug a hole under a tree, buried my face in it, and was absolutely certain that this time you would never find me. And then you spotted me in an instant. I was so heartbroken that I cried for a very long time.”

Li Huazhang laughed too, and said, “Because when you were small, you loved wearing red. Hidden among green trees, you were really quite obvious.”

Ming Huashang was startled — hearing this for the first time — and became indignantly angry beyond all proportion: “You cheated! Something this important — why did you never once tell me?”

“Because no matter where you hid, I would always find you,” Li Huazhang said, looking at her with a smile, his gaze nonetheless earnest and deep. “Whether sooner or later.”

Ming Huashang would speak boldly enough when she was the one being brazen — but when she met Li Huazhang’s gaze directly, all her courage failed her. She looked away and fixed her eyes on the petals atop her toes, and murmured, “Who said so.”

How swiftly time passed. In the blink of an eye, the children who had chased each other around these covered corridors had grown up. The young man’s height had long surpassed the sapling he once played under; the young girl who had dug holes to bury herself now wore a face that bloomed like a flower.

The young man was no longer her elder brother; the eldest cousin was on the verge of marriage; Second Uncle and Second Aunt were moving away; the third branch would not be far behind — Duke Zhenguo’s residence was rapidly emptying. Only the trees before the corridor remained as they had always been.

Time was so cruel: things had yet to change, but the people were already unrecognizable. They were like passing guests of this residence — briefly swept up in a vivid, many-colored silent play. Yet time was also so kind: when the play had ended and the tea grown cold, these two were still able to stand in the same place and watch the flowers bloom and fall.

Li Huazhang asked, “About the wedding — do you have any thoughts?”

Ming Huashang was still adrift in the wistfulness of time and growing up. Hearing those words, she stood frozen for quite a while before she found her voice: “What?”