“How beautiful — truly worthy of Chang’an.” In the coloured light of the fireworks, Linglong’s face shifted through one hue after another, the brightness in her eyes flickering between light and shadow, making her expression impossible to read.
The two of them stood at the window and watched in silence for quite some time. Only after the last firework had faded did they return to the table.
The moment she sat down, Linglong noticed that the wine cup before Lin Xiao was already empty. A flash of something ignited in her eyes, and she quickly took up the pot and refilled his cup to the brim.
Qin Yao had dressed lightly when she left home, and now that night had deepened, a cold wind crept in through the window and swept over her body, leaving her chilled through. She could not help but shiver.
“Are you cold?” Lin Xiao noticed at once.
Qin Yao hastily sat up straight and shook her head, though inwardly she was reproaching herself — she had left Qingyun Abbey in too much of a hurry and had come out wearing only two light layers, without even a cloak, and now the cold was becoming genuinely difficult to bear.
Lin Xiao rose without hesitation. “The night wind is too strong — it will only get colder. Your clothes are far too thin; how will you endure it? I will take you back to your residence at once.”
“Well—” Qin Yao gave an embarrassed little smile.
Linglong’s expression darkened. They had barely been out any time at all — they had not even finished one act of the ballad-play — and just because this A’Yao said a single word about being cold, it seemed they were not even going to go to the moat anymore? She felt as though she were soaking in vinegar, and beneath the surface she clenched her teeth again and again.
It took considerable effort to press down the bitterness surging within her. She looked at Qin Yao with a contained smile and said: “As for me, I don’t mind staying out — I only worry that Sister A’Yao has come out so rarely, and we’ve barely enjoyed ourselves. How about this: I brought an extra cloak when we came out and it is in the carriage. If Sister A’Yao does not mind, I will have my maidservant fetch it for you to wear.”
Do you still want to continue? Lin Xiao asked Qin Yao silently, waiting for her reply.
Qin Yao stole a glance at Linglong’s wrist — compared to what she had seen in the carriage, the golden thread there had suddenly grown far fainter. Looking carefully now, it was almost imperceptible. Qin Yao was secretly alarmed, and in an instant she changed her mind. She pressed a hand to her brow and said: “Thank you for your kind offer, Sister — but I have just now come over dizzy and I fear the earlier chill has taken effect. I must go home. Another time, when the opportunity arises, I will come out with you again.”
“How did a headache come on so suddenly? Shall we have a physician come to your residence?” The brightness in Linglong’s eyes flared for just an instant — Qin Yao caught it clearly — and a moment later, Linglong’s face had resumed its look of warm concern.
“There is no need.” Qin Yao shook her head, then turned to Lin Xiao and said: “Young Lord, would you trouble yourself to escort me back to the Duke of Lu’s residence?”
The night was so black that one could not see a hand held before one’s face. The unused quarters called Yizhu Pavilion — long unoccupied — flickered to life with the light of a single lamp. A young woman set her lantern down on the table, looked around by its dim light, and then sat down before the table, her heart fluttering with unease.
Would he come? She listened anxiously for any sound outside. The substance had been planted — by now it had most likely taken effect. In truth, she could test him again tomorrow, but she had already waited far too long, and having finally managed to get her hands on it, she could not bear to wait another moment.
There was a flutter of anticipation within her. That man of such fine looks — how would he behave when his heart was moved? Would he fuss over her and tend to her with warmth and attentiveness, the way he had done today with that other woman?
Remembering today’s scene, she bit down on her lower lip in shame and indignation. Her birth was merely a bit humble — but in looks, in talent, in what way was she inferior to that woman today? Perhaps he harboured reservations because of his nominal aunt, but the bad blood was between those two — she was nothing more than an innocent piece moved about on someone else’s game board. How hardened was his heart, that he would not even spare her a glance.
And the most laughable thing of all was that so-called aunt of hers — herself a second wife, a replacement — and still she pushed her niece toward him to be a concubine. “His Highness is quite pleased with you, but his implication is that your birth is somewhat beneath what is required — being the Young Lord’s principal wife is absolutely out of the question.”
Was it that because of her humble origins, she was to be only a beauty kept for a man’s pleasure? She laughed at that idea with contempt. She refused to believe in fate. She had more than enough means to make the Young Lord fall in love with her. He was a man of such strong will — young as he was, he had already become the head of the Imperial Feather Guard. Once he had set his heart on something, he would certainly find a way to marry her as his principal wife. And then — she lifted her head and surveyed the room’s expensive furnishings with a self-satisfied air — she would be the mistress of Prince Lan’s estate.
The courtyard gate creaked. Footsteps rang out abruptly in the courtyard — someone had come in.
Linglong’s eyes lit up. It was him! She sprang to her feet, then sat back down, smoothed her hair at the temple with a nervous hand, ran her palms quickly over the folds of her skirt, and when the person pushed open the door and entered, she wore an expression of just the right shade of confusion: “Cousin?”
And indeed it was Lin Xiao. The amber lamplight fell across his incomparably handsome face, softening, just a little, the habitual coolness of his expression.
He held her gaze in quiet silence for a moment, then walked toward her with unhurried steps.
Only it was nothing like the scene Linglong had anticipated — for before Lin Xiao had even reached her, he drew a sword in one clean motion and laid the blade against her throat.
Linglong was caught completely off guard. Her tender smile froze in an instant: “Cousin — what is this?”
“I would not have thought that for someone your age, you know rather a lot of crooked and devious methods. I had underestimated you.” Lin Xiao regarded Linglong with amused curiosity. His lips held a smile; his eyes were ice-cold to the bone.
Then from outside the courtyard came the sound of ordered footsteps.
Linglong’s thoughts were still catching up to Lin Xiao’s words when the sudden footsteps plunged her heart into even greater turmoil. With a sword at her throat, she dared not move — she could only strain her eyes to look outside.
The doorway fell wide open. A group of people dressed in the estate’s guard uniforms entered.
At their head was Chang Rong. He and Wei Bo together carried an object wrapped in black cloth, brought it to the center of the room, and set it down with care.
A faint, putrid odour drifted through the air.
The blood drained from Linglong’s face. Memories she had deliberately buried surged up without warning — dark, earthen, blood-soaked smells crashed down on her from all sides. In terror she swallowed, her gaze fixed and immovable on the black cloth, unable to look away for even a single moment.
Lin Xiao no longer looked at her. He softened his voice and called toward the door: “You may come in as well.”
At his words, a young Daoist entered — left hand carrying a bundle, right hand carrying a cage with a mouse inside. Her gaze swept across Linglong for just a moment, and then she walked in a composed, unhurried manner to the center of the room.
Linglong had no room left to feel surprise. Her nerves were strung so tight that she had passed through panic and arrived, strangely, at calm.
She quickly composed her expression and looked up, wide-eyed and pitiful: “Sister A’Yao — Cousin — what is all this?”
This woman was far more cunning than he had imagined. Lin Xiao’s brow furrowed with contempt, and he fixed her in a cold gaze. He waved Chang Rong forward to bind her.
He glanced toward the courtyard gate and waited with patience. Sure enough, before long there came another commotion outside — a throng of maids and servants swarmed in, clustering around Prince Lan, who was half-roused from sleep, and Cui Shi, whose face was set in fury.
Qin Yao, standing to one side, clicked her tongue quietly to herself. Tonight was truly turning into quite the grand spectacle — every one of the estate’s principals was here, not a single one missing.