The drumbeat rose and fell without any predictable pattern. Everyone’s hearts were in their throats. Each time the flower mallet arrived in their hands, they passed it on as quickly as if it were burning, terrified the drum would fall silent while it was with them.

The first circle was not yet complete when the drum fell silent. Everyone looked — the flower mallet had landed squarely in Princess Kangping’s hands.

Kangping showed no shyness at all. She stood up brashly and said, “This princess cannot compose poetry—”

The crowd erupted in a collective groan. Someone laughed, “Princess Kangping’s Feather Robe Dance is said to be extraordinary. I wonder if we’re fortunate enough to witness it tonight?”

Kangping was in a good mood this evening and glanced sideways at the speaker. “I’ve long since forgotten the Feather Robe Dance. But lately I’ve been learning a barbarian dance and I’ve practiced it to a passable degree — I suppose I’ll just have to make a fool of myself.”

Everyone was quick to cheer enthusiastically.

Kangping took considerable pride in her dancing and wasted no time. She walked to the center of the courtyard in bold strides, stood still for a moment, and then the sound of a huqin filled the air. The music began low and languid, as if the player had poured all his homesickness into the melody — a sound full of wordless grief. Kangping began to dance, her movements slow and flowing as a gentle stream.

Halfway through, the music suddenly burst into something joyful and lively, and Kangping’s dancing transformed with it — quick and graceful. She happened to be dressed in peony red tonight, and gradually in the moonlight she became a spinning swirl of crimson, the fierce, soaring music lifting her figure until the dancer and the dance became one — beautiful in a way that was almost alarming.

The entire audience fell silent. No one had imagined that the domineering, willful Kangping could dance with such breathtaking splendor. It was only when the music stopped and Kangping bowed that people came back to their senses, bursting into cheers and acclamations, each and every one of them genuinely won over.

Kangping returned to her seat with proud satisfaction, letting her gaze drift — seemingly casually — in Feng Boyu’s direction.

Shortly after, the drum-passing game started again. This time the flower mallet came to rest in Xia Yan’s hands. Xia Yan rose with a smile and performed a masterful rendition of “High Mountains, Flowing Water” on the qin, earning another thunderous round of applause.

Having enjoyed both the music and the dance, Qin Yao felt thoroughly contented. Taking advantage of her brother’s distracted attention, she refilled her cup from time to time, and gradually began to feel the warmth of wine rising in her.

Before long, the third round of the drum-passing game began.

The flower mallet reached Qin Yao’s hands — and the drum stopped abruptly.

By now Qin Yao had already secretly downed nearly half a jug of wine. She blinked, a flush of wine on her face, as everyone suddenly turned to look at her in unison. “Me?” she said, a little bewildered.

Chen Yuqi said, savoring her moment of schadenfreude: “Well, who else? Miss Qu, no more hiding — whether you recite poetry, play an instrument, or dance, show us your talent. Give us all a treat.”

Qin Yao stood up. A night breeze blew past at just that moment, sending the warmth of the wine flooding more intensely through her. She steadied herself and shook her head. “But I don’t know how to compose poetry, and I don’t know how to play instruments or dance.”

“Surely Miss Qu isn’t going to follow the old precept that ‘a woman’s virtue lies in lacking talent’?” Kangping laughed loudly. “In all of Chang’an, you’d be hard pressed to find a second woman as unaccomplished as you.”

Lin Xiao’s face darkened. “Kangping—” he said, his voice low and sharp.

Kangping choked on her next words. She pouted and shot Lin Xiao a look, but didn’t dare provoke further.

Seeing the rest of the crowd still watching Qin Yao with great curiosity, Qu Ziyu and Feng Boyu quietly knitted their brows. Both rose to come to her rescue.

Qin Yao held out her arm to stop them. She spent a moment squinting to make out Kangping’s face clearly, then suddenly broke into a smile. “You’re right! Tonight we’ve heard plenty of poetry and music already. What if we try something new?”

She tilted her head in thought, then reached into the pouch at her waist and drew out some small object, pinching it between her fingertips. Then she tilted her head back to gaze at the moonlit sky and said with a smile, “You all say the moonlight tonight is beautiful. In my view, beautiful it is — but not quite bright enough. It would be perfect with a little something added.”

With that, she spread both arms wide and waved idly toward the darkness. “Come—”

Everyone exchanged baffled looks, not knowing what she was about to do.

After a moment, there came a faint rustling sound from the shadowed flower clusters nearby. Slowly the sound grew louder, swelling into a soft hum and buzz. Following the sound, the crowd saw that from the depths of the shrubbery flew a swarm of insects, heading straight for Qin Yao.

Each of those insects glowed like a tiny star. As they arrived at Qin Yao’s side, they circled around her, enveloping her in a halo of light. Qin Yao smiled and nodded — as if greeting them — then lightly traced a circle in the air with one finger and said, “Go—”

The insects turned as one and flowed in sequence toward that invisible circle she had drawn, and in a short while they had formed a perfectly round ring of light that drifted and floated in mid-air — as though a second moon had appeared, brightening the garden a little more.

“Fireflies!” someone cried out in amazement.

“How beautiful! Miss Qu knows conjuring tricks!” someone else marveled.

Qin Yao smiled mischievously. “Princess Kangping learned barbarian dancing from the barbarians, and I learned a conjuring trick from them. A humble performance tonight — are you all satisfied?”

The crowd cheered: “This kind of skill doesn’t come easily. It’s beautiful and it’s novel — truly remarkable.”

Xia Yan smiled somewhat stiffly. “Quite so — Miss Qu really does conceal remarkable depths.”

Lin Xiao watched Qin Yao’s charming, tipsy antics with a calm outward expression, but inwardly he felt a keen pang of regret. He found himself thinking: how much better it would be if the two of them were still behind that peony bush just now, and he still had her hand in his. The thought made his face warm. Beside him, Kangping caught sight of this and asked with curiosity, “Eleventh Brother, are you drunk?”

Not waiting for his reply, she picked up the wine jug from the table and examined it carefully. It was pear-blossom white wine, no mistake — and Eleventh Brother’s tolerance for wine was legendary. How could a few cups of pear-blossom white make him drunk?

Having heard Kangping’s remark, the Crown Prince, Prince Wu, and the others all turned to look at Lin Xiao.

Lin Xiao abruptly stood up. “I’m going to take care of something,” he said lightly, and walked off in one direction.

Kangping stared in bewilderment, still puzzling over it as she said to the Crown Prince and Prince Wu: “What’s gotten into Eleventh Brother?”

On the other side of the gathering, Qin Yao had fulfilled her forfeit and returned to her seat. Feng Boyu smiled and teased her: “A’Yao, was that conjuring trick really something you learned from the barbarians?”

By now Qin Yao had sobered up somewhat and was less free-spirited than before. She laughed softly. “Want to guess, Elder Brother Feng?”

Her face still carried the rosy flush of wine, and her eyes were bright and sparkling, as if a ripple of water could overflow from them.

Feng Boyu felt his heart beating heavily. A sudden blankness swept through his mind, and he completely forgot what he had meant to say next.

The night banquet at the Wei Duke’s estate went on until well past midnight without ending.

As the revelry had been so thoroughly enjoyable, the guests had drunk freely, and most were tipsy to one degree or another. Qin Yao was by far the most thoroughly drunk, her small head swaying back and forth, her eyelids too heavy to keep open. At last she simply slumped against her brother’s shoulder and fell asleep.

Qu Ziyu was afraid Qin Yao would catch cold, so he had no choice but to help his sister up, take his leave, and bid farewell. The Xia brothers were in a drinking contest with the Crown Prince and the others and had long since passed out in a stupor. Of the three Xia siblings, the only one still sober was Xia Yan, who offered only a brief word of protest before asking a servant to see the Qu siblings out.

Feng Boyu and the Wang siblings took their leave at the same time.

From a distance, Lin Xiao noticed that Qin Yao’s clothing was thin. He wanted very much to have a garment fetched to warm her, but mindful of the many watching eyes and the gossip it might provoke — Kangping in particular, who was hardly more than an arm’s length from him — he refrained. Fortunately, Wang Yingning, feeling the chill of the night breeze, had already sent her maidservant to fetch two cloaks, and now shared one with Qin Yao.

Qu Ziyu privately admired Wang Yingning’s thoughtfulness and thanked her, then carried his still-sleeping sister into the carriage and headed back to the Qu residence.

The next morning Qin Yao woke up crying that her head ached. She told her maid Caiping to go to the kitchen and fetch her a remedy for her hangover. Qu Chen Shi heard the commotion and came at once. Seeing her daughter sprawled on the bed and flatly refusing to get up, she couldn’t help but find it a little amusing. She personally fed her daughter a bowl of the hangover remedy, then began questioning her about the events of the previous night at the Wei Duke’s estate — asking primarily and insistently about Qu Ziyu’s movements. “What young ladies were there from which households last night? What did they look like? Did your brother take a liking to any of them?”

“Brother is so canny — how would I know about any of this? There are so many families these days trying to arrange a match with him. Surely you’re not worried he can’t find a wife?” Qin Yao was too drowsy for words and buried her head in the bedding, refusing to come out.

“It’s precisely because that child has such deep thoughts that I worry,” said Qu Chen Shi. “What if we end up with someone who doesn’t suit him — and the two of them can’t get along as husband and wife — that’s a matter for a lifetime.” She herself had spent years with Qu Enze in a marriage of genuine warmth and affection, and naturally she hoped her children could find equally good matches.

Hearing this, Qin Yao didn’t know why, but her thoughts suddenly drifted to Wang Yingning’s serene, lovely face. She let her mind wander a moment, then laughed inwardly at herself for being fanciful. Miss Wang was the treasured daughter of a Minister, and possessed those looks besides — suitors must already be wearing out the threshold of her door. The Qu family could hardly aspire to such a connection.

This was not something to say to her mother. She lay in bed for a while longer. Thinking of the drum-passing game the night before, Qin Yao brought up with her mother the idea of hiring a private female tutor for her. It wasn’t that she was selling herself short — but with her enrollment at Yunyin Academy coming up, she was bound to move in circles with these daughters of Chang’an’s great households. Situations like last night would surely arise again. She couldn’t always find clever workarounds. Better to get by well enough for this one year first, and then see.

Qu Chen Shi had no objection at all. She immediately discussed it with Qu Enze, and the two of them sent out inquiries everywhere. In the end, they did not find a female tutor, but found instead an elderly scholar past seventy. This old gentleman was said to have been a celebrated scholar in Chang’an in his day, but had suffered a great reversal of fortune that stripped him of everything. He still had a scholar’s pride and backbone, however, and would only accept making a living by teaching. Qu Enze went to considerable effort to bring him into the household to instruct Qin Yao in poetry and essays.

The old gentleman’s surname was Fu. In addition to his vast learning, his touch on the ancient zither was also exquisite. But Qin Yao wanted to learn something faster. She had reasoned that among all instruments, the flute seemed relatively simple at a glance, and so she beseeched Old Master Fu to teach her. Old Master Fu laughed at her naivety, saying that despite the deceptively simple structure of the little flute, truly playing it well was no easy feat at all.

And so Qin Yao spent her days busily studying under Old Master Fu. The days slipped by.

After the night banquet at the Wei Duke’s estate, Feng Boyu began dropping by every few days to exchange thoughts on official matters with Qu Ziyu. Sometimes he would also follow Qu Ziyu to the rear courtyard to look in on Qin Yao and bring her some treat or novelty.

One morning, Old Master Fu was granted a day’s leave due to a chill he had caught the night before. Qu Ziyu happened to be at home on rest-day, so he personally taught his sister her lessons himself. He had just finished half of the “Four Horses” poem when a servant reported that Young Master Feng had arrived. Qu Ziyu quickly bid the servant show him in.

Feng Boyu looked haggard and worn as he entered, yawning repeatedly. Qin Yao put down her brush and asked in surprise, “Elder Brother Feng, what’s wrong? Did you not rest well last night?”

Feng Boyu rubbed his temple and said with exhaustion, “Last night there was a murder in Pingkang Lane. The body was sent to our Dali Court overnight. After Magistrate Liu examined the corpse, he submitted an urgent memorial overnight requesting imperial approval for a joint trial by the Three Offices — the Ministry of Punishments, the Censorate, and the Dali Court. Last night our entire office was up the whole night without a wink of sleep.”

“A joint trial by the Three Offices?” Even Qu Ziyu’s expression showed surprise. “What sort of case would require alarming all Three Offices?”

Feng Boyu glanced toward Qin Yao with some hesitation and shook his head. “The case is extremely strange, and the manner in which the victim died was rather gruesome. Better not to speak of it.”

Qin Yao had already pricked up her ears the moment she heard Feng Boyu mention a murder in Pingkang Lane. Hearing the words “gruesome death,” she could restrain herself no longer. “Elder Brother Feng, you just said the murder occurred in Pingkang Lane — does that mean the victim was a woman?”

Feng Boyu’s hand paused as he lifted his teacup.

Qin Yao probed further: “Magistrate Liu’s reason for requesting the Three Offices — could it be that a similar case has already occurred in Pingkang Lane before?”

Feng Boyu looked at Qin Yao in considerable surprise, hesitating on how to respond.

When she saw his expression, Qin Yao could hold back no longer. She rose from behind the writing desk and walked quickly to stand before him. “Don’t tell me this woman also had her facial features gouged out?”

Feng Boyu gave a jolt and leaped to his feet. “How did you know—”

“Her features were truly taken? Was it her eyes this time? Or her throat?”

Without waiting for Feng Boyu to answer, Qin Yao paced back and forth across the room in angry agitation. “Who could be so utterly deranged as to keep doing this to people again and again?!”

Feng Boyu stared at Qin Yao in bewildered alarm. After a long moment, he relented. “The victim’s nose was cut away at the root — her original appearance could not be identified at all. We interrogated over ten entertainment houses in Pingkang Lane through the night before we could establish the victim’s identity.”

A flash of white light burst through Qin Yao’s mind. First the throat, then the eyes, now the nose. Of the senses — taste, hearing, sight, and breath — three of the four had now been taken… The more she thought about it, the more alarmed she became. She suddenly bolted toward the door. “I need to go to Qingyun Temple.”

Qu Ziyu was startled. “Why are you going to Qingyun Temple out of nowhere?”

“I have something to ask my Master. Elder Brother Feng, once I’ve brought my Master back, I’ll come to the Dali Court to find you.” Qin Yao’s voice faded in the distance as she answered on her way out.

Chang Rong was idly chatting with Wei Bo when he happened to notice Qin Yao coming out of the Qu residence dressed in Daoist robes. He immediately became alert. “Let’s go—” he said, and without a sound, the two of them followed her from a discreet distance.

Half a month ago, on a certain day, the Young Lord had returned from the Wei Duke’s estate and immediately summoned Chang Rong and Wei Bo. He had given them orders to follow the little Daoist girl from that day forth, protecting her in secret.

“The little Daoist girl? We’re going to protect her?” Chang Rong was both startled and deeply affronted. He and Wei Bo were death-soldiers cultivated by Prince Lan’s estate over many years, loyal to the Young Lord alone. All these years they had followed the Young Lord through countless dangers — what hardships had they not endured? At the Young Lord’s single command, they would climb mountains of blades and descend into seas of fire without hesitation. But the last thing Chang Rong had expected was that one day, the Young Lord would send them to protect an outsider.

“The little Daoist girl’s own combat skill is quite good — why would she need our protection?” Chang Rong argued his case. “Besides, these past few days, with Wang Dahai and Cheng Shan away in Yingchuan handling the affairs left by the late Lady of the estate, we’re already two men short. If we pull two more people away to protect the little Daoist girl, the Young Lord will be left with nearly half his shadow guard gone.”

Lin Xiao frowned. “Why are you so long-winded?”

“But—”

“You go because I say you go. Remember this: no matter who gives her trouble, step in without hesitation — don’t concern yourself with the other party’s status.” Lin Xiao added the instruction: “Miss Qu is very perceptive. Make sure she doesn’t notice you.”

When Nanny Wen entered the courtyard, she immediately saw that Chang Rong’s face was off. She was puzzled and pulled her son aside to ask: “What’s the matter?”

Chang Rong glanced back toward the study with an expression of wounded indignation, and said in a muffled voice: “The Young Lord has truly lost his mind!” And he told his mother the whole story of the little Daoist girl from beginning to end.

Nanny Wen was surprised at first, then she fell into a brief reverie and broke into a delighted smile. “Foolish boy — the Young Lord has come to his senses. This is a good thing! He likes this Miss Qu — once his mourning period is over, he can simply take her in as a concubine.”

“A concubine?” Chang Rong hissed as if he had a toothache. That little Daoist girl surely wouldn’t be willing to become someone’s concubine.

“Of course. With Miss Qu’s family background, even if she enters the household first, she can never rank above the future Young Lady of the estate.” Nanny Wen smiled with mysterious satisfaction. These days, Princess Derong had been bringing Commandery Princess Yishu to visit the Prince regularly — the meaning of that was plain enough once you thought about it. The Commandery Princess had been a beauty even as a small child. Now she had grown into something more like a figure out of a painting — the perfect match for the Young Lord. With such a high-born Young Lady of the estate holding the position above, what did it matter how much the Young Lord doted on Miss Qu? She would never be able to stir up any real trouble.

Nanny Wen grew ever more confident in this assessment. She looked at Chang Rong and quietly calculated the days in her mind. The late Lady of the estate had passed away in the fifth month, three years ago; in two more months the Young Lord would be out of mourning. Since the boy had come to his senses, why not let him first take Tingfeng and Saoxue as his chamber attendants, lest once the future Young Lady and Miss Qu both entered the household, there be no one properly attending him at all?

She smiled and stepped toward the inner room. “Tingfeng, Saoxue — where have those two girls gone?” She left Chang Rong standing there, inexplicably dazed, and it was a long while before he came back to himself.