Xia Yuan had never been publicly snubbed like this before. The soft, gentle expression she habitually wore could barely hold itself together — she was caught somewhere between trying to smile and failing, and the strained look froze on her face.

Kang Ping had not noticed what had just happened at all. She saw Xia Yuan’s expression had turned unpleasant, and forgetting that she had been chattering to Chen Yuqi a moment before, she asked in puzzlement, “What’s wrong? You suddenly look unhappy.”

Xia Yuan drew in several slow, deep breaths, and only when the suffocating tightness in her chest had eased somewhat did she produce a serene smile once more. She turned to Kang Ping and said, “A twinge of chest pain just now, but it’s already passed.”

Kang Ping said “oh,” and added, “Your health is out of sorts every other day. Ask Yu Ruoshui to attend to you when you get the chance.”

Without waiting for Xia Yuan to answer, she pulled both her and Feng Chuyue into the carriage, one on each side, and said in high spirits, “It’s been so long since I’ve had the roasted venison from your family’s kitchen. Let’s have the midday meal at your place, and I’ll head back to the palace in the afternoon.”

The group boarded the carriage.

Feng Chuyue settled in beside Kang Ping and lifted the window curtain to look out. She saw that Xia Di was still standing silently beside the carriage, his expression shifting through emotions she could not quite read. Unable to help herself, with a slight flush of shyness on her face, she reminded him softly: “Young Master Xia —”

Xia Di came back to his senses. He looked back, saw that his sister and the others had already boarded the carriage, and had no choice but to swing himself onto his horse and order the coachman to return to the Duke of Wei’s estate.

The Qu family’s carriage had long since departed.

Qin Yao nestled warmly against Qu Chen Shi, her arms around her neck, and said with a bright smile, “Mother, it’s been so long since I’ve had any of your cooking. For the midday meal, I want to eat your milk cakes and crab roe stuffed pastries.”

“Of course, of course.” Qu Chen Shi loved nothing more than preparing meals for her two children — whenever Qin Yao and her brother were home, not a single bowl of congee or grain of rice went without care and attention, all so that both of them could eat happily.

Qu Ziyu, who had been watching Qin Yao from the side, suddenly spoke up. “Yesterday, Prince Lan’s household sent over some Mid-Autumn gifts.”

Qin Yao heard this and first froze, then her face quickly turned red. Though she kept her arms around Qu Chen Shi’s neck, she no longer dared to meet her mother’s eyes as she had been doing a moment before.

Qu Chen Shi saw the look on her daughter’s face and gave her forehead a light, mock-stern tap. “Your brother told me and your Father already.”

Qin Yao drooped her head and did not dare respond. She should have known all along — something this significant, how could her brother have kept it from their parents? He had most likely told them everything he knew, each and every detail.

“When your father and I found out, neither of us slept well for several nights. You had never mentioned anything about this before, so how did an heir of Prince Lan’s suddenly appear out of nowhere? Your father couldn’t contain himself and ran to Qingyun Monastery to ask your master. But your master, with that fiery temper of his, said exactly the same thing your brother had — that ‘although this young man was born into splendor, his character is genuinely sound, and if A’Yao herself is willing, then let them be.’ Your father was completely at a loss after that. He had met the heir of Prince Lan on a few occasions before, but his understanding of the man was quite limited — and since this concerns your future for the rest of your life, it simply would not do to have an imperial marriage decree arrive at the door while we were still stumbling around in ignorance.”

Qin Yao sat there in embarrassed silence, twisting the crimson sash on her skirt with her fingers, unable to utter a single word.

Qu Chen Shi was a woman of experience, and seeing her daughter in this state, she understood perfectly. She thought of Feng Boyu, and a touch of regret crept into her sigh before she continued: “Your father thought that no matter what, he needed to meet this young man in person and hear from him directly. But before he even had a chance to seek him out, the household of Prince Lan sent someone over yesterday bearing gifts and a calling card. It said the prince intends to pay a visit today.”

Qin Yao looked up in shock. “Today?”

“Indeed.” Qu Chen Shi looked at her daughter. “The person who came yesterday with the gifts said as much, and the card made it quite clear. So your father and I were up before dawn making preparations, for fear of being a poor host. The gifts that arrived were exceptionally generous as well — rare wines and delicacies the likes of which I had never heard of, all of them said to be from the Western Regions. Since this all carries several layers of meaning, your father and I did not feel we could refuse, and so we accepted.”

Qin Yao ducked her head again, her face still red.

Qu Chen Shi studied Qin Yao sidelong and said nothing more, privately thinking to herself: if Prince Lan had truly come about the matter of arranging a match between the two children, then the heir of Prince Lan’s regard for Qin Yao was genuinely sincere. He had attended to every detail, taking this so seriously and with such care — giving them, as Qin Yao’s parents, a measure of respect that was their due.

Rather than simply pressing down upon them with imperial authority.

Qu Ziyu had not expected Lin Xiao to be quite this decisive and true to his word. The lingering unease he had felt before dissipated considerably. He looked up to see Qin Yao sitting there, too embarrassed to speak, and gave a faint smile. “Stop being so caught up in embarrassment and tell Mother what’s actually in your heart. If Prince Lan truly comes today to sound things out on behalf of his son, are you willing to marry the heir of Prince Lan?”

Qin Yao buried her face in Qu Chen Shi’s embrace, desperately wishing she could cover her face with her sleeve. After a long moment, she stole a glance upward, saw that her mother and brother had no intention of letting her off the hook, and had no choice but to nod, her face crimson.

Qu Chen Shi pinched Qin Yao’s cheek and said in mock exasperation, “A grown daughter cannot be kept at home — now at last I understand what that saying truly means.”

By the afternoon, Prince Lan did indeed come to call.

Qin Yao stayed in her own courtyard and did not dare go out. Cai Ping volunteered to run to the front courtyard and gather news. When she came back, she reported only this: “The prince’s complexion wasn’t very good. He looked like someone who had just recovered from a serious illness — a bit listless and wan. But he spoke very courteously, without any of the air of a royal at all. He had tea in the front reception hall for a while, then followed the master to the study to talk. The doors were shut tight and no one was allowed anywhere near.”

Qin Yao sat before her vanity table, carefully placing the plum blossom hairpin and pearl earrings Lin Xiao had given her into her jewelry case. Hearing what Cai Ping said, she suddenly recalled the day she had seen Prince Lan storming out of the wine tower in thunderous rage — the sight of him had been frightening enough even then. She remembered thinking it strange at the time, and now, looking back, it seemed the prince had not only been furious then, but had apparently gone on to fall ill from the anger afterward. She had no idea what had happened that day to put him in such a state.

And yet, it seemed, no sooner had he recovered than Lin Xiao had persuaded him to come pay a call on her family.

Thinking of how much more decisive and forthright Lin Xiao’s actions had turned out to be than she had imagined, Qin Yao felt something sweet and warm spread through her heart, as if she had just swallowed a spoonful of honey.

That evening, the Qu family gathered for dinner.

She had no idea what Prince Lan had said to her father in the afternoon, but her father’s face was glowing with satisfaction and pleasure.

After a sip of wine, Qu Enzhe looked at Qin Yao and said, “You, child, never tell your parents anything. Fortunately, Prince Lan was gracious and thoughtful enough in his conduct — he is not the sort to use his imperial standing to pressure people. Otherwise, the imperial marriage decree might well have arrived at our front door before your parents even knew what had happened.”

Over the years he had served as an official dutifully and gone about his life honestly, never entertaining thoughts of attaching himself to the powerful. He had always hoped to find well-matched unions for both his son and daughter when the time came — yet before he could even act on that wish, Qin Yao had quietly and without a word gone ahead and brought home a prince’s heir as a future son-in-law.

Qin Yao, knowing full well she was in the wrong, kept her head down and focused on her rice, not daring to respond.

Qu Enzhe turned to Qu Chen Shi and continued, “From the prince’s meaning, the emperor will be issuing the marriage decree before long. Although we have been gathering A’Yao’s dowry piece by piece over the years and have accumulated a fair amount, marrying into a prince’s household is a different matter entirely. We will need to add a good deal more, so that people do not look down on us.”

Qu Ziyu lowered his eyes. He recalled that some time ago, Wang Yikun had mentioned that Lin Xiao’s mother was a daughter of the Zheng family, a distinguished clan of a hundred years’ standing. When she had married into Prince Lan’s household, her dowry had been extraordinarily lavish, and to this day, many people in Chang’an still remembered the splendor of that occasion — it was frequently brought up in idle conversation as the benchmark against which the dowries of today’s aristocratic brides were measured.

His father’s intention was entirely loving and came from the heart, yet even if the Qu family were to pool every resource they had, they would likely be unable to match even a tenth of what the late Princess Lan had brought with her. But thinking such thoughts was one thing — saying them aloud would only sour the moment. In any case, preparing more dowry for Qin Yao was never a bad thing. He just hoped that their parents would not drive themselves to blind, anxious effort, or worse, to self-reproach over it.

Qin Yao had not expected her father to bring up her dowry directly in front of her, and she could not sit still a moment longer. She slipped away back to her room in a flash.

The next morning, Qin Yao set out early, intending to visit Qingyun Monastery to find her master and senior brother, bringing along some seasonal Mid-Autumn sweets. She planned to return home before noon.

It was the crisp, bright height of autumn. Golden osmanthus blossoms had quietly opened in every corner of Chang’an. As the carriage rolled along, an autumn breeze lifted the curtain and carried in a fragrance of staggering richness — as full and sweet as Qin Yao’s mood at that moment.

Halfway there, the carriage suddenly came to a stop. From outside, she heard Lu Da’s voice, respectfully and solemnly: “Your Highness the Heir Apparent.”

Qin Yao quickly lifted the curtain and looked out. Sure enough, Lin Xiao was there on horseback, waiting in front of the carriage. When he saw Qin Yao appear, he smiled and said, “I just came from the palace. I was going to come find you, but Chang Rong told me you had gone to Qingyun Monastery.”

Qin Yao laughed with delight. “I’m on my way to bring my master his Mid-Autumn gifts.”

She looked up and noticed the gold crown on his head, the jade-inlaid belt at his waist, and the formal python-patterned robe he wore according to his rank — dressed with exceptional formality. She guessed inwardly that it must be because today was the Mid-Autumn Festival and he had been required to attend the palace banquet with the emperor and others.

Lin Xiao seemed to know exactly what she was thinking. He guided his horse closer and said, “His Majesty is hosting a banquet at Taiye Pool this evening. The daytime is free.”

And so he had come to find her.

Qin Yao felt even happier and gave an “mm” of agreement. “Then — shall we go?”

Lin Xiao had Lu Da take up the reins again and rode alongside, exchanging words with Qin Yao from time to time.

Qin Yao listened to his clear, cheerful voice and could not help lifting the carriage curtain now and then to steal a glance at him. She thought to herself with a touch of wistfulness: her mother had prepared so many of her signature dishes for the midday meal — how lovely it would be if Lin Xiao could join them at the table too.