◎ Little Leaf ◎

“Still I remember Little Leaf in the spring breeze turning, the faint, wistful tears I saw that day. The past made plain—only resentment remains.”

“I regret my own fickle heart, hard to untangle; ten years like a dream, nothing left to hold onto. A beauty’s face, a thousand graces.”

Ye Liuchun had a beautiful voice, and paired with the exquisite moon lute and her lithe, mournful singing, it was enough to leave anyone entranced.

She rarely sang such a lonely, wistful tune—what Qu You had once heard at Fan Tower had been full of tender romance between men and women, and what Gao Yunyue had heard at banquets before had carried the weight and sharp elegance of clashing steel. This sudden, different melody now left everyone silent for a long while.

Gao Yunyue looked utterly enraptured. When Ye Liuchun finished singing, she lowered her head and noticed the lovers’ knot hanging from beneath her moon lute. She rarely played so unguardedly; her lashes drooped slightly, as if some hard-to-name memory had surfaced.

Qu You watched her, a little surprised—she could more or less guess what was on the other woman’s mind.

Because she’d read this very poem before. It was an early ci-poem by Bai Shating, titled “Spring Breeze Verse.”

She remembered the annotations too—”Little Leaf” was a woman the poet had known in his youth; watching her grow from a young girl into a renowned courtesan, moved by her fate, he’d written many verses for her, while also mocking himself as “fickle,” unable to offer her any real support.

But “Little Leaf,” fully aware of his inconstancy, had only ever treated him as an ordinary guest—leaving him to lament, helplessly, why she should greet him with the same “thousand graces” she showed every other visitor.

Little Leaf…

Seeing the trace of sorrow on her face, Qu You spoke up gently. “This must be Master Thirteen’s new work—it’s beautifully written.”

Gao Yunyue came back to herself. “So this is Master Thirteen’s ci! If I’d known Chun Niangzi was close with Master Thirteen, I would have already heard this one.”

Though Bai Shating’s conduct was often outrageous, every ci-poem that came from his brush would circulate quietly among the women of the capital’s inner households. Gao Yunyue, with her love of poetry and music, surely wouldn’t have missed it—she’d read a good many of his works already.

“You You guessed correctly,” Ye Liuchun said, coming back to herself with a smile. “This one’s a little different—I didn’t hire a musician for it, I composed the melody myself. If you two enjoyed it, then it wasn’t for nothing. What do you think, Miss Gao?”

“Though it recalls the spring breeze, it carries such loneliness,” Gao Yunyue answered earnestly. “The words and the melody suit each other perfectly, seamlessly matched—hearing it stirs something in the heart. A song like this, Chun Niangzi, should only be sung for someone truly close to you.”

Ye Liuchun smiled. “Exactly so. And today, I sang it for someone I consider a true friend.”

The moment she finished speaking, a man’s soft cough sounded abruptly from behind the flower-lattice window nearby.

Gao Yunyue started, snatching up the round fan she’d been idly holding and ducking behind the other two to hide her face. Qu You rose, somewhat startled to see Zhou Tan and a man about the same height as him rounding the corridor from one side. To avoid intruding, they’d deliberately stopped some distance away, without approaching further.

Only then did she notice that the man beside Zhou Tan was none other than the Crown Prince, Song Shiyan, whom she’d seen once before.

He’d changed into the more casual clothing typical of noble young men, which made him seem considerably more approachable than when he’d worn the pale gold formal robes of a prince before. Ye Liuchun, the calmest of the three, stepped forward first and offered a bow of greeting; Qu You and Gao Yunyue followed behind her. “Your Highness, may you be well.”

“Chun Niangzi’s song moved even me,” Song Shiyan said, waving for them to rise, his tone lazy. “The three of you—very good. When you have the time, bring Yuanjun along to listen to some music too.”

The “Yuanjun” he referred to was none other than the Crown Princess, Li Yuanjun, whom Qu You had just seen at the banquet. Li Yuanjun was Song Shiyan’s cousin, the daughter of Senior General Li Wei.

Though born into a military family, Li Yuanjun wasn’t in the best of health. Qu You had noticed the Crown Princess earlier, timid and treading carefully, which suggested the rumors of a cold relationship between her and the Crown Prince were probably true—his remark just now was likely nothing more than a polite formality.

As she thought this, she glanced up and happened to meet Song Shiyan’s meaningful gaze. There was an unreadable smile in his eyes; seeing her look up without lowering her gaze, he narrowed his eyes and said, “Chun Niangzi, come sing it once more for me.”

“Yes.” Ye Liuchun cradled her moon lute, gave Qu You’s hand a squeeze, and followed the Crown Prince away.

Zhou Tan came closer and spoke. “A moment ago, as I was passing outside the wall with His Highness and a group of talented young men, we walked faster than the others and happened to hear the music—I hope we weren’t too intrusive. Chief Chancellor Gao should be passing by here shortly as well…”

The words “Chief Chancellor Gao” and “talented young men” were enough to make Gao Yunyue decide at once. She immediately grabbed Qu You’s hand. “I’ll go help Mother hand out chrysanthemum cakes. You You, go with Lord Zhou.”

Watching her lift her skirts and vanish swiftly down the corridor, Qu You couldn’t help but laugh. “Why tease her like that? Look how you scared her off.”

“‘Tease’ isn’t quite the right word,” Zhou Tan said, walking over to stroll alongside her down the corridor. “I was telling the truth.”

“Mm-hm, sure, the truth—anyway, let’s talk business. As we discussed, I’ve met with Madam Liu,” Qu You said. “Young Master Du’s reputation is exactly as bad as they say—Miss Liu was regularly abused by him.”

“That would damage the Liu family’s reputation—no wonder Madam Liu didn’t dare say much during questioning,” Zhou Tan said with a sound of acknowledgment. “What else did she say?”

“Madam Liu said Lianxi always went to bed early, and would be drowsy well before the second watch—there’s no way she could have caught someone stealing at midnight. The Capital Prefecture’s investigation was vague, the witnesses incomplete, and she wasn’t even allowed to see the body,” Qu You recalled.

Zhou Tan frowned. “Normally, a body in a case like this should be held at the Capital Prefecture for seven days. They likely weren’t taking it seriously before and didn’t dispose of it early—but now that His Majesty’s decree has come down, they won’t dare act rashly either way. Tomorrow I’ll take men to examine the body first, then go find any household servants or maids at the Du residence who might have witnessed something. Madam Liu’s body was found in the back garden—if she died within the household, it’s unlikely no one at all knew.”

Qu You nodded. “Then I’ll ask Ding Xiang and Zhi Ling to reach out to Boss Ai for help. With how sudden this all was, if the Du household wants to deal with anyone who knows too much, they can’t kill everyone—some may have been sold off or fled. There should be some leads to find there.”

“Thank you for the trouble,” the two of them said, walking together toward the front hall. As they crossed a stone bridge, Zhou Tan suddenly spoke. “It’s a pity you’re already someone’s wife, and a noblewoman besides—you can’t simply walk into the Ministry of Justice. You’ll need to disguise yourself as a man when you come, and register under a false name in the records. Have you thought of one yet?”

“Not yet.”

Qu You laughed quietly to herself—Zhou Tan’s phrasing struck her as funny, “already someone’s wife,” as if she’d married someone other than him. She shook her head, then suddenly asked, curious, “Little Li mentioned to me once that the Ministry of Justice does have female clerks, doesn’t it?”

“Very few,” Zhou Tan said, sparing with his words. “Only a handful assigned to guard female prisoners—women aren’t taken on as blade-bearing guards. There are two who handle drafting legal texts and case files.”

“Oh…” Qu You murmured slowly, then asked, “So is there anything else I could do?”

“Nothing for now. Rest for the time being—if I find anything, I’ll let you know. I’ve noticed you’ve been reading quite a bit from the General Discourse on Criminal Law in the study. If you’re interested, I’ll have someone find more for you.”

Qu You immediately brightened. “Wonderful, wonderful.”

Her doctoral thesis—finally, real material to work with!

Although, she supposed, she probably didn’t need to worry about her doctoral thesis anymore…

The next day, Qu You woke early. Her recent schedule had gradually shifted toward the ancient practice of early to bed, early to rise, and even Nanny Yun had praised how much more often she was eating breakfast these days.

After finishing the jujube paste rolls and mung bean ice cake on the table, Qu You suddenly found herself thinking, for no particular reason, of how pitiful Qu Jiaxi used to look whenever she ate sweets. She sighed inwardly, then had the carriage prepared, planning to visit her family home.

She’d timed her visit well this time—Qu Cheng was still at the morning court session and hadn’t yet returned. Yin Xiangru, hearing she’d come, was overjoyed and immediately had her shown in.

Qu You handed out the jujube paste rolls and mung bean ice cake she’d brought for her two younger sisters, then personally prepared a bowl of lean meat and salted congee. Just as she set it on the table, Qu Cheng walked in, still in his official robes, and let out a cold snort upon seeing her there.

Still, he didn’t have her thrown out.

The family gathered around the table—concubines were, as always, not permitted to sit at the main table. Qu Xiangwen had gone off to school, and Qu Jiaxi and Qu Jiayu, sensing their father’s displeasure, didn’t dare say much, focusing instead on eating as quickly as they could. The moment they finished, Qu Cheng coldly ordered them to leave.

Qu You gave her mother a glance, indicating she’d come find her later, then dismissed the servants. In the vast hall, only father and daughter remained.

“Kneel.”

Qu Cheng looked at her coldly, his tone indifferent. Qu You remained seated at the table, unmoving, and asked, “Father, why do you want me to kneel?”

“Beating the drum on the Imperial Street, showing your face in public, pleading the case of courtesans—do you take pride in any of this?” Qu Cheng slammed the table. “If Zhou Tan wanted to champion his mistress’s cause, why would you go rushing in to be his pawn! If you hadn’t gone, would he really have laid a hand on you? If you’d been pushed into something like that, why didn’t you come tell your father?”

His words caught Qu You completely off guard. She rose and knelt before Qu Cheng—she’d never been comfortable with kneeling rites, but strangely, kneeling before Qu Cheng and Yin Xiangru had never weighed on her at all.

Qu You said quietly, “Father, you misunderstand. Actually… I chose to go myself.”

Qu Cheng froze. “What did you say?”

Qu You steeled herself and continued, “I befriended those courtesans myself, and was moved by their circumstances. I chose, of my own will, to beat the drum on their behalf. If I weren’t the family member of an official, a woman beating the drum would first be sentenced to twenty strokes of the courtyard rod—how could someone with a delicate constitution endure that? If Father wishes to punish me for this today, I have no regrets. And this has nothing to do with Zhou Tan—the rumors in the streets, that he was protecting my reputation, those were deliberately spread by him.”

Qu You kept her head bowed. Qu Cheng, however, said nothing for a long while. Staring at his official boots, she suddenly felt a bittersweet ache rise in her chest—in her own former life, her father had died young; she’d never even met him. That Qu Cheng showed her even this much concern moved her more than she’d expected.

“Get up.”

After a long pause, she heard Qu Cheng say.

“What you did was reckless and improper, yet there’s a certain valor in it too. It deserves reproach, but also some praise.” Qu Cheng sighed, then scolded her again, exasperated. “How did I never know you had such nerve before? Did you never once think about what would become of your reputation afterward?”

Qu You let out a breath of relief—Qu Cheng really was every inch the scholar-official.

What she’d violated was womanly virtue; what she’d upheld was righteousness. The rigid, old-fashioned officials of the Censorate scorned her, and the women of the capital mocked her, but among the younger scholars and the more upright officials, there were still those who thought what she’d done deserved praise.

And Qu Cheng, being her father, was no exception.

He scolded her several times more before finally letting her rise. “…Never mind that. Besides what I’ve just said, there’s one more matter. I may have misjudged the situation this time, but you should still keep your distance from that Vice Minister Zhou going forward. That man’s mind runs deeper than anyone can fathom—if he wanted to harm you, it would be effortless for him. As long as he shows no interest and no cruelty toward you, treat him politely, keep your guard up, and we’ll see how things unfold.”

He didn’t say more, but Qu You understood his meaning well enough. In Qu Cheng’s eyes, Zhou Tan’s reputation was in ruins; however much he was flourishing right now, it surely wasn’t a lasting state of affairs, and if she gave him her heart, it might well bring disaster down on herself one day.

“And when you visited home after the wedding, you actually argued with your own family over him!” Qu Cheng, seemingly remembering this all over again, said angrily. “Do you remember what I told you?”

“Father—”

Qu You pushed the bowl of lean meat congee toward him. Qu Cheng, only somewhat mollified, picked up the spoon and took a sip, finding it fragrant on his lips.

Qu You asked him very earnestly, “I have a question I’d like to ask you. In your view, what is the ‘truth of a person’?”

Qu Cheng, spoon in hand, went still for a moment.