Lingbo knew the hornet affair was a serious matter. With the Rui Prince involved, the Emperor was certain to have many people dealt with harshly. So as Shen Biwei moved to step out of the carriage, Lingbo held her hand and said in a low voice: “You take care of yourself too, and don’t run yourself ragged for others. And especially… don’t fall for the Rui Prince’s tricks.”

The last few words she said in a hushed tone, which made Shen Biwei smile.

Shen Biwei descended from the carriage. Outside, the dusk had already deepened into twilight. To travel by carriage through such twilight, hurrying along one’s way — there was something oddly displaced about it, like torchlight in the dead of night. When they were girls, they had spent most of their time at home. Gradually, they had each had to shoulder their own burdens, and moments like these had multiplied.

The world had always been full of hidden dangers. No matter how well-informed they were, their world remained deeply obscured — just as she hadn’t known that any random official could look up Dai Yuquan’s family background. Just as Shen Biwei herself was being watched in secret from within the palace, every aspect of her scrutinized to determine whether she was worthy of Zhao Yanze — and never mind how much Zhao Yanze coveted her.

But they had long since grown accustomed to making decisions of vital importance for themselves and their loved ones out of this vast unknown twilight, carving out a world for themselves.

“Miss.” Xiao Liu’er watched the expression on Lingbo’s face gradually harden with resolve, and felt an inexplicable unease.

But Lingbo wasn’t angry. She smiled at her with easy warmth.

“What is it?” She saw right through this maid who had been with her for so many years, and teased her fondly: “Xiao Liu’er has something she wants to say.”

Xiao Liu’er knew her words were perhaps a bit naive, but felt compelled to say them anyway.

“Miss.” She gathered her courage. “I think what Miss Shen said is right — you can’t marry someone for their power and status alone. You have to marry someone your heart is drawn to. Yang Niangzi always says that when you marry someone you love, even eating plain gruel tastes sweet.”

She was aware herself that “eating plain gruel” held absolutely no persuasive power, so she immediately corrected course: “But Miss is so capable, she would never be reduced to plain gruel anyway. And hasn’t Miss always taught me herself? Yang Niangzi says what I’ve learned from Miss is more than enough to run a wealthy household — let alone Miss herself. Even if General Pei doesn’t pursue advancement, his talents are no less than General Cui’s, and combined with Miss’s foresight, they’d surely have a lifetime of prosperity and honor…”

Lingbo watched her and wanted to laugh.

People were all the same this way. Even the most modest of souls wanted to pour every last bit of themselves out for someone they cared about, spending every ounce of sincerity to buy that person’s safety and peace of mind.

Hearing it, she felt her heart soften. Smiling, she drew Xiao Liu’er close and pressed her forehead gently against hers.

“Is Xiao Liu’er worried about me?”

“I’m afraid Miss will regret it.” She said it with great seriousness. “My mother, when her match was being arranged, liked a young man from the same village, but my grandfather married her off to another family because they had money. In the end my father was a gambler and lost everything. When famine came, they became refugees just like anyone else and fled to the capital. Before my mother passed, she held my brother’s and my hands and sighed, ‘If only I had known then.’ I was too young to understand at the time, and only grasped her meaning later. Miss, even the plays say it — fate is fickle, and life is as fleeting as duckweed. Even if we chase wealth, we may not obtain it. It’s only a true heart that can be relied upon.”

Lingbo listened and smiled.

“Has Xiao Liu’er said her piece?” she asked sincerely.

Xiao Liu’er, thinking she was being dismissed, hurried to add: “There’s more. I know men can’t always be trusted, but General Pei is so wonderfully handsome — even more handsome than the young male leads in the plays. I’ve seen all the young lords at the Flower Banquet, and none of them are as fine-looking as he is. Even if he’s unreliable later on, at least these years spent with Miss would be good ones. And Miss, haven’t you always felt self-conscious about your looks? If you marry General Pei, your daughters and sons would surely be beautiful — and look at the young cousin: she’s beautiful, and even though her origins are uncertain, she’s always found people to help her. Master Wei the young marquis listens to her so well. So being beautiful really does count for something.”

The carriage was dim inside, but Xiao Liu’er’s eyes shone bright. She was straining with every ounce of herself to be convincing, because she cared about her mistress’s lifelong happiness and was terrified she might take a wrong turn.

Her reasoning was entirely different from Shen Biwei’s — but the sincerity behind it was identical.

Looking into her eyes, Lingbo suddenly understood why Qinglan had once broken off the engagement with Cui Jingyu.

It must have been for her and Yanyan — but not simply out of a desire to take care of them, as Lingbo had once assumed. It was for this very feeling.

The plays were always full of talented scholars and beautiful ladies, of fated lovers meeting like golden wind and jade dew — that single meeting worth more than all the mundane world combined. But Lingbo had seen plenty of golden wind and jade dew in her time. Lady Shen and Minister Shen. Her own mother and Master Ye. Which of them hadn’t been a perfectly matched, talented and beautiful couple at the beginning?

Even Xiao Liu’er knew that a man’s heart could change. What the plays called a golden-jade union tended to fade within a few years, far less durable than silk. And yet the bond between women — whether friendship or something closer to kinship, even something possessive — was another matter entirely. Otherwise Shen Biwei could only honestly admit her hostility toward Pei Zhao, yet would never mention her own wariness the first time Lingbo had brought A’Cuo to meet her.

Precious as gold, steadfast as jade, clear as the moon, constant as the sun. In what way was the bond between women inferior to the bond between a man and a woman?

As high as Shen Biwei. As humble as Xiao Liu’er. As brave as Wei Shancoral. As timid as Fu Yunrui. Yet each had her own particular form of devotion — never courting the powerful merely for the sake of it, but ready to bare heart and liver for the one she truly cared about. Women came in a hundred varieties, but this quality of heart was the same in all of them.

Just as with her own feeling for Qinglan, and Yanyan’s for Qinglan, and even A’Cuo’s for Qinglan — and all the people of the Wutong Courtyard: Yang Niangzi, Chun Ming, Jinghe… How could Qinglan possibly have abandoned this bond of quiet certainty to run away with Cui Jingyu to some distant place?

Just as she herself could never abandon them either.

But fortunately, she didn’t need to abandon them.

She wouldn’t abandon them. She would keep sheltering them, being the Ye Lingbo who shielded them from wind and rain — just as she would always be Xiao Liu’er’s Miss, her lifelong anchor, so that she would never again have to wander lost as she had once done with Liu Ji, destitute and alone.

And so she smiled and said to Xiao Liu’er: “Xiao Liu’er’s reasoning, while sound-seeming, doesn’t quite sit right with me.”

“What’s wrong with it?” Xiao Liu’er was immediately indignant — then, catching the laughter in Lingbo’s eyes, she understood at once: “Miss is teasing me again.”

She knew Lingbo’s personality well — this was someone who most liked to be coaxed and fussed over. She immediately shook Lingbo’s arm: “What’s wrong with what I said? Miss, please teach me.”

Lingbo flicked her on the forehead, then smiled and explained.

“You just said I don’t need to fear Pei Zhao being faithless, and I should marry the person I love. That sounds reasonable enough, but it still places me a step too low. Why should my marriage — even if it isn’t about entrusting my life to someone — still be a matter of fate directing me? That framing still makes it sound like I’m waiting to be chosen. But I’m the one doing the choosing. I choose Pei Zhao — not because he’s somehow better than Dai Yuquan — but simply because I like him, and I can afford to.”

She watched Xiao Liu’er’s bewildered face and laughed.

“Shen Biwei said it herself just now: Dai Yuquan gets to marry the person he likes. Can’t I do the same? My grain transport ships didn’t lose to his. He wants to marry who he likes for the sake of a comfortable life — so I also get to want a comfortable life. Whether Pei Zhao strives upward or not, whether he seeks advancement or doesn’t — none of that matters. I can afford it. I spend lavishly on the finest silk brocade without a second thought — why would I hesitate to spend the same on him? The finest silk brocade appears every year. Someone as strikingly beautiful, as amusing, who genuinely cares for me — you don’t find that everywhere. Viewing peach blossoms calls for good wine to accompany them. In this flourishing springtime of youth, why on earth should I not spend it with him?”

They all said the finest brocade was rare — but rarer still was Pei Zhao. That day at the polo banquet, he had merely plucked a flower, and every noble daughter in the capital wanted him. Even Chen Mengliu had dared go forward to receive his flower. Why couldn’t she? And Pei Zhao’s heart was set on her. What the noble ladies of the capital could enjoy, so could she.

Noble daughters had family pedigree — she had financial standing. Noble daughters had parents to back them up — she had Qinglan and Han Yueqi. Noble daughters had dowries overflowing with gold and jade — so did she, and she also had talent, which was the one thing that would follow her through all of life.

Besides, Pei Zhao was not without merit. He simply had no desire to pursue advancement — but human nature being what it is, if he cared for someone, he would give his best to her. Just as Cui Jingyu had staked his life to protect her elder sister — being by his side, she would be safe.

He didn’t want to fight for riches and honors. Fine — he didn’t have to. She, Ye Lingbo, would earn them herself.

Dai Yuquan had seen her — had seen her talent — but he hadn’t truly seen her. Because his plan was still to collect betrothal gifts and approach the Ye family with a proposal rather than first winning her own heart.

She was not a flower waiting to be plucked. She was Ye Lingbo — the woman who, just like him, could turn the commercial winds of the capital’s markets. If she had been born with his background and a man’s station, she too would have been the kind of figure whose thoughts everyone scrambled to divine.

She, too, could afford to marry the person she loved.

Xiao Liu’er may or may not have understood it all. But she could see the light shining in her own Miss’s eyes in the darkness, and for reasons she couldn’t quite name, she found herself swept up in excitement alongside her. Even if she hadn’t followed every word, it didn’t stop her from feeling an enormous swell of spirit.

Yes — her Miss was every bit the equal of any man. Why shouldn’t she choose a dazzlingly handsome, mutually devoted General Pei? Her Miss could absolutely afford to.

“Tell your brother to let Pei Zhao know that I want him here first thing tomorrow morning. I have something to say to him.” As Lingbo spoke, her expression — though hidden by the dark — was surely one of bright, dancing eyes.

“Yes, Miss!” Xiao Liu’er struck a theatrical bow, as the maids in the plays always did. Lingbo flicked her on the forehead, and she collapsed laughing into her arms.