Years ago, when Lady Ye was still alive, the sisters had once spoken about their names. Qinglan in those days was not yet the wholly composed figure she had become — she still had her girlish moments, and she had petulantly complained that her mother had given her a poor name: “Qinglan sounds so small — just small ripples on the surface of water. The imagery isn’t grand.”
Lady Ye had laughed and soothed her: “Who told you that? My Qinglan’s name has beautifully expansive imagery — ‘the water stretches far, its ripples green and still; the mountains rise high, their air serene and clear’ is a well-known line from Tang poetry. And besides, waves and ripples are part of the same thing — you and Lingbo will always be sisters, one breath, one branch. Isn’t that a fine name?”
But that had been ten years ago.
Lady Ye was gone. The Ye Qinglan who had once nestled in her arms had grown into the eldest sister who bore the weight of the Wutong Courtyard on her shoulders, without disappointing a single one of her mother’s hopes.
Her appearance in the hall made every soul present straighten and draw a breath — just as the poem described, the view seemed to open wide all at once. And the way she walked toward them smiling, taking Lingbo’s hand in her own, was exactly as Lady Ye had hoped: sisters as one, one breath, one branch.
Lingbo’s eyes grew hot. She instinctively tried to pull her hand back, but Qinglan held it firmly and led her by the hand to stand before Master Ye. Qinglan’s gaze as she looked at him was resolute and grave. Master Ye, for his part, was unnerved and could not hold her eyes.
“I only just returned, and only caught fragments of what was said.” She always began with courtesy before moving to force, yet the dignity in her bearing made people instinctively afraid of her, even as she asked, unhurried and measured: “Did I mishear, or did Father truly say he was going to drive Lingbo out? That she is not a daughter of our Ye family?”
The opening she offered was obvious enough — Master Ye hesitated for an instant. But Pan Yurong would not allow that hesitation and immediately erupted: “Of course it’s true! Ye Lingbo is not the Master’s blood at all — she was only a foundling, a poor commoner’s infant that Lady Ye took in. Lady Ye is gone now, and the Master is the heaven of this household. Ye Lingbo is defiant toward the Master, ruinous to the family’s conduct. The Master has every right to drive her out — and any court of law would agree with us…”
Lingbo knew what Pan Yurong said was, by the letter of the law, correct. Even the laws of the Great Zhou stood on Pan Yurong’s side in this. And Qinglan, of all people, was the most bound by propriety — she feared Qinglan might have no way to break through this impasse.
But she hadn’t anticipated Qinglan’s reply.
“Since Concubine has raised the matter of bloodline, then let us speak of bloodline.” She said it calmly. “I am not skilled at argument, so I will speak plainly. Regardless of who gave birth to Lingbo, she is my own younger sister. When Mother was alive, we were sisters — now that Mother is gone, I, Lingbo, and Yanyan are still sisters born of the same root. Nothing can separate that. If Concubine insists on opening this matter, then I have no choice but to open matters concerning Concubine as well.”
Anyone else saying those words — even Lingbo — would not have rattled Pan Yurong.
But it was Ye Qinglan speaking them.
Through all these years, no matter how little Lingbo acknowledged the main courtyard, how steadfastly she called Ye Zhongqing “Master Ye” and refused to call him Father, how she had always called Pan Yurong by her name and never as Lingbo had done with their own scathing tongue — Ye Qinglan had remained bound to the proprieties. At every new year and festival, she still addressed Master Ye as Father. She had never pointed a finger at Pan Yurong’s face and hurled abuse at her, as Lingbo had. This was the very foundation Pan Yurong had always relied upon: Master Ye was now the head of the household, and he had elevated Pan Yurong in name — ratified before heaven and the ancestors, recorded in the clan registry — which made her, outwardly, the new Lady Ye, a position not to be shaken.
For Ye Qinglan — who had always kept herself most strictly to propriety — to say those words, Pan Yurong was, of course, afraid.
“What do you mean by that!” She was both frightened and furious, and so she grew more incensed. She clutched Master Ye’s arm and cried: “Master, do you hear? Even the Elder Miss has gone mad — threatening me now!”
Master Ye was immediately incensed as well: “Qinglan, what do you mean? Yurong is the one I elevated — it was ratified before heaven and the ancestors, entered into the clan registry. Are you trying to contest that?”
“Those who attend to civil affairs must also be prepared for military ones. I am only following the currents where they lead.” Qinglan answered him with composure. “Seven years ago, the main courtyard and the Wutong Courtyard agreed to have nothing to do with each other. I assumed Father was honoring that understanding. Today Father has crossed that line, so I have no other recourse. Pan Yurong was a bonded servant under my mother’s authority. In betraying her mistress, she committed the crime of a slave against her master — by law, she should be flayed. Under the laws of the Great Zhou, the noble and the low-born may not marry. Father, as an official, took a bonded woman for a wife, elevating a concubine over a principal wife — the punishment for that is ninety strokes and demotion by one rank. Since Father insists on driving Lingbo out, I have no choice but to see it through to the end.”
Pan Yurong had been bracing herself for something worse, but hearing this, she immediately laughed coldly.
“The Elder Miss has truly lost her mind. I may have been born a bonded servant, but when the Master took me as his concubine, I had the bond deed removed from the Lady’s hands and redeemed my commoner status. I am a freeborn concubine, which is how I became the Lady of the Ye household.” She even sneered: “Elder Miss, if you had the industry to study the laws of the Great Zhou, you should have acted on this seven years ago — why wait until now?”
“Is that so?” Qinglan looked at her steadily. “Your bond deed — has it truly been returned to you?”
Pan Yurong’s heart gave a lurch, but she assumed Qinglan was bluffing and steadied herself. “My bond deed is naturally in my possession. Where else would it be — with you?”
“Yang Niangzi,” Qinglan said quietly.
Yang Niangzi had apparently returned with her as well. No one had noticed when she’d slipped in — she was standing to one side, holding a mother-of-pearl inlaid box. At Qinglan’s call, she stepped forward and opened it.
The moment Pan Yurong saw what was inside the box, she lunged for it. But Yang Niangzi had no intention of letting her. The Wutong Courtyard had its own fierce and formidable household women, who immediately blocked Pan Yurong. Yang Niangzi serenely carried the box back to Qinglan’s side.
“Impossible!” Pan Yurong’s eyes were wild, her reason entirely abandoned. “Lady gave the bond deed back to me — the Master told her to, and she agreed on the spot. She couldn’t have — Lady was the most reasonable of people, she always acted with integrity, she would never have deceived anyone…”
“Mother was indeed upright in her conduct, magnanimous and accommodating — which is precisely why you dared betray your mistress, and why Father dared elevate a concubine over his principal wife and stand by as you tried to destroy us three sisters, step by step.” Qinglan stated it simply. “Fortunately, Mother saw through you both long ago, and so she left this behind as our final safeguard. What she handed to Father was a counterfeit. The true deed has been in my keeping all along. Father elevated a concubine over a principal wife, and you betrayed your mistress — a slave assaulting her superior. The witnesses and evidence are all here. As long as I remain in this household, neither of you can touch Lingbo.”
The most lethal lie is the one told by the most honest person.
One raises a child for a hundred years and worries for ninety-nine of them. It was almost impossible to fathom what weight of dread Lady Ye must have carried in her final moments — leaving three daughters behind in the Ye household, surrounded on all sides by wolves. She could not rest easy even in death. So she had cast aside the principles of a lifetime and buried this last resort in place, to protect her children one final time.
The serving women of the Wutong Courtyard were all mothers themselves. Grasping the depth of what lay behind it all, they could not hold back their tears. Even Yang Niangzi, whose heart was ordinarily as hard as iron, had reddened eyes.
Tears shimmered in Qinglan’s eyes as well. But the gaze she turned on Master Ye and Pan Yurong remained cold as ten thousand feet of ice.
And at last, Master Ye’s expression changed.
“I told you not to be reckless. Even if Lingbo had done wrong, Qinglan could have reprimanded her herself — you had to come and overstep. We are family — making such a spectacle of ourselves. Even if Qinglan is magnanimous, she won’t forgive you for this…” He immediately turned on Pan Yurong.
Pan Yurong understood the cue and immediately pivoted to plead with Qinglan: “Elder Miss has misunderstood. I only heard what people outside were saying about Second Miss — it was concern that got the better of me. I came out of worry for the household’s reputation, for everyone’s sake…”
Qinglan cut her off.
“Father,” she said, addressing only Master Ye, her voice cool: “From this point forward, our household will remain as before — the main courtyard keeps to itself, and the Wutong Courtyard keeps to itself. No interference in either direction. Is that agreed?”
Master Ye had no choice but to brace himself and answer: “Naturally.”
“Then I won’t see you out.” Qinglan issued the dismissal.
This battle had been fought brilliantly. The Wutong Courtyard’s servants each stood taller, relief and triumph in their bearing. The household managers and senior women had seen something of the world, but many of the younger manservants were new to this, the boldness of youth untempered by experience — so they crowded to the front and watched, as if standing escort over a prisoner, as the main courtyard’s people retreated in disgraced defeat.
Someone whistled. The rest broke into cheers — some jeering, some laughing outright, most calling out: “Five-Step Snake had her fangs pulled today!” “Now you know how formidable our Miss is!” “Get back to your courtyard and stay there!”
Pan Yurong’s face flushed scarlet with rage and humiliation, and she had no recourse but to press herself against Master Ye’s side and flee amid her clustered maids and serving women. Master Ye had taken a deep blow to his dignity and did not spare her a glance the whole way back — he would probably, as he’d done in the years when Pan Yurong had tormented the three sisters, invent some pretext about being busy at the office and take up residence there for ten days or more.
After winning a great victory, all was celebration. The Wutong Courtyard was joyful and alive. Luo Niangzi, warmest of temperament, immediately said: “Everyone worked hard today! Liu Ji, go have wine brought, and tell the kitchen to prepare a proper spread — I’ll host this one. Let everyone eat well!”
“What were you waiting to be told?” Yang Niangzi smiled. “Miss said so herself — everyone has worked hard. Every person gets a reward. Tell the kitchen to put on a full New Year’s feast, several tables — to honor everyone for their efforts today.”
The courtyard erupted in festivity, as merry as the new year itself. Yang Niangzi saw to affairs outside and then went into the warm inner room, where she found Lingbo still sitting in a daze, Qinglan beside her. She exchanged a glance with Qinglan, then beckoned Xiao Liu’er and Chun Ming out with a gesture and pulled the door closed.
They had won against the main courtyard — but this still concerned the Second Miss’s parentage. Twenty years of hidden truth had been exposed before everyone. How could the Second Miss bear this? At a moment like this, even a cup of tea between sisters was one too many. No outsiders should be present. The only thing to do was to leave the two of them to speak alone.
But she hadn’t anticipated Lingbo’s constitution.
More than shock, she had been wounded by the secret. But her heart was not truly in pain — it was more like a porcelain piece riddled with cracks that had finally shattered, and with the shattering, all the causes and all the consequences fell into place.
No wonder.
It was as if a light had been lit, illuminating every overlooked detail of the past — but a pale and cheerless light, like the scene after a feast has ended: cups and dishes scattered in disarray, and she sitting alone in an empty room as everything drifted further away from her.
Qinglan did not offer comfort. She only poured a cup of hot tea, sat at Lingbo’s side, and took the quilted blanket from the warming brazier and spread it over her. It was only then that Lingbo realized she had been trembling without being aware of it. Strangely, she had no urge to cry — her face felt cold, but her ears and eyes burned, as if she were being scalded from within.
She even laughed — but the sound of that laughter was so desolate it was almost indistinguishable from weeping.
“No wonder.” She looked at Qinglan in a daze, as if seeing her for the first time, and seeing herself for the first time too. She was smiling, but her eyes held all the grief of tears. “No wonder I don’t look like Mother. No wonder you and Yanyan are both so open and bright-spirited, and I am always counting every inch and ounce. A cuckoo in the nest — it turns out I was the cuckoo all along. It turns out I am not Ye Lingbo.”
“Lingbo!” Qinglan’s voice cracked like a whip — sharper and more forceful than anyone had ever heard from her. Her eyes held something like fire. She reached out and gripped Lingbo’s hand and said with absolute conviction: “You are forbidden from speaking like that. You will always be my younger sister.”
“Am I?” Ye Lingbo’s face was white as she asked it. Her expression was like a kite suspended in the air, at any moment ready to let go of the string and drift away.
Qinglan’s answer was to tighten her grip and hold Lingbo’s gaze.
“Don’t talk nonsense. Lingbo — you are always my younger sister, always Yanyan’s elder sister. That has nothing to do with who gave birth to you. You aren’t Mother’s daughter by blood — does that make these twenty years false? What did Mother say before she died? The three of us are each other’s closest family, always. As long as I am in this household, no one can say you are not Second Miss Ye. No one has that right.”
And Lingbo came back to herself.
The blankness over her face seemed to return to life all at once, and the gaze she turned on Qinglan was one of shock and guilt. She even sprang to her feet.
“Heaven help me,” she said, and spoke the answer she could barely bring herself to hear: “You stayed behind for me.”
She was too sharp — even in a moment like this, when she was barely in her own body, her mind remained as clear and cutting as a blade. She stood beside the warming brazier and looked at Qinglan with heartbreak in her eyes.
“If you had married Cui Jingyu, you would have become a married woman — no longer a Ye daughter with standing in this household. Yanyan is still a girl at home, but she’s too young. Even with Pan Yurong’s bond deed, she would have had no standing to bring a suit.” In an instant she had seen through the full answer that had been hidden for four years: “So you could not marry. You had to wait until I was safely out of this family before you could set aside the role of elder sister and become a wife. That is why you broke the engagement!”
A flicker of something helpless passed over Qinglan’s composed face.
“It wasn’t entirely that.” She tried vainly to explain: “I could have become engaged first — you didn’t affect my ability to marry…”
“But the war broke out. Didn’t it?” Lingbo was too perceptive — no explanation could hold against the truth she had already found. She was like the most skilled of surgeons, each word peeling back another layer of what had truly happened four years ago: “You had planned to become engaged to Cui Jingyu first, and then marry him once I was out of this household. But the war came, and he was sent to the frontier. If he died on the battlefield, you would be counted as a widow — even without having married, you would no longer be a daughter at home with standing, no longer eligible to bring a lawsuit in Mother’s name against Ye Zhongqing and Pan Yurong. So you broke the engagement!”
She saw the full truth — and collapsed into wild, unraveling laughter.
“I never understood — four years ago, when we had already found our footing, when Yanyan and I could take care of ourselves, why you still would not marry Cui Jingyu, why you insisted on staying to look after us. So it was for this! You knew I was not Father’s own daughter. You knew Master Ye could drive me out at any moment. So you stayed to protect me.” Her whole body shook beyond her control. “And here I was, every day trying to bring you and Cui Jingyu together. It was never anyone else who ruined your chance — it was me. I was the one who destroyed your marriage!”
Qinglan moved to come to her, but she backed away. The way Lingbo looked at her was heartbreaking enough to shatter stone.
“You are not allowed to say that.” Qinglan still tried, uselessly, to stop her. “Breaking the engagement was my decision. Because my family matters more to me than any marriage. What destroyed our marriage was my own doing, and what made us strangers was his. I had no time to explain, and he had no willingness to hear any explanation. So I chose not to give one. The situation as it stands today came from choices both he and I made — from a bitterness we both created together. No one else bears responsibility.”
“Truly no one else?” Lingbo looked at her through tears. “If I had never existed — if it had only been you and Yanyan — you would have taken Yanyan with you and married him long ago. You should be a marquis’s wife by now. You and he would be living the finest of lives. If there had been no me…”
“But I choose this life, as it is.” Qinglan met her eyes, and the words she spoke were absolute: “Nothing can replace the place you and Yanyan hold in my heart. Not even Cui Jingyu.”
Lingbo had no more words to speak — because Qinglan stepped forward and held her.
“I have already made my choice.” She told her at Lingbo’s ear. “Ten thousand times over, I would choose the same. Because you and Yanyan are the most important people in my life. I have never once imagined any other possibility.”
Qinglan’s embrace was familiar and warm, carrying the faint fragrance of orchids. She was the elder sister, four years older, and from the very beginning — from the earliest days of swaddling clothes — this embrace had followed her. Even in so many years to come, she would still be her Ye Lingbo’s elder sister, always without hesitation throwing her arms around her to shield her, as she had in childhood — no matter how great the trouble Lingbo had gotten herself into, Qinglan had always taken the burden for her.
And Lingbo, as she had every time in childhood, fell into her arms at last, and wept without restraint.