Lingbo’s character had been thoroughly absorbed and mastered by A’Cuo down to its very essence: no matter how fierce she was on the outside, the moment she stood before her elder sister, she always wore an expression of perfect obedience. Qinglan had been tied up with married ladies all morning in the front hall — even she was somewhat dizzy by now — so she failed to notice the smugness hidden beneath her younger sister’s well-behaved expression.

“Where did you disappear to all morning?” She reached up and tidied Lingbo’s hair at the temples, giving her earnest instruction: “I know you don’t enjoy all this business of putting on pleasant faces, but you still need to engage with people — otherwise they won’t feel at ease either.”

The two of them were exactly like Official Su and Official Qin in manner — like the two fish of the Taoist yin and yang symbol. Qinglan was gentle and kind-hearted to a fault, which made her lack in sharpness. Lingbo had always preferred to operate in the shadows, which meant she couldn’t quite manage even the simplest surface-level socializing when it came to the direct approach.

Han Yueqi and Shen Biwei sat off to the side listening with amusement. Shen Biwei in particular was on the verge of rolling her eyes: your younger sister has practically severed an entire family’s livelihood out there, and here you are advising her to be careful not to burn the moths along with the lamp?

But they didn’t dare expose what Lingbo had done, so Qinglan remained completely unaware of her younger sister’s deeds. Worried about making Lingbo feel too constrained, Qinglan continued to reassure her: “Don’t worry — they wouldn’t dare say anything improper. You can just go and socialize openly.”

Lingbo put on her most obedient expression: “Alright, I’ll go in a moment.”

Qinglan had no idea, and most of the ladies likely didn’t either — but the Grand Princess knew it all with perfect clarity. She had formed an impression of Ye Lingbo long ago. The accusation that “Second Child” had leveled at the Magistrate Wei’s household gates back then had truly left a lasting impression. What a pity that her own son had hidden himself so well — if she had pursued that matter further at the time and dragged him home, how many complications afterward could have been avoided.

But she had been one step short, one move behind — and now she could only sit opposite this future daughter-in-law in the warm chamber, weighing every word carefully, afraid that being too stern might wound her.

Lingbo, however, was not worried. She had learned from Shen Biwei everything there was to know about how the imperial household conducted itself: above all, they prized appearances. And the key to appearances was that they only maintained face with their own people. For the imperial family, the world was not divided into the noble and the lowly — only into insiders and outsiders. Those who were insiders were like lords; those who were outsiders were like subjects. Lords were entitled to face; subjects were not. To truly incur imperial displeasure, being granted a dignified death was already an extraordinary grace.

And she was the Grand Princess’s insider. Just as princes and princesses of the imperial household could not be easily rebuked — for fear of damaging their noble bearing and undermining their future ability to command those beneath them — Pei Zhao, even as a child, had always been surrounded by a retinue of servants. When he erred, only they were punished; to punish his companions-in-study was already considered a great humiliation to him.

So Lingbo calmly entered, bowed in greeting, addressed her as “Your Highness,” was shown to a seat with tea served, and Official Su herself brought the tea to her hand. Lingbo thought of herself a month ago, standing trembling in this very hall, uncertain whether she would leave safely — and found it genuinely amusing.

The Grand Princess, true to form, opened with an expression of great warmth: “I heard that Lingbo had a few words of conflict with someone today?”

In the past, she hadn’t even bothered to speak to her directly — a female official would convey everything on her behalf. Lingbo understood that the Grand Princess was now treating her as one of her own household, and so she responded as frankly as she would with family: “There was nothing of the sort. Madam Xue merely said a few discourteous things, and Attendant Wang has already handled the matter on my behalf.”

Attendant Wang, standing behind the Grand Princess, exchanged an imperceptible glance with Attendant Song, as if to say: See? I told you — this young mistress is not someone to be trifled with.

The Grand Princess was simultaneously exasperated and amused — exasperated that she had chosen such a method, using someone else’s blade to do the cutting, and at that, using the attendant’s blade. Amused because, if an ordinary young lady had used this trick, it was actually rather clever: efficient, light-handed, with not a drop of blood on her own hands.

But she was no ordinary young lady.

This was the method used by imperial consorts — bluntly put, it was the proper craft of a concubine’s household. She herself, Zhao Weihua, was a legitimate elder princess of the first rank; the Ying Duke’s estate bore the name of renowned generals whose portraits hung in the Gallery of Smoke. All her conduct had been straightforward and above reproach — even the empress’s own maneuvers looked petty beside her. And yet she was confronted with a future daughter-in-law like this. It was genuinely laughable.

In the end, it was all her son’s doing.

He had committed the act of a lord stealing a subject’s wife — and then forced Dai Yuquan to come out and provide cover for him. These two were truly bound by some past-life entanglement and could not be separated.

So the Grand Princess had no choice but to patiently instruct her: “I know what those women did in the past, but what is your standing now? Why bother contending with people like them? Even if you wanted to discipline them, you could have sent a female official to deliver a few words of reprimand — there was no need to get into an exchange with them directly. You only elevated their importance by doing so…”

This was truly addressing her as she would her own daughter. The Grand Princess understood by now that this girl was destined to be her future daughter-in-law, and so she shared even the court protocols she had learned during her own years in the palace.

But Lingbo was far more stubborn than the Grand Princess had imagined.

“Thank you for the reminder, Your Highness.” Lingbo was not an ungrateful person — she understood that the Grand Princess was treating her as family, and so she spoke as frankly as she would with family: “But Your Highness also knows — if I had sent a female official, all that could have been done was to deliver a few words of reprimand. Is that not so?”

The Grand Princess let out a long sigh. Looking at Lingbo’s fine, delicate features — unremarkable in appearance, yet with a particular stubbornness about her — it was clear she couldn’t be talked out of this.

“I haven’t heard that they bullied you in the past — was this on your sister’s behalf?”

“It was naturally on my sister’s behalf.” Lingbo rose from her seat, bowed to her formally, and replied earnestly: “Lingbo is not ungrateful. Your Highness has taught me with sincere intent, and I am genuinely thankful in my heart. But I must ask Your Highness to forgive me — Lingbo is truly incapable of the still-water composure Your Highness describes. My principle in dealing with people is simple: I only distinguish between outsiders and my own people. It is different from Your Highness’s approach.”

“Foolish child,” even this stubbornness of hers amused the Grand Princess: “Who doesn’t divide the world into outsiders and their own people? This Princess is no different.”

“But if Your Highness applies the same standard to outsiders and your own people alike — then what meaning does the category of ‘your own people’ hold for Your Highness?”

That single sentence caused even Attendant Song, standing behind the Grand Princess, to change her expression.

Attendant Wang’s abilities were limited — she had only assumed that this future young mistress enjoyed elaborate schemes, not realizing her plans were always layer upon layer, each concealing the next. They had all assumed that when summoned here by the Grand Princess today, she would only be cleverly navigating the conversation. None of them expected her to be this bold — to use the occasion as an opportunity to actually turn the question back on the Grand Princess.

They were all veterans who had followed the Grand Princess from the palace to the household. Who among them would fail to understand the meaning of this question?

She was asking: Pei Zhao is also the Grand Princess’s own flesh and blood — but if the Grand Princess has treated him by the same standard as that person in the palace, and has even been yielding to the palace’s wishes all these years, then as Pei Zhao’s sole parent, where exactly did her love for him manifest?

Everyone said she was deep in her schemes, and yet all she had contended for was the punishment of a few young married ladies — petty, unworthy of a court bearing. But in truth, this one question of hers had captured the very essence of a court-trained manner.

The weightiest words must be said through the lightest of comparisons. What cannot be directly named must be expressed through the matter at hand — because those trained in the imperial palace always understood the meaning beneath the words, could always grasp the deepest implication of a single sentence. So with just one question — one that even appeared to be about Yang Qiaozhen’s case — she had asked something that would guarantee the Grand Princess a sleepless night.

And her position was too secure to be shaken. Because not long after she had posed this question — before the Grand Princess could even respond — an attendant came hurrying in to deliver a message.

“Outside, the young master requests that Second Miss do him the honor of her presence.” That was how the attendant put it.

“What for?” Attendant Song asked with a furrowed brow on behalf of the Grand Princess.

The attendant still didn’t understand what had transpired inside, and ingratiatingly smiled: “The Duke says that at the polo banquet, there was no occasion to toss flowers up to the gallery. Today there is a polo match, and he invites Second Miss to do him the honor of watching.”

So he was protective in exactly this way — knowing she had been summoned by his mother, he came to find her after just a few exchanges. All that business about tossing flowers to watch polo was simply said for the Grand Princess’s ears. To let her know: Ye Lingbo is the person he has chosen — she is not to be touched in the slightest.

Such is the love of parents for their children.

The Grand Princess could only say: “Go then.”

“Thank you, Your Highness.” Lingbo bowed and took her leave. “Lingbo spoke out of turn. I thank Your Highness for her forgiveness.”