At the table, Shen Biwei was telling of customs in the south of the Yangtze, leaving A’Cuo and Yanyan wide-eyed with wonder. She said the people of the south were devoted to elegant pastimes and wandering pleasures, often sitting for an entire day gazing at water and mountains, brewing tea on a boat, and forgetting to come home at dusk. “That is why the south produces such fine poetry,” she said. “Where the landscape is beautiful, so too are its men of letters.”

“Small wonder then that southerners are like flowing water in temperament,” Cui Jingyu said coldly. “Easily moved but not truly devoted — no wonder they write so much poetry.”

With one remark he had maligned all the people of the south, and even if Dai Yuquan were the most patient of men, there was no reason to stay silent.

“Does Marquis Cui know so much about devotion?” He spoke with deliberate weight, sitting across the table and asking unhurriedly, “Then tell me, Marquis Cui — how long should a feeling last before it fades, for one not to be considered faithless?”

“When affinities gather and scatter, that is ordinary; when feelings arise and fade, that too is commonplace…” Han Yueqi, though drunk, chimed in quickly, as though reciting a line of verse.

“Since feeling is beyond one’s control, naturally it can be long or short — what ‘should’ or ‘shouldn’t’ is there?” Shen Biwei, apparently still thinking they were debating philosophy, joined in.

“I disagree,” Pei Zhao said with a smile.

“I disagree too.” Lingbo also spoke. “Why should feeling rise and fall at will? I want something long and lasting…”

Han Yueqi immediately laughed.

Had she not been drinking, she probably would not have been so careless. But in that moment she paid no mind to whether the words she spoke might come back to haunt a certain Second Young Miss Ye later.

“Lingbo, you’ve changed?” she asked with a laugh. “Who was it that told me marriage could easily do without feeling — that all one needed was the power to protect oneself? That feeling, however deep, fades within three to five years anyway, so one might as well be without it from the start…”

Pei Zhao’s expression immediately became deeply meaningful.

“Oh — feeling fades within three to five years?” he asked the Ye Lingbo seated beside him. Though he appeared to smile, there was no warmth in his eyes.

Lingbo hurriedly tried to mend the situation.

“One’s thoughts naturally change over time.” She immediately put it to the group: “You’re all allowed your feelings to change — why am I not allowed to change my thinking? If you don’t believe me, ask everyone here whether they think the same now as they did four years ago. Elder Sister Han — do you think the same as you did four years ago? And Marquis Cui?”

She knew that as long as she redirected toward Han Yueqi and kept her busy playing matchmaker, she would be left alone.

Everyone turned to look at Cui Jingyu, who simply drank his wine with composure.

“My thoughts are the same as they were four years ago,” he said, raising his eyes to look calmly at Qinglan across the table. “One feeling in a lifetime is enough. Once you have it, there is no need to change. Perhaps in that regard, I cannot match the fluidity of you southerners.”

Fluid could be a compliment for water. But for a person’s nature, it was not.

Qinglan immediately frowned at him in warning.

“Marquis Cui.”

Making guests uncomfortable was not the way of a good host, however unlikely the circumstances.

But Dai Yuquan had long understood. He smiled with self-deprecation.

“Long devotion and unchanged hearts are all well and good,” he said, “but in this world, besides feeling, there are sometimes many other important things. Responsibility, for instance. One’s own integrity.”

These words struck directly at Qinglan’s deepest vulnerability — but even had they not, she still would have stepped in to smooth things over.

“Master Dai speaks well.” She simply kept her eyes lowered and steered the conversation away. “After all, this is the Flower-Informing Banquet — it is not fitting to dwell too much on matters of the heart. Why don’t we talk of poetry instead?”

She had cut off that thread, and there was little else anyone could do but change the subject. Fortunately there was Shen Biwei, who was skilled in both poetry and the art of war — she could talk strategy with Wei Yushan and debate a line of verse with Qinglan for half the evening, and so the table remained lively enough.

The water pavilion was well situated, right along the stream’s edge. The scenery of the imperial hunting grounds was, naturally, beyond compare — even a single begonia tree there was rare in the capital, covered in delicate pink-white blossoms that hung like an umbrella overhead. Reflected in the water below, it was even more beautiful. The nine-bended bridge over the water was intricate in its craftsmanship, and pleasant to stroll across as well.

After several rounds of wine, those who wished to keep talking talked on, while others rose to admire the scenery. Wei Yushan had never felt quite at ease at the capital’s banquets, and when he spotted A’Cuo and her maid clipping begonia blossoms from the covered walkway — to bring back for sketching into hairpin designs and embroidery patterns — he quietly followed.

A’Cuo had already noticed him, but pretended otherwise, intent on clipping the begonias. Then a branch suddenly lowered. It was Wei Yushan, using his height to pull down a whole large bough, standing there among the cascading blossoms, handsome and grinning at her.

A’Cuo immediately put away her scissors.

“These begonias won’t do. We’ll go somewhere else.” She said to her maid Xiaoyu.

Wei Yushan hurried after her.

“Why are you angry again?” he followed behind and asked in earnest. “I didn’t even say anything.”

The two walked out onto the covered bridge. Across the water, they could see the girls at the Begonia Banquet happily drawing flower-token lots, their laughter rising in waves, some even chasing each other about in play — utterly carefree.

“The Flower-Informing Banquet is supposed to be joyful,” Wei Yushan said, sincerely advising her. “You getting upset at every little thing isn’t good for your health either.”

“I don’t have the heart for joy,” she said. “Seeing how things are between Elder Sister Ye and Marquis Cui — how could anyone be happy about that? Not like you, laughing and cheerful. I saw you chatting away with Lu Wanyang just fine, didn’t I? So why come looking for me?”

Wei Yushan was young enough not to understand the reason behind that second remark. He explained earnestly, “When did I chat with Lu Wanyang? She asked me for directions, and I said a word or two — nothing more. She is rather pitiable. Her elder sister has fallen, all those people have scattered, and people are even bullying her now.”

He would have been better off not saying it. The moment he did, A’Cuo’s anger ignited.

“Fine then! You pity her — go be with her! She’s short a fine young husband anyway.” She immediately shot back in scorn: “I don’t have your magnanimity. I’ll never forget how her sister treated Elder Sister Ye. If you pity her, then you had better stop associating with us. It’s not as though you need us — and the way you snapped at Second Elder Sister that one time…”

Wei Yushan sighed in exasperation.

“If you have something to say, say it — why do you always bring everyone else into it? When have I ever wronged you? After that matter between us, I’ve been perfectly respectful to Elder Sister Ye. It was Ye Lingbo who started with me first — I can’t just let her talk about me however she likes…”

A’Cuo kept scolding him.

“Right, Second Elder Sister says a few words and you can’t bear it. But Lu Wanyang and her sister doing all that harm — and you forget it all quickly enough. So why come looking for me? Go play with them! I never asked you to come. You’re the one who insisted on following me…”

Driven back step by step, Wei Yushan still patiently explained. “Did we not just talk about feeling at the table? I saw you here and wanted to talk to you. The weather is so fine today — don’t you want to go wander around with me?”

But A’Cuo was still caught up in the matter of Lu Wanyang, her temper unspent.

“I don’t have that kind of leisure.” Her face was red with anger. “Did you not see how Elder Sister Ye and Marquis Cui looked at the table? Elder Sister Ye has grown so thin. I can’t find it in my heart to go play…”

“Their situation has gone on long enough — it won’t be resolved in a day or two,” Wei Yushan said with great confidence. “Besides, Elder Brother Cui is formidable. If even he can’t solve a problem, there’s nothing we can do by worrying. Stop thinking about them…”

A’Cuo would not hear of it.

“I’m going to think about it, precisely because Second Elder Sister is doing so too. They have been so good to me. If nothing else, for the sake of repaying them, I ought to care. If you truly care about me, then help me see this through. I don’t want anything else.”

Wei Yushan was not the most patient of souls either. On hearing this, he seemed on the verge of saying something, but in the end bit it back. “Never mind,” he said.

A’Cuo sensed it sharply.

“If you have something to say, say it.” She was already irritated. “I know anyway — you never wanted to help me to begin with. Every time I ask you, there’s some excuse or resistance…”

Pushed this far, Wei Yushan finally lost his temper. “Why is it that every time we’re together, it’s as though you exist only to matchmake Elder Sister Ye and Elder Brother Cui? Can we not have something of our own?”

Those words struck directly at A’Cuo’s vulnerable spot. A wave of panic swept through her, which made her all the more determined to bluster.

“And so?” she shot back at Wei Yushan. “If I am here only for that purpose — what of it? What will you do about it?”

Wei Yushan’s gaze instantly turned cold.

In truth, he was not a fool. He had had his suspicions.

“Is that the truth, or a lie?”

“What if it’s true? What if it’s a lie?” A’Cuo’s temper was truly like Lingbo’s — the more cornered she was, the more a streak of defiance rose up in her heart. She simply said it outright. “From the very beginning, I approached you for the sake of Elder Sister Ye. After all, you were always going against us…”

Had Wei Yushan been less young, he would have realized it — A’Cuo had said from the very beginning, not now.

After all, she had just flown into a fury over the matter of him and Lu Wanyang. If she truly were here only to play matchmaker, who would work themselves into such a rage over it? And moreover, the conversation had pushed her to the point of genuine fury — enough to blurt out even this secret.

But they were both too young.

Wei Yushan only felt as though a knife had been driven through his heart, and in that moment he finally understood where the coldness and barely-concealed anger that Elder Brother Cui showed toward the Ye family had come from.

“Very well. Excellent.” When the moment truly came, even his manner of anger was exactly like Cui Jingyu’s — he even let out a cold laugh. “Thank you for telling me. Saves me from being kept in the dark any longer.”

Having said that, he turned and walked away. A’Cuo had never seen him like this before. A surge of panic rose in her chest, and she called after him — “Wei Yushan” — but he did not look back.

The maid Xiaoyue stood nearby holding a bunch of begonia blossoms, and timidly watched as all the fury drained out of her young mistress’s face, replaced by tears.

“Miss.” She sincerely urged her: “Should we not explain things to the Young Marquis? You haven’t truly been manipulating him — we can’t let him misunderstand.”

A’Cuo was only being stubborn. She forcefully wiped at her tears.

“Let him misunderstand!” She had learned Lingbo’s brand of defiance: “Let him be angry enough to burst. Let him go flying off with Lu Wanyang. It would be best if he never came looking for me again.”