On the fifth day of the spring hunt, the Emperor returned to the palace.

The remaining guests and nobles saw him off, and nearly all dispersed in his wake. Only those who truly loved hunting stayed on at the grounds.

The Emperor, naturally, returned to the palace without any tiger. There were a few bears — dead ones, admittedly — loaded onto several carts and hauled back with considerable fanfare. No one was foolish enough to ask what had become of the Tiger King Marquis Cui had caught.

If Lingbo were being honest, the complete absence of punishment was rather surprising. Her estimate had been at least a few words of reprimand, making Pei Zhao go before the Emperor to acknowledge his error. To impose no punishment at all felt more like storing up grievance for a future reckoning.

But once she learned the reason, she was no longer afraid. It turned out the Grand Princess had gone to speak to the Emperor herself, saying: “Yingzhen has been feeling rather cooped up these past few days. He went with that Ye girl to look at the tiger, and accidentally let it escape — fortunately no one was harmed. I have already reprimanded him.”

The Emperor’s own conscience was not clean, and the moment the Grand Princess mentioned feeling cooped up, he knew perfectly well how he had been, in these past days, openly and covertly grinding away at Huo Yingzhen. Moreover, the Grand Princess coming to apologize in person was entirely unprecedented — so he smiled and waved it aside. “No matter. The beast was caught once already; it doesn’t absolutely have to be kept in the imperial gardens.”

When the political sparring between the siblings was concluded, all was at peace. The Grand Princess changed into riding clothes and personally accompanied the Emperor back to the palace. Pei Zhao suited green; she suited red. Lingbo had thought Shen Biwei was the most beautiful woman she had ever seen in red — and then there was the Grand Princess.

She wore a vermillion Hu-style brocade robe with silver dragon embroidery throughout — silver needlework like snow, making the robe glow like cinnabar. Her hair was dark as ink, her complexion the frost-white characteristic of the Zhao imperial line, brows arching into her temples, phoenix eyes long and narrow, lips like gleaming pearls. A face this magnificent in wide-sleeved court dress would carry a regal majesty. But the fitted Hu-style robe clung to her form like a crescent moon. On horseback she swept past like a gust of wind, and the entire escort party went blank-eyed as she passed.

Even the Emperor’s composure cracked. Several times he had eunuchs convey his words: “The early spring winds are cold — Elder Sister must take care not to catch a chill.” It was as though he had transformed back into the gloomy Crown Prince of twenty years ago, relying on his strong-willed elder sister’s protection while he looked on as she charged ahead, all the while secretly weighing her down from behind.

The Grand Princess, naturally, paid him no attention. She had more of the founding Emperor’s nature, which was why even the late Emperor had admired her — because he himself had not been capable of it. The shadowed, entangled, deeply buried things — she was not unaware of them, but knowing them, she still did not care. What could be cut through, she cut through as cleanly as a blade. What could not be cut through, she simply sheathed the blade and let it sink to the riverbed mud. Those outside who had seen her brilliance naturally felt sorrow on her behalf — she herself was entirely indifferent, having sunk for twenty years without a second thought.

Lingbo was most skilled at getting on with people of this temperament — she had practiced on Shen Biwei. The moment they returned to the manor, she promptly delivered wisteria cakes as a peace offering. The Grand Princess ate them, of course. The female official Qin watched with amusement and brought tea, and when they were alone asked her: “Second Young Miss Ye is indeed capable — she lets a tiger go, and even the Grand Princess is not angry.”

“Between mother and son, how could there be real anger?” Lingbo replied with a serene smile.

She had seen at a glance where the tension between the mother and son lay. When dealing with someone like the Grand Princess or Shen Biwei, the approach was always softness and persistence — yield, cling, give them no foothold for their anger, ride out the strongest wave of their fury, and after that the days were yours to manage as you wished. Most people were frightened off by the shell of frost those two presented. But if you could hold on through the outermost wall of ice, beyond it was a springtime.

Pei Zhao alone would not even try. He preferred to believe his mother was nothing but a Zhao princess, not his mother.

Without trying, how could one know how far the Grand Princess would go for him? Without pressing forward inch by inch, trying again and again, where would the feeling between them ever come from?

To say nothing of letting a tiger go — if Pei Zhao were to leave the capital again and remain at the frontier for a few more years, the Grand Princess could probably smooth that over too.

But Lingbo had no wish for him to leave the capital. Aside from the Emperor occasionally making trouble, there were clear roads ahead in the capital. Away from the capital there were far too many uncertainties — and besides, she had no wish to leave the place where she had grown up, and even less to leave Qinglan and Yanyan. Going with him to let a tiger go was one thing; if it ever truly came to wandering to the ends of the earth, she could accept that too. But leaving now was out of the question.

She still had far too many things left to do.

The spring hunt ended, and the betrothal gifts from the Duke’s manor arrived. The Grand Princess was, in her own way, the very image of what Shen Biwei would be in twenty years — cold as ice, cool as snow — yet she acted with such sweeping ease. Though it was the Duke’s manor that had proposed the match, the ninety-nine trays of betrothal gifts came at palace standards. Old and new cut-silk weaves, Song brocades, Shu brocades, eight-layered brocades, figured satin, gold-threaded satin — everything one could imagine. The most precious of all were the gemstones — the first batch brought as tribute from the Western Regions after the great war against the western frontier tribes, combined with everything already in the palace treasury, a dazzling array. The eunuch sent to deliver the proclamation also knew how to do honor to the Ye family, drawing out the proceedings until half of the southern city had come to watch the spectacle. Not a few noble ladies had gathered at the Ye household to offer their congratulations. The eunuch Wang Changzhong took deliberate pleasure in reading each gift aloud one by one, and especially the several trays of gemstones were opened for inspection. On a bright, clear day, laid out on pale yellow satin, the gems were arrayed in all their colors — red rubies and aquamarine, raven-black precious stones, various tourmalines and agates, a tray of white nephrite jade unto itself, another tray of pearls. Purple gold and red gold were too numerous to count. Most spectacular of all was a branch of coral, nearly as tall as a person, red as blood — when the sunlight struck it, the entire courtyard blazed with radiance. The assembled ladies were boundless in their praise, and even the Old Matriarch Ye was helped out of doors to receive the imperial proclamation with thanks.

The Grand Princess was truly generous. This proclamation, it was plain to see, had been conveyed with her blessing: “The Nine-Inquiry Nine-Confirmation is the ancient rite of the royal clan, but Second Young Miss Ye is still young, and there is no need for strict formalities. Simply choose an auspicious day to enter the palace and give thanks.”

The so-called Nine-Inquiry Nine-Confirmation referred to the process by which high-ranking imperial clansmen confirmed their marriages — consulting the Empress Dowager, the Emperor, and the Empress, as well as the three courts and three temples — an extraordinarily cumbersome procedure. The Grand Princess had waived this for Lingbo, sparing her the trouble, yet the standard of the betrothal gifts was kept at full palace specifications, no less than that of welcoming a prince’s consort. It was clear how cherished Lingbo was.

With the Grand Princess having made her position so clear, Lingbo’s path ahead was smooth indeed. The ladies who filled the courtyard all came forward to offer their congratulations, and Qinglan received them on her behalf. Lingbo did not rush to enjoy the moment — she looked slowly past all the assembled guests to where a certain Master Ye and Concubine Pan stood in the background, visibly plotting, and gave a cold smile.

Of all three daughters it could have been, it had to be Ye Lingbo. The one with the sharpest nature of them all — and having been through the ordeal of discovering her true origins, she was more formidable than ever. Master Ye smiled and held himself together on the surface before the packed courtyard of well-wishers, while inwardly he had likely been trembling for some time.

And indeed, that very evening the Old Matriarch Ye sent word inviting Lingbo and Qinglan to come with Yanyan for dinner, and A’Cuo was welcome to join them.

Lingbo arrived early, and declined any tea, going directly to pay her respects to her grandmother. She sat at the bedside, exchanged a few pleasantries, and seeing that the Old Matriarch Ye kept circling without coming to the point, could not help smiling.

“If the Old Matriarch intends to say something on behalf of that other courtyard, there is no need.” She said calmly. “Even the matter regarding the Old Matriarch herself is not yet settled in my heart — to say nothing of that courtyard.”

That remark was enough to make the Old Matriarch cough in embarrassment to cover the awkwardness. What else could she do? This was the future mistress of the Duke’s manor, the daughter-in-law of the Grand Princess — the honor she alone held outweighed ten Ye families tied together. What did it matter that she had been a poor girl who was taken in? Her children in time would be the most exalted and privileged of the capital’s royal scions.

As Lingbo herself had once said, with tears on her face at her mother’s sickbed, burning with fury: The days ahead are long. We’ll just have to wait and see.

Now that the time for repayment had come, even the Old Matriarch found herself at a loss.

Nanny Wu hurried forward to soothe things over, smiling ingratiatingly. “Second Young Miss, please don’t be angry. In a family there is no such thing as a grudge that lasts the night — even if there were old grievances between you, they will pass. Tongue and teeth knock against each other even in the same mouth. Now that you have become a person of standing, how could you hold a grievance against your own family? Word would get out, and people would laugh at us.”

Lingbo only sat in the armchair and gave a cold smile.

“When Master Ye favored his concubine over his wife, he was not afraid of people laughing at him. When he let Concubine Pan dock and abuse us, he was not afraid of people laughing at him. And now I should be afraid of being laughed at? Then I am far too weak.” She arched her brows coolly. “Besides, Nanny put it well — since when do people of standing fear laughter? To be blunt about it: even if, for some unforeseen reason, I were to lose a father, there would be plenty of noble ladies throughout the capital to set the story right for me. Otherwise, I would hardly be a person of standing.”

With one sentence she had laid bare the truth of how the world favors the powerful. It was the hard-won lesson written in the blood and tears of the three sisters — in this world, there was no such thing as righteousness. Power was the only hard truth. If they had not learned it at home, Lu Wanyang had taught them.

Nanny Wu knew well enough that this grievance could not be untangled, but she could only smile and coax. “Second Young Miss is the cleverest of them all. It is said that a prime minister’s belly can hold a ship — and these are your own family. The Master only got caught up in Concubine Pan’s scheming, but he has now seen sense…”

“Parents are one’s closest kin — that is true,” Lingbo said coolly. “But what if a father has wronged a mother? Then I can only choose one side to stand on. There is no logic in taking one’s father’s side when he, together with others, drove one’s mother to her death. What place would that leave my mother in? Moreover, if I recall correctly, Master Ye did not even recognize me as his daughter — and for the sake of a Master Ye who did not recognize me, to betray the wrong done to my own mother — would that not be worse than a beast?”

When it came to argument, there was likely no one in the Ye household who was her match, and few in all of the capital could compete with her. She cut through everything like a knife through soft curd — swift and decisive. Nanny Wu was an old attendant well-seasoned in worldly ways, and she could not find a single word to refute her.

The Old Matriarch Ye had no choice but to speak up herself, coughing as she did.

“What happened back then — Zhongqing was very much in the wrong, and so was I, for failing to uphold justice. He has repented now, and has already dealt with Concubine Pan — she remains as a concubine but is no longer addressed as Madam in that courtyard, and has been made to kneel before your mother’s memorial and beg forgiveness…”

Not only Lingbo, but even the attendants Xiao Liu’er and Yang Hua standing behind her were visibly turning up their noses. Luo Niangzi remained composed, but Luo Yong’s wife had already nearly opened her mouth — only to fall silent the moment Lingbo raised one hand.

Lingbo interrupted her grandmother’s words without hurry.

“We are not bargaining over vegetables here, Old Matriarch. There is no need to haggle with me — it is rather amusing to listen to.” She regarded the Old Matriarch Ye with composure. “The master of this household has always been Master Ye. Concubine Pan was nothing more than a blade in his hand. Without Concubine Pan, there would have been Concubine Zhang or Concubine Wang. The blame belongs only to my maternal grandmother and grandfather for being taken in by the matchmaker’s words, and for not seeing through Master Ye’s wolfish nature, which led them to give my mother to this family in marriage. Properly speaking, though Master Ye passed the palace examinations at third place, my mother paid out a thousand taels from her own dowry to smooth things along for him, to say nothing of every subsequent promotion, every banquet to entertain colleagues, every gift to teachers and superiors… My mother spent over a decade nurturing this ingrate. I will not seek recompense for my mother’s very life — that can only be blamed on the Lin family’s frail daughters, for being taken in by your household and bearing children for you. I only ask that Master Ye return the prosperity and comfort of these twenty years. That is all.”

Though she spoke calmly, her eyes reddened at the mention of her mother, and her hands trembled beyond her control — plain to see for any observant eye. There was no possibility of reconciliation.

Nanny Wu was still racking her brains for something to say. The Old Matriarch Ye had already gone ashen, sitting on the bed without a word.

Ye Lingbo, seeing her expression, assumed she meant to defend Master Ye to the end, gave a cold laugh, smoothed her skirts, and was about to rise and leave — when she heard the Old Matriarch say, “To only mete out punishment with no reward — that is not how one manages people, is it.”

All the servants in the room had no idea what the Old Matriarch meant. Only Ye Lingbo’s eyes moved.

The Old Matriarch said nothing more explicit, and so Lingbo said nothing more explicit either — only gave a cold smile. “I know what the Old Matriarch wants. Nothing more than the honor of the family. Although the Ye family has no male heir, with me here, Yanyan can stay in her own home with a husband brought in by marriage, and any son-in-law chosen at the foot of the examination boards would have no difficulty preserving the ancestral property and the family’s standing. But if Master Ye is allowed to remain here comfortably, enjoying everything my mother never had the chance to enjoy, and to live out his days as the family patriarch — I cannot bear that. It would be better to let the Ye family end with my generation, to disperse the family property — what should go toward my sisters’ dowries shall go there, what should be returned to the Lin family shall be returned — and call it my gift to my mother for raising me.”

The Old Matriarch had tried to teach her how to manage people, and she had learned at once. She had stated both the reward and the punishment. Master Ye now had no sons; it was only natural that a son be adopted from the clan — but as the future mistress of the Duke’s manor, with the Grand Princess behind her, a single word from her would be enough to prevent any adoption and scatter the family fortune to the winds. She would not even need to say it plainly — merely a hint would set any number of officials working on her behalf.

By comparison, the only possible outcome was Yanyan taking in a husband by marriage and continuing the family line.

There was nothing more to say. The Old Matriarch Ye could only manage: “What Second Young Miss plans is certainly reasonable, but Qinglan and Yanyan may not see it that way.”

“The Old Matriarch need not worry. We three in the Wutong Courtyard will discuss it among ourselves. The Old Matriarch need only attend to her own affairs.” Lingbo replied evenly.

Nanny Wu, still not quite grasping the full picture, came forward offering tea with a smile. “Please do have a cup of tea before you go, Second Young Miss.”

Lingbo looked at the tea, and said nothing. It was her attendant Xiao Liu’er who replied: “The Duke has been made aware of our family’s situation and has specifically instructed the Young Miss not to drink tea when out.”

In truth, Pei Zhao had not been so specific in his instructions — such things were more common in palace life than in the households of ordinary officials. But using it to intimidate them was not a bad idea. After all, the Old Matriarch had already spoken of punishment without reward — if she truly turned vicious, poisoning Lingbo was not entirely out of the question.

The Old Matriarch only gave a wan smile. “Second Young Miss is overly cautious.”

“Not cautious at all,” Lingbo replied. “I do not eat or drink elsewhere — that is also for everyone’s sake. If some mishap were to occur, and the manor came to investigate, now that would truly be undignified.”

One sentence left the Old Matriarch’s face grey and bloodless. People said Lingbo was nothing like Qinglan, and indeed she was not — Qinglan could never say something so threatening. To all appearances Lingbo was merely declining the tea, but what she was really saying was: if I happened to drink your tea and came home with a small ailment, what would stop the Duke’s manor from turning your entire household upside down in its search? What would become of Master Ye and Concubine Pan then — innocent or not, they would be accused all the same.

That was the true threat.

When Lingbo had finished speaking before the Old Matriarch and returned, she gathered Qinglan, Yanyan, and A’Cuo without dismissing anyone, and the four of them sat together around the warming stove. She recounted her conversation with the Old Matriarch word for word, and then said: “I think now the Old Matriarch means to take matters into her own hands and deal with them herself. I wanted to consult with you as well — what do you think of this arrangement? Will Qinglan agree? And Yanyan — are you willing to take in a husband by marriage and continue the family line? Though it’s really only a word said to satisfy the Old Matriarch for now. They went back on their word to our mother — there is nothing wrong with us going back on our word to them.”

Yanyan was enthusiastic in an instant. “Then I want to inherit — I want to stay in the Wutong Courtyard. Otherwise someone might dig up all my hidden treasures.”

Lingbo cast her a disdainful glance and turned her full attention to Qinglan.

Qinglan smiled.

“This is fine,” she said, taking Lingbo’s hand. “But it is better to wait until after your wedding before acting, so that it does not affect your reputation. Besides, we should not rely too much on the Grand Princess.”

Lingbo waved a hand with easy freedom.

“I cannot wait any longer. I have nursed this grievance for eight years — I cannot hold out one more day. What do I care about my reputation? Is Pei Zhao’s reputation so spotless? The Duke of Yingguo’s old court case could be overturned — ours is nothing by comparison. The Grand Princess still owes you a favor. I want my revenge now, right now. Let Master Ye and Concubine Pan face their end at the same time as my wedding — now that would be a double celebration.”

Everyone burst out laughing. Qinglan was helpless against her, and said, “Very well. I happen to be going to the temple tomorrow to visit Mother. I’ll tell her the good news.”

Because of one of Concubine Pan’s outbursts, Madam Ye had not been permitted burial in the tomb plot she was to have shared with Master Ye — because Concubine Pan intended to be buried there one day, and did not wish to be overshadowed by the official wife. And so Madam Ye was laid to rest in another Ye family burial plot, while Qinglan arranged for a perpetual lamp to be lit for her at the temple, with a nun engaged to copy sutras and perform rites year-round. Whenever the sisters missed their mother, they went to the temple to pay their respects.

“Then I’ll go too,” said Lingbo, and she turned to Yanyan: “Are you coming, Yanyan? And A’Cuo — you have not seen my mother’s portrait yet, have you?”

“Yanyan showed me one,” A’Cuo said. “She looks very much like my maternal aunt.”

“Yes, the women of the Lin family were all beauties. Only their health was not good — my mother gave birth to three children, so she went even earlier than my aunt…” Lingbo felt a pang of sadness, and so made all the more effort to tease Qinglan. “But how is it, Elder Sister, that you were so quick to agree today? I thought you might want to spare Master Ye.”

“Repay kindness with kindness — then with what do you repay wrongdoing?” When Qinglan spoke of serious matters, she was always like this, voice clear and steady. “Besides, the last time he threatened to drive you out, he ceased being our father. Even if Mother were here, she would feel exactly the same.”

Lingbo rested her head on Qinglan’s shoulder.

“If only Mother were here.” For once her toughness softened, and she let her eyes fall. “She would have loved Pei Zhao when she met him. She always loved people who knew how to joke…”

“That is all right. Mother surely knows.” Qinglan turned her hand over to hold Lingbo’s, and with her other arm drew Yanyan close. “Look at how we are able to sit together like this in peace — it must be Mother, quietly watching over us from above.”

“And Auntie!” Yanyan, seeing A’Cuo’s silence, took her hand.

A’Cuo could not help smiling.

“Yes, and Auntie…”

She was easily moved to tears — as she spoke, her eyes already grew wet. Qinglan’s eyes reddened too.

Lingbo’s eyes were red as well, but seeing the sorrow around her, she was all the more determined to rouse them. “Enough — no more of this cloud of gloom. These are good times. I still have much to do! Once I’ve spoken with the Grand Princess, I’ll first request a second-rank honorary title for Mother, and force Master Ye and Concubine Pan to kowtow to her a few hundred times — now that would be truly satisfying!”

It is said that the words of a distinguished person carry weight — and Lingbo’s words proved themselves true.

On the twenty-seventh day of the second month, one day before the Pear Blossom Banquet, the Old Matriarch Ye lodged an official complaint against her own son, Ye Zhongqing, for acting against all parental duty: that the chicken broth sent by his daughter-in-law, Pan Yurong, had contained medicine that was harmful in combination with the Old Matriarch’s illness, and that there were further crimes — driving his deceased daughter-in-law to her death, seizing the deceased daughter-in-law’s dowry, abusing his granddaughters, and favoring his concubine over his wife.

Because Lingbo had already made arrangements with the female official Qin beforehand, the matter was quietly suppressed from circulating through the capital and directed instead through the Court of Judicial Review, which conducted three rounds of hearings before determining the verdict. Pan Yurong was sentenced to a severe flogging, tattooed with the mark of a criminal, and conscripted as a government slave for exile to the northern frontier. Master Ye was stripped of all official positions and sent to the remote south as a penal minor official, forbidden to return to the capital for the rest of his life.

On the day Master Ye was exiled, an unseasonable cold settled over the capital, and snow began to fall. The three sisters had, by tacit agreement, all chosen not to witness Concubine Pan’s departure in exile — instead they went to watch Master Ye’s fate: to see how he was chained alongside criminals, shackled and caged, driven by the blows and shouts of the constables, dressed in thin prison garments, stumbling through the snow toward the distant and desolate south. High above, from the city walls, the world between earth and sky was a vast expanse of white. Goose-feather snow fell swirling from the sky — like a letter sent back by one who had already passed on.

From the day Madam Ye died in silent suffering to this day: a full eight years.

Those sisters who had once lived beneath a shattered roof had at last grown into adults. Beneath their fox-fur capes of untold worth, their hands found each other and held on. The north wind howled; their tears were scalding. Even Qinglan, the steadiest of them all, could not stop her fingers from trembling.

“Mother — do you see this?” Lingbo asked, in the silence of her heart. She seemed to see, right before her, the mother of her memory — seated at her bedside, reaching out to feel her forehead. That mother had once told her earnestly: do not be too eager, do not be too impulsive, you must wait, you must be patient, you must work steadily day after day, and in the end, what you want will come.

The twelve-year-old Ye Lingbo who had once wept over a plate of spoiled rice and rotten vegetables because Concubine Pan had docked the Wutong Courtyard’s food — the Ye Lingbo whose eyes had burned red from the inferior charcoal Concubine Pan had sent that filled the room with smoke — the Ye Lingbo who had felt her heart filled with guilt when her sick little sister wanted nothing more than a box of sweets and she could not provide it — the Ye Lingbo who had knelt on the ground in the dead of night, begging every god and spirit she could name, because her elder sister was trudging through a snowstorm outside in the dark. She had bitten down until her teeth nearly broke, and endured these eight years, climbing step by step, chasing power, chasing wealth, until at last she had brought every last enemy to account and settled every grievance on this very day. She had not failed the mother who had raised her, and had not failed the frightened, helpless twelve-year-old she had once been.

Mother, will you — will you also be proud of me?

On the twenty-ninth day of the second month, the day after the Pear Blossom Banquet — just when the capital’s noble ladies were comparing notes at the banquet and beginning to wonder whether Master Ye’s “reassignment to the south” had anything to do with Ye Lingbo — the Ye family received yet another piece of joyful news.

In recognition of Madam Ye’s contribution in raising her daughters, the Grand Princess bestowed a posthumous second-rank honorary title upon the late Madam Ye. In acknowledgment of the late Ye patriarch’s official rank, the Old Matriarch Ye was granted a third-rank title with all the accompanying honors: the ceremonial staff of dignity, the treatment accorded to the wives of high officials beyond the palace, the privilege of attending imperial banquets, and a commemorative plaque reading “A Blessed and Illustrious Hall.” The Ye family undertook a major expansion of the estate, acquiring the neighboring residence and merging it with the Wutong Courtyard, opening four gates, each wide enough to receive carriages and horses, and each tall enough to pass an eight-bearer palanquin — all in preparation for the marriage of the Ye family’s second daughter to the Duke of Yingguo, Huo Yingzhen.