Even though Cui Jingyu, in his youth, had been elevated to the rank of marquis with boundless prospects ahead — even though Wei Yushan, young and accomplished, was gifted in both bearing and talent — from the moment the news had spread that the Grand Princess would be presiding over the Flower Announcement Banquet, the title of outstanding figure at the Flower Announcement Banquet had gained one more possible answer. Perhaps even the only possible answer.
Twenty-four years ago, the Grand Princess Minghua, then still the legitimate daughter of the late Emperor, was married into the Duke of England’s household. Her consort was Huo Xuan, the heir of the Duke of England — one of them a beloved princess of distinguished blood and breathtaking beauty; the other a descendant of the founding meritorious family, shining with extraordinary talent. Though it all ended later with the late Emperor ordering the raiding and confiscation of the Duke of England’s household, and Huo Xuan dying at White Horse Post Station less than a hundred li from the capital, the Grand Princess had once given birth to a little young lord of her own.
After the Duke of England’s household was confiscated, the Grand Princess lived in widowhood for many years, rarely appearing in the world — and that little young lord had likewise become a hidden figure. Some said that the old household servants left from the Duke of England’s household kept him in a separate villa, and he did not meet with the Grand Princess. Others said the reigning Emperor had once issued a decree to have him brought into the palace to be raised alongside the imperial princes.
But the young lord rarely appeared in public. The few and sparse impressions of him came from several of the old dowager consorts who had since passed away. One said he had inherited his mother’s looks but had the build and bearing of his father, Huo Xuan; another said that the Grand Princess had personally brought him to attend a palace banquet, and even the imperial princes within the palace had not dared to strike up conversation with him.
Counting the years, however, the young lord should by now be twenty-one. Word had it that he was studying at Yongning Mountain. Yongning Mountain was not in fact a mountain but a traveling palace. The academy within it was renowned; several imperial princes had received instruction there before being granted their fiefdoms. Even the Emperor himself, when he found leisure time, would summon great Confucian scholars to Yongning Mountain to lecture and wash away the accumulated dust of worldly affairs.
That the young lord had long resided at Yongning spoke to the Emperor’s particular regard for him. Though the Duke of England’s household had already been confiscated, given the weight the Grand Princess carried in the Emperor’s heart, it would be no difficult matter for the young lord to inherit the title of Duke of England.
So from the moment word spread that the Grand Princess was presiding over the Flower Announcement Banquet, countless people had been speculating: perhaps the Grand Princess had reached some unspoken understanding with the Emperor — the Emperor would allow the young lord to inherit the dukedom, and the Grand Princess would help the Emperor oversee this year’s Flower Announcement Banquet while also arranging the young lord’s marriage. He was twenty-one, after all — precisely the right age to have a match settled.
If this speculation were correct, then the title of outstanding figure at this year’s Flower Announcement Banquet would not fall to any military man at all.
The Duke of Yongguo was the only living duke presently in the capital, and his line had died out. Even Shen Biwei as his granddaughter commanded an unmatched prominence. If there were to appear a young duke who had inherited both the Duke of England’s household legacy and the Grand Princess’s bloodline, the degree of pursuit he would ignite was simply beyond imagining.
What the venerable Old Dowager of the Liang Principality had asked aloud was the answer every lady and young miss present wanted to know.
And the Grand Princess did not answer.
It was Matron Song who answered.
She smiled and said: “The old dowager’s ears and eyes are truly sharp — the young duke is indeed studying at Yongning Mountain. The academy does not give leave even for the new year, so he is quite unable to come.”
Before her words had finished, just as if on cue, a gust of wind blew in from beyond the screen, causing the candles in the coiled floral mirror-candle stands on the columns to flare up brightly. The agarwood phoenix-patterned candles sputtered and hissed as they burned. Lingbo felt this was not so much the sound of candles — it was more the sound of the wild ambitions in every lady’s heart, burning and roaring.
Not the young lord. A duke.
The Emperor had already conferred the title upon the Grand Princess’s only son — Duke of England. That vast dukedom, those carved beams and painted pillars, those floors paved with jade tiles and all that wealth, the Grand Princess’s bloodline, and the boundless estates stretching for thousands of li — all of it belonged to that twenty-one-year-old young man, at that very moment residing in the Changning traveling palace less than fifty li away, and to his future wife — the mistress of the Duke of England’s household.
In the midst of the entire hall’s stillness, Lingbo met Qinglan’s gaze with composure. Qinglan returned a helpless smile.
But even Qinglan could not deny that Shen Biwei was the person closest to that position.
Shen Biwei truly had been jumping at shadows earlier. When Lingbo finished looking at Qinglan, she looked at her, and saw her glaring in warning — puffed up like a bristling cat.
But she was powerless to stop what followed.
The Madam Shen who had always been serene and unruffled, who had seemed almost detached from worldly affairs, who cared nothing for who gained the upper hand at the Flower Announcement Banquet, who recited Buddhist sutras and prayers — that Madam Shen, after Matron Song’s words fell, was the first to speak up in reply.
“After all, the young duke does love his studies.” She spoke like a kindly elder, smiling at Matron Song: “Unlike my Biwei, who does nothing but play all day long.”
“How could that be?” The venerable Old Dowager of the Liang Principality immediately responded: “Biwei is so filial — the Duke of Yongguo loves her best of all. Besides, her elder brother is a Tanhua-ranked scholar — how could his younger sister not know her books?”
“Indeed. My Wanyang went to Baode Temple to pray for her mother’s blessing a few days ago, and happened to encounter Miss Shen there.” Lu Wenyin immediately seized the moment to join in: “Miss Shen was also there to pray, I believe?”
“Wanyang’s filial piety is beyond question.” The Princess of Pingjun smiled and praised her.
Amid the ladies’ self-promotion, the Grand Princess only sat with her eyes slightly downcast, saying nothing — resembling nothing so much as the Buddha in a temple, gazing down with lowered eyes at the devout men and women making offerings below. Matron Song spoke in her place, with masterful ease and skill, praising the young misses of every household in turn.
In the midst of all the bustle, Shen Biwei slipped away and stood on the covered walkway, quietly looking at the moon. Lingbo had originally come outside to take a breath of fresh air. Seeing her like this, she smiled and said: “The opera is still playing — why has the leading lady run off?”
“Do not provoke me.” Shen Biwei was in a thoroughly sullen mood.
“Can you truly not bear to listen any longer?” Lingbo was not at all afraid of her, and went over to pinch her cheek: “Wait until after the new year, when the Duke of England appears in person — that is when the real show will begin.”
“Huo Yingzhen.”
“What?” Lingbo did not follow.
“He is called Huo Yingzhen.” Even now Shen Biwei did not forget to inform her: “When I was three years old, the Duke of England’s household had not yet been confiscated. His family brought him to visit my grandfather’s house. The visiting card read ‘Huo Yingzhen.'”
“A fine name.” Lingbo was moved, then turned to look at Shen Biwei’s sullen expression, which she found amusing, and tried to counsel her: “You see — your position is ultimately different from the rest of us. This hall full of ladies and young misses, wild with ambition — in truth, very few of them even know his name. You knew it when you were three years old. Clearly you were destined to be paired with him from birth. Why resist? This is a blessing. If it were the Lu family that succeeded, that would truly be a bad outcome.”
“That sort of blessing — best give it to the Lu family.” Shen Biwei said with disdain.
“Bite your tongue! Bite your tongue! Bite your tongue!” Lingbo immediately pinched her: “Say another inauspicious word and see what happens? If Lu Wanyang truly got her way, she would be the first one to torment you to death! You have never had to live beneath someone else — you have no idea what it is like when a petty person gets her moment of triumph. Look at Lu Wenyin — even now, when there is nothing the matter, she still makes things difficult for Qinglan. It is because she was kept beneath her for so many years that she stored up all that bitterness. By then, do not expect me to take your side — I will leave you to regret it yourself.”
“I simply do not want to be matched and paired off like this. I have never even met Huo Yingzhen, and yet my mother is already all but ready to send me to him.”
“Madam Shen is doing it for your sake. If you do not marry Huo Yingzhen, whom do you wish to marry? Who else is worthy of you?” Even though such talk was all about marriage, Lingbo still knew to glance around first, being a girl herself. Seeing that only Xiao Liu’er was standing watch nearby, she settled herself and spoke to her earnestly: “Do not be so stubborn. In the end you will have to marry regardless — better to marry the best there is. Do not let it come to the point where you have truly exhausted all your options, and end up with something lesser. A phoenix stripped of her feathers is no better than a chicken — that would truly vex me to death. Look at Lu Wanyang — she knows she is reaching beyond her means and still strives with everything she has. You should show some of that spirit too.”
“I simply do not want to be that spirited.” Shen Biwei said stubbornly.
“All right, all right, being obstinate again — I cannot be bothered with you.” Lingbo said: “I still have something important to see to. You stay here and be good, do not cause any trouble, and when I am done I still need you to see me home.”
“I will cause trouble!” Shen Biwei was being perverse.
Lingbo was exasperated into laughter.
“All right, all right — go right now and overturn the stage, then ride through the night to Yongning Mountain and give Huo Yingzhen a good beating, and see how the Grand Princess deals with you.”
She said it as a joke, but she knew in truth that Shen Biwei would do no such thing. She was the Sun Wukong who had been born into seven layers of golden shackles — the great Miss Shen, raised among silk and brocade. When it truly came down to it, her etiquette was even more impeccable than Lingbo’s own. She was only letting out a few shouts to relieve her frustration, nothing more.
So Lingbo, having counseled Shen Biwei, went off to attend to her own affairs. Shen Biwei found the atmosphere in the hall stifling, while Lingbo, by contrast, found all this bustling clamor quite enjoyable — it always made her think of when she was small, when her mother and Aunt Meng were both still alive, during the holidays, when the floor heating burned blazing hot and the warming basket was cozy and warm, and the tangerines being heated over the fire gave off a tender, sweet fragrance, and she was still a carefree little girl with nothing to worry about. Even if she sneaked a sip of the adults’ wine and passed out drunk, there would always be her mother beside her when she awoke.
But now she had long since learned to make her way through the dark of night on her own. Those holidays she remembered — when she thought back on them carefully — had already been ten years ago.
With Lingbo gone, Shen Biwei grew even more restless. Not wanting to linger in the residence, she simply had a servant bring her horse, intending to go back to her grandfather’s place and see whether his recurring headaches had improved. If the cooked food stalls at Fuji Lane had not yet closed up for the night, she could pick up some venison to bring him with his evening wine.
As she made her plans and led her horse out through the gate, the people of the princess’s residence, seeing it was the great Miss Shen, did not stop her. Far ahead she spotted a carriage stopped outside the small side gate, which she recognized as the Ye family’s carriage, and guessed it was most likely A’Cuo.
A’Cuo had grown bolder these days, not even waiting for her own elder sister — she dared to leave on her own now.
Shen Biwei lightened the sound of her horse’s steps and crept closer, intending to give A’Cuo a good fright — but a glance caught a figure there, also holding a horse, blocking the way in front of the carriage. Dressed in brocade robes — who else but that little wretch Wei Yushan?
She had heard about the incident of Wei Yushan blocking the carriage before. What a pity she had not been there — otherwise she would certainly have given him a good beating, and taken the opportunity to test just how much the Northern Garrison soldiers could take. Today a perfect opportunity had presented itself. Why not make use of it? She immediately reached for the small bow and arrows she always carried on her person.
She was always threatening Lingbo with causing trouble, but in truth she had a sharp sense of measure. Within the capital, there was no room to draw a full bow, and the arrows she carried had no arrowheads. She nocked an arrow casually, three shots in quick succession, aimed directly at Wei Yushan.
The little wretch had fast reflexes. After all, he was the young general who had personally beheaded enemies and distinguished himself on the battlefield. Before the first arrow even arrived, he had already reacted — immediately turning around, raising his arm to block with his arm guard. And he had genuine courage: rather than dodging, he actually held his ground in front of the carriage, shielding A’Cuo.
The next two arrows were both deflected by him. He drew his sword directly: “Who dares ambush the Northern Garrison!”
Shen Biwei feared he would summon reinforcements and turn it into a real scene of trouble, so she languidly emerged from the shadows, saying coldly: “Was it not a signal arrow — is there no one that would have come? The Northern Garrison’s response time is truly this poor?”
In truth, at the moment of the first arrow, Wei Yushan had made an instinctive move to fire a signal arrow and call for reinforcements, but had stopped himself for some reason Shen Biwei had already guessed seven or eight parts of what that reason was. And when A’Cuo lifted the carriage curtain, she guessed the remaining two or three parts without difficulty.
Wei Yushan was still trying to figure out who she was when A’Cuo had already stepped out of the carriage, standing in the lamplight with her head slightly lowered: “Biwei-jiejie.”
Shen Biwei could only smile coldly.
“Lingbo has taught you well.” She said lightly: “In the pitch dark of night, not even a maidservant for company — having a ‘heart-to-heart confession,’ are we?”
“Heart-to-heart confession” referred to the private trysts in operas. Three words — and A’Cuo’s face immediately burned red as fire. Wei Yushan, though he did not fully understand, could guess it was no compliment, and immediately drew himself up with sword at the ready and said to her: “Do not spout such slander — I was the one who stopped her carriage. It has nothing to do with her. Whatever there is, I will bear it on my own.”
“Quite the fine breeding, Young Marquis Wei — a grand young marquis, stopping the carriage of a young lady from a respectable family.” Shen Biwei only asked him coldly: “If an outsider were to happen upon this, and word got out, and the gossip and rumors all came down on her — would the young marquis care to explain how he intends to bear that on his own?”
“Then I will marry her!” Wei Yushan said at once.
A’Cuo, mortified as she was, still reacted quickly, and shot back: “And I will not marry you!”
Wei Yushan immediately grew flustered, cast a glance at A’Cuo, weighed the urgency of the situations, and decided to deal with Shen Biwei first, fixing her with a guarded look.
Eighteen years old, a young man in the darkness — like a white wolf with all its fur standing on end, yet still carrying some degree of resolve. Shen Biwei looked at the two of them and could only find it amusing. She raised a hand, and Wei Yushan immediately moved to block A’Cuo from behind him — probably assuming she was going to deal with A’Cuo.
“It is my doing, not hers.” The young marquis who had just been putting on such airs in the hall spoke another startling declaration.
Shen Biwei could not be bothered to engage with him.
“Step aside.” She said with disdain: “A’Cuo — call your sedan-chair carriers and maidservants back. I will see you home.”
Wei Yushan would never trust her. He suspected she was taking A’Cuo back to be reprimanded by the Ye sisters — to have the family rules enforced. But A’Cuo was insistent on going, and there was nothing he could do. He could only say: “I will have Xiao Si go with you. If anything happens, have him come and report to me.”
“Do not be absurd.” A’Cuo scolded him, then, seeing he would not let go, patiently said: “It is all right. Biwei-jiejie is doing this for my sake. I will go back with her. You should go back too.”
Wei Yushan reluctantly released her and watched as Shen Biwei, like an officer escorting a prisoner, marched A’Cuo away. As she passed by Wei Yushan, she gave a cold laugh and said with feeling: “Well — the Northern Garrison.” Wei Yushan had never suffered such humiliation in all his life and nearly fainted from indignation.
Shen Biwei escorted A’Cuo back to the Ye family home. The Ye sisters had not yet returned. Shen Biwei had just been venting her frustrations to Ye Lingbo, yet when it came to playing the elder sister herself, she managed it quite creditably — she went directly and sat down at the tea table. Yang Hua brought tea. Shen Biwei only said one thing: “So — Lingbo had you follow A’Cuo in order to teach her things like this?”
Yang Hua had been with Lingbo since she was young, and was moreover the more well-behaved among the senior maidservants. How could she bear to hear such a thing? She could only kneel down, face red, without a word.
A’Cuo, even without Lingbo’s instruction, had her own sense of accountability. Seeing Yang Hua take the blame for her, she walked over and stood before Shen Biwei with her head bowed: “Biwei-jiejie — it has nothing to do with them. I acted entirely of my own accord. They did try to persuade me. I simply would not listen.”
“Acting entirely of your own accord.” Shen Biwei laughed at that: “For the sake of that little wretch Wei Yushan?”
“It is not what you think.” A’Cuo was thoroughly stubborn.
Shen Biwei sat in her chair with unrestrained ease, studying her expression, inwardly also finding it amusing. It was truly ironic — she was in truth always the most recklessly bold person in the room, and now here she was, sitting in judgment and teaching someone else propriety. Was that not just karma in action?
“Then what is it?” She asked A’Cuo calmly: “Are you biding your time to strike? Or playing the honeytrap? Were you planning to lure him somewhere dark and give him a beating, or ruin his reputation?”
A’Cuo looked at her in surprise.
How could she have known the depth of Shen Biwei’s rebellious streak? If Shen Biwei truly let herself loose and caused real havoc, the Ye sisters put together would be no match for her.
“Nothing so bad as that.” She finally came clean with Shen Biwei: “I only feel that he is very rude to Qinglan-jiejie, and I do not want him constantly working against us.”
“So you offered yourself as bait, thinking that if he took a liking to you, you could have a hold over him — and help Lingbo in the bargain?” Shen Biwei saw right through her thinking.
A’Cuo immediately pressed her lips together and said nothing more — clearly she had been seen through.
No wonder her grandfather always said that simple-minded people cannot really commit serious blunders. The ones who truly cause catastrophe are always those stubborn, clever people.
Shen Biwei could not be bothered to counsel her, and knew it would do no good — just as Ye Lingbo could not be counseled by her, either. So she simply stood up.
“All right, stop standing there. I am not Lingbo — I do not like looking after children.” She said with impatience: “I know you will not listen to anything I say, and you probably think quite highly of yourself too. Lingbo likes to take roundabout paths and long routes, and you have learned from her. Do you truly think that toying with human hearts is such a pleasant pastime?”
A’Cuo’s face was red, and she said nothing. Ye Lingbo still laughed and called herself a stubborn one — but this stubborn streak in A’Cuo was exactly the same as hers.
Shen Biwei stood up, too tired to say more, and directly pulled out a small dagger from her lapel and set it on the table.
“Toying with human hearts may be amusing, but if you play it out too far, there is no good ending to it. You are a clever person — I cannot stop you. Just maintain your own sense of measure.” She turned to leave. Seeing A’Cuo following behind her with an anxious expression, she said: “Do not worry — I am not the sort to tell tales. I would suggest you find a time and come clean with Lingbo on your own. If she finds out some other way, it will not be a pleasant matter. Go on — do not see me out.”
She gave a free and easy wave of her hand and walked out into the courtyard full of moonlight.