Shen Yunze did indeed receive Madam Shen’s punishment. Master Shen had no time to concern himself with inner household affairs, so Madam Shen punished Shen Yunze severely, making him copy Buddhist scriptures in the ancestral hall for three days. She also took her anger out on that Yanliu girl, ordering her to kneel outside the entrance of Qingxiao Pavilion every day without fail, until the Young Madam Shen finished with whatever kept her busy and had time to deal with her.

Despite Madam Shen elevating her in such a manner, Han Yueqi remained indifferent, knowing that no matter what, she was only a daughter-in-law, while Shen Yunze was a son. Otherwise, before she had made a scene, the Shen Family would have only imposed a light punishment.

The only one truly worthy of trust was Shen Biwei. She had never approved of this whole business in the Shen household to begin with, and spent her days simply living alongside the Duke of Yongguo. As she had said when she ran to the ancestral hall to scold Shen Yunze: “Keep making a mess of things — you’ve gone and done it now, are you satisfied? You have the nerve to call yourself clever? How are Master Shen and Mother getting along? Didn’t you watch them your whole life? Is separating into different courtyards such an uncommon thing? After Mother’s heart turned cold, didn’t she move into a separate courtyard too, and what could Master Shen do about it? And you still had the gall to threaten Yueqi Sister with divorce over something like this — you truly have no fear. You’re really something, you know that? Mother was already in her thirties before she separated from Father, but you’re impressive — at twenty-five, your own wife has already refused you. Ha!”

In truth, compared to other men in the capital who pampered concubines and mistreated their wives, Master Shen’s offenses were somewhat lesser. It also helped that Madam Shen’s maternal family was genuinely powerful, and he could not overpower them — things had merely deteriorated to the present state of the couple maintaining a frigid courtesy toward each other. But Shen Biwei cared nothing for such distinctions. Ye Lingbo harbored resentment against Master Ye, refusing to call him Father and calling him “Master Ye” instead. Shen Biwei followed suit, calling him “Master Shen” as well. And that was not all — seeing that Han Yueqi ignored Shen Yunze, she stopped calling Han Yueqi “Sister-in-law” and instead followed Ye Lingbo in calling her “Yueqi Sister.”

Ye Lingbo teased her: “Why do you keep following me around copying everything I do? You little mimic.”

“Have you never heard of a wife following her husband?” Shen Biwei only lazily stretched her arms. “Ah, if I were a man, I wonder how much better I’d be than Shen Yunze — I’d never let him get so full of himself. I think the problem is that he overestimates himself. He thought he was so remarkable — somewhat decent-looking, a bit of learning under his belt — and so he started chasing after flowers and willow branches. Well, good for him, he got exactly what he deserved.”

Ye Lingbo said coldly: “If you were a man, you’d be just as insufferable. All the men in the capital are spoiled rotten — crooked melons and split jujubes, every one of them.”

“If I were a man, I would definitely marry you,” Shen Biwei teased her. “Our Lingbo is always striving to climb higher — if she married me, she’d naturally ascend to the upper circles. I’d definitely earn her the title of an honored lady.”

“If you were a man, you still wouldn’t marry me,” Lingbo said. “You’d be off chasing after the pretty girls at the Flower-Banquet.”

“Who says so? Our Lingbo is lovely too — it’s just that the world is blind and can’t see it. Besides, I’m already this beautiful. What would I need another beauty for? Looking at myself is quite enough.” Shen Biwei said.

It was a rather absurd piece of reasoning, yet somehow it made a certain kind of sense.

As for her own plainness, Lingbo had honestly never minded much. A person’s fate in life and their appearance at birth were both written in destiny — no amount of adornment could change that entirely. And so she had no particular interest in the Lantern Festival, that once-a-year spectacle of the capital where everyone competed to outshine one another.

It was the custom in the capital that during the Lantern Festival, people would walk to drive away illness. The young ladies of noble families would all dress in new clothes and walk by moonlight from their homes to the South City Gate, touching the gate before returning. It was said to ward off illness for oneself and bring blessings to one’s family. Even the strictest of households would let their sheltered young ladies out on this one day. And so the Lantern Festival was often a time for men and women to look one another over — at the Flower-Banquet, men and women sat in separate sections, and the ladies a matron had taken a liking to had often never met her son, so arrangements were commonly made for the two young people to catch a glimpse of each other at the Lantern Festival.

Lu Wenyin had already put the word out early that more than a dozen families in the capital were seeking to propose to Lu Wanyang. The sons of noble families had also decided early on and were stirring up talk amongst themselves — on the day of the Lantern Festival, they wanted Lu Wanyang to go to the Guanyin Birthday Ceremony on the nineteenth of the second month and portray the Guanyin herself.

“She really is dreaming. For the folk temple fair’s Guanyin portrayal, the selection is done by public nomination, and besides, she wouldn’t even attend a common people’s fair. For the official ceremonies, they always choose ladies from the imperial family — even four years ago when Qinglan was selected, that was already an unusual exception, because she had distributed porridge to disaster victims and petitions had been submitted all the way to the magistrate’s office. What good deed has their Lu Wanyang ever done besides putting on airs before the Grand Princess? She wants to portray Guanyin? I think she’s lost her mind.” Ye Lingbo fumed at home.

“Yes, and if they’re choosing by looks, then A’Cuo would be the best candidate,” Yanyan said from beside her, nibbling on pastries.

Ye Lingbo felt a flicker of an idea stir in her heart, but this was not something she could decide alone — she would need to discuss it with Qinglan first.

Fortunately, the Cherry Blossom Banquet was the very next day. Cherry blossom viewing was not fashionable in the capital, and the Sun Family hosting the banquet had no particularly fine villa of their own, so in deference to the Grand Princess’s fondness for Buddhism, they simply held it at a temple. The Grand Princess naturally would not attend such a small banquet, and had sent Female Official Su as her representative.

Ye Lingbo had not even given much thought to the Lantern Festival, so naturally she was not treating the Cherry Blossom Banquet as anything important either. She went out again to find Pei Zhao for information.

“Of all the things — you skip the grand Spring-Welcome Banquet, but come bustling to this little Cherry Blossom affair,” she said, wasting no time in showing her contempt for Pei Zhao. “And what are you wearing again? What about that outfit from the New Year? Where did that go?”

“Sold it,” Pei Zhao said, enjoying the chance to tease her.

“You wouldn’t dare,” Lingbo replied, and being drawn out in this way, she turned the jest back on him: “You ought to dress better at the Flower-Banquet too — with your looks, some young lady might just take a fancy to you and bring you home as a prized son-in-law. Then you’d have all the fine clothes you could want.”

“No other young lady has taste good enough to see what I’m worth. I think I’d better ask Miss Ye to take me in instead.” Pei Zhao smiled at her from under the cherry blossom branches.

Lingbo was taken aback for a moment, then caught his meaning, and laughed despite herself despite her irritation at him.

“Stop talking nonsense. Any news? What have you found out? What has Cui Jingyu been up to these past few days? He hasn’t been in contact with the Lu Family, has he? Madam Wei and Lu Wenyin have had a falling out, haven’t they? Has Madam Wei figured out what to do about her Flower-Banquet? Lu Wenyin may be vile, but she does have some talent — without her help, won’t Madam Wei’s banquet fall apart completely?”

“But isn’t that why you’re here?” Pei Zhao smiled pleasantly.

Ye Lingbo stiffened, looking at him with sharp suspicion.

“Who told you that?”

“I guessed.”

“You’re not to guess.” Ye Lingbo was imperious about it. “Madam Wei and our household have had such a falling out — why would I ever help her? I’d be happy to watch her suffer. I’m warning you: don’t go spreading rumors about this. If word gets out, I’ll hold you entirely responsible.”

“That won’t do.” Pei Zhao smiled and said the opposite: “These days I’ve given up drilling soldiers and making my rounds of the barracks entirely — I’m fully dedicated to spreading idle gossip…”

Lingbo heard the sarcasm in his words and felt a small pang of guilt.

He was, after all, a young general — setting aside that veneer of careless indifference, he was still a young general of considerable merit and integrity. She had been dragging him around asking him to report on inner household gossip. It really was not a respectable use of his time.

“All right, then. Please keep an eye on Cui Jingyu for me, and next time I’ll host a proper banquet to repay you. Besides, you’re not attending the Flower-Banquet anyway, so you won’t get to eat anything good there. And you already have plenty of clothes — oh, that’s right, the white embroidered satin is for you to wear at the Lantern Festival. Don’t wear it at ordinary times — understood?”

“Understood.” Pei Zhao reached up and caught a branch of cherry blossoms, bending his head toward her with a smile. The cherry blossoms were blooming with such exuberant abundance, clustering around his face — yet somehow they made him look not soft in the least, but always strikingly cool. His features were simply too fine: that nose, those brow bones — aristocratic to the point of overwhelming the softer warmth of his peach-blossom eyes. He smiled at Ye Lingbo and said: “I don’t want food, and I don’t need clothes. All I want is for Miss to accompany me somewhere.”

“Really?” Ye Lingbo was surprised, then suspicious. “You’re not up to something, are you?”

Pei Zhao responded with an expression of wounded dignity. For such a tall and imposing young general, he wore a pitiful look rather convincingly.

Ye Lingbo was at a loss with him.

“Fine, I’ll go with you.” She threatened Pei Zhao: “But no tricks. Otherwise, don’t expect me to let it go.”

Pei Zhao broke into a smile at once.

It was no wonder Lingbo sometimes let herself be soft with him. He was like some extraordinarily beautiful creature — a proud peacock — and the moment you stroked him the right way, a smile bloomed immediately, doubly radiant. Like right now: when he bent his eyes into that smile, it was simply dazzling enough to make anyone dizzy. Who could resist indulging him?

And besides, Lingbo was not afraid of him. She had long since seen through his carefree indifference as nothing more than a mask. Setting aside the matter of Ping’an Quarter, could someone who never forgot his comrades-in-arms from the Mingsha River truly be a bad person?

And so Lingbo followed him as they quietly wound their way through the temple courtyard. She noticed that he knew this temple quite well — easily skirting the crowds, finding a secluded path through a bamboo grove, and leading Lingbo up stone steps, the path growing more and more secluded as they climbed.

“This temple was once reserved for the imperial family’s use. After Bao De Temple was built, this one fell out of use and gradually became the private retreat of capital noble families. That is why the Buddhist statues in the temple are all modeled after the imperial ladies of the palace.” Pei Zhao led her upward while he spoke.

Walking was one thing Lingbo did not mind, but climbing a mountain was another matter for a young lady of her station. After a stretch of climbing, she was already breathing hard, and she frowned: “How much further?”

“Still about half a li of mountain path left.” Pei Zhao smiled and extended his hand.

Lingbo naturally did not take it and instead gave his hand a light slap. “In your dreams.”

But after a few dozen more steps, it went well beyond mere dreaming. Lingbo was struggling badly, and Pei Zhao unclipped the blade at his waist and held out the scabbard for Lingbo to grip. Lingbo instead scolded him: “And what if I trip and fall on the blade and kill myself?”

“Then I would have no choice but to give my life to compensate Miss.” Pei Zhao said pleasantly.

Lingbo shot him a sharp glare. He understood. He extended his hand. Lingbo placed her palm in his with a handkerchief between them and said: “If anyone finds out, you’ll answer for it.”

“Understood.” Pei Zhao said with a faint smile. “What happens in the bamboo grove stays in the bamboo grove. No one will know.”

In truth, Pei Zhao had tremendous stamina — by the end, Lingbo was nearly entirely supported by him, practically carried up the mountain. When they finally crested the bamboo grove, the view opened up before her in a sudden sweep of brightness: at the summit sat a great boulder, carved with characters. Lingbo had climbed with her face flushed red, and leaned close to make them out: “What does it say? Huo what?”

Pei Zhao wrote it out for her to see.

“Huo Xuan?” Lingbo frowned in puzzlement. “Who is that?”

“He is the heir of the Duke of Ying.” Seeing her confusion, Pei Zhao prompted her: “The one who died at Baima Post Station.”

Lingbo’s eyes went wide at once.

“That’s not — the Grand Princess’s…”

She pressed her lips shut, not daring to say more. Even in her own home, such secrets were not to be spoken aloud.

The Ying Ducal Household was, in truth, among the greatest founding meritorious families. The first Duke of Ying, Huo Anguo, had been the third-ranked great minister enshrined in the Lingyan Pavilion and the foremost of all military commanders. He had fought alongside the Great Zhou’s founding Emperor to conquer this empire, and when the work was done, he stepped back from power — granted the title of Duke of Ying, the title hereditary and exempt from reduction. Among all the powerful clans, the Ying Ducal Household could count itself fortunate: it had survived the first wave in which heroes were discarded once their usefulness was spent. By the time the late Emperor ascended the throne, the household was in fact considerably relied upon — otherwise, why would the Emperor have married his princess into it, treating the second Duke of Ying as a trusted pillar of the court? The late Emperor had even hoped the Ying Ducal Household would help the imperial family rein in the other generals who held military power.

And yet fate played its capricious games. While the late Emperor was still in the prime of his years, his health took a sharp and sudden turn for the worse — by the time he was forty, he had developed debilitating headaches and suffered multiple bouts of coughing blood. As his health changed, so too did an emperor’s heart begin to shift. Though he had many imperial sons, the eldest — who was now the current Emperor but was then still the Crown Prince — had been barely past twenty at the time. Meanwhile, the Ying Ducal Household was filled with talented figures and held a commanding grip on military power.

And so the Ying Ducal Household could not escape being purged.

The story was that the late Emperor had originally intended to spare the heir of the Ying Ducal Household — after all, the Grand Princess was still young, and Huo Yingzhen was even younger. There was no reason to make the Grand Princess a widow. But those below had misread his intent and actually killed the heir of the Ying Ducal Household, Huo Xuan, at Baima Post Station. Though the late Emperor redirected his fury at the Right Chancellor and went on to purge the Dou Clan, the Grand Princess’s heart had broken with the late Emperor from that day forward. She had withdrawn to the Ying Ducal Household and remained there in solitary seclusion ever since. The current Emperor carried guilt toward this elder sister of his and shielded and protected her at every turn.

Lingbo had never imagined she would encounter Huo Xuan’s calligraphy here. All this time, Huo Xuan had been a name that could not be spoken aloud in the capital. Households like Shen Biwei’s, truly close to the powerful, might know some of the real story — households like the Ye Family, a middling family, only knew the tale as an overheard rumor.

“The bearing in this calligraphy is rather fine,” Lingbo said. She was accustomed to watching Qinglan practice calligraphy and had come to understand how writing revealed a person’s character. “It looks expansive and open-hearted. What a pity…”

Pei Zhao showed no apparent interest in this, which was understandable — he must have climbed up here often and was long accustomed to the sight. Lingbo was still reflecting carefully and wanting to say more, but he had already turned her around.

Lingbo looked up in startled amazement at what lay before her.

The mountain was not particularly tall — yet its position was extraordinary. From the summit, one could overlook nearly the entire capital. In the distance, it aligned with the tower of Zhenguo Temple, and the capital’s countless wards and markets lay below like small neat boxes arranged in perfect order.

“How is this possible?” Lingbo stared at it all in wonder, her mind working quickly. She recognized landmarks at once. “That’s Ping’an Quarter — and there’s the South City — and is that the Bell Tower near our home…”

Pei Zhao’s eyesight was naturally far sharper than hers, trained as he was in archery. With a smile, he redirected her hand to point in the right direction: “That is the Bell Tower near your home.”

It was Lingbo’s first time seeing this. The sheltered young ladies of the capital’s noble houses were not like the young scions who could ride out freely with trained eagles to hunt wherever they pleased. Even today’s Cherry Blossom Banquet, though nominally held at a mountain temple, was merely a cordoned-off area where the girls could stroll and admire flowers — the wider world beyond remained closed to them.

No wonder men were always sweeping about with great ambitions and proclaiming the whole world their responsibility. Even she, looking at this scene now, felt something bold and restless stirring in her chest.

“Look.” She pointed for Pei Zhao to see. “That’s the South Quarter, isn’t it? Ruyi Quarter is right there. I’ve worked it all out — the matters of this world are nothing more than food, clothing, shelter, and travel. I already have the silk shop and the pastry shop. An inn is harder — you need travel permits, and you have to maintain good relations with the officials. Our household has no male heir, which makes things very troublesome. I’ll leave that part alone for now. But Yueqi Sister said that when she’s finished with things this year, she wants to set two of her servants free to start some businesses. Her servants are capable, and the Shen Family’s influence is strong — there’s something to be arranged there. Between the two households, we could get things going in the South City. I’m thinking: once Liu Ji gets married, I’ll free him to manage the silk shop. Niangzi Yang is getting on in years too — she can be freed, and I’ll buy her family a small courtyard in the south of the city so they can live as their own people, better than serving as servants. She can manage Ruyi Quarter for us, and Yang Hua can stay on as the household manager, taking over from her mother…”

What she described sounded scattered on the surface, yet every sentence was deliberate and calculated — she had divided the household’s servants into two factions, each balancing the other. And that was not all; there was yet a third faction: “Oh, and Lin Niangzi has been following A’Cuo around anyway with nothing to do. I’m thinking of entrusting the jewelry shop to her — it’ll become A’Cuo’s dowry eventually. Otherwise Yanyan’s wet nurse and Luo Niangzi will keep idling along just like Lin Niangzi did before. If Lin Niangzi sets an example, it might motivate them too…”

The strategic thinking in all this was not far behind what the officials at court might manage.

She spoke with great ambition, a light shining on her plain face — not the gentle and tranquil look common among young ladies, but something more like a straight-standing tree. Even without flowers in bloom, who could fail to be drawn in?

Pei Zhao only watched her with a smile.

“Indeed, Miss has planned all of this wonderfully…” He teased her the way one teased a small child, from morning until night.

Lingbo looked at him with disdain.

“Pei Zhao, don’t give me that.” She asked him sincerely: “When you look at the capital’s thousand households spread out like a chessboard, does your heart truly feel nothing stir? Why should Cui Jingyu be the one to receive titles and high office? Your archery and riding are better than his, and your merit is no less. Have you truly never wanted to climb higher yourself? How does that poem go again?”

“Do but ascend briefly the tower of valor — which scholar ever earned ten thousand households?” Pei Zhao knew his poetry well enough, and even supplied the lines for her.

“You see — you have the learning and you have the martial skill. Even if you missed this chance at a title, there is still the future. Striving upward, your prospects could be boundless. Why are you just drifting along here, not joining the Flower-Banquet, not contending for anything in the military…” When Ye Lingbo got started on lecturing him, she was always formidable.

Pei Zhao only smiled along agreeably, lazily leaning against a pine tree to one side.

“Yes, yes, Miss’s advice is entirely correct.”

Ye Lingbo was about to say more, when Pei Zhao’s expression suddenly sharpened: “Someone is coming.”

Lingbo was not particularly flustered — she had Xiao Liu’er with her, so it could not quite be said that a lone man and woman were meeting in secret. And at the Flower-Banquet, even if few people strolled gardens together, no one would imagine anything improper between herself and Pei Zhao. She was of ordinary appearance — while Pei Zhao was one of the most strikingly handsome young men at the Flower-Banquet. How many young ladies dropped hints asking about him? Why would someone like that carry on a secret meeting with the plain-looking Ye Lingbo? Even if word spread, no one would believe it.

Still, Pei Zhao stepped in front of her.

What a fool, Lingbo thought to herself with inner amusement, but she said nothing to stop him. This fellow defied her at every turn — the embroidered satin she had given him he refused to wear, turning up in his usual plain blue robe instead. But his shoulders were broad and his waist narrow, and he made a solid barrier. Standing behind him, Lingbo caught the faint woody scent that clung to him.

The unexpected visitor climbed up, and the voice that came was a girl’s — a very familiar one: “Ugh, I’m exhausted.”

Lingbo peered out, and there was Yanyan — and who else was beside her but Shen Biwei in men’s clothing? Clearly A’Cuo had been right to report on her: Yanyan was picking up bad habits, running around with Shen Biwei everywhere. She could not even behave at the Flower-Banquet.

“Why is it you?” Shen Biwei spotted Lingbo at once, and seeing her standing behind Pei Zhao, immediately sized Pei Zhao up with unmistakable hostility.

Two proud ones meeting at last — Lingbo nearly laughed watching it. The two most unambitious people in the capital had just run into each other. Both were extraordinarily good-looking. If they came to blows, it would be no trivial matter.

“Northern Garrison Army?” Shen Biwei noted the military uniform on Pei Zhao’s person with sharp perception.