Although Lingbo had been quite worried, by the time they arrived at Baixi Street, the timing turned out to be just right. Han Yueqi had the sharpest eyes of all; she caught sight of them at once and leaned against the railing upstairs, laughing: “Oh my, what a fine-looking young man.”

Lingbo brought Pei Zhao upstairs, and was surprised to find the Shen siblings were both already there — and both wearing equally sour expressions. Shen Yunze, having come up through the ranks as an Exploration Flower graduate, had always been rather proud of his own looks; but set against Pei Zhao, his luster dimmed entirely, and his face immediately darkened.

Shen Biwei was even more childish about it. When Pei Zhao came up, Lingbo had meant for him to sit beside her — but Shen Biwei set her lantern down with a thud, and said coldly: “Someone’s sitting there.”

Pei Zhao did not take offense. He smiled pleasantly and said: “This must be Miss Shen — this humble officer pays his respects.”

Shen Biwei could have cheerfully flung him off the upper floor, and naturally gave him no pleasant look whatsoever. She looked him up and down, and upon noticing that his robes were made from fabric belonging to Lingbo’s household, took an even greater dislike to him. Pei Zhao, for his part, appeared perfectly easy-going.

Lingbo had no interest in managing either of them, and kept her attention fixed on the street below. She spotted the Wei family party approaching from a distance and immediately stood up: “Isn’t that Madam Wei over there?” She shot Han Yueqi a meaningful glance.

Han Yueqi needed no further prompting and immediately instructed Han Niangzi: “Go and invite Madam Wei upstairs for tea.”

Lu Wenyin had by now fallen out with the Wei family, and with no one monopolizing Madam Wei’s attention, Han Yueqi lightly and deftly intercepted the entire Wei party — and received Cui Jingyu into the bargain. Remembering how closely he had been associating with He Qingyi, Lingbo silently cursed him as a scoundrel.

Yet scoundrel or not, he remained today what he always was: a fine-looking young marquis, imposing and aristocratic. For the Lantern Festival, he had unusually dressed in a robe of crimson brocade — still accented with black, as was his habit — but the effect was both grave and vivid. Gold and silver threads embroidered a python motif that appeared to be an imperial gift. He looked so powerful and striking that Wei Yushan beside him seemed a mere child by comparison.

Madam Wei had improved considerably of late, and the ladies she had brought from Yanglin City were somewhat more presentable now. She and Han Yueqi exchanged pleasantries with perfect courtesy, and the whole party settled upstairs. Everyone had come with their own husbands, going about in matched pairs, and as Lingbo watched Cui Jingyu and Qinglan each occupy opposite ends of the railing, she felt all the more regretful at the waste.

Han Yueqi was steadier than her, at least. She glanced at Cui Jingyu a couple of times, noticed that he had still been unable to help stealing a glance at Qinglan — his expression deep and unreadable — and immediately understood.

“The Marquis is in fine spirits today,” she began, offering him a compliment. “Fortunately the military camp grants a holiday for the Lantern Festival, so one can come out to admire the lanterns — otherwise, how many young ladies would be left waiting in vain?”

“I still have to conduct an inspection of the camp later — I’ll be returning shortly,” Cui Jingyu said flatly, refusing to be drawn in.

Han Yueqi could only turn to tease Madam Wei instead, asking how the Marquis Wei could be so unyielding — having to inspect the camp even on the Lantern Festival. Madam Wei earnestly came to his defense: lanterns and candles were a fire hazard, she explained, and besides, the officers were all young men — one had to keep them from lingering too long at the festival and failing to return, so some supervision was necessary.

This gave Cui Jingyu an opening to slip away, and he stood coldly at the railing, gazing down at the street below. Pei Zhao, never without mischief, deliberately provoked him: “Look — if you set up three crossbows on the city wall opposite and on this floor, wouldn’t you have the entire street covered?”

Cui Jingyu was in no mood whatsoever to discuss warfare. He shot Pei Zhao a cold look and said: “Displaying your plumage?”

Pei Zhao only smiled and said nothing, looking rather pleased with himself as he let Cui Jingyu observe his robes, wearing the expression of someone taking great pride in the sight.

Lingbo, listening nearby, felt her impatience rising. At this rate, she thought, when would Qinglan and Cui Jingyu ever get to exchange a word? But she respected Han Yueqi’s methods, so she held herself in check.

When the He family arrived upstairs, however, she could restrain herself no longer.

To be fair to Madam He, her situation was not easy — such is the nature of a parent’s heart. He Qingyi had suffered greatly at Lu Wenyin’s hands: not only had she been upstaged at the Plum Blossom Banquet, the very first gathering of the season, but her subsequent court assignment — when the Grand Princess had asked her to submit embroidery designs — had also been sabotaged by Lu Wenyin. What mother would not be anxious? So the moment she glimpsed even a sliver of hope in the form of Cui Jingyu, she immediately brought everything she had to bear. Even knowing this was Han Yueqi’s territory, she steeled herself and brought He Qingyi upstairs to socialize, offering her greetings to the Marquis.

And that scoundrel Cui Jingyu had the nerve to actually engage with her — responding properly to everything she said.

Han Yueqi’s character was more principled; her outlook was that of a world where the strong prevail, and even on her own territory, she would not allow Madam He or He Qingyi to be put to shame. Lingbo was not the sort to target young women the way Lu Wenyin did, and seeing this scene unfold, she simply decided to serve up some choice material of her own.

“Little Sister Qingyi’s robes today are truly lovely,” she complimented He Qingyi warmly. “After all, pale colors are really what the Lantern Festival calls for. That shade — is it called ‘willow-tip moon’? How refined.”

When it came to clothing and needlework, He Qingyi was of the finest caliber. She also knew that her own beauty was of the clear and elegant kind, and so she never competed for flamboyance. This robe was both beautiful and full of thoughtful touches. The moon rising above the willow tips, the lover’s tryst at dusk — the allusion fit the Lantern Festival perfectly, and all the clever little details that young women weave into their choices were tucked quietly within it.

But Lingbo pointed it out, not to wound anyone.

He Qingyi observed proper etiquette and replied in a low voice, returning the compliment: “Indeed. Elder Sister Qinglan’s moonlight robe is also truly beautiful — is it heavy brocade? Heavy brocade is also called Flower City brocade: ‘At dawn, behold the red soaked places, where flowers weigh heavy upon Brocade City’ — a fine allusion as well.”

And Lingbo’s stratagem could only be called rain falling soundlessly upon the earth.

Of all the people in the room, only Han Yueqi understood Lingbo’s arrangement, and she immediately picked up the thread: “And what story does General Pei’s robe carry?”

Everyone had been stealing glances at Pei Zhao all along, as one always does with someone exceptionally handsome — a natural instinct, entirely unconnected to any romantic feeling, and even He Qingyi was no exception. Hearing this, they all turned to look at him at once.

And it was precisely at that moment that Lingbo smiled.

“That I couldn’t say,” she said warmly. “But what a coincidence — General Pei’s robe and my elder sister’s look like a matched pair.”

The room erupted at once. The Lantern Festival was, after all, a time of relaxed propriety; it came but once a year, and the married ladies were at their most uninhibited, while the young ladies were not expected to be too strictly bound by decorum. Han Yueqi took the lead, immediately pushing Qinglan forward. Qinglan resisted and struggled, but she was no match for the collective force of the assembled ladies and was propelled forward regardless; on the other side, Lingbo held Pei Zhao in place and refused to let him escape. The two were pushed together, both clad in white — she delicate and charming, he fine-featured and handsome — like two flowering trees in moonlight. Everyone exclaimed in delight: “Now truly, what a perfect pair.”

Amid the crowd’s teasing, Lingbo looked on at her leisure, watching Cui Jingyu standing at the back of the group, his face dark as ink.

If love begets jealousy, there was no reason she should always be the one provoking others — there had to come a time when someone provoked him.

Qinglan was naturally composed and proper, and being made the subject of such jesting, her face flushed a deep red; she could not extricate herself, which only made her more charming. No wonder she had been the crowning beauty at the Flower Season Banquet four years ago — the ladies most delighted in teasing exactly this sort of girl. Someone like Lingbo, too thick-skinned to be ruffled, offered none of this particular amusement.

Ladies teasing, Qinglan blushing, and Pei Zhao looking every bit the dashing young general — he made the perfect instrument for it. It was like watching an audience at a play, suddenly turning to jest and suggesting that the dashing Luo Cheng of the performance be matched with the leading lady. The scene could not have been more lively.

The only unfortunate thing was this: though Cui Jingyu had been provoked to the point that his very face had turned black with displeasure — the young general whom Lingbo had thrust into the center of it all did not, it had to be said, look entirely pleased himself.