Ye Lingbo’s words proved true — with Qinglan there, the Flower Xin Banquet required no frantic preparation at all.

Robes, jewelry, hairpins, and ornaments were all readied without a word needing to be said. Four hairdressers had been engaged in advance. Ye Qinglan rose early, arranged breakfast, and woke everyone to eat first before sitting down to have their hair dressed and put on their clothes. The dressing mirrors were lined up in a row, the four of them sitting to have their hair done, discussing styles with one another. It was the first time A’Cuo had tasted the pleasure of sisters in their inner chambers.

“The way I see it,” Lingbo said eagerly, “since every other girl will certainly be wearing the plum blossom style, why not dress Yanyan up in the festive look she wears for the new year holidays? She’s adorable as it is, and dressed with a lively, joyful air, the matrons will like her all the more. A’Cuo shouldn’t stand out too much — she looks lovely no matter what she wears anyway. As for Qinglan — she should wear a headdress crown; that way no one can find fault with her either. As it happens, there’s a jade lotus crown right here at home.”

Qinglan only said: “That won’t do either. I’m accompanying the two of you — how can I be the one to stand out?”

Even so, she had, after all, once come close to claiming the top prize at the Flower Xin Banquet. She carried a natural dignity and refinement, and her beauty was effortless. In everyday life, dressed simply, this quality was not especially conspicuous. But today, with the hairdresser styling her hair into a simple high chignon and setting a jade and stone hair ornament in place — a pearl phoenix pin pressed at her temple to anchor the hair — she became as poised and serene as a female bodhisattva, carrying a cool and reserved air all her own. Every expression, every smile drew the eye.

Even Lingbo was transfixed at the sight, and asked Lin Niangzi: “Well? How does she compare to those years ago?”

“Her bearing is undiminished — and yet her manner has grown even more otherworldly.” Lin Niangzi sighed. “If only the two Madams could be here to see this…”

At those words, everyone’s eyes grew red.

“We only just finished the makeup — don’t everyone go crying it off,” Lingbo said with a laugh. “Lin Niangzi, really — why say a thing like that now?”

“It’s my fault, my fault entirely — I was so struck by the eldest young miss that I spoke without thinking.” Lin Niangzi quickly said: “Young misses, please don’t be sad — let us get ourselves into the sedan chairs.”

Lingbo personally helped A’Cuo into the sedan chair, and fearing she might be nervous, she instructed her: “Don’t worry. For all the greetings, the introductions, the socializing, the eating and drinking — just follow Qinglan’s lead. The Lin family has always produced the finest highborn ladies, and she was raised from childhood by our mother. Her manners are the most correct of all — even the matrons at the Flower Xin Banquet use her as the standard to follow. Just trust in that.”

Four sedan chairs wound their way through the south of the city. The more anxious the moment, the faster time seemed to pass. A’Cuo had not even had time to go over the names Lin Niangzi had mentioned in her mind before she heard the doorman’s announcement at the gate: “Young Madam Shen presents her calling card — she comes accompanied by four young misses of the Ye family.”

She knew this was Han Yueqi’s calling card. Unfortunately, being the lesser New Year’s season, the Shen family had guests to receive, and Han Yueqi, as the household’s young mistress overseeing its affairs, truly could not get away — her card could come, but she herself could not.

With Lingbo’s prior introduction in mind, A’Cuo had already arrived at the He family on her guard. It was indeed the household of people currently in power: everything inside was grand and imposing. Though it was an old residence, it had been refurbished throughout. As was proper for an official’s family, the main gate was kept closed year-round. The sedan chairs carrying the young misses and matrons naturally all entered through the side gate. They did not descend before passing through the outer courtyard; once through the inner gate, the space opened up splendidly — a vast courtyard filled with dozens of red plum trees in full bloom. Their deep red, the color of cinnabar, shone against the snow resting on the branches like a painted scene. The courtyard was busy with the successive arrivals of sedan chairs from the capital’s most notable families — all padded against the cold, decorated with silks and brocades of every color, bright and festive, hung with lanterns trailing ribbon-tassels and gold bells, each family’s crest and name displayed on their lanterns with extraordinary artistry. For the highborn young ladies who rarely ventured outside, it was only through such details that each household’s standing could be expressed.

Alighting from the sedan chairs was another matter entirely.

The servants’ foremost task was naturally to distinguish rank. Those whose fathers and uncles held current power arrived in procession, surrounded on all sides — nursemaids, personal maids, and household stewardesses personally helping them down, following in the wake of their own mothers. Wealthy families, naturally, were swathed in fox and sable furs, gorgeous pelts framing faces as lovely as blossoms, heads adorned with pearls and jade. There were also the more refined and understated ones — like the young miss whose sedan chair bore curtains of dark blue satin: she wore nothing more than a simple white fox-fur stole draped around her shoulders, white as heaped snow. She had brought only one matron attendant and two maids, and she held a prunus vase in her arms, the hem of her robe embroidered with an orchid motif as she moved. Much like her face, she was of a beauty that transcended the ordinary.

“That is Lu Wanyang,” Ye Lingbo told A’Cuo.

Lin Niangzi was helping A’Cuo down from the sedan chair at that moment. Because she had no reliable senior maidservant of her own, Ye Lingbo had lent Yang Hua to A’Cuo, and A’Cuo’s own young maid Xiao Yue had come along as well, to broaden her knowledge.

A’Cuo raised her head and looked past the crowd of young misses in the courtyard toward Lu Wanyang, just as Lu Wanyang reached the steps and turned to look back at the young ladies. Their gazes met squarely. Unlike the startled looks the other young misses gave A’Cuo, she instead offered a smile — the kind that carried a sense of kindred recognition between equals.

“Sister.” Having taken A’Cuo in, Lu Wanyang immediately turned to greet a strikingly beautiful young matron, smiling: “How is it that Sister arrived so early?”

That was, of course, Lu Wenyin — from the year when Ye, Han, and Lu had formed their three-way rivalry, when the Flower Xin Banquet was said to be the most splendid in ten years. The final ranking of the top three had, in the end, remained an open question, left unresolved alongside Ye Qinglan’s own unresolved marriage prospects.

A’Cuo paid none of that any mind, only obediently following behind Ye Lingbo — until she heard someone call out from the other side: “Elder Sister Qinglan.”

Ye Qinglan had descended from her sedan chair.

As it happened, Ye Qinglan’s sedan chair had come to rest in the very center, and the young ladies parted around her like water dividing to either side, watching this once celebrated daughter of a great family step down.

Her poise remained flawless. Her appearance remained flawless. Her hair was dressed in a simple high chignon; the hair on her temples was still dark as clouds. The white jade lotus flower crown sat upon her head — this unadorned simplicity did nothing to diminish her beauty in the slightest. Her eyes were softly downcast, her features poised and lovely as a Guanyin.

She would turn twenty-four after the new year — precisely the age of flower-ripening youth the books spoke of. And yet at the Flower Xin Banquet, she represented delay upon delay already. The rumors would not be few. Looking at the astonishment in the young girls’ eyes and the complicated expressions on the matrons’ faces, one could well imagine how much fresh whispering would follow after today.

“Elder Sister Qinglan.” Some young misses who knew her called out to her by name. A slight dip of the head in greeting — it showed respect for her character, though it inevitably carried a note of sympathy too. Set against the hush that had fallen over the courtyard, it felt all the more awkward — bordering on pity.

Ye Lingbo was the first one who could not bear it.

“Sister.” She immediately stepped forward and took Ye Qinglan’s arm. Qinglan only smiled, turning to look at her with a reassuring expression.

But even that could not quiet the idle chatter of those who had nothing better to do.

Because Yanyan had rushed forward and claimed Qinglan’s other arm, A’Cuo had fallen behind, and naturally found herself within earshot of the whispers drifting back from the crowd. For the most part, it was matrons talking to their daughters, chatting among themselves, who had come upon this curiosity and taken the opportunity to offer their commentary.

“Is that not Ye Qinglan?”

“What is she doing back here?”

“Isn’t she already twenty-four?”

“Twenty-four — more like twenty-seven, if you ask me. She’s aged terribly. What is she doing here, joining in the commotion…”

“Her bearing is still rather good.”

“What use is good bearing? She’s still dragged things out to this day… she had an engagement broken off by the other party, didn’t she…”

“As I remember it, there was some sort of scandal. Otherwise, how could she still be unmarried now?”

“She’s embarrassing herself plenty just by being here. Three sisters attending the Flower Xin Banquet together — and she has the nerve to show her face. All that talk back then of the banquet’s prize recipient — such glory — and today it’s truly become a laughingstock…”

A’Cuo gave nothing away, only using the corner of her eye to quietly commit to memory the faces of every matron and young miss who gossiped, who smirked, who spread falsehoods.

She was not Yanyan — guileless and without guile. She was now Ye Lingbo’s foremost student, and she naturally remembered what Ye Lingbo had said: “The Flower Xin Banquet runs for twenty-four gatherings. We have plenty of time ahead.”

Once all the young misses had alighted from their sedan chairs and entered through the inner courtyard gate, it became clear why people said the He family had grown arrogant, riding on the crest of Lord He’s good fortune. At a proper Flower Xin Banquet, the hosting family was expected to begin receiving guests from the moment they descended their sedan chairs. The He family, however, had posted only a few household stewardesses to assist with the alighting; their own head stewardess awaited at the inner courtyard gate; and as for Madam He — she had not even come out of the main hall, but was seated inside waiting.

Outwardly, though, she was warm enough, her manner even more familiar and cordial. Especially upon catching sight of the leading matrons and young ladies, she became visibly delighted, came forward to take their hands at once, and said: “How I’ve been waiting for you all — my mahjong table is already set. Today no one is allowed to sneak away early — you must all stay until dawn before I let you go.”

“She really is a foolish woman.” Lingbo had slowed her pace at some point, and now spoke close to A’Cuo’s ear, instructing her: “Madam He is quite simple-minded. A Flower Xin Banquet requires the host to treat every single guest equally and ensure everyone has a good time — you must even keep up appearances with people you’ve quarreled with. But she’s treating it like an ordinary small gathering among close acquaintances and only greeting those she knows well. With an outlook and a manner like that, no wonder someone has come to roost in her nest and push her out.”

Who had taken over her nest? Lingbo did not say, but A’Cuo saw it the moment she entered the main hall. The He family’s elder matriarch sat enthroned at the head of the room, her hair silver-white, her authority unmistakable without a word of sternness. Nestled on either side of her were not her own daughter-in-law and granddaughter, but Lu Wenyin and Lu Wanyang.

The night before, Ye Lingbo had already explained to A’Cuo: Lord He had not come up through proper scholarly examination but had purchased his rank. The He family was itself of the old gentry, with a substantial family fortune, and their recent rise was simply gilding the lily. Because of this, the He family’s elder matriarch had always looked down on her own daughter-in-law, Madam He, to begin with — she had always considered Madam He’s family to be without distinction, having no official connections worth speaking of. After her son’s meteoric rise, she found fault with everything Madam He did. In truth, though Madam He’s family had no more officials among its ranks, they had accumulated a considerable fortune in earlier times, and her dowry had been generous — it was precisely this that the old matriarch had valued when seeking a bride for her son. And now that very matriarch had grown disdainful of the very same background she had once welcomed, dismissing it as low-bred and narrow-minded.

Madam He, for her part, truly had no calculations in her heart, and did not dare have any reservations about the Lu sisters whom Lingbo had called cuckoos nesting in another bird’s home — in fact, on top of her fear of the old matriarch, she also harbored a degree of wariness toward the two sisters themselves. After all, the Lu family was currently enjoying a rising prominence of its own: Lord Lu was serving in the Ministry of War; Lu Wenyin had married into the Chen family, born the legitimate eldest grandson, and had the entire Chen household firmly in hand. Among the young matrons of the capital, she was second only to Han Yueqi.

But the Shen family’s affairs were vast and required enormous effort to manage, which was why Han Yueqi had no time to attend today — leaving Lu Wenyin alone to hold sway.

As the guests entered, the He family’s elder matriarch made a show of rising, and an attentive matron quickly stepped forward: “Honored Elder Matriarch, please do not trouble yourself with formalities — you would make us juniors feel too ashamed.”

“Guests are always our most honored people. Thanks to the blessing of all of you, our family has this year drawn the first Flower Xin Banquet of the season, and this old woman takes that as a mark of distinction. Each and every one of you here is a valued guest — whether near or distant acquaintances, it is only proper that we receive you well and ensure you all feel at home,” the Elder Matriarch said.

Madam He, hearing that these words were directed at her, stiffened visibly, her laughter with the other matrons stopping short. She stepped awkwardly to one side. In truth, she truly had never managed a gathering of this scale before — the harder she tried, the more wrong notes she struck, leaving her increasingly at a loss.

Lu Wenyin, as expected, showed her skill: reading the room, she smiled and said: “Only the Elder Matriarch has the gift for saying exactly the right thing and delighting everyone at once. Wanyang, have you taken note? I always say that following the Elder Matriarch’s example teaches us more about receiving guests and conducting ourselves than anything else — truly, one cannot be in her company without learning something of great value.”

Lu Wanyang, naturally, smiled and agreed. The assembled matrons followed with a string of flattering remarks, and the He family’s elder matriarch broke into a wide, gratified smile. Watching how the Lu sisters were favored, it was no wonder Madam He feared them. When Lu Wanyang made a passing remark about the plum blossom potted plants in the front courtyard looking lovely, Madam He immediately worried that it was a veiled criticism of using potted plants as a substitute for something more impressive, and rushed to say: “The few plum trees in the back courtyard are blooming even better — all trees that have been growing for decades. Later I shall have Nanny Wang take the young misses to see them.”

The He family’s head stewardess personally came to pour the tea, and maids brought out the pastries — they were quite exquisite, and one could see that Madam He had put real care into them. She began to introduce the refreshments with evident enthusiasm, but had barely said two sentences before the Elder Matriarch interrupted: “The young misses enjoy the pine nut cakes. Why don’t you bring the young misses to the back hall for tea and a rest — they can hardly feel comfortable sitting here with all the matrons present…”

Madam He paused, then said: “But then the duty of receiving the matrons—”

“With Wenyin here to help keep things in order, there is no hurry for you to return until the main banquet begins.” The Elder Matriarch’s tone was light, but brooked no objection.

Madam He still hesitated, but Lu Wanyang smiled and said: “We enjoy nothing more than keeping the matrons company in conversation — how could we possibly feel uncomfortable?”

She had a few young misses among the group who readily followed her lead — one spoke up and the others echoed, all smiling to say they felt perfectly at ease. Madam He had just allowed herself a spark of hope when she heard Lu Wenyin smile and say: “Wanyang has always been devoted in that way, happy to stay with the matrons. But today is a day for strolling the garden and enjoying the scenery — getting to know new friends among the young misses is the proper order of business.”

The Elder Matriarch added: “Quite right. You young ladies go enjoy your tea in the back — the plum blossoms back there are at their finest right now. Sweeping the snow from the plum blossoms to brew tea is itself a refined pleasure.”

Lu Wenyin, naturally, offered another round of flattery, saying that only the Elder Matriarch could appreciate such elegant pastimes, and that they themselves only knew how to embroider plum blossom patterns on their needlework. Madam He could not find a moment to insert a word edgewise, and had no choice but to lead the young misses to the back courtyard to enjoy the grounds.

It was midwinter, and snow had fallen — inevitably, things would look sparse and bare. The He family had spared no expense, festooning the covered walkways with ribbons and silk flowers, and hanging lanterns of every color, each inscribed with poems or seasonal verses, all on the theme of plum blossoms. When they arrived at the back hall, the heated floors made it warm as spring inside. The newly built glass pavilion was bright on all four sides; outside stood a plum tree several decades old, blooming in white. Though its blossoms were white rather than red, the lanterns and calligraphy hung from its branches gave it a cheerful, festive air.

In the front hall, Lu Wenyin held authority among the matrons; in the back courtyard, Lu Wanyang naturally presided among the young misses — though she carried herself with modesty, and even deferred the seat of honor to Qinglan. Qinglan, naturally, declined. The place of honor was left empty. Madam He hosted the young misses with genuine attentiveness and considerable warmth, though she could not entirely conceal a look of discontent.

“Madam He has only one daughter — that’s the one in the crimson large-sleeved robe with the interlocking lotus pattern, called He Qingyi. Her two illegitimate sons are not yet of marriageable age, so entertaining the young misses serves no purpose for her whatsoever,” Lingbo murmured in A’Cuo’s ear. “She wants to be in the front hall mingling with the matrons — that, too, is all for He Qingyi’s sake. But there is no way Lu Wenyin will allow that. Her own Camellia Banquet is after the new year; she is presently in a contest of influence with Elder Sister Han, and is at the very moment of establishing her authority — naturally she will seize every inch of advantage she can. The Elder Matriarch is muddled, unable to get along with her own daughter-in-law, and has done all the work of making someone else’s bed. Though behind this there is another reason—”

Lingbo was just about to explain what that reason was when she noticed someone approaching, and let it drop.

The young misses gathered in clusters, still rather shy, and conversation was scarce. For all the talk of the Flower Xin Banquet being a place to make new friends, in reality the young ladies of the capital’s great families each had their own social circles, and at this moment they stood in groups of two and three, talking amongst themselves. A’Cuo took Lingbo’s lesson about “not being the first bird to fly out at the opening banquet” to heart, and kept her eyes to herself and her thoughts composed. Yanyan, on the other hand, bounded about everywhere — one moment sneaking up behind a girl roughly her own age and covering her eyes, insisting she guess who it was; the next moment going over to chat with He Qingyi, asking: “Elder Sister Qingyi, what is the secret to your family’s pine nut cakes? Of all the pine nut cakes I’ve tasted at every Flower Xin Banquet, yours are the finest.” This drew the other young ladies over to pay He Qingyi compliments. Then, in the blink of an eye, Yanyan had slipped out to the glass pavilion, pulling the first girl over again and, together with two others, the four of them joined hands, let out excited little cries, and began pulling things — handkerchiefs, it seemed — from their sleeves to compare with one another, chattering away without end.

A’Cuo watched her. Lingbo looked disdainful.

“Don’t you go learning her ways — she is thoroughly undisciplined, only ever eating and playing. She’s not getting any younger either, and she spends every day plotting with those friends of hers about how to eat at the Flower Xin Banquet without drawing attention. Don’t you go picking up her bad habits.” Even after scolding Yanyan, Lingbo was not done — she turned on someone else for good measure: she glanced out at the crowd, frowned, and said: “What is going on — where has Shen Biwei gone? Late on the very first day, and the noon banquet is almost upon us. I’m going to look for her.”

A’Cuo said: “Then I’ll come too.”

“You will not. It is bitterly cold outside. Stay here and keep close to Qinglan — and if anything comes up, stay with Yanyan.” Lingbo gave her no chance to refuse, and called out: “Yanyan, come here.”

Yanyan was obedient. She looked lovely, and was dressed to match — at the Flower Xin Banquet, the young misses all wore formal wide-sleeved robes in vivid colors with elaborate embroidery, but Yanyan had been put in a red short-jacket by Ye Lingbo, lined with fox fur, with fluffy white fox trim at the collar and cuffs. Her hair was styled in twin buns, making her look like a jade-and-snow doll. The matrons who saw her all adored her. When Lingbo called her name, she came trotting over cheerfully, which made her even more endearing — like a bright-eyed little dog.

Lingbo was not softened by this in the least, only issuing her orders: “I’m going to step out and ask about the Shen family’s situation. Keep watch over A’Cuo for me, and do not leave her side for a single step.”

“All right,” Yanyan said readily.

Only then was Lingbo satisfied. She turned to Yang Hua and said: “Come find me outside if anything happens.” Yang Hua understood her meaning, gave a nod, and stayed behind with A’Cuo.

The dynasty’s last hereditary duke of perpetual standing was Shen Biwei’s maternal grandfather, the Duke of Yongguo. Her mother was a legitimate daughter of the ducal household, and her father was a highly favored Secretary — a man in the Emperor’s own confidence. Setting aside the imperial clan’s noblewomen, among the young ladies of the great families, her standing was the highest of all. Even Lu Wanyang, when confronted with her, would have no choice but to yield the place of honor.

In Ye Lingbo’s view, the only hope of wresting the top prize of the Flower Xin Banquet from Lu Wanyang this year rested entirely with Shen Biwei. And yet this particular person was an utter disappointment — willful, unbridled, utterly without ambition. She genuinely worried Ye Lingbo half to death.