The moment Ye Lingbo left, something went wrong.

The young ladies had been contentedly passing the time in the warm pavilion — chatting, doing embroidery, studying chess notation, drinking tea, and sampling pastries. A few of the bolder girls, seeing that the needlework Ye Qinglan was teaching A’Cuo was truly exquisite, could not resist coming over to ask for guidance. Ye Qinglan answered with a gentle smile, as gracious and refined as jade, and her manner was enough to soften the opinion they had formed of her. The atmosphere had been perfectly harmonious when suddenly an older maidservant entered and asked: “Which young miss is the second young miss of the Meng family?”

The Meng family did have a first young miss — the daughter of Concubine Su, the one who had tried to contest Madam Meng’s dowry, named Meng Yun Cui. Hearing this, she had half a mind to step forward. But the maidservant was He Mama, who served at the He family’s elder matriarch’s side and naturally knew her by sight. She did not spare her a glance, only fixing her eyes on A’Cuo and saying: “I mean the second young miss adopted by Madam Meng — the one who came from Yangzhou.”

Only then did A’Cuo rise and say: “That is me. Though I do not bear the Meng surname — my aunt bade me take the surname Yu.”

She appeared delicate, but she had a fierce streak. Given how the Meng family had behaved, she had no intention of bearing their name, and armed with Madam Meng’s dying instructions, she was not afraid to argue her case.

He Mama did not press the matter, only saying: “Miss Yu, the Elder Matriarch requests your presence — please follow me.”

A’Cuo was still considering how to respond when she heard Ye Qinglan say with a smile: “Might I ask what this concerns? Please do tell us, He Mama.”

“The Elder Matriarch has her own reasons for wishing to see the young miss.” He Mama’s tone was far from courteous — she was obviously well aware that Ye Qinglan was the “Flower Xin Banquet prize recipient” who had gone four years without marrying.

The gentle smile on Ye Qinglan’s face shifted — a slight furrow appeared in her brow.

“That is a muddled answer.” She did not rise from her seat — she remained in her rose chair, the embroidery in her hands not pausing for a moment, and she spoke in her unhurried, even way: “The Elder Matriarch just said that every young miss who has come today is a valued guest, and that all should feel at home. A’Cuo has only just arrived from Yangzhou and is not yet familiar with the capital’s customs — it is precisely He Mama’s place to explain things to her with care. To be so blunt and answer no questions — those who know will say He Mama was simply careless; those who do not know will think the Elder Matriarch raises servants without manners.”

This unhurried, measured speech caused He Mama’s expression to change entirely. Whatever standing Ye Qinglan held among the matrons and young misses was her own affair, but however respected He Mama might be, she was a servant at the end of the day — if word reached the Elder Matriarch that a servant had shown discourtesy to a visiting young miss, the household’s own rules would demand she be severely reprimanded.

So He Mama quickly assembled a smile, and answered patiently: “How would this servant dare not respond to the young miss — I was simply in a hurry and neglected to explain. It is only that just now, during the seating arrangements, one of the Ye Madams mentioned that Miss Yu is remarkably beautiful, even more so than the second young miss of the Lu family. The Elder Matriarch said she had not gotten a good look earlier and wishes to see the young miss more closely. She also intends to present the young miss with a very precious bracelet. I thought this was such a wonderful thing that I was eager to bring the young miss over at once, and so I did not explain in detail. Who would have thought that First Young Miss Ye would misunderstand…”

“Since it was a misunderstanding, let us say no more of it — there is no need for He Mama to apologize to Elder Sister Qinglan either. Just be more careful next time.” A’Cuo adopted Qinglan’s unhurried tone and cut off whatever He Mama had been about to say next.

He Mama had walked into a soft rebuff and had no choice but to fall silent.

A’Cuo was always quick to learn and accurate in her imitation — in an instant she had absorbed Ye Qinglan’s manner of handling matters with effortless poise, and even Qinglan herself could not help but smile at it. It was in this moment that she understood why Lingbo was so fond of A’Cuo.

When it came to understanding the machinations of the inner household, she and Lingbo were well matched — only she had learned such things without ever choosing to use them, while Lingbo deployed them with practiced fluency and quick wit, giving her an air of managing everything on all sides without a crack showing. But Qinglan was the eldest young miss and mistress of the household after all, and the moment He Mama finished speaking, she understood exactly what was being attempted.

The “Ye Madam” in He Mama’s account was naturally Concubine Pan, Pan Yurong, who had been elevated to the position of legal wife. Pan Yurong had a daughter named Yin Zhang — a very beautiful girl, only marginally less striking than A’Cuo. This year’s Flower Xin Banquet was an open contest with many contenders, and Pan Yurong had naturally entered the fray, personally scheming on her daughter’s behalf. She had thought Lu Wanyang was the only formidable obstacle; Shen Biwei was beyond her reach; everyone else she considered already beneath her. She had not counted on A’Cuo appearing out of nowhere, with a beauty that was genuinely startling. Pan Yurong herself was a woman whose fate had been transformed by her own looks, and she understood better than anyone the power such beauty held.

So Pan Yurong had played a scheme of pitting one threat against another: by praising A’Cuo before the Elder Matriarch, she was drawing A’Cuo into a confrontation with Lu Wanyang in hopes that the two would damage each other, leaving herself free to reap the gains.

It was a petty scheme, however, and one that badly underestimated the Lu sisters.

Qinglan smiled inwardly but kept her expression composed and said warmly: “In that case, I shall accompany A’Cuo to thank the Elder Matriarch for her gift.”

She led A’Cuo through the covered walkway to the He family’s main hall. As expected, several banquet tables had already been set inside, the matrons seated in the flower hall with its view of the courtyard’s plum grove. The screen that had blocked out the wind and snow had been raised; bronze braziers burned silver-threaded charcoal, keeping the cold at bay. Beside them, a prunus vase held a branch of red plum blossoms in full bloom. Some of the matrons had started a small game of cards, but aside from a few whose card-playing appetite was insatiable, the rest had gathered around Lu Wenyin, watching her draw up the seating chart. She reclined beside the Elder Matriarch, both of them seated on the wide couch — Lu Wenyin writing at a small square table while the Elder Matriarch lay back at ease, having a maid knead her legs.

Lord Ye’s position was no more than middling, and Pan Yurong’s origins were even lower — though she had been elevated to legal wife, she was no daughter of a great family, and so she could not even enter the inner circle, only hovering in the outer ring trying to be agreeable. But her eyes were sharp, and she spotted A’Cuo and Qinglan at once, smiling and calling out: “The little beauty has arrived! We were just speaking of you — Elder Matriarch, look, is she not lovelier than my Yin Zhang…”

Her voice was shrill, and the moment she called out, every matron in the room turned to look. The Elder Matriarch also raised her monocle and peered carefully at A’Cuo. Qinglan, fearing A’Cuo might grow nervous in such a situation, gave her a reassuring smile and gestured for her to follow her lead, then stepped forward herself: “Greetings to the Elder Matriarch. I have brought A’Cuo to pay her respects.”

A’Cuo was quick-witted, and her etiquette had all been properly taught — she immediately followed suit and stepped forward: “Kowtowing in greeting to the Elder Matriarch.”

No one would actually let her perform the full kowtow — she had barely begun to bow when hands from all sides came to help her up, and part of that was owing to Qinglan’s presence preceding her. A’Cuo also noticed, with her sharp eyes, that when Qinglan had greeted the room, many of the young matrons of similar age had quickly moved aside rather than receive her greeting head-on — they must have been those who had become engaged at past Flower Xin Banquets, peers who could not in good conscience accept such a bow from her.

Lu Wenyin, however, seemed entirely absorbed in the seating chart and did not stir — it was only after she had received Qinglan’s greeting that she appeared to come to herself, smiling as she rose: “I was just wondering which family’s sister could be so beautiful — and it turns out she is Elder Sister Qinglan’s sister.”

Everyone in the room immediately laughed, and two young matrons who had been hovering near Lu Wenyin, one in red and one in purple, clearly her followers, at once quipped: “A married matron addressing an unmarried young miss as ‘elder sister’ — that is rather a novel arrangement.”

No wonder Elder Sister Han had said she would try her utmost to come. These slights, delivered from a matron’s position toward a young miss, were truly difficult to answer.

But Lu Wenyin gave Ye Qinglan not a moment to respond, immediately adding: “What do you mean by that — we reckon by seniority, what does being married or unmarried have to do with it? Elder Sister Qinglan is half a year older than I am, so of course I call her sister.”

“Exactly — Qinglan attending the Flower Xin Banquet this year means she is looking to make a match, and once she is engaged, she too will be a matron. She and all the young matrons here will still be sisters,” Pan Yurong laughed back with swift composure.

She said it with perfect confidence, but the matrons all exchanged glances of surprise. The more seasoned matrons concealed their reactions; the younger matrons were visibly startled, and one among them — the sycophantic-looking one beside Lu Wenyin — simply let out a burst of laughter.

Everyone understood the implication: four years at the Flower Xin Banquet and still unmarried, now twenty-four by nominal count — and she was going to find a match this year?

Never mind whether she could manage it; just the sheer persistence of it… it was plain that this was indeed a banner year — now that the Northern Garrison was back, even a spinster of many years’ standing was entering the arena.

Qinglan was not troubled. She possessed that quality of serenity, as though all this surprise, all this commentary, all these open and veiled mockeries, were snowflakes drifting past her — too light to land. Even hearing the muffled laughter, she only said in an even tone: “The matrons are too kind to tease me. I have only come to look after my younger sisters.”

Her composure was formidable enough to gradually still the laughter around her. The Elder Matriarch was, after all, a woman of experience, and her propriety was intact — she said: “We have been so busy talking that we have not yet asked these two young misses to sit down. Quick, bring tea.”

Tea arrived, which helped somewhat — at least there was somewhere to put one’s hands. But some people could not let well alone. For reasons of her own, Lu Wenyin’s hostility toward Ye Qinglan ran surprisingly deep. Qinglan had barely steadied her teacup before Lu Wenyin was leaning toward another young matron with the seating chart, saying something quietly, and that matron promptly covered her mouth and laughed: “I wonder whether ‘Elder Sister Qinglan’ will be dining with the matrons or with the young misses.”

“Qiuzhen!” Lu Wenyin said with mock reproach, and immediately turned to Qinglan with an apologetic smile: “Elder Sister Qinglan, please don’t be angry — she doesn’t mean any harm.”

“I only spoke the truth,” the young matron called Qiaozhen laughed: “Since you say you came to look after your sisters, then by rights you should sit with the matrons — but Madam Ye also said First Young Miss Ye has come to make a match. If she sits with the matrons, she may not find a match; and if she sits with the young misses, people may be puzzled to find such an aged young miss among them…”

When she finished her little joke, some laughed, some matrons rebuked her, and some who could not bear watching them torment Qinglan showed it plainly on their faces. A’Cuo squeezed her hands into fists until her fingernails pressed into her palms.

No wonder Lingbo harbored such hostility toward these matrons at the Flower Xin Banquet. She herself genuinely wanted to tear their faces apart right now.

A weight settled on her shoulder — Qinglan had placed her hand there, signaling her to be patient.

A’Cuo’s eyes grew hot with feeling — angry, aggrieved, and above all guilty: guilty that Qinglan was enduring all this because of her attendance at this banquet, guilty for what she would say to Lingbo later about this wretched affair.

“The matrons do enjoy their jokes…” Qinglan began unhurriedly, as if about to put a stop to the teasing. She was seated toward the outer side of the main hall, and the snow-light mingled with daylight fell across her profile — still the face of a bodhisattva, and with the bearing of one too…

But her voice came to an abrupt halt.

There was a man standing in the courtyard.

He was a young man, and since he had come to attend a banquet, he was not wearing armor — only a dark brocade robe with a concealed pattern of circular flowers and embroidered feathers. It was a Hu-style garment, belted with a leather strap adorned with ornamental plaques, a sword at his hip, and below that Hu-style trousers with tall boots. He stood with his body half-turned, which made his tall, lean figure all the more striking. He had the quality of a beautiful black wolf — or some other such wild creature — standing in perfect stillness in the snow, watching everything.

His face was handsome, but it was not his handsomeness that anyone noticed first — it was the whole of him: the breadth of his shoulders, the narrowness of his waist, and the sharp edge in the set of his brow, all of which produced a feeling of being faintly breathless. He would have stood out as a banner among men even on a frontier battlefield, let alone here, in this prosperous and refined capital, in a courtyard filled with plum blossoms in bloom.

There were no men like him in the capital. There were only mild-mannered scholars and the sons of great families in wide-sleeved robes and tall caps — men whose clothes wore them. He was the only one who wore his clothes. One could not ignore the presence of his body, nor his face, nor the snowflakes caught in his hair and the soft way they dissolved against his cheekbones and lips.

For a moment, all the matrons froze — then instinctively averted their eyes.

Noble matrons of great families, though permitted to meet young male relatives once they were married, did not ordinarily encounter strange men — and this was unmistakably a stranger.

The He family’s steward, who had hurried in after him, explained his identity.

“My lord, my lord—” The steward had already been somewhat obsequious to begin with, but in this man’s presence, his deference became almost cringing. He wanted to block the way, yet dared not: “The matrons are all assembled here, my lord — this is not how things are done in the capital…”

The assembled matrons immediately understood who this was.

There was no other young marquis in the capital — and had there been, he would long since have been secured by the “contenders” of the Flower Xin Banquet. Only this man: the one who had returned with the Northern Garrison, the grandest and most coveted prize of this year’s open contest, Cui Jingyu — awaiting nothing but an imperial decree to receive his title.

“We failed to receive Your Lordship properly — our deepest apologies for the oversight.” Even the Elder Matriarch had no choice but to rise in greeting. The matrons who had been averting their eyes ceased to do so entirely, each taking a careful look at this new marquis. Those with daughters sharpened their plans at once; those without daughters began scheming on behalf of a niece or a young female relative elsewhere.

Such youth, such bearing, such appearance — who would not want to claim him?

A’Cuo instinctively looked toward Qinglan, only to be startled to find her eyes lowered over her teacup, as though that so-called broken betrothal were nothing more than an insignificant rumor.

And it was plain from these matrons’ reactions that they had no knowledge of such a betrothal ever having existed.

Cui Jingyu likewise did not look at her.

Naturally, he did not return the greeting — the He family, though powerful, was still gentry, and there was a distinction between gentry and the nobility. He only gave a cold nod of acknowledgment, then stepped aside to usher forward the person behind him.

It was a girl of fifteen or sixteen — not particularly pretty, with a complexion somewhat rough and dark, nothing like the fine, pale delicacy of the capital’s highborn young misses. Her features were somewhat plain: round eyes, an apple-cheeked face, and a build that was a touch too sturdy. Though she wore a white sable-lined cloak of the finest feather satin, it sat puffed and a little awkward on her. Her eyes had none of the gentle refinement of a young miss, and she looked faintly ill at ease.

“Young General Wei was occupied, so I brought Miss Wei in his stead.” Cui Jingyu’s voice was cold. “I also carry a message from Madam Wei: she says she has matters to attend to today and could not come. I would trouble everyone to keep an eye on Leshui.”

Only then did everyone understand — this girl was the daughter of Marshal Wei, whose title was on the verge of being bestowed: Wei Leshui. They had heard that her elder brother was exceptional, made a Young General at eighteen, now called Young Marquis. No one had known he had a younger sister.

Lu Wenyin reacted first. Secure in her status as a young matron, she did not retreat — she descended the steps and went forward, taking Wei Leshui’s hand: “So this is Little Sister Leshui. I am the young mistress of the Chen family — just call me Elder Sister Wenyin. Wanyang, come and greet Little Sister Leshui.”

The other matrons, realizing the moment had passed, could only regret that their own daughters were not at hand to be brought forward for a glimpse of Cui Jingyu. Unmarried young misses were not to meet unrelated men — but he had barged his way in uninvited, so it was not the young misses who had violated propriety. The consequences were his to bear. In the meantime, letting their daughters be seen for a moment and gaining a head start was all that was possible.

Lu Wanyang, naturally, sauntered gracefully down the steps. But before she could so much as exchange a glance or deploy her charms, Cui Jingyu turned to Wei Leshui and said: “Stay here and enjoy yourself. Your brother will come for you this evening.”

Wei Leshui had never seen anything like this. She looked at him — the only person she knew — with total dependence, and after a moment’s hesitation, murmured: “I… I’m scared…”

“Scared of what.” Cui Jingyu frowned. But he did not rebuke her — he only raised his eyes and looked toward the Elder Matriarch.

“My lord,” the Elder Matriarch began.

Cui Jingyu moved his gaze to the assembled matrons. Being an outside male, and one so young and striking, the matrons all hurriedly looked away.

He swept his gaze across the room, and did not glance at A’Cuo or Ye Qinglan even once.

“I am well aware that the capital has its exacting standards,” he said coldly. “Leshui is young, and I ask the matrons here to be patient with her. I will express my gratitude in due course.”

Lu Wenyin quickly smiled: “My lord speaks far too formally. We regard Miss Wei as our own younger sister — it is our delight, not our burden. Besides, at the Flower Xin Banquet, all the women here are close as sisters — Little Sister Leshui need not feel like a stranger at all. She should treat this place as her own home. Is that not so, everyone…”

The assembled matrons murmured their agreement — and then a single, level voice cut through the harmony: “That is a kind thing to say. But Elder Sister Qinglan is the gentlest woman I have ever known, and she has not been spared from being mistreated at this very banquet today. I would venture to suggest the atmosphere of the Flower Xin Banquet is not quite as pleasant as Madam Lu guarantees.”

The speaker was A’Cuo. In the midst of the general amiability, these words were anything but light. Even Wei Leshui flinched at them, and Cui Jingyu’s gaze turned cold.

A’Cuo met his eyes calmly, quietly searching the emotion in those ink-dark pupils.

Now she understood why Lingbo had pushed open that carriage window that night.

She had not spoken these words fearing to offend the matrons. She had spoken them for him to hear.

Was there feeling? Had there been feeling? Was there still feeling? The most distinguished highborn young miss the capital had ever known, and the wolf-like young man standing in the snow at this moment — two people who seemed the least likely ever to have been bound together, who had made a pledge and then broken it, and who now stood as strangers who would not even look at each other. A’Cuo had never lived through any part of their story, and yet she felt as though she were standing amid the broken walls of a vast, ruined palace, her eyes burning with tears she could not hold back.

If even this could come to nothing, then what in the world was permanent? Strings of a great instrument broken, a bright mirror shattered, white-haired laments, the grief of parting. Girls understood instinctively the weight of such a story — because the one who had made that pledge was Ye Qinglan, Ye Qinglan who wore the expression of a temple bodhisattva, utterly without feeling. Who could have imagined that she too had once loved someone enough to want to marry him? Who could have imagined that she herself had been the one to break her own vow?

Cui Jingyu said nothing for a long moment.

He understood, of course. How could he not understand — a man who could read through the fog of war on the battlefield — that he could not see through the cold indifference of these capital matrons? He also could not fail to understand why the young girl beside Ye Qinglan had spoken those words on her behalf.

But he said nothing in defense of Ye Qinglan.

He only said coldly: “I have heard something of the methods employed at the capital’s Flower Xin Banquets. By His Majesty’s order, the officers of the Northern Garrison are participating in this year’s Flower Xin Banquet. It is to be hoped that the various methods used in previous years will not be seen again.”

“My lord is too amusing — what methods do you speak of?” Lu Wenyin tried to laugh it off, but received a cold glance from him, and could only smile: “The Flower Xin Banquet is a gathering of young ladies from the inner chambers — naturally it is entirely pure and innocent, unsullied in every way. Please set your mind at ease, my lord.”

Cui Jingyu did not take up her words, and naturally said nothing about being at ease or otherwise.

He only said: “The Empress has already asked Her Highness Grand Princess Minghua to preside over this year’s Flower Xin Banquet. I am personally responsible for overseeing the officers of the Northern Garrison. Any betrothal resulting from this banquet will be personally inquired into by His Majesty. This is a matter of the greatest consequence — I ask the matrons and young misses to conduct themselves accordingly. I take my leave.”

Having said his piece, Cui Jingyu naturally departed without further ceremony. The Elder Matriarch still had to rise to see him out, and Lord He had already come hurrying over, waiting outside the inner gate to escort their honored guest off the premises.

He delivered his words and left, leaving the assembled matrons each absorbed in their own private calculations — too preoccupied to revisit what A’Cuo had said, and so it was smoothed over by Qinglan’s quiet: “A’Cuo is young — her words were a little rash. I ask the matrons to forgive her.” The matron called Qiaozhen was still trying to get in a remark — “You call yourself the Flower Xin Banquet’s prize recipient, and this is the sort of upbringing you produce…” — but she only got half of it out before Lu Wenyin glanced at her, and she immediately thought better of it.

Lu Wenyin kept her attention fixed on doing everything she could to win over Miss Wei, presenting herself as all warmth and harmlessness, and now had no time left for tormenting Ye Qinglan. The two Lu sisters together — one spirited and entertaining, the other gentle as jade — surrounded Miss Wei from all sides: asking about her family, asking about her years on the frontier, presenting gifts, complimenting her cloak, inviting her to visit their home to enjoy the flowers. Their followers joined in, adding to the chorus, until the whole group had Miss Wei so thoroughly encircled that not even a pin could be inserted. A’Cuo watched from across the room and felt a flutter of worry.

With no one she knew and all alone in a strange place, being treated with such warm enthusiasm — she feared Miss Wei would truly come to believe the Lu sisters were the finest people in the world, and under their influence, end up opposing Qinglan and Lingbo in the days to come. What would they do then?

“Sister…” She looked hesitantly at Ye Qinglan, not understanding why she had not simply taken Wei Leshui from Cui Jingyu’s hands when she had the chance.

The betrothal might be broken, but Ye Qinglan’s character and heart — had anyone who spent time with her not come to admire her sincerely? She had laid it all out for him plainly herself. Could Cui Jingyu truly have failed to understand?

And yet, there was Cui Jingyu with that perpetually cold, indifferent expression, handing Miss Wei straight into the Lu sisters’ grasp. For all his words about understanding the methods of the Flower Xin Banquet — could he not see that the Lu sisters were precisely the source of all these underhanded dealings?

A hundred thoughts turned over in A’Cuo’s mind in an instant, none of which could be spoken aloud. And yet Qinglan, seeing her in such turmoil, reached over and gently stroked her back, soothing her.

This almost made A’Cuo want to cry even more. She could only resent the cruelty of fate. Had the betrothal not been broken, Elder Sister Qinglan would today be the rightful Lady Marquis — Lu Wenyin, Yang Qiaozhen, all of them would have been rushing to bow to her.

Which only showed that Lingbo’s scheming was entirely justified.

“You, child — you carry too much in your heart.” Qinglan seemed to see right through her thoughts, and stroked her back as she taught her: “In situations like this from now on, do not speak up for me. It is no use. What matters most is protecting yourself.”

The main hall was lively just then: some were courting Miss Wei’s favor, some had gathered to discuss the Northern Garrison’s affairs, some were whispering about Grand Princess Minghua, and some were busy trying to attach themselves to both camps. In the middle of it all, the two of them had become a forgotten corner that no one paid any attention to.

A’Cuo’s heart grew all the more unwilling to accept it.

“Sister. The things of this world are not measured by whether they are useful. What does it matter if the Flower Xin Banquet comes to nothing — when someone I care about has been made to suffer, that is what I must concern myself with. Elder Sister Lingbo taught me this lesson on the very first day. How can I only think of protecting myself?” She answered Qinglan in earnest.

Qinglan was charmed into a smile.

“That is true enough — but you are both younger than I am. It should be me protecting you. How could I allow you to protect me instead?” Qinglan finished speaking, and seeing A’Cuo still about to reply, raised one finger to her lips in a silencing gesture: “Shh — whatever happened today, whatever you do, do not tell Lingbo. If she finds out, she will stir up trouble again.”

A’Cuo never did promise her.

Which was just as well, because the moment the afternoon banquet ended, Ye Lingbo found out anyway. Her network of informants was extensive, and with Xiao Liu’er, Yang Hua, and Yang Niangzi as her key lieutenants, there was nothing that happened at the Flower Xin Banquet that could escape her notice.