Lin Zi returned from his uncle’s quarters, and the book boy crouching in the corridor told him: “The young miss is inside waiting for you.”

Lin Zi gave a sound of acknowledgment, pushed open the door and stepped inside, walking and talking at the same time: “Feifei, what did you come to find me for…”

The writing desk was spread with many sheets of painting paper, and Lin Fei was holding one of them, looking up at him in a daze when she heard his voice.

Lin Zi’s words faltered for only a breath: “…about?”

He walked over and glanced at what Lin Fei held in her hand. Of course… it was the only one.

Lin Fei had found in the study nearly all of Lin Zi’s recent works. Those portraits of beautiful women were either faceless, or entirely from behind.

Lin Fei had found only one — only one single painting in which Lin Zi had painted a beautiful woman’s face.

And even that one was technically still a view from behind. The graceful figure of the woman was fully rendered in the sweep of the brushlines. Only in this one, the beautiful woman seemed to be listening to someone beside her and had tilted her head slightly to one side, revealing just a sliver of her profile.

Truly just the smallest bit.

But Lin Fei knew her so well, and Lin Zi had captured the likeness with such uncanny faithfulness, that she recognized her at a glance.

Lin Zi’s expression did not change. He smiled and said: “Is it that aunt has been nagging you again? You ran over here to hide?”

As he spoke, he reached out and pinched the edge of that painting, then slowly and gently began to draw it out from Lin Fei’s fingers.

Lin Fei opened her fingers, and the painting slid away from them with a dry, scratching sensation.

“Aunt came by today to tell me that the Yang Family has sent someone to speak again,” she said.

“The Yang Family is very sincere,” Lin Zi said with a smile. “The Mao Family and the Xue Family are also fine prospects. Tell aunt that you have only just been reunited with your family and have no wish to leave yet — they have all expressed understanding.”

Lin Zi slowly rolled that painting up. The two siblings, as if the pile of painting papers spread across the desk did not exist at all, went on talking with perfect composure.

Lin Fei looked at her elder brother’s handsome features.

Her aunt’s voice sounded in her ears — Don’t be willful.

Lin Fei’s lashes trembled faintly, and in that one brief moment, her mind was made up. She raised her eyes and said: “I came to tell elder brother — I have decided. I am going to marry Yang the Second.”

Lin Zi was rather taken aback: “Why Yang the Second? The Mao Family’s young gentleman has the finest scholarly gifts — only he has more children. The Xue Family’s young gentleman is somewhat less accomplished, but respectable enough, and has the advantage of never having been married before…”

But Lin Fei said: “Both of those men, while nothing was yet settled, let word slip out and let people find out. If they cannot hold their tongues, and conduct themselves with so little discretion, they will not rise very high in their careers. Yang the Second will do. The Yang household is a fine one.”

Lin Zi’s expression finally shifted.

“Feifei,” he said, “you are choosing a husband. What matters most is that the two of you share the same temperament and inclinations — that you are a true match for one another.”

Lin Fei said: “Marriage is the joining of two families. In the past, grandfather betrothed me to a son of the Gao clan — was that not also a family of illustrious standing?”

“That is hardly comparable,” said Lin Zi. “The Gao clan of Xinzhou has how many generations of heritage? And Gao First Young Master showed talent in both letters and martial arts from childhood…”

“If he were still willing to marry me now, I would be willing to marry him,” said Lin Fei. “But his entire clan has retreated to the south bank of the great river — what can be done about that? Chamberlain Yang is in high favor with the emperor. Yang First Young Master is in the Chancellery Department with elder brother — after a few years of seasoning in the capital and some time posted elsewhere to sharpen himself, he will be another Prime Minister. Yang the Second is even better positioned — he has a personal connection to the emperor, and he was in the Hexi army. On this trip back from Mobei, I expect he is in line to be enfeoffed as an Earl or Marquis.”

“Elder brother need not look as though I am being wronged. Yang the Second is only somewhat lacking in scholarly learning, and was a little dissolute in the past — but he is different now. How many families in Yunjing with daughters to marry off are eyeing him with envy, and yet he has been waiting for me for years, holding firm and refusing to take a wife. Can elder brother say that such devotion to me is being wronged?”

Yet the more Lin Fei spoke in this vein, the more tightly Li Zi pressed his lips together, until he said: “Feifei…”

Lin Fei’s arguments were perfectly reasoned, yet what Lin Zi wanted was for this younger sister of his to have a happy and fulfilling life ahead of her. He knew very well that Lin Fei’s heart certainly held no feelings for Yang the Second. Indeed, this sister of his likely did not even think about matters of love and affection the way an ordinary young woman would.

Though she was born a woman, she thought like a man — fretting over matters that were never hers to fret over.

“Elder brother!” Lin Fei raised her head and looked at her elder brother. “Since I came home, everyone in the family has indulged me and spoiled me, and it made me slack. Today I reflected on myself and broke into a cold sweat. Our Lin family has only just barely managed to catch its breath. What right do you and I have to be willful?”

The study was so quiet one could hear a pin drop. The two siblings faced each other, their eyes locked.

Lin Fei stepped out of the study. The book boy was sitting in the corridor idling, and looked up to say: “Is the young miss leaving?”

Lin Fei gave a sound of assent. A voice called from inside the study, and the book boy quickly went in.

Lin Fei then heard her elder brother instruct the book boy: “Bring me a fire basin.”

The book boy muttered under his breath: “The fire basins have all been put away in the storeroom.”

Her elder brother said: “Go and fetch one.”

Lin Fei stood in the corridor, gazing at the slanting, copper-golden light of the setting sun as it fell across the railing in the courtyard and drew long shadows. She lowered her eyes.

Xie Yuzhang had come out of Li Zhenzhen’s quarters. Since she was already in the palace, she could not possibly leave without seeing Li Gu. But she had not expected that Li Gu would refuse to see her.

Fuchun lowered his voice and said: “After this servant reported your arrival, His Majesty waited a moment before speaking. He said he was occupied and would not receive.”

Xie Yuzhang was quiet for a moment, then said: “I understand. There is no need to speak on my behalf in front of him.”

Fuchun bowed: “This servant would not dare to speak carelessly.” The affairs between these two — he would never again dare to reach his hand into them.

Xie Yuzhang turned and walked away.

The setting sun slanted down, cutting the blue stone floor of the long corridor into sharply divided blocks of light and shadow — intense and heavy.

Xie Yuzhang knew: Li Gu was angry.

When the Second Prince died, it was not only Consort Deng who was heartbroken and in pain. The emperor was this child’s father. He visited the Jinglan Palace often. He had held that child in his arms. How could he, as a father, not be devastated?

Yet in that moment, the emperor’s vulnerability was laid bare before her. He had opened his heart, hoping she would be willing to come closer — to step inside.

Xie Yuzhang had flinched.

Xie Yuzhang had retreated.

She had her silver tongue, and she would not use it to comfort the emperor. She had the warmth in her arms, and she would not open them to him.

She had not even gone to see him the moment she heard the news.

Her heart was hard to this degree — and it had made the emperor furious.

Xie Yuzhang stopped midway down the corridor.

The attendant beside her heard her exhale — a single sigh.

“Still being willful,” she murmured to herself. “What right is there to be willful…”

Li Gu had gone to the Jinglan Palace. During this period, he visited Deng Wan often.

That evening, there was something different in Deng Wan’s expression. He asked: “Why did Yongning come today?”

Deng Wan said: “I wished to find someone to speak with, and sent someone to invite her.”

Li Gu nodded: “She has a way with words.”

Deng Wan said: “The Princess is a clear-sighted person. She made me see things clearly as well.”

Li Gu’s gaze sharpened.

Deng Wan said: “Your Majesty, I do not wish to have more children.”

Li Gu said: “What nonsense is this.”

Deng Wan said: “There is something I dare not conceal from Your Majesty. Tiger Head and Yan-yan… died from the same cause.”

Li Gu was silent for a long while, then said: “Her name was Yan-yan?”

Tears fell from Deng Wan’s eyes: “Yes. She had a name too. She and Tiger Head were alike — both came into this world, only to leave far too soon.”

She wiped away her tears, and her expression became solemn: “What I wish Your Majesty to know is this: before me, my mother gave birth to one elder brother and one elder sister. After me, my mother gave birth to two younger sisters. All of them died. Only I and the ninth son survived. And those four who died — they all perished from the same cause as Tiger Head and Yan-yan.”

Li Gu said: “You are overthinking it. The imperial physicians also said these are merely common ailments in infants — many children cannot weather them and die of it.”

“Your Majesty’s generosity and warmth are my great fortune,” said Deng Wan. “But I am a weak person. I cannot endure a third time. Shiyi Lang, I… do not wish to have more children.”

Li Gu stroked her head and said quietly: “Very well. Then we shall not.”

Deng Wan then said: “Two days ago, my mother entered the palace and told me that the family patriarch wishes to send a young woman from the principal eldest branch into the palace to serve Your Majesty. My mother and father, however, wish to send my younger half-sister in — and want me to petition Your Majesty to grant this favor.”

A flicker of anger crossed Li Gu’s eyes. He asked: “And what is your own feeling about this?”

Deng Wan looked at him steadily, and after a long pause, said: “I am a woman of the Liangzhou Deng clan. Though not from the principal eldest branch, I am still a daughter of a legitimate line, raised at the knee of the Grand Matriarch. When I was still at home in my girlhood, I never once imagined that one day I would have to share a husband with my own sister. To have me make such a petition to Your Majesty — Wan-wan… feels a deep sense of shame.”

In truth, in an emperor’s inner palace, not merely sisters — even mothers and daughters had not been unheard of. Especially the founding emperors of a dynasty, who were often the least particular of all.

And yet Deng Wan still felt shame. Li Gu understood why: it was because in her heart, she still regarded him as Li Shiyi Lang — as her husband.

Li Gu drew Deng Wan into his arms and told her: “Tell them to get lost.”

Deng Wan closed her eyes within Li Gu’s embrace, and tears slid down her face.

Princess Yongning had been right. She was so fortunate — pushed out by her family as a piece on their game board, and yet she had married Li Shiyi Lang.

She gripped the front of his robe tightly, and told herself inwardly —

She would love this man.

Until the day he no longer loved her.

Or the day she became unrecognizable, no longer worthy of loving him.

The Noble Consort proposed to the emperor that she go to the Xianghe Temple on the western mountain to hold a memorial ceremony for the Second Prince who had died in infancy. The emperor agreed. The imperial household was extremely lean in numbers, and the emperor was the kind of man who acted decisively — within three days, it was arranged.

Only, the day of departure was the tenth day of the fifth month — the last day of the ten-day interval.

Xie Yuzhang therefore knew she need not enter the palace.

Since the Worthy Consort had only just become pregnant and was still in the thick of her morning sickness, the emperor brought only the Noble Consort and the Worthy Consort, planning to spend half a month at the Xianghe Temple.

But before the emperor had even returned, news came from the south to Yunjing — on the south bank of the great river, the Lu clan had enthroned a blood descendant of the Xie imperial lineage, King Jing, as emperor, raising the banner of the legitimate Zhao dynasty’s true succession.

The moment this news arrived, the number of banquet invitations received at Princess Yongning’s residence immediately dropped by half.

The people of the Xiaoyao Marquis’s household were thrown into a panic, and everyone lived in fear.

When the news reached Xie Family Village, every household shut its doors and gates. No one dared go out. They all huddled inside their homes, trembling. Who could say when the Son of Heaven’s thunderous wrath might fall upon them?

“So that is how it is,” said Xie Baozhu, who had learned this news and stood quietly for a long while, tears sliding silently down her face. “…Zhuzhu.”

Prince Shou was alarmed and anxious. This daughter of his — the last time she had shed tears was when her mother died in the chaos of war. Through all the tremendous upheaval of these years, she had never once panicked or grown flustered, let alone cried.

Prince Shou said urgently: “What could possibly happen to her — she is a princess, after all. If anyone is in trouble first, it will be the likes of us, who are commoners!”

Xie Baozhu said: “Father, do not be afraid. If it truly becomes desperate, I can also give myself to Li Ziyi. With his abilities, he could certainly protect all of us.”

Xie Baozhu had come to fully understand Xie Yuzhang. All those people in Xie Family Village naturally wished to live honest and quiet lives, but fate was not in their own hands. What was called “clan” meant that no one could stand apart and protect only themselves.

She too had prepared herself to give up anything that might be required.

Prince Shou wept and cursed: “Worthless wretches! Worthless wretches!”