The following noon, Yan Qing went as usual to feed her koi fish. Spring was growing fuller by the day, and the garden was awash in blooming forsythia — golden petals packed dense and heavy along the branches, their fragrance drifting faintly through the air.

At the very start of the year, forsythia bloomed first, undaunted by the cold, lending the spring its singular beauty. In nearly every courtyard vase, there was a bright splash of tender yellow.

Jing Zhi plucked a freshly opened forsythia sprig and handed it to Yan Qing. “Miss, this one just opened — there’s still dew on it.”

Yan Qing lightly held the slender little branch and lifted the blossoms to her nose for a gentle sniff. Perhaps the scent was too sweet and intoxicating, for she closed her eyes involuntarily and lost herself in it.

“Miss, look — it’s Director Shi.” Jing Zhi’s lovestruck cry made Yan Qing open her eyes slowly.

There was the same white marble arch bridge as before, and there was the same pure black uniform that gleamed slightly in the sunlight — only this time, his cap was not held in his hands but worn on his head, its lowered brim making his narrow, deep-set eyes appear even more fathomless.

She wasn’t sure if it was her imagination, but when Yan Qing met his gaze, he not only didn’t look away — he seemed to hold it for a long moment.

Master Yan was walking side by side with Shi Ting, not noticing the shift in his companion’s gaze, his face wreathed in smiles as he said something Yan Qing couldn’t make out.

“Let’s go.” Yan Qing put away the small box of fish food and tucked the forsythia sprig onto the wheelchair, then looked away.

Just as Murong was pushing her to leave, the sound of an accordion suddenly drifted toward them from not far away.

Though Yan Qing knew little about music, she could tell that the playing was strained — many of the notes weren’t connecting smoothly.

“It’s Fifth Miss.” Jing Zhi had sharp eyes. “Fifth Miss is dancing.”

Not far from the arch bridge stood a weeping willow with a trunk as wide as an embrace. Its trailing branches swayed low, the lake rippled with reflections, and forsythia bloomed all around.

Beneath the tree, amid the flowers, a girl dressed as a maidservant was playing the accordion with great effort. And before her, in a pale blue Western dress, Yan Qin twirled and danced to the music.

Madam Yan had two daughters of her own. The elder, First Miss Yan Qiong, had already married into a well-known cloth merchant family in Shun Cheng. The younger was Yan Qin.

To secure a good marriage for Yan Qin, Madam Yan had spared no effort in her upbringing, devoting herself wholeheartedly to cultivating Yan Qin as Shun Cheng’s foremost socialite.

Regrettably, though Yan Qin was accomplished in music, chess, calligraphy, and painting, she had been raised into an arrogant and willful disposition.

“That’s your dress Fifth Miss is wearing.” Jing Zhi stamped her foot in indignation. “It’s too much.”

Yan Qing toyed with the forsythia sprig, unbothered.

Seeing how composed Yan Qing was, Murong suddenly recalled her words from the day before — *”things only reveal whether they fit when they’re actually worn”* — and then it clicked. Fifth Miss appearing here today had an obvious purpose: to attract Director Shi’s attention. A beautiful Western dress, graceful dancing, a chance encounter — it was the most charming scene from any storybook romance.

Yan Qin danced and glanced toward the bridge head. Seeing Shi Ting and Master Yan descending, her steps whirled even faster. The pale blue dress swept out in circles with her movements, its white lace trim at the hem coming alive, dancing with gleeful abandon.

“The young ladies of the Yan household have quite refined tastes.” Shi Ting glanced over with a neutral expression, his face unreadable.

Master Yan quickly replied: “Just children playing around. This way, please, Director Shi.”

Just as the two were about to leave, a sharp scream suddenly rang out from beneath the willow tree.

—