Since Qian Lan had come personally to ask, Yan Qing had no reason to refuse. And besides, hosting a hundredth-day banquet was nothing she hadn’t managed before — she had already organized several gatherings with Luo Huaimeng, so there was nothing particularly daunting about this.

Seeing Yan Qing agree, Qian Lan smiled. “Then I’ll leave it in your capable hands. I’ve been here for a while now, but I’m still not very familiar with the notable families of Shun Cheng — which family has what sensitivities, what preferences each household holds. My understanding is still quite patchy.”

She had her maid bring over a small food hamper. “When I was at Baiyun Nunnery, I learned to make a few small pastries from the nuns there. The kitchen happened to have osmanthus stored away, so I made osmanthus cake and osmanthus pastry. Please try some if you don’t mind.”

Yan Qing quickly said, “Thank you, Madam.”

“I told you — no need to be formal with me.” Qian Lan’s gaze was warm. “We’re about the same age. If not for this difference in our generational positions, I’m sure we would have been dear sisters.”

Qian Lan stayed a little while longer in conversation, then rose and took her leave.

After Qian Lan left, Jing Zhi picked up the food hamper. “Miss, what should we do with this?”

“Take it out and eat it.”

Jing Zhi blinked. “You’re going to eat it, Miss?”

“I happen to be in the mood for something sweet.” Yan Qing took out an osmanthus pastry and handed one piece to Shi Ting first.

The osmanthus pastry was wonderfully flaky and crisp, the eggy richness threaded through with the fragrance of osmanthus flowers, melting on the tongue with a sweetness that never turned cloying.

“It’s delicious.” Yan Qing was generous with her praise. “Qian Lan’s cooking is genuinely quite good.”

Shi Ting asked with a smile, “Not afraid she’s poisoned it?”

“Qian Lan is a clever person. Would someone clever do something as conspicuous as poison food in plain sight?” Yan Qing replied.

Only someone like Shi Yuan could resort to outright poisoning in an attempt to harm Shi Ting. A person with true cunning typically kills with a borrowed blade, keeping their own hands spotless.

The two ate a few pieces of osmanthus pastry, then had Jing Zhi and the others share the rest.

“Murong, have you had people keep watch on Zhuo Xin Courtyard? Any recent developments?” Yan Qing sipped her tea while flipping through the pharmacy account book, as Shi Ting sat beside her and lit the desk lamp.

“Madam’s daily routine has remained steady and unchanged. After breakfast she goes to the Old Madam’s south courtyard to recite scriptures with her, then rests for an hour in the afternoon. After waking, she sees to the courtyard’s affairs. When the Marshal is home, she stays by his side — they are nearly inseparable.” Murong continued, “Aside from her own few maids, she has almost no contact with outsiders. There are some ladies and young misses who come specifically to call on her, and she always receives them warmly.”

“Which families’ ladies and misses?”

“I’ve kept a record of every visitor, Miss. Would you like to see it?”

Yan Qing shook her head. “Set it aside — I’ll look at it tomorrow.”

Murong and Jing Zhi exchanged a glance, reading each other’s meaning at once, and quietly withdrew together.

The lamplight cast a soft haze in Shi Ting’s eyes, carrying a trace of tender warmth. “Does my lady want to retire early?”

“What does my husband think?”

Yan Qing rose and walked to stand before Shi Ting, cupping his face in both hands. “You’re rarely home these days — I couldn’t possibly leave you out in the cold. Account books and name lists can always wait for another day.”

Shi Ting settled his hands at her waist, drew her in with a gentle pull, and she found herself seated on his lap. “That’s the right attitude. Keep it up.”

Yan Qing wrapped her arms around his neck and met his gaze. His eyes were deep as the open sea, as though a hidden current stirred within them — something that could swallow her whole and envelop her entirely.

Someone had once said that a beautiful person always has beautiful eyes.

She thought back now to the very first time she had seen him. What had drawn her to him, she supposed, was this very pair of eyes — only then, those eyes had held no warmth, just a fathomless depth impossible to read.

Lost in thought, she leaned forward without thinking and pressed a gentle kiss to his closed eyelid.

Beneath her lips, she seemed to feel his eye flutter ever so slightly, and then two strong arms closed around her waist.

“Don’t move.” Sensing him about to lift her, Yan Qing quickly pressed her hand against his shoulder. “Wait a moment.”

As she spoke, her lips parted softly, her eyes curving upward with a light tilt, and while he looked on with quiet surprise, her warm lips found the bridge of his nose — that sensation, smooth and yielding as soft jelly, sent a deep tremor through him, and the hands at her waist tightened involuntarily.

“Your eyebrows next.” Her warm breath drifted across his face like the faintest trace of orchid, and the kiss that followed settled as gently as a petal of peach blossom falling onto still water.

“Ting.” She called him by the name she only used in moments like this — a single syllable that had him taut in an instant, his composure nearly undone.

She tightened her arms around his neck and murmured, “Every place I’ve kissed belongs to me now. These are the marks I’ve left.”

Shi Ting smiled. “I was already yours to begin with. I’m yours without any marks at all.”

“Better to leave them just to be safe.” Yan Qing curved her lovely lips, her eyes shimmering with a soft, luminous glow.

His hand traced slowly over the fabric at her waist, and his gaze shifted, growing dark and deep, as though a vortex churned and surged within it.

At her sharp, startled breath, she was swept up into his arms.

The layered bed curtains fell closed, and that night was destined to be both tender and wild.

~

By late autumn, a noticeable chill had settled over Shun Cheng. Women had begun layering overcoats and shawls over their qipaos, while men had switched to padded long robes.

On the day of the Shi Mansion’s Eight Young Master Jing’er’s hundredth-day celebration, a light rain fell over Shun Cheng.

The Shi Family had set up rain canopies at the gate and throughout the main courtyard, so guests could pass through without getting wet.

“How thoughtful of the Madam,” one of the ladies remarked admiringly. “No one could have predicted rain today — a canopy like this can’t be put together at a moment’s notice without advance preparation.”

“They say this Madam is clever and capable, gentle and virtuous. Young as she is, she handles everything in an orderly manner and conducts herself with grace and elegance. Who wouldn’t speak well of her these days?”

Yan Qing was busy nearby and caught the conversation, smiling quietly to herself.

The idea of preparing the rain canopy in advance had come from Luo Huaimeng, who had reminded her of it. Luo Huaimeng couldn’t predict the weather either, but during her days managing the Meng household, she had worked out a few lessons of her own — such as this one, where she had advised Yan Qing to have the canopy ready. The weather could change in an instant, and it was best to be prepared.

Yan Qing had no interest in claiming the credit. She had agreed to help, and she would not covet the praise that came with it.

In contrast to Yan Qing’s quiet manner, Shi Yutong had dressed herself in a vivid Western-style dress and was flitting like a butterfly among the assembled young ladies.

These young misses had all been on good terms with Shi Yutong before — but back then, she had been the most favored daughter of the Shi Family, the apple of the Marshal’s eye. With that kind of standing, even those who didn’t flatter her would make a point of staying friendly.

Within the social circle of the prominent families, Shi Yutong had been able to have whatever she wanted.

But Shi Yutong quickly noticed that things were not as they had been. The young misses who had always been friendly with her now offered nothing more than polite greetings when they saw her — none of the warmth from before. Not a single person commented on the fashionable Western dress she was wearing.

All anyone spoke about, every mouth every breath, was the Shi Mansion’s new Madam — the musically gifted Qian Lan.

“The Marshal really is lucky, to have married such a fine Madam. Not only is she a woman of excellent character, her family background is exceptional too. I’ve heard the Qian Family’s wealth could buy an entire city.”

“Not just one city — they’re wealthy enough to rival a nation. That’s not an exaggeration.”

“Miss Qian of the Qian Family marrying the Marshal — it’s truly a union of strengths.”

Shi Yutong was trying to have a conversation with two friends, but no matter where she went, Qian Lan’s name was in her ears. She seethed with a rage she could do nothing about.

“Do you know — Jiang Zeluo is here too.” Among the unmarried young ladies gathered together, there was nothing they loved more than talking about accomplished and handsome young gentlemen, and foremost among them was Jiang Zeluo.

“I heard the great talent Jiang actually wrote a piece of music personally for the Shi Mansion’s Eighth Young Master.”

“I wonder if Master Jiang has come to admire the Madam’s musical talents as well.”

“If Master Jiang composed the music and then had the Madam perform it — oh, what a treat for the ears that would be.”

Shi Yutong already despised Qian Lan, and now hearing the man she admired being spoken of in the same breath as her rival nearly made her choke with fury right there and then.

But suddenly an idea came to her — a wonderful idea that could bring about Qian Lan’s complete downfall and ruin her name entirely.

With that thought, the anger that had been weighing on her lifted considerably. She took her maid and slipped away toward the back of the estate.

Yan Qing had just finished greeting a wave of guests and was taking a brief moment to rest.

“Miss.” Murong leaned close to her ear. “Just now, Eighth Miss went toward the rear courtyard. I’ve already had someone follow her.”

“Good. Come and tell me right away if anything unusual happens.”

Shi Yutong had once dealt Qian Lan a serious blow, and Yan Qing was wondering now whether Qian Lan might seize an opportunity to strike back.

If she was looking for revenge, today’s occasion was undeniably the perfect chance.

But from the look of things, Shi Yutong was no pushover either — when it came to people who posed a threat to her, her mind worked quite fast.

These two were locked in open and hidden battle. Yan Qing was quite curious to see who would come out on top in the end.

After finishing up her tasks on this side, Yan Qing made her way to the banquet hall, where the guests had gathered in full. Men and women sat at separate tables.

At a glance, she spotted that familiar silhouette across the room — standing out from everyone around him like a crane among a flock of common birds, brilliant and striking.

He was speaking quietly with a guest standing nearby. Though many layers of breath and distance separated them, he felt with sharp instinct the gaze from across the room.

Shi Ting looked up, and his eyes passed through the crowd and landed precisely on Yan Qing. They exchanged a smile, and everything that needed to be said passed between them without a word.

“Miss, the Qian Family has arrived.” Jing Zhi came to Yan Qing’s ear. “The Second Concubine asks you to go out and receive them.”

—