Qu Ziyu was, by habit, composed and measured, rarely given to any loss of control — but now he was plainly caught between shock and fury. He came down the steps and walked in long, rapid strides straight toward Qin Yao.

Qin Yao’s scalp prickled. She hastily put distance between herself and Lin Xiao, her face burning red as she looked at Qu Ziyu. “Elder Brother—”

Qu Ziyu seized Qin Yao’s arm and demanded sharply: “Do you have any idea what you’re doing?”

The words came fast and hard, each one like a stone dropping heavily against Qin Yao’s chest.

Qin Yao’s face went from red to crimson. Mortified, she did not dare look at her brother, and could have happily sunk into a crack in the ground.

Qu Ziyu placed himself in front of Qin Yao and fixed his sharp gaze on Lin Xiao. “Young Master, I do not know what intentions you hold toward my younger sister. She is still young — many things are beyond her understanding, and she does not fully know where the lines of propriety fall. But you are clear-eyed about the world, and you understand what decorum requires. You hold a high position, and you will certainly be well-matched to someone of equivalent standing in the future. If you truly have some genuine regard for her, the right thing to do is to keep your distance. Why do you persist in drawing her into this?”

Lin Xiao’s expression steadied. He spoke formally: “Mr. Qu, I have long admired Miss Qu — I have never, not for a single moment, harboured any intention to trifle with her or deceive her—”

Qu Ziyu, though mild-mannered and composed by nature, in fact had a thorough mastery of argument. Without mercy, he cut Lin Xiao off: “Never harboured any intention to trifle with her or deceive her? You’ve actually reminded me of something. In this dynasty, the marriages of the imperial family are decided by the Emperor himself. The imperial house has strict rules — it has always placed the greatest emphasis on equal social standing. Search the records from cover to cover and you will find no precedent for the daughter of a seventh-rank official becoming the principal consort of an Imperial Prince’s heir. Which is to say: the formal ceremonies of three intermediaries and six betrothal rites, the ten li of bridal procession — you cannot offer any of these. How dare you claim, with such brazen confidence, that you have harboured no intention to trifle with her? Or is it that, seeing the lowliness of our Qu family’s rank, you are simply exercising your power and advantage — trying to coax my sister into becoming your concubine?”

Lin Xiao answered without a moment’s hesitation: “I have never once entertained the idea of making Qin Yao my concubine. As for the imperial decree of marriage — I have had a plan in place for some time. When the moment is right, I will ask His Imperial Uncle to issue an imperial decree uniting A’Yao and myself in marriage. The three intermediaries, the six rites, the ten li of procession — not one will be missing. I will not allow Qin Yao to suffer the slightest indignity.”

Qin Yao heard this, and though she was still too embarrassed to raise her head, something inside her was like a pebble dropped into a spring lake — sending ripples spreading outward in one gentle ring after another. She couldn’t help it: the corner of her mouth curved up into a quiet, happy arc.

Qu Ziyu had not expected this answer. He paused for a beat — then gave a cold laugh. “And how do you intend to make the Emperor and Prince Lan agree to this match? By saying you chose her long ago? Or by revealing that you were already acquainted with her before the engagement? If you do, it is far more likely they would refuse outright — and not only that, they would conclude that Qin Yao has been scheming to climb into the imperial family, and punish her for it, ruining her reputation entirely. You should know: given our Qu family’s standing, Qin Yao is not within the circle of eligible candidates for a consort from the imperial family —”

He stopped short.

He had been puzzling over it for days — Qin Yao’s sudden, inexplicable enrolment in the Yunyuan Academy. He had quietly sought out the reason the Emperor had reopened the Academy, and had heard, indirectly, that the Emperor intended to select marriage candidates for imperial sons from among the Academy’s students; once enrolled, regardless of family background, they would naturally come within the circle of eligible consort candidates. That, too, was why every official in the court had been scrambling to get their daughters into the Academy.

He had long suspected there was something behind it all. And now it was clear — this man had planned and arranged the entire thing from behind the scenes.

Qu Ziyu turned it over in his mind, standing very still for a long moment. To have arranged all this to secure a marriage to Qin Yao — such elaborate, meticulous planning, each piece fitting tightly against the next — the depth of his certainty, his absolute determination to have her, was not something Qu Ziyu could easily overturn.

Coming to this realisation, a profound sense of powerlessness washed through him. He waved a hand. “All right. All right, then.”

His gaze settled on Lin Xiao, and he spoke in a measured tone: “Until the Emperor issues a decree, a marriage cannot be counted as settled. Qin Yao may have apprenticed under Daoist Qing Xuzi since childhood and spent much of her time in the world beyond — but our parents have always treated her as the treasure of their hands, with a depth of love and protection no different from any parent in Chang’an. If you truly intend to make A’Yao your wife: first, you must make your intentions known to our parents and seek their blessing. Second, every matter must be arranged with meticulous care — both inside and outside the palace, there must be nothing anyone can say against A’Yao. If my sister is spoken of carelessly because of your union, our parents will not stand for it — and neither will I.”

These words were iron through and through. They laid bare the worry Qin Yao had always quietly carried in her heart, cut it open, and placed it squarely in front of Lin Xiao.

Something like quiet admiration stirred in Lin Xiao’s chest for Qu Ziyu. He straightened and replied formally: “Everything Mr. Qu has raised is something I have already considered. I will obtain the approval of your parents before taking any other steps — I would not dare show them the slightest disrespect. As for the matter of the imperial decree, I will plan it with the greatest care and thoroughness. Both before and after the marriage, I will not allow Qin Yao to suffer the smallest grievance.”

Qu Ziyu still didn’t yield. He looked at Lin Xiao and said: “Throughout Chang’an, hardly a single prince or nobleman goes without concubines and consorts. Prince Lan in particular has had only you as his sole legitimate son for many years — it was only last year that he gained a second, adopted son. Once you are married, to ensure you produce an heir without delay, the pressure to take additional concubines will not be small. On top of that, you hold considerable power, and there will never be a shortage of people who seek to curry favour with you. Over time — can you honestly say your regard for Qin Yao will remain unchanged, that she will not grow cold and neglected?”

Qin Yao watched from the side as her brother — who was so very different in this moment from the person she had always known — drew his line again and again without yielding a single inch. And she understood: the reason he was doing all of this, so unyielding, so exacting, was precisely because of the gap between their two families’ standings. If the marriage truly came to pass, nothing would be guaranteed — and so he pressed forward step by step, doing everything he could to secure her future.

Qin Yao’s eyes quietly went red.

Lin Xiao, too, was moved. He made a deep, formal bow to Qu Ziyu and said: “Mr. Qu — I give my solemn word, here and now: if I am fortunate enough to take Qin Yao as my wife, I will cherish her and hold her precious for all my days. I will not be divided in my heart. In this life — only her.”

At those words, Qu Ziyu fell suddenly silent. He studied Lin Xiao for a long moment with a searching, assessing gaze — and then, slowly, gave a single nod. “I will hold every word the Young Master has spoken in my memory. They say the Young Master has always been a man of his word. I shall wait and see. The hour is late — I will take my leave.”

And with that, he turned and drew Qin Yao back inside the gates.

Lin Xiao let out a quiet breath, understanding that Qu Ziyu, in having received the answer he wanted, had made a roundabout concession.

He had never had any deep dealings with Qu Ziyu before — only, because Qu Ziyu was Qin Yao’s elder brother, had paid him somewhat more attention than most. He knew that Qu Ziyu had a reputation for refined literary talent, and that in his dealings with people he was outwardly yielding but inwardly principled. Since entering the Hanlin Academy, he had earned considerable regard from Mo Cheng and others.

From tonight’s exchange, it was clear that Qu Ziyu was not only quick and perceptive, but devoted to Qin Yao to his very core — doing everything he could to ensure she was protected on all sides, unable to bear the thought of her suffering the smallest harm. And the remarkable thing was how methodically he had handled it all — those questions, ostensibly directed at Lin Xiao, had in equal measure been spoken in front of Qin Yao, forcing Lin Xiao to commit himself openly.

Had there been even the slightest equivocation in his answers, Qu Ziyu would not even have needed to add a word of opposition. Qin Yao, being who she was, would have grown uncertain of him on her own — and from uncertainty, would have found herself drawing back.

The thought of that made Lin Xiao feel something he had never quite felt before: a faint, cold shiver of what might have been.

He stood there for a long moment, watching Qin Yao leave in silence, until her silhouette disappeared through the gate and the Qu family doors swung shut. Only then did he shake the reins, his heart not entirely light, and ride away.

Once the siblings were back inside the residence, Qu Ziyu walked in silence the whole way, occupied with thoughts Qin Yao could not guess at. Keeping a careful eye on her brother’s expression, she did not dare speak first.

She followed him obediently back to her small courtyard. Seeing that he showed no intention of leaving, Qin Yao put aside her hesitation and first asked the maids — Caiping and the others — to prepare water, then went to the bathhouse and scrubbed herself thoroughly from head to toe.

When she came out in clean clothes, she found, as expected, that Qu Ziyu was still sitting in the outer room — clearly with things he wished to say to her.

Steeling herself, Qin Yao sat down across from her brother, turned things over in her mind for a moment, and then simply told him everything that had happened over recent days.

Qu Ziyu listened without expression at first, until he reached the part where Qin Yao described Lin Xiao, at Jade Spring, refusing to leave her no matter what — unwilling to go on ahead and save himself, nearly perishing alongside the Jade Corpse. At that, his face finally shifted.

“Elder Brother.” Qin Yao finished, watching Qu Ziyu carefully, then gathered her courage and said: “The Young Master is a very good person. I… like him very much.”

Though she was shy, her voice carried real conviction. She was stating her feelings openly and plainly to her brother, without concealment.

After hearing everything that had happened on Jade Spring Mountain, Qu Ziyu felt as though a great storm had passed through him. Faced with a bond forged at the edge of life and death, all his words of persuasion and any further attempts to stand in the way felt pale and insubstantial.

He thought of how Feng Boyu, not long before, had made repeated inquiries through roundabout channels about Qin Yao’s preferences, how whenever he had the chance he would come to the house with gifts to win their mother’s goodwill, and how on the morning of the Flower Festival he had arrived early to wait for Qin Yao. His feelings for Qin Yao were something Qu Ziyu understood all too clearly.

Whether out of friendship with a fellow member of the same circle, or out of consideration for Qin Yao’s future ease and happiness, Qu Ziyu had clearly been more favourably inclined toward Feng Boyu — and from the way their parents spoke, they too seemed to look upon Feng Boyu with approval.

And yet — now, looking at Qin Yao’s face, lightly flushed and bright with something that could only be called hope, all the carefully prepared words in his chest simply would not come out.

After a long silence, his heart gradually settled. Whatever else might be said, the heir of Prince Lan’s regard for Qin Yao was not counterfeit by a single trace. If he went on blocking it any further, it would only show how narrow and stubborn he himself was.

He smiled softly and ruffled the top of Qin Yao’s head. “All right. The hour is late — you have the Academy tomorrow. Get some rest.”

Qin Yao was perceptive enough to see that her brother’s expression had noticeably eased — a clear sign he was gradually accepting Lin Xiao, that his resistance had softened.

She nodded with happy eagerness. “All right! Elder Brother, rest well too.”

Rain fell in the middle of the night, and by the next morning the weather had turned noticeably cooler.

Qu Chen Shi mentioned that the Beginning of Autumn had come some days before, and so she had already prepared a selection of autumn garments for Qin Yao.

After breakfast, the whole family saw Qin Yao off back to the Academy. Qin Yao had slept without a care the previous night and felt entirely restored.

At the Academy gates, just as she stepped down from the carriage, she spotted Pei Min.

Unlike the last time, Pei Shao was with her today. The two siblings were laughing and chatting together, close and affectionate.

Pei Min looked over and saw Qin Yao, and immediately came hurrying toward her. Pei Shao hesitated a moment, then followed his sister over, smiling as he greeted Qin Yao.

Pei Min was just about to ask how Qin Yao had slept, when she glanced inadvertently past Qin Yao’s shoulder — and her face went rigid.

Qin Yao turned in puzzlement, and saw: not far away stood a young man and woman, also students at the Academy. The girl was named Xu Qingqing, the fourth daughter of the Duke of Anlu’s household. The young man, however, was none other than Xu Shenming.

Xu Shenming’s face was turned toward Xu Qingqing, but his eyes were unmistakably fixed on Pei Min — his gaze direct, burning, without any attempt at concealment.

Pei Min’s expression cooled. She turned away with her head held high and did not look at him again.

Xu Shenming was visibly startled for a moment — but rather than being put out, the smile in his eyes only deepened.

Qin Yao suppressed a quiet laugh. This Xu Shenming was certainly thick-skinned.

The two of them went into the Academy arm in arm, and on the way ran into Liu Bingyu and Wang Yingning.

The moment Liu Bingyu laid eyes on Qin Yao, she unleashed a torrent of reproach — telling Qin Yao that she had broken her promise on the day of the Flower Festival, kept both her and Wang Yingning waiting for nothing.

Qin Yao felt the weight of guilt and had no argument to make. She was just about to laugh it off with some deflecting remark when Wang Yingning suddenly tugged at her sleeve.

All of them turned at the same moment — and there, coming toward them from some distance away, were Princess Kangping and Xia Yan, surrounded by a cluster of palace attendants.

As they drew near, Qin Yao and the others hastened to pay their respects.

Kangping appeared to be in high spirits, graciously bidding them rise. Xia Yan’s expression was utterly without feeling — her usually gentle demeanour as though sheathed in a layer of frost. It was only when Kangping called out to her in puzzlement that she turned her gaze away, without any haste.

Once the two of them had gone, Liu Bingyu lowered her voice: “I heard that Princess Kangping spent all of yesterday making a scene in the palace — demanding the Emperor enrol another female student into the Academy.”

“Who is it?” They were all surprised.

“I don’t know either.” Liu Bingyu shook her head. “I only heard that she’s very much to Princess Kangping’s liking — she absolutely insisted on bringing this person into the Academy too, to keep her company day and night.”