The Ninth Year of Longyuan.

Of all the days since winter had begun, today counted among the coldest in Chang’an. White snow had blanketed every visible surface, and the roads were largely frozen over by the bitter frost, making it difficult even for the common people to walk. Yet even so, none of this deterred the lively commotion at the Qu household. From early morning, the gate of the Qu family manor had been thronged with all manner of fine and lavishly appointed carriages. The guests who came were of no small standing — with not an exception, they were princes, grand ministers, and eminent nobles — every one of them calling to pay their respects on the occasion of Madam Qu’s birthday celebration.

People are always inclined to attach themselves to those who are powerful and prosperous. Although Minister Qu had long since resigned from official service, and Madam Qu was nothing more than the wife of a civil official — someone who in her daily life was genuinely modest and low-key — everyone in the world knew that the Qu family had raised a remarkable pair of children. Their eldest son had passed the examinations with the highest honor years ago, and his talent had been so outstanding that he had risen steadily through the ranks ever since, and was now serving as Vice Minister of the Ministry of Works. His wife was of the Wang family — a renowned gentlewoman of Chang’an — and after their marriage, the couple had been devoted to each other and given birth to three sons, blessed with a kind of fortune that others could only envy and could not attain.

And then there was the daughter the Qu family had married off — none other than the current Princess Cheng. Although she and Prince Cheng were often away on their travels and rarely in Chang’an, anyone with eyes to see could tell that Prince Cheng cherished this beloved wife to the very marrow of his bones. To say nothing of other matters — among all the illustrious nobility of Chang’an, who else could match Prince Cheng in taking his wife with him to wander south and north, east and west, to see every corner of the realm?

And this was not even all of it. Word had it that on two separate occasions when Prince Cheng and his wife returned to Chang’an, the current Emperor had personally come out to welcome them at the city gates.

Each time the young Emperor — who was known for his steady and gentle manner — caught sight of his junior sister and his Master after years of separation, he could not help but lose his composure before the crowd and redden his eyes. His sincerity and depth of feeling spoke for itself.

With this kind of connection behind them, although the Qu family held no great official reputation, in the hearts of Chang’an’s people they remained a household of considerable influence — one that those who wished to curry favor with would never dare overlook. Everyone who could find the slightest link to the family made every effort to come and establish one.

Thus the Qu household was filled to capacity from early morning, with guests coming and going, a dazzle of fine clothes and elegant coiffures.

Amid the festive bustle, only one small pavilion built over the lake in the rear garden could be called truly peaceful. The surroundings were utterly still, not a single soul in sight.

It was not that the guests lacked the discernment to notice so fine a spot. The truth was that there seemed to be something strange about the area around the pavilion. Whenever someone approached along the covered walkway that led to it, they would inexplicably find themselves faced with several identical-looking corridors, all branching in the same direction. Once a guest finally made up their mind and chose one corridor to follow, they would walk a short way and then find themselves, in a daze, back on dry land — no matter what they tried, they could only stand there looking at the pavilion so close before them, yet utterly unable to reach it. After several such attempts, one had no choice but to give up and leave, head hanging.

Inside the pavilion, a warming brazier had been lit and incense burned, making it entirely unlike the frozen world outside — warm and languid as spring.

Beside the window sat a table and a couch. The window panels were shut tight. On the couch lay one old man and two young children, all in exactly the same posture — hands pillow behind their heads, legs crossed, staring up at the ceiling beams with idle boredom, all three simultaneously letting out a lazy yawn.

“Master’s grandfather, are we planning to hide in here for the whole entire day?” the older of the two children finally spoke. He was perhaps eight or nine years of age, with long brows sweeping like ink-strokes into his temples and eyes dark as a painting. His features were strikingly handsome. As he spoke, a smile had already appeared before the words were finished — it carried an ease and an unconstrained quality that seemed entirely natural.

“Master’s grandfather, A’Shuang wants to see Mother.” The younger one, hearing his older brother speak up, began paddling his chubby arms and legs with some effort to try to push himself upright. He was only three or four years old, his features not yet fully formed — round, jet-black little eyes, pudgy cheeks — and anyone could see at a glance that the two boys were biological brothers.

Qing Xuzi cast a sidelong glance at the two children and said with great patience, addressing A’Shuang: “It’s chaotic and full of people out there. What fun is there in that? Your little sister is barely a hundred days old and still needs your mother entirely. Your mother doesn’t have time to tend to you. Rather than squeezing in amongst all those people making a clamor, wouldn’t you rather stay here with your grandfather? There’s food and fun here in any case. And in a while, your Master’s grandfather will teach you a few small talisman techniques — isn’t that more amusing than what’s out there?”

Among those who had come today, at least half were there because of Qin Yao and Lin Xiao — rarely seen, and so all the more sought out. Seeing Qin Yao step out with her infant daughter, who had just reached one hundred days, in her arms, the guests naturally clamored to get close, vying to say the most flattering things.

A’Shuang peeked at the outside through the doorway, suppressed with some difficulty the urge to go and find his mother, and wavered. “Alright, then…”

A’Da took one look and saw straight through his little brother’s thoughts. He curled his lip. “Mother’s had her mind and eyes full of nothing but Little Sister since Little Sister was born. And so has Father — you’d think he’d rather hold Little Sister in his hands every moment of every day. What’s most infuriating is that when I want to hold Little Sister, Father won’t even let me.”

He was entirely unimpressed. His little sister had been quiet and serene from the moment she was born — no matter who held her, she never cried. As her elder brother, he just wanted to hold her for a moment. What right did Father have to be so stingy about it?

Qing Xuzi couldn’t help it — he was somewhere between laughing and crying. “You’re so mischievous, who is your mother and father supposed to guard against if not you? Let’s set aside everything else and just talk about that incident last year. We had only just returned to Chang’an and gone into the palace to see your Imperial Uncle. The moment Princess Jingyi laid eyes on you, her big brother, she took a liking to you and begged you to play hide-and-seek with her. And you — you talked her into hiding, and then turned and ran off without a trace. Jingyi is such an honest little thing — when she didn’t hear you call for her, she absolutely refused to come out. Later it took your mother and the Empress a full hour of searching through the garden before they found her. The Empress was nearly reduced to tears from worry. Can you tell me — was that or wasn’t that wrong of you? After that, your mother punished you by confining you to your room for a full half month and having you copy out a hundred scrolls of the Classic of the Way and Virtue. Your father said even that was too light a punishment. In your Master’s grandfather’s opinion, your father had the right idea — you should have been made to hold a horse-riding stance for at least two hours more on top of it all.”

A’Da, knowing perfectly well he had no leg to stand on, was somewhat sheepish, but said with an air of not particularly caring: “Who told her to always want to cling to me? I went into the palace to play kick-ball with A’Lin and A’Qi — who has the patience to play those kinds of girls’ games?”

Qing Xuzi was thoroughly at a loss for words. This child — who knew what kind of magnetism he possessed at such a young age — but wherever he went, a whole trailing cluster of little ones would follow him about. A’Han’s three children were one thing, but even his Qu family maternal uncle’s pair of children, a boy and a girl, loved to follow this boy around. And yet despite this child’s seemingly easy-going and approachable manner, he was in fact quite crafty and prone to playing tricks on people. Fortunately his father and mother were both eminently reasonable, and never once coddled or indulged him. Whenever he was mischievous, they would discipline him without the slightest hesitation. Several rounds of this, and A’Da had at last become somewhat more restrained.

While lost in thought, a servant’s voice came from outside, transmitting a message: “Young Lord, Second Young Lord, the banquet ahead has begun. The Princess requests the gentlemen to come join the meal.”

The one who spoke was Cai Ping — now married to Wei Bo, and serving as Qin Yao’s head housekeeper. She seemed already to know that the area around the water pavilion had been set with an illusory concealment technique by Qing Xuzi, and made no effort to pass through it; she simply stood at the water’s edge and called out her message in a raised voice. Knowing that Qing Xuzi was a person of unique standing, Cai Ping understood that someone else would be separately bringing Qing Xuzi a vegetarian banquet inside the pavilion, and so she had not extended the invitation to him.

A’Shuang had long been looking for an excuse to go find his mother. Hearing this, he immediately scrambled down from the couch, his little feet pattering rapidly as he ran outside, calling in a loud voice: “Coming, coming.”

He had taken a few steps when he saw that his Master’s grandfather and his older brother hadn’t moved. He turned back and waddled his way to them, grabbed hold of them, and said: “Master’s grandfather, Brother, let’s go — don’t make Mother wait.”

A’Da got up with a lack of enthusiasm, put on his wooden sandals and stepped off the couch, and said to Qing Xuzi: “A’Shuang and I will come back to keep you company after we finish eating.”

Qing Xuzi felt a warmth pass through his heart. This child, for all his casual, unhurried ways, was — just like his mother — deeply thoughtful toward this half-aged old man.

“Go on, then.” Qing Xuzi’s voice became, without his quite intending it, gentle. He reached out and straightened the garments of both children, then helped them settle their cloaks about their shoulders. “There’s snow outside. You’re both in wooden sandals — mind you don’t slip on the ice.”

Both children answered, then filed out one after the other.

A’Shuang was no match for his older brother in speed, and had to move his short little legs with considerable effort, just barely managing to keep up.

When they reached the doorway, A’Da suddenly stopped and turned to wait for A’Shuang. It seemed he was concerned about the snow on the covered walkway outside and didn’t want his little brother to slip and fall.

Qing Xuzi watched this in silence, the smile in his eyes deepening by a measure. He raised his teacup and took a sip, continuing to watch until the silhouettes of the two brothers vanished from the doorway. Only then did he smile and shake his head slightly, and rose to push open the window lattice, taking in the snow-scene in the deepening dusk outside.

On the bank of the lake, Cai Ping was at the head of a large train of maids and servants, and when they saw the two young lords come out, they hurried forward with warming braziers, fur-lined cloaks, and the like. Cai Ping, fearing the two children might catch cold, moved to shade them from the scattered snowflakes with an oilpaper umbrella before the flakes could settle on their hair, wrapped them up warmly and completely, and personally stooped to take A’Shuang up in her arms.

A’Da had spent the past several years being taught by Qing Xuzi and had developed a degree of inner energy that far surpassed that of other children his age. He naturally had no need to accept warming braziers or the like, and had no care for such light flurries of snow. He waved off the oilpaper umbrella and walked forward with hands clasped behind his back.

A’Shuang could only envy him from afar. He had no choice but to hold on to Cai Ping’s neck and look up at his older brother. “Nanny Cai, is Little Sister awake? Is Mother still in Grandmother’s room with Little Sister?”

Cai Ping smiled warmly. “The Princess took a short nap with the Young Miss in the afternoon. Now that the banquet has started, she’s busy entertaining the guests and has many things to attend to. She’s been thinking of you two young lords, so she sent this servant to bring you.”

A’Da overheard this from up ahead and couldn’t help turning to add: “Nanny Cai, where is Father?”

Cai Ping replied: “Prince Cheng is even busier. Since returning to Chang’an, visitors wanting to pay their respects have been coming in an unbroken stream. Today, though it’s a banquet, not a moment of peace could be had. He just stepped back into the inner courtyard to look in on the Princess and the Young Miss, and then was dragged away by the eldest young master back to the outer courtyard again.”

As these words were spoken, the group had just rounded a decorative rockery, and they all looked up to see two women — by their clothing, mistress and maid — standing behind the rocks. Both were shivering in the bitter wind, yet still standing stubbornly in that spot, unwilling to take shelter somewhere warm. It was clear they were waiting for someone.

A’Da looked at the woman with passing indifference. But Cai Ping had already recognized her as the Fourth Young Miss of the Lin Vice Minister’s household. Her father was a colleague of the Eldest Young Master in the Ministry of Works; her mother was a favored secondary wife. Though she was a daughter born of a secondary wife, the Lin Vice Minister’s household was long on sons but short on daughters, and this one Fourth Miss had a remarkably sharp mind with a particular talent for writing, winning Lin Vice Minister’s great affection, and so she had often accompanied her father and brothers and stepmother into social circles.

Cai Ping thought this over, and took another closer look at Fourth Miss Lin’s back. If her memory served, Fourth Miss Lin had been coming to the Qu family manor frequently of late, and had also sent a visiting card to Prince Cheng’s manor — the Princess had had no patience for social calls, and had refused her outright.

She wondered what this young lady was waiting here for.

A’Da suddenly came to a halt and turned to give Cai Ping and the others a signal for silence. The whole party withdrew to the corner of the path, hiding their forms behind the rockery, watching to see what Fourth Miss Lin intended to do.

Fourth Miss Lin had all her attention fixed on the garden entrance and had not noticed that a group of people had already come along the small path behind her.

Only to hear a low exchange of voices, as someone entered from outside the garden.

“Both children are with the Daoist in the water pavilion?” A man’s voice rose — steady and unhurried, carrying the clear tones of a young man, yet with an unusual composure. Falling on the ears, it was uncommonly pleasing to hear.

A’Shuang immediately recognized this as his father’s voice, and straightened up, ready to call out.

A’Da caught the movement from the corner of his eye and reached out his arm at once to cover his little brother’s mouth, blinking his eyes at him in rapid, emphatic warning.

A’Shuang’s eyes widened slightly. He was baffled, but seeing his older brother’s solemn expression, he had no choice but to comply with a quiet nod.

Cai Ping had a vague inkling of what the Young Lord intended to do. Though she did not entirely approve, she could not overcome her own curiosity, and turned a blind eye and let the Young Lord proceed.

The group looked back out, just in time to see Fourth Miss Lin straighten the hairpins at her temple with great nervous energy, and fix her gaze rigidly on the path ahead. Watching Lin Xiao approach along the small garden path, she suddenly put on the air of someone who had only just emerged from among the rockery, and began walking forward.

As she walked, she turned her head back to address her maid: “Are you quite sure you looked carefully? Did I leave a scroll of books in the rockery?”

Her maid promptly nodded. “Your servant is quite certain — this servant remembers clearly that the Young Miss’s poetry collection is right here.”

“The Young Miss’s poetry collection is so beautifully written,” the maid added, “even Master Liu at Yunxia Book Pavilion has praised it and said Young Miss is a rare talent in all of Chang’an. If it were to be lost now, it would truly be a pity.”

Fourth Miss Lin listened to these words and drew her cape elegantly about herself, letting out a regretful sigh with an air of feeling the loss, and made a show of lowering her head to search. Her figure moved as if about to collide with Lin Xiao — when a strong force abruptly stretched out and blocked her path.

Fourth Miss Lin suddenly found herself entirely unable to move forward, and was taken aback. She glanced sideways upward — to see a guard-looking figure beside Lin Xiao staring at her coldly. “Miss, please mind your step.”

With this, she was firmly kept at a distance of one full arm’s length from Lin Xiao.

Even so, her reactions were quick — she stepped back two paces with composure, and gave a light, poised bow in Lin Xiao’s direction. “Greetings to Prince Cheng. This one was being careless just now — forgive the impropriety.”

Cai Ping, watching this, felt the corner of her mouth twitch. The manner in which Fourth Miss Lin had given that bow was the very picture of gracious self-possession — if one had not just seen with one’s own eyes the whole business of her standing guard behind the rockery and engineering this “chance encounter,” one would never have imagined it at all.

Lin Xiao did not spare her so much as a glance from the corner of his eye. His gaze simply moved to the small figure half visible beyond the corner of the path, and the faintest hint of a smile surfaced in his eyes. He walked over, but then composed his expression as he drew near, and said evenly: “Come out, then.”

A’Da had long since anticipated that his father would spot him, and before his father could reprimand him, he straightened himself up and walked out obediently, mumbling: “Father.”

Cai Ping also came out carrying A’Shuang, at a loss for words. “My Lord — this servant—”

She wanted to offer some kind of explanation for what they had just been doing, but found there was simply no way to justify it. After all, A’Da was a child, but she was an adult. The child had behaved badly, and she ought not to have gone along with it.

Yet if they hadn’t hidden back there just now, how could they have witnessed Fourth Miss Lin going to all those elaborate lengths to engineer a moment with Prince Cheng?

She stole a glance at Fourth Miss Lin, still standing ramrod straight ahead, and thought with contempt: no wonder she’s from a secondary wife’s family — even with all her book-learning, her intentions and actions still have no refinement to them. It was fortunate that Prince Cheng had always been someone who would not let others get close, or who knew what Fourth Miss Lin would have been capable of getting up to.

“Father—” A’Shuang, seeing his older brother call out to their father, spread both arms wide and reached straight for Lin Xiao, grinning broadly. “Did Father come out specially to fetch Brother and A’Shuang?”

Lin Xiao, his expression entirely composed, took A’Shuang, straightened the little felt hat that had gone crooked on his head, and smiled faintly. “Come. Your mother and Little Sister have been waiting for you both for half a day.”

As he spoke, his tone was even and gentle, with not a word of reproach.

A’Da clasped his hands behind his back and followed at his father’s heels. As they passed by the spot where Fourth Miss Lin was standing, he came to a stop, and gave her a look — half a smile, half something else.

Fourth Miss Lin’s heart was privately unsettled, regretting that she had made her move too obviously just now and had not only failed to arouse any favorable feeling in Prince Cheng, but had very likely instead given him a negative impression.

Then she found a young lord dressed in fine brocade looking at her, and immediately recognized him as the Young Lord of Prince Cheng’s manor. She quickly lowered her eyes and gave a composed bow.

A’Da looked her up and down for a moment, then smiled in a manner that did not bode particularly well, turned on his heel and walked away.

Lin Xiao paused very slightly, then, as if he had seen nothing, continued on holding A’Shuang, heading straight out of the garden.

They had not gone far before a shrill scream broke out from behind: “Aah! A ghost! Someone come quickly! There’s a ghost!”

At the banquet, Qu Chen Shi said to Qin Yao with great anxiety: “The Fourth Miss of the Lin Vice Minister’s family just had an encounter with a ghost in the rear garden — they say she was so badly frightened she fainted on the spot and has already been sent back to the Lin household. How very strange — what sort of ghost would appear in our manor, in broad daylight like this?”

Qin Yao heard this, and her brow furrowed. She looked toward the garden direction and found not the slightest trace of any dark or malicious energy — nothing untoward at all. She pondered for a moment, and was just about to say something to her mother, when her eyes swept across the room and caught the expression on A’Da’s face — an expression that did not look entirely innocent.

She looked once more carefully — but A’Da had already schooled his features back to composure, sitting perfectly upright in his seat. As a whole group of children his age crowded around him, chattering away on all sides, he would occasionally offer a smile or a few words in return — the very picture of a well-mannered young lord. Qin Yao, having put two and two together in her heart, called Cai Ping discreetly to one side and asked her for the full story.

That evening, when the whole family had returned to Prince Cheng’s manor, Qin Yao settled the children to sleep and then said to Lin Xiao with barely concealed exasperation: “A’Da deliberately used talisman techniques to harm someone. You’re his father — why did you stand by and do nothing? I simply refuse to believe that with your wits, you couldn’t have guessed what your son had been up to.”

Lin Xiao raised an eyebrow, and with great naturalness helped his wife remove her outer garments. “By the time I noticed, he had already acted. There was nothing I could do to stop him in time — I had no choice but to let it go.”

He was very clearly evading the heart of the matter.

Qin Yao raised her eyes and looked at Lin Xiao. Her gaze shimmered, still a picture of loveliness — yet she refused to let him off so easily. “You—”

But she had barely said two words when Lin Xiao bent down and covered her lips, stopping the rest of her sentence at its source.

She laughed and cried at once. Lin Xiao had always been strict in disciplining A’Da — this was the one and only time he had shown such unprecedented lenience.

In the midst of their closeness, Qin Yao suddenly recalled the reading Qing Xuzi had done for A’Da some years ago: he had said A’Da’s fate was noble and everything would come easily to him, but in matters of the heart, he would one day fall headlong and suffer terribly — and would spend years being worn down before finally finding his way. Looking now at the way the child went through life as though nothing could trouble him, she had no idea which girl in the world would ever possess the ability to move him, and bring him at last to taste the slow and lingering bitterness of turning back a thousand times.

But all of that was still far ahead, she thought. She let herself relax, and nestled closer against the man before her.

From beyond the window, one could faintly hear the sound of heavy snow bending the plum branches, and yet a warmth rich as spring fragrance slowly unfurled in the mingling breath of their lips.

The next morning, A’Da was placed under house arrest by his mother’s orders and made to copy out the Classic of the Way and Virtue — for one reason and no other: the misuse of Taoist techniques.

Qing Xuzi heard of the matter, and understood that Qin Yao was worried that A’Da’s careless use of such techniques would harm his own moral character and fortune. Besides, the child truly was too unruly — he needed to be properly disciplined. And so Qing Xuzi did not go rushing to the door to rescue his little disciple-grandchild.

A’Da thus missed the magnificent opportunity to go into the palace with his Imperial Uncle’s family to enjoy the lantern festival, and also missed out on the first youth kick-ball tournament held among the noble families’ sons of Chang’an.

A month later, he brought a thick, neatly copied stack of scriptures to find his mother, and happened to encounter his maternal grandmother, who had come to visit her grandchildren.

The moment she saw those scriptures, Qu Chen Shi laughed out loud. “You mother and son are truly cast from the same mold. Do you know, years ago, your mother also once misused Taoist techniques, and punished herself by copying out a full month of the Classic of the Way and Virtue? To think that after all this time, she’s using the very same method to correct your behavior. It goes to show you two are true-born mother and son.”

Qin Yao heard these words and was suddenly still, lost briefly in the echo of those past days, those faces from long ago. It all felt as distant and soft as a dream.

She raised her eyes and saw, beyond the window, the cold snow beginning to thaw, the chill of winter dispersing at last — and another year’s spring had quietly, gently come.