“Many thanks, Master Zong.”

Lady Bo’s voice came from not far away, and Xiao Nanhui came sharply back to herself.

Master Zong?

A person whom the household women of a prince’s mansion addressed as “Master” could only be an imperial tutor or a clan officiant. Yet she had never heard of an imperial tutor in the capital with the surname Zong, and had never heard of an officiant who would come to attend an imperial blessing ceremony wearing a brown cloak that looked like a piece of sackcloth.

And moreover — when had the martial world ever produced a great master of the surname Zong of whom she was entirely unaware?

“Madam need not stand on ceremony.”

The stooped figure beneath the brown cloak spoke again, and his voice had returned to a deep and aged rumble, no different from that of any ordinary elderly man.

Clearly, he had just seen Bolao make her move, and had therefore deliberately channeled his inner energy to project his voice across the distance — a form of warning.

Although she did not know his identity, Xiao Nanhui’s instinct told her this was someone she could not afford to offend. She was just about to step forward when a hand grabbed her from behind.

She turned her head and met Bolao’s face — ashen and drained of color.

This was the first time in her life that she had ever seen Bolao trembling with fear.

She and Bolao had not grown up together exactly, but they had been companions along the way for a good stretch and had been through a great deal together. Bolao’s character lived up to her name — direct and uncomplicated at her core, but genuinely fierce and untamed, difficult to tame, and rarely willing to yield to anyone. When she met a strong opponent, she would not retreat; on the contrary, she would only grow more and more determined to fight.

From the clues she had already picked up, Xiao Nanhui had been able to tell that the old man’s martial skill was exceptional. But for him to reduce Bolao to the state she was in now — retreating without a fight, even showing signs of timidity — that was something she had not anticipated.

Or perhaps there was one other possibility.

That Bolao had crossed paths with this person before, and had already exchanged blows with him.

They knew each other.

“Don’t go over there—” Bolao’s voice was very low, but her eyes were fixed hard on the brown-robed elder not far away. “He is from the Andao Institute.”

Among the people of the Andao Institute, all those who had completed their training and gone out into the world had a master they served, while those who had not yet completed their training were not permitted to step outside the institute’s doors at all. This person had come alone, and was of an age close to that of the Institute head Xie Li. How could he be from the Andao Institute?

And moreover — the people of the Andao Institute existed to uphold righteousness. Even if there were frictions among those within the same sect, it would not come to making someone this frightening, would it?

The suspicion in Xiao Nanhui’s heart grew heavier, but Bolao evidently had no opportunity to say more.

On that side, Lady Bo was murmuring something to the elder in a low voice, and the very next moment, the man’s gaze came straight toward her.

“So you are someone from the Qinghuai Marquis Mansion.”

Xiao Nanhui had been singled out by name and could no longer stand still where she was. She gave Bolao’s hand a gentle pat on the back to indicate she should not worry, then walked toward the man.

“I pay my respects to Master Zong.”

She was already very close to the other party, yet she could still not hear any sound of breathing — enough to show that this person’s inner cultivation was unfathomably deep. She did not know whether it surpassed Xiao Zhun’s or not.

After a long while, that voice sounded above her head.

“You know me?”

Xiao Nanhui raised her eyes and saw only a pair of somewhat clouded eyes. The years had left marks on this body that could not be erased, yet they could not blot out a certain quality dwelling within its owner.

Those eyes seemed capable of piercing through a person from across the air. It was the sharp killing intent that belongs only to someone who has practiced martial arts for many years.

Xiao Nanhui’s breath caught, and she lowered her gaze.

“I do not. I only heard Madam address you by that title, and took it upon myself to do the same. If there is any impropriety in that, I ask Master to please not take offense.”

The man’s gaze seemed to hover above her head for a long while before it finally moved away.

“All guests who have arrived today are to receive the blessing in Yi Garden. Do not forget.”

Whether this was addressed to her or to Lady Bo, she could not be sure.

As for the latter, she was clearly showing the utmost deference to this Master Zong, and had already swiftly taken up the thread.

“Please set your mind at ease, Master Zong. Miss Xiao is with us — she will certainly not be absent.”

The elder gave no response to this, but walked straight toward the floral platform where the game had been played.

The platform still bore the scattered remnants of silk and brocade, silver cups and fresh fruit. A few apricots had been trodden and burst, releasing several drops of pale yellow juice that spread into a patch of moisture on the ground.

The elder stared at that platform for a moment, then suddenly swept out his sleeve — and all those scattered, delicate, exquisite things were as though struck by a sudden gale, tumbling off the platform and into the pond water in an instant.

The women who had been standing to one side could not help but cry out in alarm, their faces full of fear. No one dared to whisper another word. The entire side courtyard fell silent in an instant, and all that could be heard was the sound of bubbles as those cups and jade objects sank beneath the water.

The elder slowly drew his sleeve back under his cloak, bent forward, and coughed heavily twice, then walked with something of a shuffling step toward Lady Bo, who stood frozen and uncertain.

“Since ancient times, target-guessing and hook-hiding games bring separation in their wake. Madam should restrain herself and uphold propriety, and engage in fewer such diversions — only then will the rear courtyard of the Prince’s Mansion enjoy more peace and happiness.”

At these words, Lady Bo’s face went pale, and for once she said nothing more. She stood where she was for a moment, then turned and in a low voice reprimanded the serving women who had been at the floral platform, ordering them to lead the young ladies away quickly. Wanwan was evidently still disgruntled and shot a fierce glare at Bolao before departing, lifting her skirts and stalking off in a huff.

Having witnessed the entire scene, Xiao Nanhui found a certain schadenfreude welling up within her, even as her curiosity about the elder’s identity grew all the stronger.

Even as a royal officiant, one could not possibly dare to behave so brazenly on the grounds of a prince’s mansion. And if he were merely an officiant, he would have no need for martial skill and inner cultivation of this caliber.

She was about to step forward and probe a little further — but when she turned around, the man had already left as silently as he had come.

Lady Bo still stood before the floral platform, her back still upright and composed, betraying not the slightest crack. Xiao Nanhui understood that her “ordeal” today had come to an end, and after quietly taking her leave, she pulled Bolao along and left the side courtyard.

The garden that had just moments ago been filled with birdsong, voices, and noise now stood with only its flowers as vivid and lush as ever.

Lady Bo looked around her, and an expression of barely concealed contempt suddenly surfaced on her face.

She did not like these flowers and plants — she liked jade objects and gold ornaments. These flowers and plants consumed nearly half of her expenses every year, and in the end would only turn into a handful of foul mud, leaving nothing behind.

Yet she needed these flowers and plants. She knew the Prince liked these things that could neither be eaten nor put to use, and among them he was especially fond of the plum tree that was said to be priceless. And she needed no great thinking to know the reason behind that.

She often stood quietly gazing at that tree, having felled it in her heart a thousand times over, and having burned the felled trunk as firewood ten thousand times more.

But she knew she could not do that. And so she needed the most brilliant flowers, the most intense perfume. She had to use every means at her disposal to cover over the existence of that plum tree.

“My lady.”

Lady Bo’s thoughts came back slightly. She raised her eyes to see her own personal attendant coming toward her with quick steps.

The mistress of the Prince’s Mansion resumed her air of gentle composure, pressing her lips together and staring at the crushed apricot beneath her feet that had been ground into a pulp.

“What is it?”

The attendant waited until she was very close before speaking in a low voice.

“The ones who came from the palace are all still in the ancestral hall.”

“Why has it taken so long?”

“The master, he…”

Hesitation showed on the attendant’s face. Lady Bo’s lips curved into a cold smile.

“Speak.”

“It seems the master wishes to install a memorial tablet for that Mei woman in the ancestral hall…”

The attendant’s voice trailed away to nothing, and the side courtyard fell silent again — only to be broken a moment later by the sound of a woman’s voice, its tone gone somewhat off-key.

“Since ancient times, no woman has ever been allowed into the imperial clan’s ancestral hall — does Mei Ruogu think she can turn the heavens upside down?!”

She spoke in the grip of utter hatred; only when the words had fallen did she realize how far she had lost her composure. Taking a deep breath, Lady Bo smoothed her contorted face back to its surface of even, smooth composure.

“We will not speak of this anymore. When you came just now, did you happen to see that adopted daughter of the Xiao Family?”

The attendant nodded quickly: “I did. As overbearing as ever — seems she worked that Wanwan girl into such a state she’ll likely be fuming about it for days.”

Lady Bo gave a faint snort.

“She served as an official for a few years — Wanwan is no match for her. I cannot fathom what kind of bewitching spell a woman who waves swords and guns around could possibly have cast, that Su Pingchuan of all people simply cannot get her out of his mind.”

The attendant darted a quick glance at her mistress, who was clearly displeased today, then steeled herself and lowered her voice.

“As your servant sees it, however fierce and battle-hardened she may be, she is still a woman in the end. If one wishes to break down her spirit, one must strike at her body.”

Lady Bo still did not move, but her eyes shifted toward the person beside her.

“You scheming wretch — what underhanded ideas have you been cooking up?”

The attendant at once gave herself a hard slap across the face, then said urgently:

“Your servant deserves to die, your servant only has the young lady’s wellbeing at heart, and cannot bear to watch idly as this mansion is about to have another headstrong and showy mistress move in. If that day comes, the young lady’s life will be difficult again.”

Lady Bo was silent for a moment. The expression on her face became somewhat unfixed and drifting, though her voice once again resumed that soft, delicate cadence.

“Your method is certainly low and underhanded, yet it is admittedly the most effective approach at present. However, today there are too many eyes—”

The moment the attendant heard a change in her mistress’s tone, the spirits that had been somewhat deflated a moment before immediately revived, and even the slap on her face had stopped hurting.

“My lady, rest assured — your servant will handle this matter personally. No one will notice a thing.”

Lady Bo gave a satisfied nod, then extended her slender white fingers to examine the nails she had just had trimmed and painted.

“Wanwan — is she past sixteen this year?”

“Indeed she is. What does my lady have in mind?”

“Chuan’er is still young — at the height of his hot-bloodedness. Some things happen beyond a person’s control. But we are a household of standing — we cannot be the sort to use someone up and then disavow it. If the other family’s background also turns out to be decent, one cannot afford to bully them either. One can only take an ugly matter and turn it into a pleasant one — consider it the culmination of a fleeting bond. Wouldn’t you say so?”

A look of delight appeared on the attendant’s face, and she agreed enthusiastically again and again.

“Wanwan is of one mind with my lady above and below. In the future she would certainly be a source of support within this mansion. As expected of my lady’s wisdom — your servant will go and make the arrangements immediately.”

“As for that adopted daughter of the Xiao Family—” Lady Bo paused with a meaningful air before continuing softly, “Even with the Marquis Mansion behind her, her background is entirely incompatible with climbing to the heights of this Prince’s Mansion. She seems to have at least some self-awareness on this point. Only Chuan’er will not let go easily — we as those of the older generation must take a little more care, and help them see reality clearly before long, so they do not brew a bitter result that they will regret too late.”

The attendant understood immediately and at once offered her suggestion.

“Your servant recalls that there is still some Scarlet Blood Crow left, given by the northern Di people. It may come in useful today.”

“Mm. That is just right — and it counts as a method that does not harm her life, with benefits on both sides.”

“My lady’s heart is kind. Your servant will go and see to it.”

The attendant bowed and withdrew. Lady Bo looked out at the full garden of spring color and let out a quiet sigh.

“Chuan’er, oh Chuan’er — I cannot compare to your birth mother with her extraordinary reach and influence. I can only offer you this one gift. You need not decline it — just accept it gracefully.”

The name Yi Garden was unfamiliar to Xiao Nanhui.

But arriving at the place, she found she had been here long before. For many years ago, Su Pingchuan’s birthday banquet had been held here.

Back then, she had stood no taller than the stone tables in that garden. Now she could reach up and touch the branches laden with flower buds just by raising her head.

Back then, she had dared to beat the little prince of the Prince’s Mansion right in the open hall. Now she could not even choose her own path — she was forever at the mercy of circumstances, forever exhausting herself reading people’s expressions and moods.

Had she grown — or had she regressed?

Xiao Nanhui sank into a formless bewilderment. The world she had once spent every last ounce of her strength trying to belong to was now opening its doors to her, and yet she had begun to hesitate. Perhaps she did not truly know what lay on the other side of those doors. The world she had once believed could give her a “home” had perhaps never existed anywhere beyond her own imagination.

“The rites are complete — present the wine!”

The chanting of the rites official finally drew to a close. The assembled guests formed two rows and stood on either side of the bronze incense tripod at the center of Yi Garden. When the bell had sounded fourteen times, they bowed in unison to receive the ceremonial blessing wine.

So this was what Su Pingchuan had called “receiving the rites.”

The newborn little prince was carried by his wet nurse in swaddling clothes at the very front of the line. Xiao Nanhui stood at the very end, with Bolao behind her — as quiet as a quail, as she had been ever since the encounter with the brown-robed elder.

Countless barely perceptible gazes were drifting over the Xiao Family people. Xiao Nanhui could not find an opportunity to speak with Bolao privately, and could only temporarily follow the others in performing the rites, hiding in the crowd — while her eyes strayed involuntarily toward the brown-robed elder.

The elder’s movements were slow, and even the fingers he dipped into the wine trembled slightly with the infirmities of age. Two people walked behind him: one was Lady Bo, who was serving at his side to pour the wine; the other was a middle-aged man of about forty or fifty, dressed in a rites official’s attire, holding a rhinoceros-horn ruyi scepter, a faint, expressionless smile on his face.

That man was a geomancer.

The blessing ceremony was, in truth, conducted according to the ancient methods of ritual sacrifice. The officiant would come together with a geomancer — ostensibly to bestow blessings upon the newborn blood of the lineage, but in actuality to inspect whether the mansion’s royal aura was obstructed and whether its feng shui was peaceful. If any malevolent force had attached itself, it would be driven out and destroyed by means of the blessing ceremony, and there were times when it would even involve bloodshed.

Since ancient times, the lives of the poor and of slaves had not been reckoned as human lives. Sometimes nothing more than the words “an afflicting calamity has attached itself, bringing harm to the master of the household” was enough to easily take the life of a page boy or a serving girl.

Was that ruyi scepter prepared specifically for the purpose of splitting open someone’s skull?

Xiao Nanhui suppressed the discomfort rising from the depths of her heart and forced herself to blend into the auspicious and celebratory atmosphere all around her. Approximately one incense stick’s worth of time passed before that patch of brown finally arrived before her.

The brown-robed elder murmured blessings in what language she could not tell, then dipped his fingers into the rhino-horn goblet and lightly sprinkled a few drops of wine over the top of her head.

The faintly cool drops of wine fell on the corner of her brow, bringing a slow, creeping sensation of ticklishness as they ran.

She wanted to raise her hand to wipe it away, but the rites were not yet complete and she could not move. She could only endure the torment of listening to that seemingly endless stream of blessing words.

By the time the rites were finally concluded and she could rise, a bronze long-tailed wine vessel had been extended toward her.

Xiao Nanhui had never drunk wine from a jue vessel before — that was a drinking vessel permitted only to the nobility, and she had never even laid eyes on one before.

Following the slender pale wrist that held the vessel, her gaze met Lady Bo’s unexpectedly.

The other party’s face was still that composed and gracious expression, but for some reason she always felt that there was something flickering through those eyes — a cunning gleam that came and went in an instant.

The process of presenting the wine was required to flow without interruption. Any hesitation would be regarded as a sign of disrespect. In just that brief instant of hesitation, the geomancer’s gaze had already fallen on her.

Xiao Nanhui quietly sighed, and was just about to raise her hand to accept it — when a hand cut in from the side and seized her cup.

Xiao Nanhui looked up and saw that the wine vessel was now held in Su Pingchuan’s hand.

With a clack, the bronze jue was set back down on the tray, right where it had been. Its perpetrator’s dark bright eyes fixed themselves on the face of his young stepmother, and his gaze was filled with nothing but mockery and cold contempt.

Lady Bo’s expression showed difficulty concealing its strain. Only her voice could still maintain its original honeyed softness.

“Chuan’er, what are you doing? Master Zong is still here — do not lose your manners—”

“Wine that you poured, she cannot drink.”

Su Pingchuan’s voice was very quiet, yet his tone was firm. Quite a few guests nearby had heard the commotion and looked over.

Lady Bo had evidently noticed as well. Her tone began to take on the quality of aggrieved forbearance.

“Chuan’er — you don’t trust me?”

This was quite the accusation to level — not terribly large, yet not trivially small either.

Strictly speaking, Su Pingchuan was at any rate the only legitimate heir of the Prince’s Mansion right now. For him to trade a few words with his stepmother concubine could at most be considered a “household matter” of the Xuanyuan Prince’s Mansion. But the situation today was different — taking place during a formal ceremony and ancestral rites, such conduct carried the implication of defying propriety and being rebellious and insolent, and could be prosecuted under the statutes of the Tiancheng Code.

The brown-robed elder had not yet spoken, but Xiao Nanhui could not wait any longer. She snatched back the half-spilled wine vessel and drank it down in a single swallow.

The wine bestowed at the blessing ceremony was the ritual tusu wine, blended with ledebouriella root, Sichuan pepper, and monkshood. It was intensely pungent and went straight up into the nasal passage, but she had no time for any of that — she got it down her throat in one go.

“The Left General was only joking just now. Madam must not take it to heart and stir up ill will between us.”

As she said this, her eyes remained fixed on Lady Bo’s face the entire time.

At this point, the rift between her and the women of the Xuanyuan Prince’s Mansion had been fully established. She was not afraid of the other party, but she felt a vague worry that her own presence might bring harm to Su Pingchuan. Ever since learning that he was Mei Ruogu’s son, she had felt a fondness and partiality toward him that she could not entirely restrain.

Lady Bo’s gaze met hers directly. She parted her lips ever so slightly, and somehow still managed to squeeze out a few laughs.

“Miss Xiao is so composed and gracious — you must rarely lack for the attentions of young men from distinguished families in ordinary times. It seems you will certainly be blessed with good fortune in the years ahead.”

This remark was already rather flippant in tone, but the other party had already dropped all pretense and was sincerely making the comment just to be unpleasant.

“You—” Su Pingchuan’s fury surged to his face in an instant, yet the circumstances around him left it nowhere to go.

He had to consider his father’s face, and beyond that, the face of the Prince’s Mansion. He could not make things publicly difficult for this woman.

“Pingchuan.”

A voice rang out through the garden. Xiao Nanhui turned and saw Prince Su Che of the Xuanyuan Mansion standing beneath the eave of the corridor not far away, his face obscured in shadow, his expression impossible to read.

“Have you attended to the matter I entrusted you with earlier? What are you standing there for?”

The reluctance was written plainly on Su Pingchuan’s face, yet he had no choice but to withdraw.

Before he left, he looked long and deep at Xiao Nanhui — as though a thousand words were buried within that gaze.

But in the end it was only a look, and Xiao Nanhui still could not understand what it meant.

“Miss Xiao — the worldly impurities have been cleansed. The rites are complete.”

The brown-robed elder’s voice sounded again. She came back to herself, and suddenly felt something sweep over the top of her head.

She looked up — and barely had time to catch a glimpse of something retreating from sight.

It was a white ceremonial banner. The thin, delicate bone of the banner was wound about with countless slender white streamers — plain hemp in material, some new, some worn.

And not long before, she had seen a cord of very similar material and style.

At the time, she had thought it was nothing more than a sash for fastening clothing.

She stared wide-eyed, and could barely conceal the expression on her face.

In the span of a single blink, the ceremonial banner had swept over her head and disappeared back beneath that great brown cloak, and was nowhere to be seen.

Xiao Nanhui could not come back to herself, and nearly thought what she had just seen was an illusion.

The final cup of wine had been poured. The blessing ceremony drew to a close. Countless serving women came pouring in from the side of the garden, removing the ceremonial vessels one by one. In the sea of moving figures, Xiao Nanhui could only watch helplessly as the brown figure disappeared at the far end of the covered walkway leading out of Yi Garden.

When she finally managed to slip free, she rushed to give chase — and was grabbed from behind.

“What are you doing?” Bolao’s eyes were opened wide as a pair of bronze bells, and seemed as though they might clatter if shaken.

“I just want to follow and take a look.” Xiao Nanhui’s mind was not on this big-headed girl at all — her whole heart was set on confirming what she had glimpsed in that single glance.

“Are you mad?!” Bolao’s voice went, for once, to an unusually high pitch. “I already told you — that is a terrifying person. Why do you still want to go?”

Xiao Nanhui was at a loss for words. She did not know how to explain the reason behind all this in just a few short sentences.

Seeing that the figure was already almost beyond tracing, she had no time for more deliberation. She pulled free and swiftly patted that large head.

“How about this — we split up. You go back to the mansion now. If I’m not back within an hour, remember to bring people and come fish me out.”

“What do you mean, split up? Who am I supposed to bring to fish you out?!” Bolao’s head looked larger than usual, “Hey, Xiao Nanhui! Come back here! I haven’t agreed to anything yet — I am not going to worry about you! You — you madwoman!”

The short, stocky figure was left behind, stamping her feet in frantic exasperation. But the woman not far away had already vanished without a trace.