By the lakeside pavilion, Zhang Xingjian saw Shen Qingwu, his expression unchanged, and bowed to her with cupped hands. “General.”

Shen Qingwu naturally paid him no attention at all.

She would not say a single word to him.

He had long since grown used to it.

Having greeted her, Zhang Xingjian turned to face Shen Qingye, glancing at her with an unmistakable meaning — I’ve let you see the elder cousin you’ve been longing to see; now you must keep your promise and help me smooth things over with my sister.

Shen Qingye, by this point, had no thought to spare for Zhang Xingjian at all.

Around the banquet, people came and went, onlookers murmuring with relish, all manner of voices rising and falling. She knew this was no place for catching up on old times, knew that everyone would rather see her and her cousin come to blows, and that her standing here was becoming fodder for gossip — and yet she stood there anyway, because she truly missed Shen Qingwu, truly wanted to see her —

A thousand days and nights of longing.

This was the cousin who had brought her into the eastern capital; the cousin who, because of her, had fled far away with no word since; the cousin whom everyone overlooked, whom everyone mistreated.

In her three years in the eastern capital, so long as Shen Qingye maintained her betrothal to Zhang Xingjian, her own life would not go badly. But who among them knew how much her cousin had suffered, living for years exposed to wind and rain out there?

Shen Qingye felt a deep sorrow, for she understood that Shen Qingwu had no wish to see any of them, no wish to have anything more to do with people like them.

She did not think Zhang Xingjian would make a good match for her cousin, but as for what had happened three years ago, Shen Qingwu had truly been the wronged party.

Recently, Shen Qingye had heard from the family that her cousin had returned, and she had been trying again and again to reach her, hoping for just one meeting. But Shen Qingwu kept entirely to herself and would not even accept a token or letter, so Shen Qingye had finally begged Zhang Xingjian for help.

In this moment, Shen Qingye’s eyes held nothing but Shen Qingwu, glistening, her nose stinging with emotion, studying her cousin without blinking.

Her cousin had grown a little taller, a little thinner, her skin darkened by the sun. Her eyes were still beautiful, but no longer clear and bright — only cool and indifferent now, her expression distant.

Shen Qingye murmured, “Sister, I’ve missed you so much. When will you come home for a visit? I want so much to talk with you.”

Shen Qingwu said nothing.

She despised everyone in the Shen family, disliked Zhang Xingjian, and had no love either for Shen Qingye, the “lucky one” everyone had chosen. And yet, in her heart, she also understood that Shen Qingye had done nothing wrong — Shen Qingye had never had any say over her own fate.

And yet…

Shen Qingwu lowered her eyes.

Seeing Shen Qingye and Zhang Xingjian come and go together, the thorn lodged in her heart would not come loose.

Shen Qingye seemed to sense her thoughts; when Shen Qingwu offered nothing more, she suggested of her own accord, “Would Sister like to go out with me sometime? The Lantern Festival is coming to the eastern capital soon — the jade lanterns will glow like flowing light, and the fireworks will bloom like silver trees. It’s only a few days away…”

Tears welled faintly in Shen Qingye’s eyes. “You once told me, back then, that if I came to the eastern capital, you’d take me out to enjoy it with you.”

Shen Qingwu’s expression was cold. “That was just something I said to comfort you.”

Shen Qingye froze for a moment, her lashes trembling.

Those watching all felt that Shen Qingwu was being rather excessive, showing such impatience toward a delicate young lady like this.

Shen Qingye murmured softly, “…In any case, I’ll send Sister an invitation in a few days. There are things I want to say to you. If you don’t come, I’ll go on waiting for you.”

Shen Qingwu ignored her.

She did not care whether others waited for her or not.

She had always been the “wretch,” the “oddity” in other people’s eyes; she had no intention of playing the good person — only the villain.

Shen Qingwu, catching the murmurs of the crowd around her more and more clearly, had no wish to linger any longer near this golden couple, and turned to leave.

But just then, an old nursemaid came hurrying up, gasping and fussing loudly as she chased after them. “Young Lady Qingye, Young Lady Qingye — oh, why did you go off on your own without waiting for this old servant? If you’d gotten hurt or fallen ill, Madam would have my hide for it!”

Shen Qingye trembled faintly, her nails digging into her palm beneath her sleeve.

The nursemaid, spotting the strikingly handsome Third Young Master of the Zhang family beside Shen Qingye, was met with a faint smile from him, and immediately brightened. “So you’re here with Third Young Master! This old servant didn’t realize — Madam has long said that you young people ought to spend more time together. A young lady oughtn’t stay shut indoors all day; it’s only right to see your intended husband now and then…”

Shen Qingwu, thoroughly irritated by this, was ready to turn and walk off at the nursemaid’s chatter — but the woman’s next words, sharp with wariness, stopped her in her tracks. “This is… Second Young Lady Shen! Second Young Lady, what are you doing here?!”

Shen Qingwu stopped walking: why shouldn’t she be here?

Shen Qingye frowned. “Nursemaid… Sister is the Garrison-West General now, not ‘Second Young Lady.'”

The nursemaid grew even more wary. “Second Young Lady, surely you haven’t come to bully my young lady just because she seems delicate? Back then — back then… you didn’t even care for Third Young Master Zhang. You got drunk and said something foolish, and you admitted as much yourself.”

Shen Qingye, mortified, cried, “Nursemaid, that’s enough!”

Zhang Xingjian lowered his head and let out a soft laugh.

Chang Lin, following behind him, murmured, “What are you laughing at?”

Zhang Xingjian said quietly, “Look.”

Chang Lin looked, and saw that Shen Qingwu, who had already been on the verge of leaving, had stopped in her tracks because of the nursemaid’s careless remark, and was now turning back around.

The Second Young Lady of the Shen family walked back, came to stand before Shen Qingye, and asked evenly, “When are you two getting married?”

Shen Qingye faltered, stammering, “There’s no rush… my health isn’t good, I still need time to recover…”

Shen Qingwu said, “That won’t do. You’ve been betrothed for three years now without marrying. It would be hard to find another match like that anywhere in the eastern capital. A woman’s youth doesn’t wait around.”

Since when had Shen Qingwu become so talkative, so solicitous, so eager for Shen Qingye and Zhang Xingjian to hurry up and marry?

Shen Qingye gazed intently at her cousin, lost in thought.

The nursemaid’s eyes lit up at this, and she cut in, “Young Lady Qingye, the Second Young Lady speaks sense. In fact… I heard from Madam that she means for the two of you to marry right after the New Year.”

Shen Qingye’s face paled slightly, but she still said, “There’s no rush.”

Shen Qingwu said, “When you do marry, be sure to send me an invitation. I will certainly come.”

The nursemaid’s face changed color at once.

Zhang Xingjian could barely hold back the smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.

Shen Qingwu’s eyes, sharp as sparks, missed nothing. She couldn’t help glancing at him — he was still that same gentle, cultured Zhang Yuelu, his face carrying only the barest three parts of polite courtesy.

The nursemaid said, “Shen Qingwu, what could you possibly want at our young lady’s wedding?!”

…Surely she didn’t mean to cause a scene at the wedding itself, turning a marriage alliance between the two families into a feud instead?

What had happened to Shen Qingwu all those years ago was not known to outsiders — but how could the Shen family themselves not know it? Anyone could see that Shen Qingwu would never simply let their wedding proceed smoothly. It wasn’t out of the question that Shen Qingwu might even try to snatch the bride away herself…

Even though Third Young Master Zhang did not care for Shen Qingwu, and the two of them were hardly of one mind —

But Shen Qingwu was simply too outrageous! Who could even best her in a fight!

And she was said to still hold some sort of general’s rank now, too!

The nursemaid’s face turned pale, then ashen, clearly frightened, and she resolved to go back and report to Madam at once.

Shen Qingwu, covering over what she suspected had been a glimpse of Zhang Xingjian’s suppressed laughter, repeated herself once more. “The wedding invitation — you must send it to me. I will travel a thousand li to attend your wedding banquet.”

Shen Qingye lowered her eyes and said nothing.

She thought to herself that she would do everything in her power to make sure that day never came — but at that moment she had no idea what her cousin was truly thinking. Did her cousin… still care for Zhang Xingjian, even now?

Her cousin hadn’t so much as glanced at Zhang Xingjian; her cousin turned and walked away without a backward look, and aside from that first greeting, Zhang Xingjian had made no move to speak to her cousin either.

On the surface, this seemed perfectly ordinary, just as her cousin’s old oath had promised.

But something so perfectly ordinary was, in itself, not ordinary at all.

Up in their pavilion, Li Linge and Li Mingshu, brother and sister, had watched the whole commotion around the Shen family play out below.

Whatever they could not hear, a maidservant relayed to them from outside.

And yet, in truth, neither of the siblings had much interest in the Shen family’s affairs.

The young Emperor, gripping the railing and standing up straight, wore an expression of dazzled admiration on his delicate face, his eyes fixed unblinking on the little beauty being dragged away by the old nursemaid, glancing back again and again with such earnest, pleading looks toward Shen Qingwu.

Like a beauty of legend clutching her heart in distress, achingly graceful, tears glistening in her eyes.

Such captivating, romantic bearing — how moving it was.

The young Emperor blurted out, “Is that Shen Qingye?! Zhang Yuelu’s betrothed?!”

His tone carried no small measure of regret and longing.

Having said this, his gaze flickered, and he glanced carefully at his sister beside him.

Li Linge was ten years his senior, her hair done up in cloud-like coils, her eyes languid and alluring, showing little of the dignity one might expect of a princess. She leaned against the railing, gazing out with little enthusiasm, tapping a finger against her chin.

Those lovely almond eyes, fixed unblinkingly, were watching the man the people of the eastern capital jokingly called “the Moon.”

That young lord’s face was blocked by the trees, only his blue robes and black hair, a sliver of his profile, visible. His features could not be made out clearly, but his bearing and grace were like a single splash of ink beneath a brilliant sun — pure, clear, and effortlessly elegant.

Li Mingshu thought to himself: Sister has always had a fondness for this type of young lord.

And Zhang Xingjian was, after all… that man’s younger brother, and the very finest specimen of the type his sister favored.

In the past, Zhang Xingjian had always found ways, deliberate or not, to avoid his sister. And yet today, for the sake of his beautiful betrothed, he had actually come to attend the princess’s banquet. Once his sister laid eyes on him, she was bound to be quite taken with him.

Sure enough, Li Linge called softly to the maidservant beyond the curtain, “Have someone send a cup of wine to Zhang Yuelu. Don’t say it’s from me.”

Something stirred in Li Mingshu’s mind.

He turned to look at his sister, eager. “Might I beg a cup of wine from you as well, Sister?”

Li Linge glanced at him, her expression somewhere between amusement and mockery. “Women and men are not the same, and Zhang Xingjian and Shen Qingye are not the same either. Zhang Xingjian can afford to play — Shen Qingye cannot. Don’t you go doing anything reckless.”

She swayed her waist as she turned and swept the curtain aside, walking off.

The young Emperor, somewhat cowed by his sister, forcibly suppressed his flare of temper, and leaned against the window sill, still gazing wistfully after the beauty. “Shen Qingye… how infuriating. Zhang Xingjian truly is a lucky man!”

The thought that Zhang Xingjian would go on to marry such a woman, while he himself drank alone in solitude, left the young Emperor all the more restless.

The young Emperor said, “Someone fetch Chancellor Kong. Now that Sister’s gone, have Chancellor Kong keep me company while I drink!”

Shen Qingwu had shown herself only briefly, and already the crowd had lost track of her.

She had hidden herself deep among the trees, masking every trace of her presence. Her original intent had simply been to avoid the tedium of small talk, but sitting up in the tree, she found herself witness to quite a show:

Ande, Princess Imperial, sent a maidservant with a message, and the maidservant in turn summoned one of the household’s dancing girls. The dancer, carrying a pot of wine, went to offer it to one of the notable guests at the banquet.

It was a silver pot fitted with a hidden mechanism.

Shen Qingwu saw with her own eyes the maidservant instructing the dancer to pour a powder into one side of the pot — a powder called “Bone-Melt.”

The maidservant said quietly, “Just a single grain, the size of a rice kernel, and the young lord won’t be able to help himself. The Princess is counting on you to get this done — don’t get it wrong.”

After the maidservant left, Shen Qingwu leaned back against the tree trunk, with no intention of following the dancer to see what became of it. She had never had the slightest interest in other people’s business.

As the evening lanterns began to glow, Shen Qingwu fingered the jade pendant at her chest, thinking to herself that the eastern capital was truly an entertaining place. When she returned to Yizhou, she would be sure to tell Bo Rong all these amusing stories, one by one, and get a laugh or two out of him.

She only wondered — who was the unlucky soul about to be drugged?