The light was dim, petals drifted through the courtyard, fragrance scattered on the air—the old Zhang family estate lay quiet and serene.

This ancient residence had passed through several generations of masters and weathered several generations of storms. Now, with most of the old masters gone, only two members of the direct line remained: the second daughter, Zhang Wenbi, and the third son, Zhang Xingjian.

In the days since returning home, Zhang Xingjian had been recovering from his injuries, tending to a mountain of tedious affairs.

The lamp flickered and swayed. As Chang Lin left the main hall with the note the young master had given him, he bowed in greeting to the young lady approaching, accompanied by several maidservants.

Her face was pale and cold, her expression indifferent; though a woman, she carried herself with the bearing of a soaring crane—noble, aloof, and solitary.

This was none other than the Zhang family’s second daughter, Zhang Wenbi.

Zhang Wenbi’s face had remained impassive the whole way, until she raised her eyes toward the lattice window—

In the dim light, the young man leaning against the window, wrapped in his robe, looked delicate and languid. A pigeon flew from his slender, pale hand, as though even the bird wished to borrow some of his elegance.

Hearing footsteps, he turned his head slightly:

“Sister.”

His voice was light and clear, touched with a faint hoarseness from weariness.

The sight of him like this made all the maids accompanying Zhang Wenbi blush at once.

Zhang Wenbi shot the maids a cold glance, and they quickly lowered their heads, not daring to look too long at the young master of the house, afraid of provoking her temper.

Once inside the inner chamber, the door closed, Zhang Xingjian poured tea for his sister and then heard Zhang Wenbi’s cool reprimand: “You’re the last remaining son of the direct line. Every word and gesture of yours is watched by countless eyes. Since you’re injured, don’t open the window, and certainly don’t lean against it like that, luring my maids’ attention.

“The mistress the Zhang family chooses must be selected with the greatest care. You cannot afford to be careless about this.”

Zhang Xingjian’s hand paused for a moment as he poured the tea.

Good-natured as ever, he straightened his collar and yielded gracefully. “You’re right, my conduct was improper. I’m grateful for your correction, Sister.”

Zhang Wenbi’s expression eased slightly.

She gazed at him for a moment, lost in thought. Looking at this refined, gentle young man, she seemed to see again the obedient little boy she had once led by the hand through the front gates, all those years ago.

That child who had always seemed on the verge of tears, clumsy and awkward, had grown into this graceful, cultivated young man who now had every young woman in Bianjing captivated.

Time, it seemed, had not failed either of them, brother and sister.

Zhang Wenbi asked after what he’d gained from his journey, why he was injured, and whether he’d been taking his medicine.

Zhang Xingjian answered offhandedly, “Just some friction over official business. Nothing for you to worry about, Sister. I can handle it.”

But Zhang Wenbi remembered that, on her way into the courtyard just now, she had overheard Chang Lin mention the name “Chancellor Kong.” She suspected her brother’s injuries had something to do with the man, and that his current schemes were also aimed at him. Her lips parted, then closed again, the words unsaid.

Zhang Xingjian, reading her expression, said, “Are you asking about Chancellor Kong, Sister?”

Zhang Wenbi said at once, “Why would I ask about someone who has nothing to do with the Zhang family—your political enemies are your own business. I came today only for your marriage. I’ve already spoken with the Shen family—in a couple of days, you’ll go to consider their young lady, and we’ll settle your marriage, so everyone can rest easy.”

A flicker crossed Zhang Xingjian’s eyes, but he said nothing.

Zhang Wenbi’s tone softened. “Whether the Zhang family can rise again rests on you alone. What happened to our eldest brother back then… we cannot let it happen again. The Shen family is Bianjing’s new nobility, rising steadily through military merit, their prestige nearly rivaling the imperial family itself. We need a chance to reenter the capital’s inner circles, and they need an old established family to guide them. A match made by heaven like this—Zhang Yuelu, this is our chance. We cannot let it slip away.”

Yuelu was Zhang Xingjian’s courtesy name. Zhang Yuelu—a name drawn from the stars above, representing the moon.

A name carrying such blessing already said everything that needed to be said.

Zhang Xingjian came back to himself and smiled faintly. “I never said I was against it. This is exactly what I’ve hoped for. I only wonder why I need to go and consider her myself—didn’t you already pick a suitable young lady from the Shen family directly, Sister?”

He always spoke this way, unhurried and easy, and in his presence Zhang Wenbi found herself relaxing too, a faint smile touching her lips.

“I have already chosen, yes. But we must give the Shen family some face as well.

“You may not know this, but the Shen family has two young ladies of marriageable age. The direct line’s second daughter is named Shen Qingwu—though born into the direct line, she was born of a concubine. The other is the orphaned daughter of the great hero Shen Jie, Shen Qingye.

“The Shen family’s matriarch was frank with me: in both character and looks, Shen Qingye is by far the better choice. Her only flaw is that she’s frail and often ill, and both her parents died young—but that’s no great matter. She’s a hero’s daughter, and our family could use an ornament like that. Besides, I hear she’s gentle and agreeable by nature—wouldn’t she make you a fine, virtuous helpmate?

“As for that Shen Qingwu—she’s notorious throughout Bianjing as a troublemaker, immensely strong and always causing chaos, either tearing down walls or beating people up. I’ve heard no end of stories about her since she was a child… Even setting Shen Qingye aside, I would never choose her. Our family simply cannot accommodate a young lady like that. You know that as well as I do.”

Because of certain old matters, the Zhang family kept its distance from young women of that sort—Zhang Wenbi most of all.

Zhang Xingjian gave a soft, amused laugh.

He took it all in as nothing more than gossip.

Zhang Wenbi instructed him, “So this matchmaking meeting is only a formality. When the time comes, you’re only to nod to Shen Qingye. You’re only to become engaged to her.”

Zhang Xingjian nodded.

Zhang Wenbi said nothing more. She knew that no matter how smoothly her brother handled himself in public, underneath it all he was a man who cared little about most things, indifferent by nature. Since marriage meant little to him one way or another, he would naturally go along with her wishes.

Only, at the mention of the Shen family, something occurred to Zhang Xingjian. A flicker crossed his eyes, and he asked his sister, “Before I entered the capital, I was saved by a young man surnamed Shen. He left a handkerchief with me… Do you happen to know, Sister, if this has anything to do with the Shen family?”

Zhang Wenbi thought it over, puzzled. “I haven’t heard of any son of the Shen family leaving the capital. After the negotiations between the two states concluded, they were either still at the border or had already returned before you did—how would you have crossed paths with one of them? Hmm… though those two young ladies of the Shen family did arrive back around the same time as you.”

Zhang Xingjian said, “Then I’ll have someone look into it.”

Zhang Wenbi clapped her hands together. “If it truly was someone from the Shen family who saved you… then this marriage is all the more clearly ordained by heaven. Zhang Yuelu, do you understand what I mean?”

The corner of Zhang Xingjian’s mouth curved in an easy, knowing smile. “I understand.”

—What his sister meant was: true or not, his savior ought to be someone from the Shen family. If heaven hadn’t arranged such a fated match on its own, then they would simply arrange it themselves.

This marriage, they were determined to secure no matter what.

As the autumn wind turned crisp and the scent of osmanthus drifted through the air, the entire Shen household busied itself with preparations for the matchmaking banquet, held under the pretense of a flower-viewing party.

Of the two young ladies of marriageable age, neither knew the role she’d been cast in.

Shen Qingwu was given two new sets of clothes, and early that same morning was measured yet again, told they were making her a new embroidered pouch as well. She found it all strange and novel, but her mood stayed light.

Just then Shen Qingye woke and asked to see her cousin, so Shen Qingwu went to visit her.

In the quiet chamber, occasional coughs sounded from behind the bed curtains. When the wet-nurse entered, she found Shen Qingwu sitting on the floor mat, playing with a set of nine linked rings. The weak coughing from behind the curtain was plainly audible, yet Shen Qingwu seemed not to hear it at all.

The nurse gave a smile that didn’t reach her eyes. “Has Second Miss not gone to brew the medicine?”

Shen Qingwu looked up at the old woman, her gaze calm.

No one had told her to go brew any medicine.

Irritated by such an indifferent look, the nurse was about to launch into a scolding when Shen Qingye’s frail voice from behind the curtain cut in just in time: “Nurse, I asked Cousin to keep me company. I’ve already sent a maid to brew the medicine.”

Shen Qingye gently lifted the curtain, revealing a delicate, lovely face, breathing faintly labored, her eyes carrying a soft trace of a smile. “Did you need something, Nurse?”

She didn’t understand why the people of the main household held such hostility toward her cousin, why even the servants looked down on her. All she could do was try her best to shield her.

Faced with such a gentle young lady, the nurse’s tone softened at once. “I’ve come to show the two of you a portrait of the Zhang family’s third son, so you won’t fail to recognize him when the time comes.”

She briskly unrolled the scroll and smiled at Shen Qingye, whose cheeks had suddenly flushed red. “Though it hardly matters if you don’t recognize him—with looks like yours, young lady, the Zhang family’s third son is sure to recognize you.”

Shen Qingye’s heart pounded, her face burning red from the teasing. She pulled at Shen Qingwu, trying to deflect. “Cousin, come look at the portrait too… oh.”

Shen Qingye’s voice trailed off.

Shen Qingwu heard it clearly.

The nurse was still going on about how outstanding the Zhang family’s third son was. Shen Qingwu glanced down at the portrait and understood at once why her cousin had faltered.

Even she found herself staring at it for a moment, lost in thought.

The real man was even better-looking than the painting.

“Qingwu, Qingwu!” A string of calls rang out from behind her, and an arm draped over Shen Qingwu’s shoulder. “I’ve been calling you forever—why are you walking off so fast?”

Shen Qingwu looked up to find Shen Zhuo, her older brother, freshly back from the battlefield.

Before her cousin had arrived in the household, uninvited, Shen Zhuo had been the only one who ever chased after her, always asking after her, always curious.

He slung an arm around his sister, grinning mischievously. “I heard you and Qingye were looking at the portrait, and you just turned and walked off. What’s that about? If Mother finds out, she’ll scold you again for being so thoughtless. Come on, what happened?”

Shen Qingwu said nothing.

Shen Zhuo leaned in, lowering his voice. “What’s the trouble? Can’t your brother know?”

Shen Qingwu thought about it, then told him, “I know him.”

Shen Zhuo said, “Of course you know him. The Zhang family’s moon—who in Bianjing doesn’t know him?”

Shen Qingwu pressed her lips together. “No, I mean I saved him.”

Shen Zhuo was taken aback.

He listened as Shen Qingwu recounted, in brief, spare words, the dangerous rescue. He felt both angry that his sister had taken such a reckless risk, and glad for her at the same time. “So then, the Zhang family’s third son knows you too?”

Shen Qingwu thought of the young man’s long, dark lashes trembling desperately in the pale dawn light. Something hollow opened in her chest for a moment, and she said, “I don’t know.”

But Shen Zhuo was delighted regardless. “Either way, this connection between you two is worth more than anything else. You gave him that handkerchief, didn’t you? He’s bound to find out it was you eventually. Qingwu, this marriage—it’s fate bringing the two of you back together.”

Shen Qingwu showed no reaction. “That’s impossible.”

Shen Zhuo was about to grow annoyed, but then he heard her say, with perfect calm, “No one would choose me.”

He studied her for a moment, then said slowly, “Qingwu, you have to believe—somewhere in this world, there’s someone who will look past every narrow-minded prejudice, past every misunderstanding, and choose you, and only you.

“Maybe that person is Zhang Xingjian.”

In the sunlight, Shen Qingwu’s lifted eyes shimmered with a ripple of golden light.