Mei Fen still wore that same timid, cowering look. Her complexion was poor — pale with an undertone of gray, her lips washed out to the pallid shade of a beautiful woman in decline. She was probably truly frightened of him — her hands gripped her handkerchief so tightly the color had been wrung from her knuckles. That kind of fear couldn’t be feigned. But for some reason, seeing her trembling like this gave him a peculiar pleasure — like that rabbit he had once submerged in water as a child, its limbs flailing helplessly, yet unable to escape his grasp no matter what.

Looking more carefully at her features, he noticed those eyes of hers — finely shaped, truly like a little rabbit’s. He suddenly found himself in a patient mood. He tilted slightly toward her and made a tutting sound. “Hasn’t my cousin heard what Aunt said? We are already engaged — from here on we are family. If you continue to be so frightened of me, you put me in a very difficult position. Once we’re married, what will we do? Surely you can’t be so afraid that you won’t even let me come near.”

Mei Fen’s heart thudded rapidly. This kind of fear had built up over long years — overcoming it all at once was genuinely difficult.

Yet it was precisely the existence of this emotion that made her reactions in He Xiao’s presence feel all the more real. She stuttered, “You’ve already gotten what you wanted… so… what more do you want?”

He Xiao considered the question earnestly. “I don’t want anything in particular. I only want to be on good terms with my cousin. There’s no need for you to be so frightened of me.”

He rose to his feet and stepped half a pace forward. She took a step back, swallowed, and said, “That time behind the garden rocks… you blocked… my path… and said you wanted to make me a concubine. So why have you now come to present betrothal gifts?”

The Duke and Madam Ming, concealed behind the curtain in the rear veranda, immediately pricked up their ears. This single question was enough to reveal whether He Xiao was the kind of person Mei Fen had described — the two of them were so tense they hardly dared to breathe, straining anxiously to catch every sound coming from inside the room.

But He Xiao was far too cunning and calculating. He had even noticed that today’s Mei Fen was somehow different, and cast his eyes around the room before letting out a cold laugh. “My cousin is talking nonsense. When did I ever say I wanted to make you a concubine? You are Uncle’s legitimate daughter, and we are blood relations — how could I do such a thing? Besides, even if I were willing, my father and mother would never agree. What uncle and aunt in the world would demean their own niece in such a fashion?”

He denied it flatly, leaving Mei Fen momentarily at a loss for how to maneuver him further into speaking. She had never been good with words, and here she found herself even more tongue-tied. But quick thinking came to her rescue — she simply covered her face and burst into loud weeping, which threw He Xiao into some awkwardness. He kept saying, “Why are you crying… what on earth are you crying for!”

Even as she wept, her mind kept turning. If she continued confronting him head-on with direct questions, she would likely never make him let slip anything incriminating. Mei Fen at this point had thrown caution to the wind — her father and mother were just outside listening, so she didn’t fear what he might do to her. If he were to lay hands on her as he had before, that would actually be for the better. But a cunning person like him would never so easily expose himself. After much deliberation, she concluded that perhaps the only way to make him lower his guard and speak his mind was to change her approach and face the wound head-on.

So she let out a long breath, wrapped her arms around her own trembling shoulders, and said, “Never mind — the engagement has been settled, and there’s no room to back out now. Father and Mother both want this match, so I have nothing more to say.” She murmured these words, and then suddenly lifted her eyes. “Cousin, do you truly like me?”

She asked this with a pair of clear, tear-bright eyes looking up at him — such a pitifully endearing sight that he felt, for just a moment, a faint appreciation for a woman’s gentleness.

He smiled. “What kind of talk is this? If I didn’t like you, why would I have come to propose?”

Mei Fen’s heart was racing. Her lips trembled as, very slowly, very slowly, she reached out and tugged at the corner of his sleeve.

He was genuinely surprised. This girl, who had always been timid as a mouse and would go out of her way to avoid him, was suddenly taking the initiative today — it seemed simply inconceivable.

Mei Fen pinched that tiny strip of satin between her fingers and held it tight, lowering her head as she said, “I… I will learn to get along well with Cousin. I’ll learn… not to fear you.”

Just this one sentence seemed to suddenly open another window, allowing him to glimpse a different, unfamiliar Mei Fen.

It was rather like raising a cat that was always afraid of you. You were clearly very interested in it, yet it refused to let you near — and from that love arose a kind of resentment, a bone-deep desire to grab hold of it and give it a thorough lesson. But the moment it stopped running away and began of its own accord to come close and please you, you found yourself thinking that perhaps this cat could be worked with after all — don’t frighten it off with harsh words just yet, wait until it is in your hands, and then you may knead and shape it however you like.

He looked down at the sleeve she had grabbed, then looked back at that rose-petal face. Truth be told, Mei Fen was very attractive. If she were not so meek and shrinking — if she let herself bloom a little — she could be a delightfully charming young woman.

Men are always this way: they want a wife who is composed and dignified before others, yet soft and yielding in private… He suddenly found himself thinking that Mei Fen perhaps had a natural gift for this. She could be guided, slowly shaped into exactly the way he wanted.

He raised his hand and closed his fingers around her fingertips. “I’m not going to eat you — you really shouldn’t be afraid of me. We are going to be husband and wife; your constant trembling makes me uneasy too. But you’ve been confined to the inner quarters for years and never go out — I’m afraid that in the future you won’t be able to manage social obligations. It’s no easy thing for a man to have a wife who can’t handle socializing…” He paused and smiled again. “Since you don’t understand the affairs outside, then come to your husband for guidance. If there’s anything I deem unsuitable, simply refrain from doing it — that is how a harmonious marriage is achieved.”

Mei Fen suppressed her revulsion with great effort. When his hand touched her fingertips, her stomach lurched and she very nearly brought up what she had eaten.

This was precisely the kind of person he was — crushing your confidence, keeping you forever meek and cowering in his presence, forever unable to crawl out from under his thumb. Day after day, telling you that you don’t understand this and you can’t do that, until you become his puppet, capable only of begging for scraps of life through the gaps between his fingers.

He then recalled what Madam Ming had said earlier and remarked, “Aunt was saying just now that she wants to renovate this courtyard, so that you’ll have somewhere comfortable to stay when you come home to visit after the wedding. In my view, once a woman has married out, there’s no need to keep returning to her natal home. If she can’t even manage things in her own household, how does she have the leisure to go gadding about?”

At this, Madam Ming, eavesdropping outside in the rear veranda, was so furious she bit down on her own teeth. She thought to herself: “How well one can know a person’s face and yet not know their heart. What a thorough and utter scoundrel. On the strength of these few words alone, there is no longer any need to prove who sent those errand boys — no one but He Xiao could possibly have done it.”

Even as she seethed, she found herself shooting a sideways glare at Duke Shuguo — venomous enough to make him quake.

Just whose bad seed was this nephew? Half of it must have come from his mother’s side. That sister-in-law — always putting on the face of a righteous and upright woman in public, when inside she was a belly full of scheming — sure enough, like mother like son. Now it all made perfect sense. The apple never falls far from the tree.

Inside the room, Mei Fen quietly withdrew her hand, saying nothing. At any rate, her father and mother had heard these words — they should have a much clearer picture of He Xiao’s true character by now. But this alone was not enough. She wanted to strip him bare and drag him out into the full light of day. She also wanted her parents to see clearly, in no uncertain terms, exactly what kind of beast he truly was.

So she shifted to a grievance-laden tone and faltered, “That day in the garden of the Liang residence… the pastries… you had someone bring them, didn’t you? And that guard — you arranged for him as well, didn’t you? There was really no need for all of this, Cousin. If you truly wished to propose, Father would not have refused. Instead, I came off so terribly… ” And with that she began weeping loudly again, “You wanted to marry me, so why did you send someone to molest me? If Mother had come in even one step later that day, my virtue would have been ruined entirely by that man!”

He Xiao was an exceptionally arrogant person, and such people typically had astonishing possessiveness — they could not abide the slightest flaw or imperfection.

At first he maintained an air of unconcern, but upon hearing the second half of what she said, he suddenly flew into a rage and demanded loudly, “What did that scoundrel do to you? Where did he touch you?”

Outside in the rear veranda, Duke Shuguo heard every word. The mere fact that such a question could come out of his mouth made everything plain — it had all been his arrangement.

Truly, he had been blind. He was so furious he could have slapped himself. In his mind, He Xiao had not only brought glory to the He family name — he had brought honor to the Xiang family as well. Yet once you peeled back the layers, what was revealed was the face of a glory-stealing fraud: his learning was false, and his character was false too. A perfect portrait of a hypocrite hiding behind a veneer of propriety — to call him a disgrace to the scholarly world would have been a compliment.

Duke Shuguo’s old battlefield ferocity was on the verge of erupting again. Had it not been for Madam Ming physically holding him back, he likely would have charged in and twisted He Xiao’s head off his shoulders. But that would not do — Mei Fen had her own plan, and they had to let her see it through. With great difficulty the girl had found her determination, with great difficulty she had made up her mind to pick herself up — if he as her father undermined her now, the child’s entire life truly would be ruined.

By now, they had heard more than enough of what needed to be heard. They could not let Mei Fen remain alone with that man any longer. Their own daughter they would protect themselves — she was clearly terrified, and yet this time she had steeled herself to clear her own name, to stand here and prove herself. It was no small thing she had done.

Madam Ming gave Duke Shuguo a meaningful look. The two of them slipped out through the side gate in the rear and parted ways in the garden — Duke Shuguo withdrew to the front reception hall to wait, while Madam Ming circled back around and entered through the courtyard gate. She stepped up onto the covered walkway and called out in a raised voice, “Mei Fen, the meal is ready out front — come have dinner with your cousin.”

But Mei Fen made her excuses, saying with evident difficulty, “I have a terrible headache today — I ate water chestnuts this morning and they’re sitting heavily. I really can’t manage to eat anything just now.” She turned to He Xiao and forced a stiff smile. “Cousin, please forgive me for not being able to keep you company.”

He Xiao did not press the matter. His mind was still seething with resentment over Xiang Yun having taken advantage of the situation to lay his hands on her, and he was somewhat inclined to take it out on her as well — but with Madam Ming present, there was no outlet for it. So he adopted a tone of warmth and solicitude, appearing the picture of thoughtful care, and said, “It’s quite all right — your health matters most. Rest and take good care of yourself these next few days. I’ll come by again to see you in a few days.”

Mei Fen nodded, watching as he walked toward the gate. With every step he took away from her, another portion of the tension in her heart eased. Once he had passed through the courtyard gate, she crumpled entirely. Ba Bao and Nanny Nian rushed over to support her, and between them they settled her onto the daybed.

Nanny Nian was the woman who had nursed Mei Fen as an infant. Seeing her utterly spent, Nanny Nian’s heart ached with not knowing what to do. She wept, “My little miss, you’ve truly suffered.”

But Mei Fen’s heart was glad. She looked at Nanny Nian and then at Ba Bao. “Were Father and Mother out in the rear veranda just now? Could they hear what was said inside the room?”

Ba Bao said, “Yes, they could — whatever was said inside, the rear veranda catches it all. Young miss, you can set your mind at ease. This time, the master and mistress will never disbelieve you again. Just look at how anxiously the mistress rushed in to call you — it was because she was afraid he would linger too long in the room and harm you.”

Mei Fen nodded, feeling a profound sense of having survived a great ordeal. She lay there with her eyes open, gazing up at the ceiling, and murmured, “I did it… I finally did it…” That one small step forward would serve as the foundation for her courage to press onward. She steadied herself and thought for a moment, then turned her head to call for Nanny Nian. “Send someone to the front to have a look — find out which manservant came with He Xiao today, and whether there’s a scar on his face.”

Nanny Nian received the instructions and decided there was no need to send anyone else — she went to the front courtyard herself.

The family had kept the guest in the reception hall for a meal, so the manservant’s food was being served out on the front veranda. Nanny Nian paused when she spotted a maidservant passing by with a meal tray, and took the food box from her to deliver it herself. When she reached the front veranda, she lifted the lid and laid out the dishes, then said with a smile, “The young master is already eating — you should eat something too. Eat your fill so you can serve him well.”

The manservant made a sound of acknowledgment and came to take the bowl and chopsticks, bowing slightly. “Thank you, Nanny.”

Nanny Nian looked him over and exchanged a few courteous words with him, then casually asked, “Has the young master really made such a long journey to the capital with just you to attend him? Last time I caught a glimpse of the young master at the market, it seemed there were several other lads around him.”

The manservant shoveled in a mouthful of rice and managed a reply between bites. “There are two of us who wait on him closely — myself and one called Jiang Lin. Then there are two others who look after the horses and carriage.”

Nanny Nian gave a sound of understanding, now having a fair picture in her mind. She turned and poured him a cup of water, smiling as she said, “Eat slowly. Now that our two families are to be joined by marriage, there’ll be plenty of back and forth — next time the lot of you come together, I’ll have the kitchen prepare a couple of extra dishes.”

The manservant responded, “Thank you, Nanny.”

Nanny Nian nodded, took her leave, and returned to Zi Lan Garden to relay the information she had gathered to Mei Fen.

The day was overcast with rain — not the sort of summer thunderstorm that rolls in fast and leaves just as quickly, but a gray, lingering drizzle that hung in the air and refused to clear. The streets and markets were all steeped in that murky rain, stripped of their usual brightness, everything dim and cheerless all around. Even the trailing skirt sashes of the performers crossing the market bridge lacked their usual vivid color.

The Prime Minister’s poetry banquet was held at the Tianshu Pavilion in the western part of the city. Its purpose was to identify scholars of genuine talent in advance, to be of future service to the court. So everyone knew this gathering was of great importance. Sixteen candidates for the examinations had converged from all directions — it was very much like a small-scale audience examination before the actual one, and everyone who arrived was noticeably more careful and deferential than usual.

They exchanged bows and courtesies, putting on an agreeable face all around — I’ll praise your newly composed quatrain for its neatness, you’ll praise my newly written lyric for its elegance. After all the mutual deferring, they filed into the private rooms inside the pavilion.

Under ordinary circumstances it would have been a fine setting, but the dull weather had made it necessary to light lamps in all four corners. The flames flickered, lending the afternoon strangely the feel of nightfall. After a round of greetings, and after everyone had paid their respects to the Prime Minister and the Vice Chief Minister and others, they each took their seats. The Prime Minister, Han Ran, was a mild-looking elder who smiled and said, “Today is a small gathering before the autumn examinations. All of you have been in the capital for some time now, and rarely do we have the opportunity to all be assembled this completely. Let me set the occasion — let everyone have a drink together and speak freely.”

Attendants brought in food tables, laid out just as for a regular banquet — wine and dishes, a generous spread. But the guests were all rather restrained. After all, this was no ordinary dinner party — swaggering literary panache would not serve them here, and no one was going to kick off their shoes and dance.

Vice Chief Minister Yu Fuqing, seeing this, smiled and said, “Let me start things off, then. How about we discuss the merits and drawbacks of Emperor Wu of Han’s dismissal of all other schools of thought in favor of Confucianism alone?”

With that topic on the table, everyone immediately came alive with passionate opinions, going from the art of governing the people to the philosophy of effortless action, from the status of Confucianism to Confucian thought itself — voices rising and falling in turn, and the atmosphere warmed up at once.

He Xiao also argued strongly in favor of Confucianism as a tool of centralized power. “Emperor Wu of Han loved fine horses. In his time, generals campaigned westward at the cost of hundreds of thousands of lives, and all for a few heavenly horses in return — and upon their arrival, he still felt it necessary to offer sacrifices to the gods. It was the height of absurdity.”

For scholars of the current dynasty to criticize the emperors of past dynasties, and in the same breath extol the benevolent governance of the present ruler — that was the ideal answer.

After a spirited and satisfying round of debate, even the Prime Minister felt invigorated. He turned to Yu Fuqing with a laugh, saying, “The younger generation is truly formidable. Listening to them engage in this kind of discourse, I am reminded of the passionate fire we ourselves had in our youth. But today is a poetry competition, and verse should remain the main focus…”

While the Prime Minister was still speaking, someone behind one of the pillars reached out and gently tugged at Jiang Lin’s sleeve. He took the hint and slipped out beyond the curtain without drawing attention, then returned to his original position a short while later.

“Today the mist and rain set the mood perfectly. Let us take the weather as our theme, and each compose a lyric.” The Prime Minister smiled as he said, “With any luck, perhaps we may be graced with another piece as fine as ‘Gold Sash Blossom.’ Please, all of you, do not hold back your talents — take up your brushes.”

Everyone readily agreed, though they also knew that all eyes would be focused on He Xiao — which actually meant the rest of them could relax and approach the poetry gathering with an ordinary mindset.

A wolf-hair brush was dipped in blue dragon ink and poised over white cotton paper. He Xiao made a show of pondering deeply. In reality, he was waiting — waiting for Jiang Lin to recite the poem so that he could copy it down onto the paper.

It was not that he had no learning whatsoever — in something like the free-ranging debate earlier, he could go several rounds back to back without rest. But when it came to verse, his mastery was genuinely lacking. And in the current world, freewheeling intellectual debate had gradually fallen out of fashion. What could make someone famous overnight was poetry — especially verse imbued with a quiet and elegant sensibility, which both showcased a scholar’s poetic feeling and was most beloved by the world.

But he waited and waited, and long after everyone else had begun to write, Jiang Lin still hadn’t said a word. He had no idea what that useless fool was daydreaming about. He was growing impatient. He cleared his throat quietly, yet still nothing — Jiang Lin showed not even the slightest reaction.

Unable to stop himself, He Xiao looked up at him — and something about those eyes, half-hidden, seemed somehow wrong. They didn’t quite look like Jiang Lin’s.

A wave of alarm surged through him. He looked at that beauty mark at the corner of the eye — and was so stunned he forgot to even raise his brush.

With a soft “plop,” the ink on the brush tip fell onto the white cotton paper and spread out, very slowly, blooming into a shade of slate blue.

Those luminous eyes gradually filled with a smile. A hand reached up and pulled down the cloth covering the lower half of the face.

He Xiao was thunderstruck. “How is it you?” His mind erupted in a roar, and he knew that this time everything had gone wrong. But no matter how hard he racked his brains, he could not fathom how that timid and mousy Mei Fen had come to be here.

What was happening — was he dreaming? When he went to see her, she still had that same cowering, shrinking appearance. Yet today she had turned up at a gathering full of men, throwing herself right into the open. Where had things gone wrong? Had he misjudged her, or had she somehow slipped past his notice?

He looked frantically around him, but there was no sign of Jiang Lin. He was now in an impossible position — unable to compose the verse, and at the same time needing to be wary of Mei Fen. He had sailed along smoothly his whole life, one clear road all the way — and now, at this very moment, he was about to capsize in a shallow ditch.

“Cousin,” Mei Fen said with a cheerful smile, “who are you looking for? Are you looking for the ghostwriter who works in the shadows for you? I’m afraid that won’t be possible today — he has his own matters to attend to.”

Her voice was neither loud nor soft, but everyone present heard it. People glanced at each other, uncertain what was happening.

Then, before their bewildered eyes, the person standing beside He Xiao fully removed the face covering, revealing a woman’s face. She made a respectful bow toward Han Ran and Yu Fuqing, and though the slight quaver in her voice betrayed her nerves, she was not timid — she lifted her head and announced herself clearly: “I am a member of Duke Shuguo’s household. Not long ago, I was betrothed to He Xiao. Recently I learned of a great deception — this He Zhongrou, it turns out, cannot compose poetry at all. That verse ‘Gold Sash Blossom’ was not written by his hand. It was written by his companion and study attendant, Jiang Lin. Today, Minister Han has set up this banquet and poetry competition. He Xiao intended to use his old trick once more, but I got here first and took Jiang Lin’s place. Please observe — He Xiao has not written a single word on his paper. Because Jiang Lin is not here, he is completely lost. The celebrated title of Luoyang’s foremost talent is nothing but ill-gotten renown, obtained by deceiving the world.”

When she finished, the room erupted in commotion. No one had expected the Duke of Shuguo’s daughter — who never showed herself in public — to appear here, of all places, in order to expose her own fiancé before the assembled company. Everyone stared wide-eyed at each other, and even Yu Fuqing, who was related by marriage to her family, found himself at a momentary loss.

He Xiao shot to his feet. Though his eyes blazed with fury, he kept his face smiling, and bowed to those around him with clasped hands. “My apologies — she and I have had a small quarrel these past couple of days, and I don’t know why she’s thrown such a tantrum and come running here. She has disrupted everyone’s refined enjoyment, and that is entirely my fault.” He then tapped the side of his own head with an awkward and embarrassed smile. “She has… a minor condition up here — sometimes better, sometimes worse. I’ll take her home now. Please, everyone, continue.”

But Mei Fen refused to yield. Even when he gripped her arm hard enough to nearly snap the bone, she felt no pain. She wrenched free with all her strength and said, “He Xiao, there is no need to rush to taint me with filth. You have no true talent, yet you have deceived the entire world. Today I am going to unmask you and let everyone see your true face.”

At this moment, a manservant with a cloth wrapped around the lower half of his face entered. He bowed to those present, then pulled the cloth away to reveal an enormous scar that gave several people quite a start.

He was perfectly composed. He made a long bow and said, “I am Jiang Lin. Since the age of seven I have been He Xiao’s study companion, and it has now been twelve years. Throughout all these years, every piece of verse He Xiao has produced was written by me as his ghost. Here I have the drafts of those poems showing their revisions, as well as an examination question recently issued by the academy — with my completed answer, which I had not yet handed over to He Xiao. I ask the learned gentlemen to please review them.”

As Jiang Lin spoke, he presented the book and sheets of paper he held. An attendant beside Han Ran stepped forward to receive them and passed them to the officials. Looking through them, they found that the revision trail of the famous poems was plain to follow, and the examination answer was insightful and accomplished — a work of genuine distinction.

So everyone exchanged glances and looked toward He Xiao. “Third Young Master He, what exactly is going on here?”

He Xiao’s mind was in turmoil, but he needed to hold himself together regardless. He forced a smile and said, “This Jiang Lin assists me with my brush and ink, and he naturally studies my poems and essays…”

“Then let us verify it on the spot,” Mei Fen said. “Minister Han’s theme was a rainy day — please have the Third Young Master He compose a piece against this study attendant, and the truth will be plain for all to see.”

He Xiao was now utterly cornered, sweating with agitation. He opened his mouth to stammer something, but then Jiang Lin began to recite fluently: “Cool winds and rain before the hills; leaning at the gallery, jade tears fall. Countless sorrows through all the ages — the night wanderer transformed, the immortal banished. Phoenix feather and dragon scale have lost their place; dreaming into rivers and mountains, one measure of sorrow lost.”

Those present were genuinely astonished. The lyric carried precisely the same spirit and style as He Xiao’s work, which was truly inconceivable.

Then they looked at He Xiao — candlelight flickering, sweat dripping from his face — and without a word needing to be said, anyone with eyes could see how things stood.

Han Ran sighed, looked down at the examination prompts in his hands, and still wished to give He Xiao one more chance. “Perhaps composing a lyric on rain is not He Zhongrou’s strength. Let us try a different theme.” He raised a hand and pointed to the lamp in the corner of the room. “A candle flame — what do you say?”

This time Jiang Lin raised his hand deferentially. “Please, young master, go first.”

The result was that the young master, forced into action like a duck being shoved onto a stage, could produce nothing of substance from within him. He began to recite emptily, “Lonely vessel, listening to the rain at night…” — and then the second line failed to come for the better part of a stick of incense.

But Jiang Lin, naturally and with ease, paused only briefly in thought before saying, “Since I last trimmed the golden millet of the candlewick myself — night deepens and the clouds have not noticed. The moon rises to the west window; a fine spring rests above the brows. After parting, the wine in the cup grows faintly cool; apricot blossoms silver-bright, the river and sky open wide.”

He had even worked the very name of the venue — Tianshu Pavilion, “Open Sky Hall” — into the final lines. At this point, nothing more needed to be said. Who was real and who was false was self-evident to all.

Han Ran rose to his feet, shook his head with drooping brows, and said, “Let us bring today’s poetry gathering to a close here. In a few days when the weather clears, we will convene again.” Then he clasped his hands behind his back and departed with his head held high.

He Xiao’s mind was in pieces. “Prime Minister… Vice Chief Minister…” But no one was willing to give him any further attention. What he received, in the end, was nothing but the contemptuous glances of the scholars who had long been overshadowed by his borrowed fame.

The strength went out of his legs. He swayed and collapsed to the floor.

He truly hadn’t expected this. He had been one step away from success. The imperial examinations themselves didn’t test poetry composition — had he managed to bluff his way through today, passing the examinations as a presented scholar would have been entirely within reach. And yet here, at this very moment, he had been undone by a single miscalculation. He could not understand why Mei Fen had descended on him from nowhere — hadn’t she not stepped outside the family gate since the age of six? Yet today she had appeared in public, thrown herself right into this gathering. Who on earth had given her that courage?

A hem of blue robes entered his field of vision. She stood over him with the composure of a victor and looked down at him with an expression of compassionate pity. “Cousin, the feeling of being despised and cast aside by everyone — it doesn’t sit well, does it?”

He Xiao steadied himself and squeezed two words out from between his teeth: “Vile woman!”

But she only laughed out loud. “I was never this kind of person originally. You drove me to this, step by step. Have you not heard the saying — even a cornered rabbit will bite? Given what you have done to me over all these years, letting you lose face completely today is already letting you off lightly.” With that she flung an envelope down before him. “This is your betrothal letter. Take it back with you. You are now a rat that everyone chases through the streets — you are not worthy of me.”

He stared at the envelope, then slowly reached out and clutched it in his palm in a death grip.

He hauled himself to his feet, unsteadily. His face was ashen. He let his sleeves hang and looked at Jiang Lin, then turned back to her. “How did you come to know this secret?”

Mei Fen smiled. “Blame your own miserliness. If you had been more generous to those beneath you, they might not have sold you out. Now that you’re in the capital, you’ll find it impossible to stay on here — you’ll have no choice but to slink back to Luoyang with your tail between your legs. I have always wondered: why did you always make things so difficult for me? I can’t recall ever having provoked you. Why did you try to have me killed when we were children?”

Though he had fallen to this ruinous state, the contempt he harbored in his bones for women meant that even now he maintained an air of condescension. He said with disdain, “Because you were flippant, brazen, and refused to conform to proper conduct. You and your mother are exactly alike — arrogant about your background, looking down on everyone. Since your mother would not discipline you, I would do it instead. How does it feel to have been thrown into water? All these years and you’ve never forgotten it — so I, your cousin, must have left a deep mark on you.”

As he spoke, he seemed to discover another angle from which to view this as a victory, and a kind of unhinged smugness surfaced on his face.

Mei Fen gave a disdainful laugh. “I know you look down on women. What a pity, then, that in the end you were still brought down by a woman’s hand. You schemed so hard and went to such lengths to humiliate me, and yet I only made a single countermove — and you fell apart completely. You are inferior to a study attendant at the front and to a woman at the back. What face do you have left to go on living? Just look at your situation now — utterly disgraced, your path to the imperial examinations finished.” She laughed out, full of satisfaction. “That wretched, mangy look of yours — it really is pitiable.”

He Xiao exploded in fury and raised his hand to strike her, but he was shoved back by the Xiang family guards who had accompanied her.

The rain outside was falling harder and harder. Mei Fen had no desire to waste another moment on him. She turned away from him with contempt, took the umbrella that Ba Bao held out to her, and stepped out into the rain. The raindrops beat down in scattered patterns against the oiled paper, washing away the world’s filth, and washing away the long-accumulated grievances that had weighed upon her.

Ba Bao followed close at her heels and asked in a low voice, “Young miss, are you just going to let him off like this?”

Mei Fen said nothing. Today there were many eyes watching, and accounts could only be settled to this point for now. What remained to be pursued would have to wait for a time without witnesses — there was no rush for this one moment.