After the midday meal, a reluctant Ling Jingshu led the two Lu brothers into the peony garden after all.

Madam Ling watched the young people’s retreating figures and smiled to herself. “Jingshu has grown into a real beauty — she quite surpasses what I was at her age.”

Lu Hong was at that age when a young man’s heart first stirs. To encounter such a lovely girl as Ling Jingshu — it was hardly surprising that his attention had been caught…

The Old Madam was sharp enough; she had already sensed the undercurrent. She said quietly, with a knowing smile: “The way I see it, A’Hong seems to have quite particular feelings for Shu Jie’er.”

With only mother and daughter present, there was little need for pretense.

Madam Ling’s eyes gleamed. “If A’Hong feels that way, he’ll come and speak to me about it himself. If our two families could draw even closer together through this, it would be a fine thing.”

Given the Lu family’s standing, a match between Ling Jingshu and the eldest son of the Lu main branch would be an excellent one.

The Old Madam reflected for a moment. “The marriage of children is a matter that shapes a whole lifetime. You can’t decide this alone. Wait until your husband arrives, speak with him privately, and come to an agreement first.”

Madam Ling nodded, smiling.

At the mention of her husband, the Old Madam could not help but say a few things she’d been holding back. “A’Hui — you’ve been at the Lu household all these years and haven’t once come back. Every letter you sent home was full of only the pleasant things. I’ve had no way to ease my worry. Now it’s just the two of us — there’s no need to keep anything hidden. Tell me honestly: how has your husband treated you?”

Madam Ling’s smile faltered. A note of bitterness crept into her voice. “My lord’s duties as clan head are many, and since taking up the post of Inspector of Jizhou, his social obligations have increased further. He is naturally at home in the inner quarters rather less often. And with so many concubines to attend to, the nights he comes to my room have grown fewer still…”

However diplomatically phrased, the Old Madam heard the meaning plainly enough.

Her face hardened. She said through gritted teeth: “That Lu An — he was sincere enough when he came to ask for your hand. How could he turn around and treat you this way once he had you.”

Madam Ling laughed, a hollow sound, her voice growing duller still. “In the end it’s my own doing. No one else is to blame.”

Long ago, Lu An had come to Dingzhou on official business and paid a call at the Ling household. She had seen him and been quietly smitten. When the Lu family subsequently sent a matchmaker, the Old Madam had thought the distance too great and nearly refused; it was she herself who had insisted on marrying Lu An. Unable to sway her, the Old Madam had finally consented.

In those first years, she and Lu An had truly known sweetness and affection. But as time wore on, his true nature — restless, pleasure-seeking — had revealed itself. He took concubine after concubine into the household, and his social entertainments outside were numberless.

Though barely past thirty, Madam Ling had long since faded from favor.

Lu An had made this journey to Dingzhou to mark his mother-in-law’s birthday only because of the standing of her eldest brother, who held a post in the Ministry of Works. That last part, Madam Ling was too ashamed to say aloud. She rallied herself and smiled. “Mother, don’t worry on my account. Whatever else, I am still his wife by proper rite. Those other women in the house are nothing but diversions for a man’s pleasure — they’re beneath notice.”

The Old Madam looked at her daughter smiling through her pain — equal parts heartache and anger. Her voice wavered slightly. “A’Hui — all these years, you’ve suffered. To think Dingzhou is so far from Jizhou — I’ve had no way to go and stand up for you, these old bones can’t bear such a journey. But since your husband is finally here in person, even if I must swallow my pride, I intend to have an honest word with him…”

Before she could finish, Madam Ling’s expression had already clouded over. She cut her off: “Mother. Leave this alone.”

The Old Madam was brought up short. Her face tightened. “Is it that you’re afraid of what Lu An will think if I say these things?” Madam Ling’s fear and deference toward him lay exposed, unmistakeable.

Madam Ling said nothing. The silence was confirmation enough.

The Old Madam swallowed a surge of anger. “Are you truly going to live the rest of your life swallowing your grievances? With so many women around him — if one of them were to bear him a son, your position would become even harder to bear.”

“That I need not worry about.” Something cold and ruthless flickered in Madam Ling’s eyes. “I am the legitimate wife of the Lu main branch. No one can step over me. As for those concubines carrying a child — that depends on whether they have the fortune for it.”

The words carried a chill that settled uneasily in the chest if one turned them over too long.

Lu An had only two sons — Lu Hong and Lu Qian. Several of the concubines had fallen pregnant over the years, but most had “accidentally” miscarried within a few months. The fortunate ones who did carry to term had died in early childhood. Of the girls born in the household, only two had survived, both below ten years of age — no threat to Madam Ling, who had given birth to sons.

The Old Madam heard all this and found herself reassured. “As long as you know how to manage things.”

A concubine who can produce no sons was manageable enough.

“This time when I came home, I only brought A’Hong and A’Qian. Those two girls aren’t yet ten — I used the journey being too long as my excuse, and didn’t bring them. Their father said nothing.” Madam Ling’s expression returned to its usual composure. “In my lord’s eyes, A’Hong and A’Qian are worth considerably more to him than two daughters.”

The cloud lifted from the Old Madam’s brow. “As long as you’ve thought it through, I can set my mind at ease.”

She paused, then offered some counsel: “Lu An is in his prime, and careless in his conduct with women — there’s no helping it. But you mustn’t simply let it go unchecked. Choose a few girls from your own household who are beautiful and trustworthy, and place them beside him once they’ve been formally elevated in status. Even if they gain his favor, they’ll still be under your hand.”

Madam Ling nodded. “I know how to handle small matters like that. Mother needn’t fret.”

How can I not fret?

The Old Madam sighed quietly. Her only daughter — she’d raised her like a pearl in her palm, a treasure. And after all these years in the Lu household, she was living like this.

What had begun as idle talk about Lu Hong and Ling Jingshu now seemed more considered. If Ling Jingshu could marry into the Lu family, she would be able to lend some support to her mother. It would be two birds with one stone.

Back in the garden, Ling Jingshu took Ling Xiao’s hand and led him into the peony grounds.

Four pairs of eyes settled on her back like needles.

She frowned almost imperceptibly. A faint feeling — strange and watchful — rose in her chest.

Lu Hong, as in her past life, had fallen for her at first sight and tracked her with particular attention. She found it repellent, but it didn’t surprise her. Yet Lu Qian’s eager warmth toward her struck her as wrong.

Even if Lu Qian were going to develop those feelings for her, it should have been years from now. The present Lu Qian was barely twelve — not even as tall as her yet. In her eyes, he was still a child…

A vague, half-formed thought flickered through her mind. Before she could examine it, Lu Qian’s voice broke through, brimming with excitement: “Cousin Jingshu, this peony has a green bud — will the flower actually be green when it opens?”

Compared to Lu Qian’s delight, Ling Jingshu was thoroughly indifferent. She answered offhandedly: “That variety is called Dou Lü — Bean Green. Its flowers are indeed a rare shade of green.”

Peony breeds were countless, their colors wildly varied. A green peony was without question an unusual and prized variety.

Lu Qian didn’t seem put off at all by Ling Jingshu’s manner. He grinned with undiminished enthusiasm. “The peony season is almost here. Mother said we’d stay in Dingzhou for several months before returning — it looks like I’ll have a feast for my eyes.”

He pointed to another plant. “Cousin Jingshu, this one has blue buds. What variety is that?”

“That one is called Lantian Yu — Jade of the Blue Fields.” Speaking of the peonies she loved, the chill in Ling Jingshu’s expression gave way to something gentler. “I cultivated this one myself, last year. When it blooms — crimson stamens, blue petals — it’s quite striking.”

Looking at the flowers she loved, warmth touched the corners of her eyes.

Lu Qian watched Ling Jingshu like this, and the gladness swelling in his chest was almost more than he could contain. He was about to speak — then Lu Hong’s voice came from somewhere behind him: “Cousin Jingshu — that one with the purple buds — that’s Gejin Zi, isn’t it?”

The moment Lu Hong’s voice reached her, the trace of softness in Ling Jingshu’s eyes vanished. She gave a clipped affirmation.

Anyone with eyes could see the cold distaste in them.

Lu Hong’s smile stiffened. He felt it like a weight pressing on his chest — dull, uncomfortable.

What had he said? What had he done? Why did Cousin Jingshu dislike him so intensely that she didn’t even bother to conceal it, letting it show so plainly on her face…

Ling Xiao couldn’t see Lu Hong’s crestfallen look. Lu Qian — whether deliberately or by accident — also appeared to overlook Lu Hong’s darkened expression. He grinned at Ling Jingshu. “Cousin Jingshu, being able to grow so many fine peonies like this — that’s remarkable.”

Ling Jingshu’s manner toward Lu Qian was still relatively mild. She gave a thin smile. “There’s nothing remarkable about it. I have time to spare, and I love peonies, so I’ve put in some effort. That’s all.”

She despised everyone in the Lu family without exception, though her loathing for Lu Qian was somewhat less fierce.

After marrying into the Lu household in her past life, she and Lu Hong had been deeply in love. By extension, she had grown fond of Lu Qian, her young brother-in-law. He, in turn, had been especially attached to her as his elder sister-in-law.

At the time, she’d thought nothing of it.

In her eyes, he was simply a lively, affectionate — if somewhat willful — child.

She couldn’t say exactly when it began, but at some point he had conceived feelings for her that ought not to have existed. His gaze when it found her grew more and more heated. He began appearing in her room on the days when Lu Hong was away, lingering, refusing to leave, talking endlessly of nothing in particular.

When she finally understood what he was feeling, she was shocked — and then found it so absurd she almost laughed. It was not the kind of thing she could tell anyone. Even to her husband, it was not something she could say. She had no choice but to quietly, carefully put more distance between herself and Lu Qian.

But Lu Qian had been coddled from birth. Madam Ling had given him everything he’d ever wanted, willing to pluck stars from the sky for him if he asked. This had made him the kind of person who could not be denied what he desired, who would not rest until he possessed it.

That feeling — wrong, misshapen — had not grown distant because she pulled away. If anything, it had burned hotter.