Late spring in the third month — grass grew tall, orioles flew, blossoms opened in the warmth, and the air was full of the mingled fragrance of flowers and green things.

It was the finest time of the whole year.

People of the age were fond of peonies, and the peonies of Luoyang — the imperial capital of Dazhou — were celebrated throughout the realm. Within Dingzhou, lovers of peonies were plentiful as well. Those of means and lavish circumstance often built peony gardens as a mark of refined taste.

The Ling family’s peony garden was quite famous in Dingzhou. It housed dozens of varieties of named, prized peonies. This year they had also cultivated a brand new variety of multicolored peony which had bloomed in the third month — a full month ahead of the ordinary flowering season — and the sensation it caused had spread quickly. It drew the curiosity of many who sent visiting cards hoping to come and admire the flowers.

But as the Old Madam’s birthday was approaching, the entire household was occupied with preparations for the birthday banquet, and they had no time for visitors — so the cards were declined, politely but firmly. Far from dampening interest, this only made people more curious, and they quietly made inquiries as to which gardener had grown such a flower. When it became known that it was the ninth young miss of the Ling family who had cultivated the multicolored peony with her own gifted hands, Ling Jingshu’s name began to ring out ever more brightly across Dingzhou.

Ling Jingshu, who had been quietly recuperating in Qiushui Pavilion all this time, knew nothing of any of this. And even if she had, she would not have given it a second thought.

After enduring every form of suffering and humiliation in her previous life, dying in utter disgrace — now that she had been reborn, she was no longer the carefree girl of the inner chambers she had once been. Her mind was consumed entirely with thoughts of revenge; she had no leisure to concern herself with hollow fame.

The peony garden, covering a dozen or more acres of ground, had three gardeners and a number of servants performing miscellaneous tasks. When they saw Ling Jingshu enter the garden, they each lightened their footsteps and quietly withdrew.

At this time of year the peonies had not yet reached their full bloom; the garden was all lush, verdant foliage, flower buds of various colors dotting the stems amid the leaves, a charm entirely their own.

Ling Jingshu strolled at a leisurely pace along the garden path, her gaze wandering freely, and gradually the tightness in her heart began to ease.

Bai Yu followed behind her, smiling as she spoke: “Young Miss, that multicolored peony you grafted and cultivated last year has already bloomed. You’ve been shut away in Qiushui Pavilion all this time and haven’t seen it with your own eyes yet!”

Ling Jingshu’s brow smoothed out, and the corner of her mouth curved upward: “Let’s go look at it now.”

The peonies planted in large open beds were common varieties; the truly prized specimens were mostly grown in pots. Through division, grafting, cuttings, layering, and other careful methods, rare varieties of exceptional quality had been cultivated with great dedication.

Ling Jingshu had loved peonies since childhood and had made a point of learning peony cultivation techniques from a highly skilled gardener. She was clever and dexterous, with a natural gift for it, and within just a few years had surpassed her teacher entirely.

In the northeastern corner of the garden stood many fine named varieties — Bai Yu, Jingyu, Mo Kui, Yao Huang, and others. Most of the senior maidservants in the Ling household were named after such flowers.

Apart from reading, calligraphy, music practice, and learning proper conduct, almost every free moment Ling Jingshu had was spent in the peony garden. More than half of these peonies had been carefully cultivated by her own hands.

Ling Jingshu stopped before one particular pot.

This rare and precious multicolored peony was known colloquially as “Two Qiaos,” and by its formal name, “Luoyang Brocade.”

What made Luoyang Brocade so remarkable was that it bore flowers of two different colors on the same branch. Not only did the blooms differ in color — the foliage on either side was entirely distinct as well. It was as though two wholly different peony plants had been merged together into one, a sight that left the viewer in awed disbelief.

Pale pink-white blooms stood slender and graceful; deep crimson-purple blooms were vivid and radiant. Each flower was as large as a rice bowl, the petals smooth and plump, the colors rich and layered in their brilliance.

The leaves shimmered a lush deep green, gleaming with a lustre like jade.

Ling Jingshu bent slightly forward; a clear, cool fragrance rose to meet her, filling her senses.

She drew a deep breath and closed her eyes. The subtle perfume settled into her core. The corners of her lips lifted high.

The sound of footsteps shattered the stillness.

Who was there?

Ling Jingshu did not straighten up; she only turned her head slightly to the side.

The bright, dazzling afternoon sunlight fell across her smooth, jade-like cheek. Her dark, gleaming eyes sparkled like gemstones. A playful wisp of hair hung softly at the side of her face. The smile at the corner of her rosy lips had not yet faded, blooming like a flower in full flower.

Even the vivid, stunning peonies could not outshine her manner; a single smile was enough to dim the beauty of every bloom around her.

It was all so beautiful it seemed unreal — dreamlike, ethereal.

The young man in fine clothing who had appeared suddenly stood rooted to the spot, forgetting to take another step. His gaze was fixed on the girl among the flowers, unable to look away.

Something stirred in his youthful heart that had never stirred before — pounding, fast, and insistent.

Against the light, Ling Jingshu could not make out the newcomer’s features clearly. Yet over the years that had passed, this person’s voice and face had been carved so deeply into her memory that she had not forgotten them for a single moment.

Like a clap of thunder, hot blood surged into her mind.

Lu Hong!

How dare you appear before me still!

How do you have the face to come and see me!

Only a bare fraction of a moment had passed, yet time seemed to have frozen, suspended in this instant.

Bai Yu gave a soft, deliberate cough and broke the silence in a low voice: “Young Miss, this must be the young cousin-master from the Lu family.”

The inner residential garden of the Ling household was not a place just anyone could enter. Although his face was unfamiliar, he had stepped in freely — clearly this was the cousin-master from the Lu family whom Ling Jingxian had mentioned, Lu Hong.

The young man was about fifteen or sixteen, tall and slender, wearing a pale blue brocade robe. His brows were straight and defined, his gaze bright and keen, his nose straight, his lips like cinnabar, and his face as fair as polished jade.

Ling Xiao was also remarkably handsome — yet beside this young man, he seemed to lack that quality of luminous, vibrant presence that animated every glance.

No wonder Ling Jingxian had set aside all a young woman’s pride and dignity to beg her own mistress for this. This cousin-master truly was a dazzlingly handsome young man without peer for a thousand li…

Bai Yu was inwardly lost in admiration, but when her gaze fell on Ling Jingshu’s face, she could not help but startle.

Her expression was rigid, her eyes cold. She did not look like a girl encountering a distinguished guest — she looked like someone who had come face to face with a mortal enemy…

“Bai Yu, let’s go.” Ling Jingshu forced herself to lower her eyelids. Her tone was composed, and betrayed not the slightest abnormality.

Bai Yu hesitated slightly, and said in a low voice: “Young Miss, since we’ve already come face to face, we ought to at least say hello. To leave just like this seems somewhat discourteous.”

A guest is a guest! And moreover, this cousin-master was the eldest legitimate son of the Lu family’s main branch — his standing was distinguished. Even for the sake of Lady Ling’s face alone, he could not be treated with careless disrespect. Otherwise, if the Old Madam learned of it, she would surely be displeased.

These things, Bai Yu did not need to say aloud — Ling Jingshu understood them perfectly well.

But in the moment she hesitated, Lu Hong had already walked over.

There was no avoiding it now!

Ling Jingshu steadied herself and looked up.

Lu Hong’s features were strikingly handsome, his bearing even more exceptional. He walked at an unhurried pace, carrying himself with easy elegance.

It was precisely that grace which had captivated the most honored princess in all of Dazhou — who had been willing to bear the name of one who steals another woman’s husband, just to keep him in the princess’s residence…

“I’ve seen both of my cousin-sisters from the Ling family, so you must be Cousin-Sister Shu of the Fifth Branch.” Lu Hong stopped two meters away, clasped his hands together in a peer’s salute, and bowed. “My surname is Lu; my given name is Hong. Just call me Hong Cousin-Brother.”

Warmly courteous, elegantly mannered. His propriety was impeccable, without a single flaw to fault.

By comparison, Ling Jingshu’s response was markedly cool — she returned the greeting with a careless, perfunctory bow. “So this is Cousin-Brother Lu.”

The forced indifference plain on her face was clearly visible.

Lu Hong had been rebuffed, but did not take offense. His gaze, somewhat eager, settled steadily on Ling Jingshu’s unusually cold and distant face. “My younger brother and I have come to the Ling family as guests with our mother. I heard that Cousin-Sister Shu was ill and had no chance to see her, which I regretted greatly. Today I have finally managed to meet Cousin-Sister Shu.”

Even as he spoke, he was silently chiding himself.

To think he had wasted three entire days?

He should have gone to visit her on the very first day they arrived. Then he could have made her acquaintance that much sooner.

That familiar gaze — it sent the resentment and hatred that Ling Jingshu had worked so hard to suppress surging and roiling through her chest once more.

Day after day of waiting. Day after day of despair. Struggling through endless humiliation and suffering. Night after night she had waited for him to return, to save her from the depths of misery. What had come back instead was the devastating news that he had forsaken her for someone else’s embrace.

How deeply she had once loved him — that was exactly how deeply she hated him now.

How could she possibly deal with him as though nothing had happened?

She wished she had a blade in her hand to plunge fiercely into his chest!

Lu Hong, submerged in some inexplicable state of excited delight, had not noticed Ling Jingshu’s silence just then, and continued smiling: “On the first day we arrived, my maternal grandmother mentioned you. She told me you were skilled at cultivating named peony varieties and had even grown a multicolored one. Today I went to the family school to sit in on lessons, and had half an hour’s rest after lunch. So I came to the garden to admire the flowers. I never expected to meet you here.”

Lu Hong waited for a moment; seeing that Ling Jingshu said nothing, he finally began to sense something was not right. He caught the cold, hostile look in her eyes, and felt all the more bewildered.

They were meeting for the first time. He had observed every courtesy and had not been the least presumptuous. Why was her manner so unfriendly?

“Cousin-Sister Shu,” Lu Hong pushed down the confusion in his heart and did his best to display his finest manner: “I have loved peonies since childhood. The Lu family also grows a fair number of named varieties, but this multicolored peony has always been difficult to cultivate. I wonder if Cousin-Sister Shu might offer some guidance?”

Once she had offered guidance once, he would have ample reason to shamelessly request a second time…

Ling Jingshu declined without expression: “This is my exclusive personal technique, and I never share it with others.”

Lu Hong: “…”

The smile on Lu Hong’s face froze.

Growing up, he had encountered quite a few young ladies from good families. Some were coyly shy, some were poised and proper, and some bolder ones had cast longing, meaningful glances in his direction.

That he would take the initiative to approach someone and be soundly rebuffed — that had never happened once in his entire life.

Embarrassment, humiliation, indignation, chagrin… He wanted to turn and leave in a huff, yet his feet refused to move.

Every complicated emotion tangled together, leaving the proud and arrogant young master of the Lu family standing there in awkward paralysis, not knowing how to react.

Ling Jingshu felt the bitter satisfaction of having vented a piece of the rage in her heart; she felt thoroughly pleased, and gave a cool instruction: “Bai Yu, let us go back.”

With that, she walked past Lu Hong without sparing him a single glance.

Bai Yu was momentarily stunned, then hurried after her.

Only Lu Hong was left behind, standing motionless in place, gazing after the retreating figure of the beautiful young woman — graceful and lovely, yet cold and utterly indifferent — as she walked away.