Upon reaching the water pavilion, A’Luo exclaimed in admiration — what a beautiful place. Beneath the ground there must have been channels laid with burning charcoal, for warm mist rose from the water’s surface, and red lotuses bloomed even in the pond. Who said wealth and power weren’t good things? To create such a scene must have taken enormous labor and silver.

The three settled themselves as attendants set out hot tea and refreshments. As they idly took in the view, A’Luo thought to herself that there was not the slightest hint here of the tension gripping the court, on the brink of open conflict.

Suddenly, footsteps sounded outside the pavilion. Turning around, A’Luo saw a round, rosy-cheeked little face, with dark, glossy eyes and a tiny chin. She couldn’t help but look toward Qinglei. A gentle smile rose to Qinglei’s face. “Xin’er, what are you doing out here?”

“The little princess? Your daughter?”

“Of course — the Crown Prince has only this one princess so far. He dotes on her like a treasure.” Wang Yanhui said with a faint smile.

Two nervous attendants trailed behind Xin’er, kneeling to greet them as they entered the pavilion. Wang Yanhui said flatly, “Rise. It’s the dead of winter — don’t let the little princess catch a chill.” Turning to Xin’er, her face immediately broke into a warm smile. “My little princess, why did you come running out to find Mother today?”

Xin’er, two years old, blinked and answered in a small, delicate voice: “I heard my aunt came today. Xin’er wanted to see her.”

Something warm stirred in A’Luo’s heart, like the warm mist rising outside the pavilion. She couldn’t help walking over and picking Xin’er up, stroking her small face and smiling. “Xin’er will grow up to be just as beautiful as your mother!”

Qinglei watched tenderly, yet instructed, “Take the little princess back to her chambers — the wind is strong out here.”

The attendant stepped forward to take Xin’er. Her little mouth turned down and tears welled up, though she didn’t cry — her dark eyes flicked once toward Wang Yanhui, then back to her own mother, and she said softly, “Xin’er will go now. I’ll come pay my respects to Mother again this evening.”

A’Luo felt a pang of sadness inside — even a child raised in the palace had to hold back her tears. Her eyes passed over Wang Yanhui’s face, composed and at ease, then over Qinglei’s, where deep sorrow lay hidden. She quickly changed the subject. “Being a mother really is wonderful — look how well-behaved Xin’er is!”

Wang Yanhui smiled. “Once Younger Sister marries Prince Pingnan, you’ll be a mother too.”

A’Luo lowered her head in a show of bashfulness. “Everyone keeps saying I won’t marry him, and yet Your Highness still teases me about it!”

Qinglei’s heart sank. Not marry him? If she didn’t, would the Crown Prince still value the Li family so highly? Though her father was the Right Chancellor, with Prince Ning liable to pass at any moment, what the Crown Prince urgently needed now was to win over Prince Anqing. A flicker of anxiety crossed her eyes, and not wanting Wang Yanhui to notice, she turned her head toward the lotuses in the pond. “A’Luo is such a child,” she said aloud. “Once engaged, how can you simply say you won’t marry?”

“Could it be Younger Sister already has someone else in her heart? What kind of man could possibly surpass Prince Pingnan?” Wang Yanhui teased.

A’Luo looked somewhat flustered, lowering her head to sip her tea. It seemed almost like an admission that such a person existed. Wang Yanhui’s heart sank. If Li Qingluo truly didn’t intend to marry Prince Pingnan, given Liu Jue’s temperament, he would never simply let it go. She had judged from the start, upon hearing that Liu Jue had swept through over three hundred mountain strongholds in the south, that Li Qingluo was the surest way to bring him under control. But now, with Prince Anqing living in idle retirement, and even at his most formidable commanding no more than three hundred Black-Cloth Cavalry within the residence — the old prince’s temper burned fierce as fire, and trying to use him as leverage against his son, he’d sooner die than yield. Li Qingluo, however, was different — just a delicate young lady. Everyone feared death, and she’d be no exception. But if she didn’t intend to marry Liu Jue, what use would there be in holding her?

Wang Yanhui’s gaze turned toward Qinglei. Seeing her turned away, watching the lotuses, she said with a smile, “Your sister has someone else in her heart — I imagine the Consort already knew?”

Qinglei startled, turned with a smile. “I was quite taken aback myself, still wondering who could possibly surpass Prince Pingnan in bearing.”

A’Luo’s heart raced with urgency, though she kept up her bashful pretense while thinking quickly. Prince Anqing wanted to give Liu Jue an excuse to come to the capital, and had told her to feign calling off the engagement — but he’d never said who this supposed someone else should be! Who would be the most suitable choice? The Crown Prince? Zili? Gu Tianxiang? This person had to be someone whose standing wasn’t inferior to Liu Jue’s, in order to convince the Crown Prince. As for Gu Tianxiang — he stood on Zili’s side, but held no real influence over him. A conflict between Prince Anqing and Chancellor Gu wouldn’t accomplish much. It was well known that Liu Jue and Gu Tianxiang were close friends, so if his anger fell on the Gu family, it wouldn’t lead back to Zili either.

As for the Crown Prince — that would be of no use to Wang Yanhui and Qinglei, and would only risk stirring conflict with Liu Jue, something the Eastern Palace would absolutely never allow at this juncture. Claiming it was the Crown Prince had only one advantage: it might, as much as possible, tempt the Crown Prince’s interest and give Liu Jue a pretext to raise troops.

As for Zili — as far as the Eastern Palace was concerned, once they believed Zili had feelings for her, she would become a pawn; should anything go wrong, she’d become a hostage. The benefit would be making them believe Liu Jue would turn against Zili over this and become his sworn enemy, thus siding with the Eastern Palace.

Which one should she say, in the end? A’Luo hesitated, silently cursing Prince Anqing for not making this clear. Suddenly she realized — that old fox, seemingly indifferent to Liu Jue, actually loved him dearly. This was him letting her make the choice herself. Whichever one she named, Liu Jue would have grounds to raise his troops.

As A’Luo sat there with her head lowered in thought, Wang Yanhui and Qinglei were pondering the same question — who, in the end, could it be? Someone able to rival Liu Jue, with the audacity to steal a woman right from under him — there weren’t many such men in the entire kingdom.

She finally lifted her head with a coy smile. “Everyone keeps saying A’Luo is so boring. It’s getting late — A’Luo will take her leave and head back to the residence. I’ll find another time to visit you both.”

No settled answer yet, so stall — that was how a delaying tactic worked, wasn’t it?

Wang Yanhui smiled. “You so rarely visit the palace, and the Crown Prince himself asked you to stay — if you leave just like this, what will he think when he returns and finds you gone? Stay a few days. Sister still wants to hear you play the zither.”

“Yes, A’Luo should sleep with Sister tonight, and we’ll talk. It’s rare you’re in the palace — stay a couple more days for fun before going back.” Qinglei said hurriedly, and sent a palace attendant to pass word to the Chancellor’s residence.

A’Luo had no choice but to agree, thinking to herself that it seemed she wouldn’t be allowed to leave the palace until she’d made things clear.

Bidding farewell to Wang Yanhui, Qinglei, seemingly affectionate, gripped A’Luo’s hand tightly and led her back to her own chambers. A’Luo let herself be pulled along, sneering inwardly — finally, she could drop the mask of sisterly affection.

Once inside, Qinglei released A’Luo’s hand and dismissed the attendants. A’Luo said flatly, “Sending away the attendants again — what are you scheming this time, Qinglei?”

Qinglei’s cold, beautiful face showed a flash of resolve, and she slowly knelt before A’Luo. A’Luo froze, glanced at her, and reached out to help her up. “Whatever you want to say, just say it — no need for this. As for what happened before, I’ve long since let it go.”

“I’m not begging this of you because of what happened before.” Two lines of tears slid down Qinglei’s face. “I beg you — if one day, if there ever comes a day I can no longer manage, will you look after Xin’er for me?”

A’Luo was startled. “What— what do you mean by that? Get up first!”

Qinglei remained stubbornly kneeling. “Promise me — if something ever happens to me, you will take good care of Xin’er.”

A’Luo sighed. “Xin’er is such a well-behaved child, anyone would love her. She’s only two years old.”

A flash of relief crossed Qinglei’s face, and she slowly rose to her feet, letting out a long breath, saying softly, “I don’t know why, but I believe you’re the one who can look after her well.”

Qinglei looked steadily at A’Luo. “You truly are beautiful. In truth, the Seventh Madam is gentle-natured and has always treated me well too, but she and Qingfei never much cared for you — perhaps even when we were young, some part of us knew you’d grow up to surpass us in beauty, and that thought was unbearable.”

A wry smile crossed her face. “In the past I had a knot in my heart — I fell in love with His Highness, and lived in constant fear that he favored me only because of that piece ‘Autumn Waters.’ Every time I thought of it, I felt both jealousy and resentment toward you, and also fear. Whenever Wang Yanhui’s gaze swept over me, I felt exposed, uneasy. I injured my hand partly so I would never have to play the zither again, and partly to test his true feelings. And yet that night, he was extraordinarily gentle with me, but wouldn’t stay. That was when I understood — perhaps he doesn’t love Wang Yanhui, but he needs her help. I only wish for you to marry Prince Pingnan smoothly — with such a brother-in-law, my position in the Eastern Palace would be secure. And it’s precisely because Prince Pingnan cares so deeply for you that the Crown Prince looks after me, and Wang Yanhui treats me generously.”

A’Luo sighed inwardly, feeling a pang of pity for Qinglei. “You do hold weight in His Highness’s heart. He’s simply choosing as circumstances force him to — that’s understandable. If he ever secures the throne, he’ll surely choose to cherish you. Doesn’t he dote on Xin’er? How could he not love her mother, then?”

“But you don’t want to marry Prince Pingnan! The one in your heart is the Fourth Prince, isn’t it? Before you even knew Prince Pingnan well, you already knew the Prince of Li!”

How did she know? At the time, even A’Luo herself hadn’t known that Zili was Fourth Prince Liu Fei. A’Luo thought.

“Don’t deny it! At the Crown Prince’s banquet that night, when the Fourth Prince spoke up to shield you, and you went along with it, I knew then that you recognized him! The grief in your zither music wasn’t over me trying to harm you as your sister — your eyes were fixed on the Fourth Prince! You were angry at him for not protecting you!” Qinglei said, word by word.

Good heavens, was everyone here so perceptive? Not even a glance escaped notice? Qinglei lowered her voice. “I was certain it was the Fourth Prince, yet I’ve never mentioned it to anyone, not even the Crown Prince. With Prince Ning’s life nearly at its end, only the Prince of Li could possibly rival the Crown Prince. I am the Crown Prince’s woman, and my life naturally follows his in life and death — I naturally hope the Crown Prince secures the throne. But should he fail, knowing you would look after Xin’er gives me peace of mind, free of worry! If you want to break off the engagement, I doubt Father would object too strongly — he always says self-preservation matters above all. If his three daughters end up in two opposing camps, whoever wins, he’ll be the biggest winner either way.”

Qinglei really was a clear-sighted woman. Should she go along and confirm it was Zili? That would truly place her at the very edge of the storm. Once Zili raised his troops, wouldn’t she become the prime target for sacrifice? Would she end up hung from the city wall with a blade at her throat to threaten Zili? A’Luo’s heart chilled at the thought.

Thinking of Zili, Liu Jue’s face rose in her mind, and A’Luo’s gaze softened. His deeply affectionate face lingered in her thoughts, impossible to shake. She smiled wryly — she now fully understood the situation at hand. Having claimed she didn’t like Liu Jue and wanted to call off the engagement, the Anqing residence couldn’t afford to lose face over it, and naturally neither could Prince Pingnan himself. Jilted once — would he stand for a second time? Liu Jue would certainly have his excuse to rush back from Linnan. And whichever of the two candidates lay behind this supposed unwillingness, the blade would point straight at the Eastern Palace either way.

If she said it was the Crown Prince — was she meant to use a honey trap? Even if she managed to enchant the Crown Prince, he wouldn’t dare offend Prince Anqing or Liu Jue, who held the southern army’s military power, at this point in time. So really, there was only one choice.

Why would the Liu family side with Zili? She didn’t understand, and didn’t need to. Even if she hadn’t teased Liu Jue and Prince Anqing into writing that kind of reply for fun, the old fox likely would have written it anyway. That crafty old fox!

Prince Anqing must have thought of this long ago, yet hadn’t wanted to say it outright. Thinking of this, A’Luo wanted to laugh — the old fox really was kind at heart, not forcing her hand, and not even telling her the answer outright. All it would take was one word from her, and Liu Jue would have proper justification to ally openly with the Crown Prince — making it that much easier, from within, to turn against him in support of Zili. She sighed softly. “Sister, you have sharp eyes! Zili and I have exchanged flute and xiao music day after day in the bamboo grove of the Chancellor’s residence — we already pledged our hearts to each other! That’s why, three years ago, right after Prince Pingnan’s engagement, I ran away.”

Once she began, the whole explanation flowed out as smoothly as running water. Even she found it sounding entirely natural and convincing. A’Luo thought to herself, unable to help it — so deep down, she was willing to help Liu Jue, willing even to lie so fluently for his sake. She had originally meant simply to lean on Prince Anqing as her support back in Fengcheng, to enjoy herself and bask in a bit of glory — yet she still found herself swept into the whirlpool after all. Only this time, she was doing it willingly.