Because Li Shu’s features leaned toward the cold and severe, she had always dressed in vivid colors to suit the lush, ornate tastes of the Da Ye court — great blooming peonies, sweeping brocades threaded with gold. She could carry such ostentation with ease, wearing it all with an icy allure.

But Jincheng was not so well suited to it.

Jincheng had a small, delicate face. One might call it dignified, but she was still young, and her bearing had not yet fully come into its own. Draped suddenly in such brilliant, lavishly embroidered robes, she looked rather incongruous — neither one thing nor another.

More than a dozen handmaids were lined up in a row, each holding one of the newly made autumn garments. Hong Luo lifted a gown and held it up against Jincheng, then shook her head and set it aside. She picked up another, held it against her again, then shook her head once more and put it down.

After several rounds of this, she finally settled on a pleated waist-skirt with a pale crimson brocade border. A length of sheer goose-yellow silk gauze was draped loosely over Jincheng’s arms. Her brows were lightly brushed, her lips touched with a faint rouge. Even in the bleak solitude of autumn, Jincheng had managed to bring out something of the brightness of spring.

By the time Jincheng was dressed and ready, the afternoon had already arrived. Li Shu chose a half-worn everyday robe for herself, forgoing even powder and rouge. She simply washed her face and combed her hair — plain and unadorned — and led Jincheng out of the mansion.

Jincheng sat in the carriage, watching Li Shu lean back against the cushions with her eyes closed, resting. Her mind was full of questions.

Where were they going exactly? Princess Pingyang had gone to all that trouble to dress her up — was she taking her to some banquet, or somewhere to play?

Princess Pingyang did not seem like the sort of person who went out for idle amusement.

Though she was bursting with curiosity, Jincheng was not one to speak out of turn, and besides, Li Shu’s expression could hardly be called cheerful. So Jincheng kept her questions to herself.

The carriage wheels rolled along. Not a word was exchanged. They traveled until they reached the outer banks of Qujiang Pool.

When they stepped down from the carriage, Jincheng knitted her brows slightly.

Qujiang Pool?

Jincheng rarely left the palace, but she remembered that in years past, the spring banquets and the Flower Goddess festivals had often been held here — but that was always in spring or early summer, when the cherry blossoms or the lotus flowers carpeted the ground, and the spring waters shimmered with warmth.

Now it was autumn. Qujiang Pool in autumn was desolate — the flowers had withered, the trees were half bare, and there was nothing left but a stretch of gray lake water, with nothing worth seeing.

In Chang’an, the proper thing to do in autumn was to go to Leyou Plain to admire the maple trees. So there were very few visitors today. Casting her gaze across the grounds, Jincheng realized it was only the two of them.

They passed through the apricot grove, crossed the long bridge, and arrived at the foot of a small pavilion overlooking the lake.

Li Shu stopped, her gaze settling on the surface of the water. The New Year’s banquet back in the third month of spring seemed to still be before her eyes — the first time she and Shen Xiao had met in Chang’an. She had never imagined, not for a moment, that the penniless scholar in his threadbare robe would come to be so deeply entangled with her life.

Such are the caprices of fate.

Li Shu managed a faint smile and turned to Jincheng beside her. “I’ve been cooped up in the mansion for too long, and today I simply wanted to come out for a walk — only to end up choosing a dreary spot. I’ve put you out, little sister Jincheng.”

Jincheng shook her head quickly. “Not at all. Every time I’ve come to Qujiang Pool before, it was so lively and crowded. It’s rare to see it this still.”

The two of them fell into easy conversation as they strolled along the lakeshore.

Li Shu said, “I haven’t been a very attentive elder sister. If Father Emperor hadn’t mentioned it specially the other day, I would have forgotten entirely that you’d already passed your coming-of-age ceremony. When is your birthday?”

Jincheng felt a startled sort of warmth. Father Emperor had actually taken the trouble to remember her coming-of-age?

For as long as she could remember, her relationship with the emperor had been extremely, extraordinarily distant. As a child, she had envied Princess Anle more times than she could count — watching at every palace banquet as Anle clung to Father Emperor, laughing and coaxing him, and thinking: that was what a real father and daughter were supposed to look like.

As the years passed, she had grown accustomed to the fact. Every princess in the inner court except Anle had to come to terms with this truth: Emperor Zhengyuan was a father in name alone. Though the blood ties were close, the reality was that he was an emperor — and in practice, he was very far away.

When you were born into the imperial family, you could not afford to count on love.

Fortunately, Jincheng had grown up with her mother. Her mother was a low-ranking serving-woman, unable to teach her much in the way of social conduct or letters, but she had given her daughter more than enough love.

Jincheng replied, “My birthday is at the end of the second month. When I held my coming-of-age ceremony at the start of the year, there happened to be a drought in Guanzhong, and the palace accounts were stretched thin. So it wasn’t celebrated grandly — just a few of my younger sisters in the inner court gathered together for a meal. I didn’t formally invite anyone.”

She was offering Li Shu a way out, as well.

Li Shu had not attended Jincheng’s coming-of-age ceremony. In truth, she had not even remembered it. Hong Luo kept track of such social obligations on her behalf — at the time, she had sent a set of jade hairpins into the palace, a perfectly acceptable gift by any standard.

Li Shu said, “Youth is good, after all. I can’t even remember what my own coming-of-age was like anymore.”

Back then, she had been far less favored than she was now, and the day had passed in a blur. She only remembered hearing that Father Emperor intended to betroth Princess Anle to Cui Jinzhi, and her heart had clenched with urgency — she had decided to act and secure her own future.

She had fought with everything she had to win Cui Jinzhi then, believing he was the only light in her life, that losing him would be like losing the whole world. She could never have imagined that one day she would let go of him with such composure and turn her gaze toward someone else.

Li Shu thought to herself that compared to Jincheng, she was truly old — why did she keep drifting back into memories of the past?

She offered a faint smile, then turned to the real purpose of today’s outing.

“I speak directly, so don’t be shy about it. Of your dozen-odd elder sisters, every single one had a betrothal arranged not long after her coming-of-age. You’ve reached that age now. Is there anyone who has caught your eye?”

Li Shu patted Jincheng’s hand. “I can at least put in a few words before Father Emperor. If there’s someone you’re fond of, tell me, and I’ll go speak to Father Emperor on your behalf and see about arranging a good marriage for you.”

Jincheng felt her face flush bright red.

Goodness — which elder sister went around asking about someone’s feelings this bluntly, with no preamble at all? How was a person supposed to say anything when put on the spot like that?

Was there anyone who had caught her eye?

Jincheng dropped her head and bit her lip.

Her thoughts were in a muddle. She could not find an answer. But fortunately Li Shu did not press her, and let her sit quietly in her embarrassment.

The two of them walked along the lakeshore a little longer, and gradually the warmth faded from Jincheng’s cheeks. Then, quite unexpectedly, she felt Li Shu beside her come to a sudden halt.

Jincheng quickly raised her head.

Across the still autumn water, on the opposite bank, stood a figure in a long ink-gray robe. His posture was straight as a blade. Across the expanse of the lake, he was looking in their direction.

The water stretched wide and scattered between them, and it was impossible to make out the features of the person on the other bank — let alone tell exactly where his gaze was falling. Whether he was looking at one of them, or both of them, or simply at the trees beside them, was impossible to say.

But Jincheng had the distinct sense that across the water, Li Shu and Shen Xiao were looking at each other in silence — a conversation of a kind.

In truth, Shen Xiao had not particularly wanted to come today.

When Li Shu had sent him the invitation, she had made it plain: she was calling him over specifically to be seen by Jincheng, calling it — with considerable flattery — “cultivating feelings between a prospective husband and wife.”

She was being stingy now. She had not even deigned to write the note herself — the brushwork was careless and slapdash, plainly the work of some servant dashing it off.

Truly a scoundrel who got out of bed and refused to acknowledge anyone. She was even too miserly to give him her own handwriting now. Shen Xiao thought: he never should have let her get out of bed.

Naturally, Shen Xiao had no desire to meet Princess Jincheng. They were not familiar with each other, and moreover Jincheng was an innocent party in all of this — the less she was entangled in it, the better.

But then Shen Xiao reconsidered. Counting the days, the Seventh Prince’s memorial would soon reach the emperor’s desk from the banks of the Yellow River. When it did, he would need to find the right moment to leave Chang’an.

Each meeting with her was one meeting fewer. He had to treasure every opportunity.

So he stepped across the stone bridge. With his long legs and tall frame, he crossed quickly.

At a distance of several paces, Shen Xiao bowed his head in salute. “This official pays his respects to Princess Pingyang and Princess Jincheng.”

Before Li Shu could say a word, Jincheng brightened with delight. “What a coincidence, running into Sir Shen here.”

Qujiang Pool was this quiet today, with almost no one about — and yet here he was. If that wasn’t fate, what was?

Seeing Shen Xiao, Jincheng felt an inexplicable lift in her spirits. Struggling to contain the flutter in her heart, she exchanged pleasantries: “Sir Shen, how have matters in court been lately? Are you very busy?”

It was nothing more than small talk, a question asked for lack of anything better to say — but no sooner had it left her mouth than she sensed the atmosphere grow suddenly taut.

Li Shu turned to one side to look at the lake, silent.

Jincheng suddenly understood. What matters in court lately? Wasn’t it all about… that whole affair with the so-called companion?

How could she have gone and brought up the very thing best left alone?

Jincheng panicked, not knowing what to do with herself. Like someone who had done something wrong, she cast an apprehensive glance at Li Shu, then at Shen Xiao.

Seeing Jincheng’s distress, Li Shu deflected graciously and changed the subject. “Winter is nearly here, and the flooding along the Yellow River has stabilized. I imagine things in court are a bit more relaxed now.”

Shen Xiao gave a small nod. “Yes, which is why I’ve finally had a moment to breathe.”

Relieved that her careless slip had not provoked any anger, Jincheng exhaled and smiled. “Sir Shen really ought to rest. There are so many interesting places in Chang’an — do take some time to explore them.”

She asked, “Are you from Guanzhong, Sir Shen?”

Shen Xiao shook his head. “My family’s ancestral home is in Wuxing.”

A faint light kindled in Jincheng’s eyes at that. “Is that the same Wuxing as in the line: ‘Before West Rampart Mountain, white egrets fly’? I’ve always loved that line.”

Shen Xiao gave a nod. “It is. West Rampart Mountain is one of the Eight Scenic Views of Wuxing.”

Jincheng sighed softly. “I’ve grown up all my life and never once left Guanzhong. I don’t know when I’ll ever get the chance to travel to the south of the Yangtze. They say it’s a land of remarkable people and beautiful scenery — the finest of places.”

The two had fallen into easy back-and-forth conversation.

Li Shu stood to one side in silence, her whole person nearly as absent as if she weren’t there at all. Her gaze drifted quietly out over the surface of the lake, her lips pressed lightly together.

From the corner of his eye, Shen Xiao glanced at her — a plain everyday robe, a single gold hairpin in her hair. Beside the goose-yellow and willow-green of Jincheng, she looked so unadorned she hardly resembled the wealthiest princess in all of Chang’an.

After everything that had happened, all those worldly trappings seemed to have lost their meaning for her. Clothes, jewelry — none of it mattered anymore. What showed through was something bone-deep: a cool indifference to all things.

Shen Xiao sighed inwardly and thought to himself: what was he doing? Deliberately talking to Princess Jincheng, trying to provoke some jealousy in her? With so few meetings left between them, why indulge in something so childish?

Jincheng was still talking. “Wuxing has Eight Scenic Views, and Chang’an has Eight Scenic Views as well. Sir Shen has been in Chang’an so long now — have you visited all of them?”

Before Shen Xiao could answer, Li Shu shifted slightly, turned, and walked off toward a small pavilion nearby. She did not spare Shen Xiao a glance. As she passed, she said to Jincheng, “I’m a little tired. I’m going up to rest for a while. You chat with Sir Shen — have a walk around.”

What would she be staying for, after all? To listen to the two of them bantering back and forth in their easy, warm conversation?

Li Shu pressed her palm tight and held her back straight as she passed by Shen Xiao.

There would be plenty more days like this ahead. He would be her younger sister’s husband — they would meet at every palace banquet, every New Year’s gathering. She would be alone, and she would have to watch the two of them together, deferential and devoted.

She knew she ought to force herself to grow used to it right now, to push through the discomfort. But Li Shu could not bear it. Not for another moment.

She walked straight toward the small lakeside pavilion. As she moved, her thin robe swayed gently, tracing the line of her slender frame.

Hong Luo instructed several of the handmaids to follow Jincheng, then made to hurry after Li Shu — when Shen Xiao, without warning, turned to her and said, “Did you bring a cloak? Add a layer for her.”

Hong Luo blinked, then immediately nodded.

Of all things.

Hong Luo thought to herself: Sir Shen had gotten so used to giving her orders, he did it as naturally as breathing — the very picture of an unquestioned son-in-law.

But whose son-in-law was he, exactly?

Just the other day, hadn’t he been the Princess’s honored guest? And now today he had suddenly turned into… into a prospective match for Princess Jincheng?

The imperial family was a bewildering place, and Hong Luo had given up trying to make sense of it.

*

Shen Xiao watched Li Shu go up to the pavilion. He tilted his head slightly and looked up toward the upper floor, but there was nothing to see. He pulled his gaze back, only to find Princess Jincheng watching him.

She was an entirely different type from Li Shu — nothing like a princess, and rather more like the refined daughter of a good family.

Princess Jincheng hesitated for a moment. Then, from some gathering of courage, she spoke suddenly. “Sir Shen… I heard that someone has impeached you and Princess Pingyang…?”

Shen Xiao glanced at her. His expression carried a faint chill — he clearly did not welcome this kind of probing.

Jincheng bit her lip. She still wanted to know the answer. “…Is it true?”

Shen Xiao turned away, not wishing to answer the question. “What do you think?”

His counter-question left Jincheng speechless.

The way he was with Jincheng now was entirely different from a moment ago, when Li Shu had been present. Just before, he had been easy and conversational; now he was plainly cold and distant.

Shen Xiao was silently cursing himself. It was his own fault — the way he had acted just now had driven Li Shu away. He could not help looking up toward the upper floor again, but there was nothing to be seen.

From the looks of it, Li Shu had no intention of coming back out. She simply wanted him and Jincheng to be left alone. If that was the case, there was no point in staying any longer.

He was about to say his farewells when one of his attendants came hurrying over and handed him a letter with no sender’s name.

Shen Xiao took it and broke the seal. His gaze narrowed slightly.

It was a letter from the Seventh Prince.

He had just been about to take his leave, but the attendant delivering the letter had clearly been seen by Li Shu — Hong Luo leaned out from the upper floor: “Your Highness, Sir Shen — please come up for some tea.”

Shen Xiao tucked the letter into his sleeve and followed Jincheng up into the small pavilion.

The pavilion was open on all four sides and sat at the water’s edge, so the wind was considerable. Hong Luo had already draped a cloak around Li Shu.

When Shen Xiao stepped up to the upper floor, Li Shu had half her face buried in the collar of the cloak and was looking over at him.

“Oh? Sir Shen, do you have business elsewhere? I noticed your attendant came in quite a hurry.”

Li Shu’s gaze fell on his wide sleeve.

Shen Xiao replied, “There is a matter at the bureau. I’ll have to take my leave and deal with it.”

Jincheng was about to say something like “how busy you always are” — but Li Shu’s voice came first, carrying a note of inquiry. “What matter at the bureau?” She was pressing him to the bottom of it.

She had to make sure Shen Xiao kept to what she had arranged, with no deviation whatsoever.

Shen Xiao said nothing.

The air grew slightly still.

Jincheng felt that Princess Pingyang was being somewhat overbearing. A matter at the bureau could well be an important state secret — how could Sir Shen be expected to speak of it outright?

She spoke up to mediate. “It must be something significant, which is why Sir Shen is keeping it in mind — Sister, why don’t we —”

Li Shu paid her no attention. She suddenly rose to her feet and walked a few paces toward Shen Xiao, coming to stand directly before him. She lowered her voice and said quietly but firmly: “Shen Xiao, don’t forget what you promised me.”

Shen Xiao lowered his gaze to her hairline for a moment, then replied: “I remember. I gave you my word. Otherwise, why would I have come today?”

Li Shu fixed him with a steady look. “And when do you intend to submit the memorial?”

She was not about to give him any room to maneuver. For all she knew, Shen Xiao was plotting some scheme of his own.

Shen Xiao tightened his grip on the sealed letter hidden in his sleeve. “Tomorrow,” he answered.

The two of them stood face to face, barely an arm’s length apart — an atmosphere that seemed, on the surface, like confrontation, but held beneath it a strange, inexplicable harmony.

That inexplicable sense of being quietly shut out welled up in Jincheng again. She frowned faintly. What were they talking about? She could not make out a single word.

Shen Xiao did not so much as touch the tea. He turned sharply and walked straight down the stairs, his robes billowing as his footsteps quickened toward the exit.

Li Shu stood on the upper floor, looking down at his retreating figure. Jincheng drifted to her side. After a long moment, Li Shu spoke again, picking up exactly where they had left off before Shen Xiao arrived. “We were just saying your coming-of-age ceremony has passed — is there anyone who has caught your eye?”

This time, Jincheng did not flush too deeply to speak. She watched the upright figure in ink-gray move further and further away. She knew this was her only chance.

After a long silence, Jincheng gave a quiet nod.