Ping Shen, wearing a broad, obliging smile, looked up at the old man on the rockery and invited him down for a drink, but the old man simply stood there, unmoving, as though admiring the surrounding scenery.

Once he’d finished taking it all in, he untied a pouch from his waist and tossed it to the ground, saying: “Little one, this old man only thought of your household on a passing whim. But don’t be alarmed—though I haven’t set foot in the martial world for many years, I wouldn’t carelessly expose your merchant house’s little secrets.”

“Little one” referred to the young man who’d just come of age; “merchant house” was underworld slang for trading families—since the earliest currency had been made of shells, the world of the martial arts referred to merchant families this way.

The merchant clans, for their part, called themselves the “Baojintong” family.

The old man wasn’t wrong about Ping Shen’s age—he truly was quite young, having taken over managing the family business less than ten years ago, no more than twenty-six or twenty-seven himself. In this old man’s eyes, he was nothing more than an unripe youngster.

Clearly holding some contempt for merchants, the old man refused to place the money directly in Ping Shen’s hands, instead simply flinging it to the ground.

Ping Shen had seen this sort of attitude plenty of times before and took no offense at all—harmony brought prosperity, after all.

He walked slowly down the steps, picked up the money pouch, and opened it—only to find inside a set of solid gold dart-coins? He raised his eyebrows.

This Yuegong Mountain lot really was peculiar, settling accounts with gold-forged throwing weapons of all things. He couldn’t quite fathom what the old man meant by it, so he simply pocketed the pouch and bowed with a smile: “Elder, you flatter me. We’ve only just relocated from Shaoshang to set up here in the capital, our footing still unsteady—I’d hate to delay your important business. Such a generous pouch! This junior truly doesn’t dare accept it!”

Elder Guan shot him a cold glance, his tone growing heavier: “It has to be you—there’s no one else I can turn to! As I said, it’s no trouble at all, I won’t expose your house’s secrets!”

Ping Shen sighed. “Elder—from what you’re saying, it sounds as though you intend to stay a few days? With funds this generous, no less! This junior will arrange a quiet, secluded place for you at once. You must be utterly exhausted after such a long journey down from Yuegong Mountain…”

Elder Guan suddenly laughed, cutting him off: “Putting on such airs, little one—are you frightened, then?”

Ping Shen bowed even lower. “Elder, you’re wise beyond words. Generation after generation, however many courtyards deep our estates have grown, we’ve never once dared install so much as a proper threshold. Even if a thief or burglar walked straight through our front gate, they’d only be walking on level ground. Tell me, Elder—dare we not be afraid? There’s no one in this world we can afford to offend.”

Elder Guan gave a short laugh, then touched his chest and said: “Before I set out, I stopped by the miscellaneous affairs hall for a look around. I didn’t take much on my way out—just lifted a single token. Its color happens to match rather closely with the one hanging by your household’s gate…”

Ping Shen’s eyes lit up at this, and he bowed deeply. “In that case, Elder, please ask whatever you like—this junior will hold nothing back!”

Elder Guan let out a dry, rasping laugh, studying him for a long moment before saying: “Just like your father—only ever cozying up to filthy business. Such a pity, a fine talent like yours wasted on a family like this. Three generations running, your lot’s loved nothing more than turning your guts inside out with clever talk—this old man was half afraid you wouldn’t dare speak at all!”

Ping Shen kept his head lowered and said: “Elder, you’ve said as much as you have—even if I didn’t dare, what choice would this junior have? Our Baojintong family’s rules… however difficult things get, the rules must come first. I wonder, though, Elder—this token’s color you’ve so generously parted with, is it genuine?”

At this, Elder Guan gave a cold laugh, promptly pulled a leather pouch from inside his robe, and tossed it to the ground as well: “Truly a family of hounds, keen noses passed down through generations. Take it! Look it over carefully—you’ve made quite a profit today…”

Ping Shen bent down, picked up the leather pouch, opened it, and found a bronze plaque inside. Satisfied, he tucked it swiftly into his robe and looked up: “Elder, please, ask away.”

This bronze plaque was proof that his family’s escort caravans could pass through Yuegong Mountain from now on without ever paying toll fees again.

For this token alone, it was worth temporarily setting aside all business near the capital.

Elder Guan lifted the hem of his robe and sat cross-legged atop the rockery, gazing off toward Qingfeng City for a long while before speaking: “My disciple Pang Tu acted with cruelty and violence—he deserved his death, no question. Let him rot, let him die, no matter to me! But my Yuegong Mountain’s reputation—that, this old man means to reclaim. You know what I’m here to ask, don’t you?”

Ping Shen answered briskly: “In answer to your question, Elder, I do know. You wish to ask about the recluse behind us here on Baiquan Mountain—the matter of the Elm Tree Lady?”

Eavesdropping nearby, Qiqian’er’s eyes brightened slightly. She leaned against the flower wall, lowering her head to look at her own embroidered shoes—fittingly, she’d worn shoes embroidered with chrysanthemums along the edges today, quite lovely, though here in Late Fragrance Return, surrounded by so many actual chrysanthemums, they hardly stood out.

The Elder in the neighboring courtyard replied: “Precisely.”

Ping Shen said: “That’s simple enough—we have a few leads on her movements here. From last winter, when this Lady first appeared providing famine relief on Academy Street, up through this year’s early March, after which she vanished without a trace entirely. Our available leads are limited, I’m afraid you won’t find them satisfying.

Elder, you should know—this Elm Tree Lady comes and goes without a trace; she’s never once left so much as a hint of her presence before… However, there’s one person who ought to know more than we do. If you wish to know, Elder, I’ll gladly tell you where to find him…”

Elder Guan suddenly laughed softly, cutting Ping Shen off: “Sly little thing! Do you truly believe there’s anyone in this world who could threaten the Beggars’ Guild? Besides, this old man would very much like to find that person himself—except that old scoundrel has gone into seclusion!”

Ping Shen froze at this, exclaiming in surprise: “Elder Xin has gone into seclusion!”

Seeing him caught off guard, Elder Guan stroked his beard with satisfaction, laughing softly: “Our Yuegong Mountain’s favor isn’t so easily claimed! What, you didn’t know? For all your family’s sharp dealings, you’re nowhere near as twisted as that old devil’s mind, heh!”

Ping Shen laughed bitterly to himself but had no choice but to press on with the transaction: “Well, now I know, and there’s nothing for it but to press ahead. Ah! If Elder Xin wishes to avoid detection, even the Baojintong family has no way of finding him. When the old gentleman travels, he never stays at inns—all these years, not once has this junior managed to profit off him at even the cheapest two-coin roadside lodging.”

Elder Guan nodded: “Hmph! Exactly so—with no other option, this old man has come to trouble you instead, little one.”

Someone behind him gave a light cough, and Ping Shen touched his chest, pulling out the leather pouch again, holding it up with both hands: “This—I wonder if the Elder might consider, in light of…”

Elder Guan waved a hand: “Whoever you bring up won’t help you. Even if your dead father himself came back to plead for you, the answer would be the same.”

Ping Shen, resigned, tucked the pouch away and sighed: “Very well, then—so be it. But having struck this bargain with you, Elder, I fear we’ll face some difficulties within five hundred li of the capital from here on. Fortunately, that Lady, reclusive as she is on Baiquan Mountain, has never once troubled idle folk like us over trivial matters…”

On the other side of the wall, Qiqian’er touched her own face, then her chest, thinking: difficulties? What exactly would I need to do to cause difficulties? Tomorrow she’d corner that old Xin fellow and question him thoroughly.

Reclusive or not, if he wasn’t at the city gates, she’d simply follow the beggar lice around—poke through a few of the nearby ruined temples, and that old thing was bound to be hiding in one of them somewhere.

As she was thinking this, she heard Elder Guan’s voice, tinged with scorn: “By your account, this Elm Tree Lady sounds rather magnanimous, then?”

Ping Shen’s tone turned reverent, utterly sincere: “Precisely so. If not for this Lady, the Baiquan Mountain lineage might have needed another sixty years just to recover its former strength.”

A cough sounded from atop the rockery, and Elder Guan’s voice turned icy: “Enough chatter—too much talk breeds sores on the tongue. This old man already said Pang Tu deserved his death! I only ask you this: how am I to find her?”

Ping Shen fell silent, considering for a long moment before finally answering: “The Elm Tree Lady conducts herself with the utmost integrity, and values propriety above all. Elder, all you need do is post an open challenge, in broad daylight, beneath the martial stage in Qingfeng City.”

Hearing this, Elder Guan went utterly still, then asked, almost disbelieving: “That’s all it takes?”

Ping Shen replied: “Yes! Just that… though I wonder, Elder, once you’ve challenged this Lady to a match, what comes next?”

Elder Guan rose, flicked his sleeve with a snort, and said: “Once I’ve had my exchange with that lady, and settled the matter—naturally, I’ll finish what that wretched disciple of mine left undone here in the capital. My Yuegong Mountain’s honor can’t be allowed to suffer this loss!” He leapt down from the rockery, hands clasped behind his back, and added: “Just point me toward your wine cellar. Give this old man good wine and he’s easy to please—smell of good drink in the air, and everything else can be worked out. Rest easy, I’ll only stay the one night here, and be gone by tomorrow.”

Ping Shen smiled, turned, and gestured in a direction, bowing him forward.

Elder Guan took a few steps, then paused again: “Little one, my Yuegong Mountain has thoroughly burned its bridges and lost its footing in this region, with no shelter left to speak of. Dragging your old merchant house into this today was truly unavoidable. Don’t worry, though—what happens beneath the surface leaves no ripple above it. My unworthy disciple broke the rules and brought this reckoning on himself, poor luck on his part. This old man came quietly, and will leave quietly tomorrow, just the same.”

Ping Shen nodded, gesturing him onward: “Of course, of course—we in the Baojintong family conduct honest business; there’s no question of interrogating an honored guest who walks through our door. Please, go rest easy, sir, the good wine will keep flowing…”

Once Elder Guan had finally walked off, out of sight entirely, the man who’d coughed earlier stepped up behind Ping Shen and asked: “Third Master, whatever shall we do now? Our secret’s out—our business here in the capital really can’t continue.”

Ping Shen weighed the leather pouch in his hand for a long moment before sighing: “These old relics! Who among us could possibly afford to offend them? Just pretend we saw nothing! My father always said, when there’s truly nothing to be done, all you can do is pray to the God of Wealth for protection. What else is there?”

This attendant, evidently holding no small position himself, ventured boldly: “That old man—was that really the Yuegong Mountain recluse? He didn’t look the part, somehow.”

Ping Shen nodded. “Mm, that’s him, no mistake. When I was a boy, I went with my father to pay respects at their mountain gate—back then, we couldn’t even set foot on the steps at his feet. He’s Pang Tu’s own master, Guan Zhuping, one of the twenty elder recluses of Yuegong Mountain. Look at him now, so restrained—if you’d seen his old temperament, ten Pang Tus marching into the capital together wouldn’t have matched his presence… And to think he made his way quietly all the way into the capital without a trace, and our own people, who do nothing but eat and sleep, caught not the faintest whiff of it.”

His attendant sighed: “Third Young Master, saying this only makes things harder on the rest of us. He entered Qingfeng without even staying at an inn, and instead came straight to mooch off our wine cellar—how were the innkeepers we have watching the roads supposed to catch wind of that?”

Ping Shen had only been musing aloud, and after a moment he actually laughed, muttering to his attendant: “Tell every hall steward—from now on, whatever we send into the palace, we’re not turning a profit on it anymore. Starting today, whenever the gentlemen of Jiusi Hall travel, lodging and rest stops are free of charge, courtesy of Baojintong.”

This time, the attendant answered promptly and without hesitation—likely having witnessed Jiusi Hall corner even this old recluse into fleeing without a trace, he’d grown all the more wary of the new dynasty’s reach.

An autumn breeze swept through, scattering golden petals in its wake. Behind her, the chrysanthemum garden finally fell silent. Qiqian’er had been standing pressed against the wall for a long while before she slowly stirred and moved again.

She wasn’t frightened, exactly—she simply kept turning it over in her mind: what exactly had this Ping Shen fellow built his fortune on? And that other thing he’d said, about the Lady being the very picture of propriety—that she’d surely answer any open challenge posted against her?

So should she go? Or should she not?

Lost in thought, she made her way back to the terrace, where “The Grand Banquet” had already ended below. The four baskets of coins on the ground had all been handed out as rewards, not a coin left.

The Pan sisters seemed to have had a wonderful time, their little faces flushed pink, faintly damp with sweat.

Seeing Qiqian’er return, Zhang Wanru waved her over with a laugh: “Look at you! Wandering off all day, who knows what you got up to? You missed out completely—such a good time, and you managed to miss all of it.”

Qiqian’er rinsed her hands in the basin Siyue brought over and asked: “Oh? Missed what?”

Yu Daniu burst out excitedly: “Auntie, it was so much fun! I didn’t understand it, but Third Auntie kept giving out rewards, and that one—the one playing Diaochan, mm, the prettiest one! He sang a whole special passage just for Third Auntie down there…” The child made an exaggerated gesture, then said to Qiqian’er: “Third Auntie got so happy she threw her hairpin right out!”

Qiqian’er looked up and, sure enough, saw that the finest hairpin from Zhang Wanru’s hair was indeed missing.

Madam Dong, mortified, covered her face beside them: “I looked away for one moment and she’d had too much to drink—what am I to do with her? No proper lady of the house behaves this way, throwing hairpins at performers like some reckless young man showing off for an actor. If you liked him, you could simply have had more money sent his way—why make such a spectacle of yourself, giving people cause to laugh at your father and me for raising you so poorly…”

Qiqian’er, having weathered a whole lifetime and seen through the ways of the world across two lifetimes now, had learned to let things go far more easily. Though she carried herself more freely than Zhang Wanru these days, there was good reason for that—but Zhang Wanru had simply always been this way, naturally.

Zhang Wanru, already married out, wasn’t the least bit afraid of her own mother. Hearing this scolding, she merely propped her feet up smugly and laughed against her cushion.

Qiqian’er, unbothered, laughed along: “Auntie, you worry too much. Jintai will only be pleased to hear Wanru had a good time—and besides, there’s no law anywhere saying we women aren’t allowed to reward a performer we admire.”

Zhang Wanru nodded eagerly: “Exactly! Exactly!”

Madam Dong spat in her daughter’s direction and turned away, refusing to look at her anymore.

Qiqian’er sat down, personally poured Zhang Wanru a cup of wine, then turned to Madam Dong and said: “Auntie, do you know why I wasn’t watching the Grand Banquet?”

At this, everyone turned to look at her.

Qiqian’er lifted the wine jug, filled her own cup to the brim, and took a small sip before saying: “History has no shortage of heroes and men of great renown, but there are two I despise above all others—Fan Li, and Wang Yun. And yet those men’s own histories, written by men, praise them as paragons of wisdom and courage… hmph—speaking their names only sullies my own mouth, and would only pollute these young ladies’ ears!”

Before Qiqian’er could finish, Zhang Wanru’s eyes lit up, and she raised her cup to toast her—but just then, someone beside them cut in: “Wait a moment.”

Both sisters-in-law turned in surprise, to find Madam Song, wife of Censor Pan, had also filled a cup, and now approached holding it in both hands, saying: “For that remark, Eldest Madam—might you ladies let me join you in a toast?”

She laughed along with them as she said it, and finally the three cups came together with a clear, ringing clink…

The whole day’s ease had to come to an end eventually. As the Pan girls climbed into their carriage to depart, they heard the Chen family’s eldest madam call out behind them: “Oh! I’ve had too much wine and nearly forgot the real business at hand.”

Everyone turned back, each lost in their own thoughts, to see the Chen household’s madam approaching slowly, carrying a vermillion mother-of-pearl inlaid long box in her hands.

This box was called a betrothal box—by local custom, whichever young lady one had chosen, the box would be presented to her.

Pan Qiqiao’s heart nearly leapt from her chest. She stepped forward instinctively, then lowered her head shyly.

But instead, the Chen family’s eldest madam walked right past her, reaching out to hand the box to round-faced, plump Pan Baqiao, who still had a piece of persimmon cake tucked in her cheek.

For a moment, everyone but Madam Song and Zhang Wanru froze in shock.

Pan Baqiao stood stunned, ears ringing, as someone helped her up into the carriage. She had no idea how much time passed before, feeling the carriage sway beneath her, she heard her elder sister sobbing beside her?

The plump girl finally snapped fully awake, and in horror flung the betrothal box into her sister-in-law’s lap, waving her chubby hands frantically: “No, no, no! I don’t want it, I don’t want it! This is wrong, this is all wrong!”

Pan Qiqiao, thoroughly furious, gripped her handkerchief and turned on her younger sister: “I never imagined you were this kind of person! Don’t want it? Then why did you accept the box in the first place? You—you must have schemed behind everyone’s backs to make this happen!”

Well, with twelve daughters in the Pan family, internal rivalries were naturally fierce.

Pan Baqiao’s round little face flushed red at this accusation. This girl had never been one for arguing—she was the quiet, gentle sort who acted rather than spoke…

Since her seventh sister’s words had cut so sharply, she reached out, grabbed her sister’s arm, yanked back the sleeve, took aim at the fleshiest spot, and sank her teeth in without hesitation.

Qiqiao, well aware of her sister’s temperament, had half-expected this bite and made no move to dodge. The moment the teeth sank in, she let out a wail of pain and burst into loud sobs, reaching out to yank her sister’s hair down hard.

Baqiao, refusing to let go with her mouth, reached out with both hands and grabbed two fistfuls of hair right back, pulling for all she was worth…

This was seasoned sibling warfare in action—Qiqiao meant to go home and lodge a complaint with their parents using the bite mark as evidence, while Baqiao, knowing she couldn’t avoid the consequences, was determined to extract her fair share of payback first.

Not born of the same mother, both concubine-born besides, these two had clashed countless times since childhood, honors roughly even between them.

But Seventh Daughter could never have predicted that this particular gambit would backfire on her today—Baqiao now had a husband of nominal rank but from a household practically overflowing with prosperity; from this day forward, Eighth Sister-in-Law would stand equal in status within the Pan family to the two legitimate daughters themselves.

Qiqiao wept as though her heart were breaking, and Madam Song, having finally managed to pry the two sisters apart, said to Baqiao, half-exasperated and half-amused: “If she’s got something to say about you, you explain yourself properly—don’t I always give you a fair hearing, having watched the whole thing? Why bite her at all?”

Baqiao wiped her mouth, her round little face still furious: “Habit! I just—I didn’t think that far ahead! I can’t out-talk her when it comes to complaining to Mother and Father, so I figured I’d get my licks in first—otherwise I’d lie awake tonight furious after getting smacked with the paddle, and that’s just not worth it!”

Seeing her seventh sister still glaring provocatively, Baqiao bared her small white teeth and snapped them at her threateningly.

Qiqiao nearly burst with fury and started sobbing all over again.

Having finished intimidating her sister, Baqiao turned to her sister-in-law and asked: “You really did choose me?”

At this, Madam Song opened the betrothal box beside her, and sure enough, inside sat a gold-inlaid jeweled flower ornament, quite exquisite and noble in appearance.

“So it is! Of course you were chosen!”

Madam Song looked her plump little sister-in-law up and down, thinking, who would have guessed—this Eighth Sister had landed herself quite the fortunate match after all.

She smiled all the more warmly and genuinely now, saying to Pan Baqiao: “Well! Looks like your brother called it right. Our Baqiao can eat and drink her fill and still be destined for a life of prosperity as a proper lady…”

At this, whatever lovesick melancholy had been afflicting Pan Qiqiao vanished entirely. She covered her face and sobbed anew, a mix of fear and resentment overtaking her.

“You—!” Madam Song closed the box, returned it to Baqiao, then turned to Qiqiao: “What did the family tell you before you came out today? Told you to hold yourself back, not to imitate your mother’s manner in everything—did you listen to a single word of it? If you’d taken even half of that advice to heart, you wouldn’t be showing this sour, petty side of yourself now!

What’s done is done today—if it wasn’t meant to be, it simply wasn’t meant to be! Didn’t the family back you up properly beforehand? I said myself, going in, that you’d be the ideal choice, since your age suited best of all—but you just couldn’t manage to rise to the occasion, and what am I supposed to do about that? One moment laughing, the next moment moping and mournful—no wonder they didn’t dare take you, they probably thought you were touched in the head!”

Pan Qiqiao wept even harder.

Madam Song, at a loss, handed over her own handkerchief. “Go on, wipe your face. Do you think no one can see through your little schemes? Yes, Imperial Guard Lane’s standing may be lower than ours, but their household’s on solid footing now regardless—all you had to do was mind your words, act with caution, pay attention to every detail. Even if you’d simply put on a shy face and said nothing at all, that would have done well enough. But no? Have you never seen flowers before in your life? Look how many baskets you brought back on the carriage behind us—a full eight baskets! And Madam Chen paid thirty taels for those flowers on your account—thirty taels! They’re marrying you in to run a household, not ruin one, and you still have the nerve to cry about it…”

Pan Qiqiao, seized with both fury and regret, wept the entire way home, arriving with swollen eyes and a pounding head.

Madam Song held real authority in the Pan household, and having already scolded her thoroughly along the way, let the matter rest there. Only Pan Qiqiao, watching her younger sister now doted upon by the entire family, matured overnight from the experience and finally reined herself in.

That, of course, is a matter for later.

Suffice it to say that the day after they left the Small Immortal Garden, someone in Qingfeng City posted an open challenge notice…

And that very night, as Jiusi Hall’s branch received word of the posted challenge, Ping Shen, proprietor of the Small Immortal Garden, had only just lain down to sleep when he heard a voice outside his window say: “Say there, Third Steward of that merchant house calling itself Baojintong—what exactly did you get out of trading me away? At the very least come out and settle accounts with me properly—we split it fifty-fifty, how about that?”