On a late December afternoon, the clouds pressed down like slabs of lead, and flecks of snow drifted from the ashen sky. Ming Huashang sat at an upper-floor window seat, holding a hand warmer, watching the broken jade fragments fall from the grey heavens above.
A young man and woman came walking through the street below. The girl was tall and slender, her long hair swept up high — clean-cut and spirited. Beside her, the young man had a rosy complexion and smooth fair skin; he walked with a loose, swaggering gait that managed to make his Feathered Forest Army uniform look like the costume of someone up to no good.
Ming Huashang spotted them, leaned forward, and waved. “Senior Sister Ren — Jiang Ling — up here!”
Ren Yao looked up, gave Ming Huashang a wave in return, and came inside. Ming Huashang quickly called the attendant to bring hot tea. Ren Yao and Jiang Ling sat down one after the other, and Ming Huashang asked, “What took you so long? Is the Northern Guard so busy?”
The Feathered Forest Army were the Emperor’s personal guard — steeped in protocol and strict regulations — and they had recently taken over city patrol duties in Chang’an. Ren Yao was either working a night shift or otherwise unable to get away, and Ming Huashang had gone to considerable trouble before she found a time when both Ren Yao and Jiang Ling were free.
Ren Yao drank her tea in a single mouthful, said flatly “Not particularly,” and said nothing more. Jiang Ling, by contrast, launched into a long string of complaints: “It’s not fine at all — only she doesn’t see it. Nobody else wants the night patrols, so they pile them onto her, and she just accepts without a word of complaint. She still shows up for daytime training as usual. I’ve been worried she’ll drop dead on the training ground one of these days. I’ve told her I don’t know how many times — a lot of these things aren’t hers to do; she should push them back. But she just can’t bring herself to say no.”
Ming Huashang looked over at Ren Yao. Ren Yao’s expression was mild, the shadows of exhaustion under her eyes impossible to hide — but she offered no rebuttal, and no explanation.
There were things a man would not understand, and someone like Jiang Ling — doted on by everyone since birth — least of all. Was it that Ren Yao could not bring herself to say no? Was it that she couldn’t see those tasks weren’t hers? She knew perfectly well. But she could not refuse.
She was the first woman in the dynasty’s history to earn top marks in the military examinations. Her position as a Feathered Forest Army Officer had been personally appointed by the Emperor, and it had already cost no small number of senior officials in the Ministry of War their dignity. If she then started picking and choosing orders from her superiors, how would she hold her footing in the Feathered Forest Army?
In a world made entirely of men, the effort of simply staying was already everything she had.
Ming Huashang sighed inwardly. She had witnessed with her own eyes how Ming Huazhang walked on thin ice within Jingzhao Prefecture, and her heart ached for him, beset as he was by a hostile superior. But in places she could not see, Ren Yao, Su Xingzhi, Xie Jichuan — all of them were paying a heavy price to fit into their new positions. Everyone, except perhaps Jiang Ling, had their own hardships.
Perhaps even Jiang Ling did not have it easy. From the outside, he had a powerful father — whatever he did, his father had already paved the way; people envied him for it. But did Jiang Ling truly welcome that kind of favoritism? Even when he achieved something through his own effort, others would say with an offhand shrug that it was still only his father’s doing.
Ming Huashang did not continue down that line of thought, and instead smiled brightly. “After working so hard, all the more reason to eat a good meal. This one is on me — what would you like?”
Ren Yao trusted Ming Huashang in this and said, “We’re on duty day after day and never have time to wander the city — you know these places far better than we do. You decide. Just add a pot of warm wine at the end.”
Ming Huashang didn’t stand on ceremony, and chose the dishes quickly. She said, “Recently the Western Market received a shipment of Malang wine from the Great Food Kingdom. They say it’s unlike anything from the central plains. Shall we try the new wine tonight?”
Ren Yao had no objection. Chang’an was a city that contained everything — foreign goods were everywhere, and the city’s merchants and diners alike received novelties with open arms.
Ming Huashang ordered a pot of the Malang wine, and the waiter soon set out the food and drink and withdrew. This table had been Ming Huashang’s deliberate choice; the surrounding seats were relatively quiet, suitable for conversation. Ming Huashang poured the wine, faced Ren Yao and Jiang Ling, and said earnestly, “You have my sincere gratitude for your help that night. My second brother has been occupied with official duties these past days and truly could not find the time — so he asked me to come and thank you both on his behalf. I am truly grateful for your help.”
Ren Yao shook her head to indicate it was nothing. Jiang Ling said casually, “We’re a team — what’s all this formality for? His wound looked pretty serious that night — I was shocked when I saw it. How is he healing now?”
Ming Huashang smiled and nodded. “Much better.”
That was not the truth. Ming Huazhang had plunged back into the case the very next day. Just as he had expected, after Prince Wei’s men made such a spectacle of Pude Temple, the abbot had been alarmed and quietly cleared out all traces in the underground chamber. By the time Ming Huazhang went back, he found only a bare, empty altar.
An esoteric tantric deity enshrined in a temple was unusual by worldly standards, but not beyond reproach — and the mere fact that Pude Temple had a secret passage proved nothing. Ming Huazhang had no choice but to search for new evidence. For the past several days he had been so occupied that one could barely catch a glimpse of him, let alone expect him to rest and heal.
Jiang Ling asked curiously, “What exactly did you all get up to, to bring Prince Wei’s wrath down on you? I heard he actually showed up at Duke Zhenguo’s estate that night?”
Chang’an had no secrets. News of Prince Wei’s midnight intrusion into Duke Zhenguo’s estate spread quickly throughout the capital. Everyone was now speculating about what the Ming family had done to offend Prince Wei, and people who had been considering forging closer ties with the Ming family were beginning to hesitate. Marriage negotiations for Ming Yu and the others had once again stalled, and a desolate, anxious air hung over Duke Zhenguo’s estate. Ming Huashang did not disclose anything about their Xuan Xiaowei identities possibly being compromised, and simply said, “It’s related to the case.”
The serial murders had been the talk of Chang’an — there was no one in the city who hadn’t heard of them. Ren Yao and Jiang Ling both gave a look of understanding. Ren Yao asked quietly, “Wasn’t the case already closed?”
“My second brother doesn’t believe the truth is as stated, and he’s still investigating on his own.” Ming Huashang gave a brief, measured explanation, enough to make the point. “One of the cases has some connection to Prince Wei.”
In three brief sentences Ming Huashang had conveyed a great deal — painting a picture quite different from what the Prefect of Jingzhao had publicly announced. Ren Yao and Jiang Ling both understood; neither pressed any further. The two were about to change the subject when Ming Huashang straightened her expression and said, “Tonight I arranged this dinner to thank you both. Beyond that, I have one more matter to ask for your help with.”
·
A bitter north wind swept through the land. A young man reined in his horse and halted at the entrance of a village. He wore a deep indigo long robe, a black cloak clasped at his shoulder — tall, upright, and gracefully built. The way he had swung down from his horse was nimble and refined, as though he had stepped out of a painting, walking from a thousand mountains deep in snow.
A young man this handsome and elegant was a rare sight. People along the road were watching him, some openly, some with sidelong glances. He was perfectly at ease under all of it, and of his own accord approached an elderly man and asked politely, “Excuse me, does Auntie Xu live here?”
The elder looked him up and down. “Which Auntie Xu?”
“The one who used to work for the Lu household in Chang’an,” Ming Huazhang said. “I’ve come from Chang’an. There are some old matters I’d like to ask her about.”
Perhaps Ming Huazhang’s air of upright authority was simply too convincing — the elder did not suspect him of being a troublemaker, and pointed out the way without hesitation. Ming Huazhang followed the directions until he found Auntie Xu’s home and knocked gently at the door.
“Coming!” A voice answered from inside, followed by footsteps thumping toward the door, and it swung open. The woman behind it froze at the sight of Ming Huazhang. He offered a timely explanation: “I am an official from Jingzhao Prefecture in Chang’an. I have come to ask about the old affairs of the Lu household. Are you Auntie Xu?”
The midday sun climbed higher in the sky. Cold white daylight fell across the flagstone ground, scattering in dazzling rings of radiance — a world apart from the cold, still silence within the hall. Lu Du knelt before his prayer mat with eyes closed, deep in recitation.
At that moment, someone knelt beside him — right at his side. She swayed the incense in her hand and murmured, “May the Bodhisattva grant these wishes: first, that my second brother’s official career be smooth and unobstructed; second, that my family remain healthy and at peace; third, that I find an agreeable husband.”
She said her piece, bowed three times in perfect imitation of genuine piety, set her incense in the burner, and walked away with a light step. After she left, Lu Du opened his eyes and could not help looking back at her.
She seemed to have little genuine interest in Buddhism; the wishes she had made were thoroughly worldly — the very picture of a young lady of Chang’an: a harmonious family, an adoring elder brother, raised amid Western Region gold trinkets and peony banquets, every movement carrying the easy confidence of someone born in the capital. Her greatest daily concern, it seemed, was finding a suitably matched husband. Even walking alone through a Buddhist temple, her manner was open and unbothered — curious but unintimidated, clearly accustomed to such places.
Lu Du recognized her. This appeared to be the second daughter of Duke Zhenguo’s estate. Her brother was Ming Huazhang, the Scholar who had lately become the talk of Chang’an — newly appointed at Jingzhao Prefecture straight from his examinations, at the fourth rank no less. He was also a thoroughly typical scion of a great house: accomplished, handsome, from distinguished lineage, his entire life as smooth as a legend.
Lu Du had crossed paths with the two of them once at Pude Temple and could see plainly that the siblings were very close. Why would a young woman so clearly cherished by her family be here alone at Qingchan Temple?
Unable to help himself, Lu Du rose from his cushion and stepped toward the doorway.
Ming Huashang was perched sideways on the railing, reaching out to touch a branch of red wintersweet. The flowers were crimson as blood, bowed low under the weight of snow. She lifted her hand to brush the snow from the branch, and in doing so her wrist appeared — slender and pale.
Lu Du watched from behind her for a moment before slowly walking closer. “Shivi the king cut away his own flesh to feed the hawk. You sweep the snow from these blossoms, young lady — you have a truly compassionate nature.”
Ming Huashang turned and saw Lu Du, startled, then drew herself up with the slight reserve of a well-bred young woman. But it was a well-bred reserve — poised and correct, she curtsied with propriety. “Many blessings to Scholar Lu. Please don’t mind my foolishness.”
Lu Du returned the courtesy with unhurried calm. He asked, “Why is Second Miss Ming sitting here alone?”
Ming Huashang looked slightly self-conscious and said, “I came out to find my brother, but Jingzhao Prefecture’s staff said he was out. I didn’t want to go home yet, so I thought I’d take a little walk nearby and wait for him to come off duty so he could take me shopping.”
Lu Du said, “It is nearly the year’s end — Chang’an is full of all manner of people right now. I’m afraid it’s a little dangerous for you to be wandering about alone.”
Ming Huashang waved this off. “The killer’s been caught. The streets are so crowded — what danger could there be?”
Lu Du did not respond, lowering his gaze, absorbed in some private thought. Ming Huashang, for her part, seemed all the innocent simplicity of a sheltered young lady — whatever wariness she might have had at the outset melted away once the talking began, and she chattered on freely: “My second brother is the most capable of all. The previous Jingzhao Prefecture officials spent four years trying to catch this criminal without success — he arrives and the killer is brought to justice. Grandmother and Father both say he has made a great contribution and his career will go from strength to strength. He’s already at the fourth rank. The Prefect solved this major case, so he’ll likely be promoted very soon, and then if Second Brother takes over as Prefect of Jingzhao, that would be the third rank. Once he solves a few more cases and moves into the Six Ministries as a Vice Minister — who knows, he might become the youngest Chancellor in history!”
Such a career trajectory was almost idealistic — and yet, given Ming Huazhang’s family name, appearance, and background, with only a touch of fortune added, it was not beyond the realm of possibility. Lu Du watched Ming Huashang quietly and said, “Second Miss cares so deeply about your brother’s career. It’s clear you two are very close.”
“Of course.” Ming Huashang beamed with satisfaction. “My second brother is the finest young man in all of Chang’an — in all the world, really. This recent serial murder case made such a stir, but my second brother took it on and solved it in under three months. I say: the criminals of Chang’an had better repent immediately and turn over a new leaf — or get far, far away from Yongzhou. Otherwise, the moment they end up in my brother’s hands, he will expose every one of them and they’ll have nothing but regret.”
“Oh?” Lu Du gave a mild reply and asked, “Second Miss has such confidence in Deputy Prefect Ming?”
“Of course I do.” Ming Huashang said, as though it were the most natural thing in the world. “This isn’t empty praise — I have proof. Take this recent killer: he made all those elaborate disguises, went to such lengths, even managed to lure a woman from a noble household out and kill her — and yet he could not escape my second brother’s reach. A murderer can cause all the commotion he likes, but in the end it only paves the road for my second brother’s rise. Thanks to him, my second brother’s name is now known throughout Chang’an, and his ascent to the highest offices is assured!”
Ming Huashang had been growing more animated by the moment as she spoke, and only when she finished did she notice that Lu Du had been silent for quite some time. A little embarrassed, she touched her nose and said, “I apologize — I got too caught up in it. Scholar Lu is a person of refined sensibilities; I’m sure he has no interest in hearing about such grim matters. I won’t take up any more of your time. Please excuse me.”
Lu Du looked up and gave a slight smile. “Not at all, Second Miss. In recent years I have devoted myself entirely to the Buddhist path and have rather lost touch with the fashions of Chang’an. Where do you plan to go next?”
Ming Huashang casually wiped the moisture from her fingertips and said, “It doesn’t matter much to me — the main thing is waiting for my second brother. He promised to take me to buy the Lantern Festival lanterns.”
Lu Du smiled at her with a calm, refined air. “If Second Miss does not mind, I would be happy to show you around Qingchan Temple.”
Ming Huashang blinked, and then her pupils lit up, her face unable to conceal her delighted surprise. “That would be wonderful. I have long heard that Scholar Lu’s learning is vast and his mastery of Buddhist philosophy unsurpassed — then I gratefully accept, Scholar Lu.”
Snow had fallen on Chang’an, and the ancient monastery stood wrapped in silver. Deep among pine and juniper, Lu Du led Ming Huashang along a small path, telling her the history of each courtyard in turn. Ming Huashang listened with genuine absorption and said with sincere admiration, “Scholar Lu, you know so much — even the temple’s own novice monks couldn’t have told me all this as well as you have.”
Lu Du gave a faint smile, his gaze resting on the dense shadow of trees beneath the white snow. “When you’ve spent enough time in a place, you naturally come to know a great deal. There are times I almost wish I knew nothing at all.”
“What a thing to say, Scholar Lu — experience is always preferable to innocence.” Ming Huashang was saying this when she couldn’t help herself: she raised her hand to her lips and gave a small, soft sneeze. Lu Du caught it and said quickly, “Here I am being thoughtless — I forgot that Second Miss is a young lady. A few days ago there was fresh snowfall, and the woods are very cold. Would Second Miss care to come to my study for a cup of hot tea to warm up?”
Ming Huashang lowered her head and coughed softly, her lashes drawing slightly down — the expression in her eyes hidden. When she lifted her gaze again, her eyes were bright, and she accepted readily. “That sounds lovely.”