After they withdrew from the main hall, Ming Yu and Ming Shuo were tactful enough that before long they had “unintentionally” wandered off, leaving only Ming Huashang and Cheng Xun walking side by side. Both of them felt a touch awkward without meaning to. Cheng Xun spoke first: “Thank you, Second Young Lady, for what happened with Siyue.”

Ming Huashang said, “It was thanks to my Second Brother and the officials of the Jingzhao Prefecture working together to find the culprit. I dare not take credit.”

Ming Huashang always attributed it to luck whenever asked, an explanation that fooled the elders but not Cheng Xun. Cheng Xun asked, “Second Young Lady, was it truly a coincidence that you ran into Lu Du at Qingchan Temple?”

Naturally Ming Huashang would not admit it, and swore solemnly, “Of course.”

Cheng Xun’s lips moved, and he looked at Ming Huashang as though wanting to say something but holding back. The last time she had inexplicably rushed to Duke Chengguo’s residence to ask him about Erudite Lu, Cheng Xun had already sensed something was off. Later, hearing that Ming Huashang had encountered the culprit at Qingchan Temple and that Ming Huazhang, who arrived shortly after, had caught the man on the spot, Cheng Xun’s suspicions grew even clearer.

Ming Huashang must have set a trap together with her elder brother, deliberately luring Lu Du out. It was hard to believe that the Second Miss Ming whom the outside world dismissed as an idle, all-show-and-no-substance good-for-nothing actually had the nerve to meet a murderer alone.

She had the most docile, gentle face, yet harbored such a bold and reckless heart — it was truly unexpected.

Cheng Xun, in fact, did not approve of Ming Huashang taking such risks. She was, after all, a young lady raised in the inner chambers; she ought to spend her days teasing cats and embroidering flowers, not getting mixed up in such bloody affairs. Only, since this case concerned his own sister, and Ming Huashang had just helped them find the culprit, Cheng Xun could not very well voice his objection outright. So he earnestly advised her instead: “Second Young Lady, I am truly grateful to you and your elder brother for clearing my sister’s name. But it is far too dangerous for a young lady to go out alone like that. From now on, you should not put yourself at risk again.”

Ming Huashang smiled faintly and lowered her eyes, saying nothing more. She understood what Madam Chengguo and her own grandmother intended, and she also understood that, by worldly standards, Cheng Xun truly was a fine prospect for marriage. He was speaking out of genuine concern for her.

He was the most ordinary kind of noble young master one could find in Chang’an — raised since childhood on the Four Books and Five Classics, trained to be an heir. He would marry a wife of matching status, give her honor and dignity after the wedding, and shoulder the duty of raising children and carrying on the household. But that would be all.

He would never bring matters of court business back into the inner chambers, would never listen to his wife’s opinions on great affairs of state, and would certainly never say to a woman, “trust the one you employ, and employ only the one you trust.” None of this was Cheng Xun’s fault — as a noble young master, the fact that he did not frequent brothels and had fathered no illegitimate children before marriage already put him above the vast majority of young men of his standing.

Cheng Xun could not understand why, when everything had been fine only moments ago, Ming Huashang had suddenly grown distant, the space between them stretching for no apparent reason. He paused for a moment, then tried to find a new topic: “I wonder what Second Young Lady usually does at home — do you have any particular interests?”

“Nothing besides eating and sleeping,” Ming Huashang answered honestly. “Apart from eating and drinking, I’m not skilled at any accomplishments.”

Cheng Xun was caught off guard for a moment, then smiled and smoothed things over: “Second Young Lady is too modest. Vice Prefect Ming is renowned throughout the Eastern Capital as a talented young man, mentioned in the same breath as the Xie family’s eldest son. Being his sister, how could you possibly be unskilled in poetry, calligraphy, and painting?”

Ming Huashang smiled at him and said, “It’s true. My Second Brother excels at everything he does anyway — with him bringing glory to Duke Zhenguo’s household, why should I bother trying so hard? I’d rather just enjoy life.”

Cheng Xun was stunned for a moment. Looking into the crystalline, bright eyes of the young woman before him, brimming with smiles, he felt as though he had stepped into a fog — Ming Huashang stood just behind it, seemingly within reach yet impossible to grasp. For the first time, Cheng Xun felt he could not read a woman at all. He couldn’t help but ask, “Women in the capital all take pride in being talented and skilled in needlework. Doesn’t it worry you, not learning these things?”

“What is there to worry about?” Ming Huashang said this with complete ease. “I know what kind of person I am, and I know what I want. I don’t need to learn things I don’t need. There’s no reason to live exactly like everyone else.”

This time Cheng Xun paused for a long while, looking at Ming Huashang with an unreadable expression: “You really are nothing like the rumors say.”

Ming Huashang was not concerned with how others saw her. She merely hummed in acknowledgment and said nothing further. On both sides, plum blossoms bloomed in silence, their fragrance drifting unseen. After walking a while, Cheng Xun again searched for something to say: “Second Young Lady and Vice Prefect Ming seem to be very close?”

“That’s right,” Ming Huashang said. “My Second Brother is the finest young man under heaven.”

Hearing this, Cheng Xun instinctively felt uneasy, but then he reminded himself that Ming Huashang rarely left the household, and that in her world there was only her elder brother — it made sense that she would regard him as her whole sky. He said, “Vice Prefect Ming truly is a rare talent — even my grandfather has nothing but praise for him. He achieved great merit in solving this case, gaining recognition before His Majesty and the entire court. In the years to come, he is bound to accomplish great things.”

Ming Huashang was about to reply when, suddenly, a clear, cold voice came from behind them: “Young Master Cheng flatters me. I dare not accept such praise.”

Ming Huashang turned around and saw a figure striding through the remaining snow, emerging from a blaze of red plum blossoms. He pushed aside a slanting plum branch and said to Ming Huashang, “Why are you walking so fast? Are you cold?”

Ming Huashang was somewhat surprised — why had Ming Huazhang come out here? She had assumed he would prefer to stay in the main hall talking with Duke Zhenguo and Duke Chengguo.

Ming Huashang did not answer. Ming Huazhang, without the slightest hesitation, reached out and took her hand, squeezing it, and said, “It’s a little cold.”

Without waiting for her to respond, he undid his own cloak and draped it over Ming Huashang’s shoulders from behind. Ming Huazhang lowered his eyes and carefully tied the thin straps for her, his lashes lowered, the line of his profile cold and clean, as crisp as ice and snow — only his eyes were dark as thick ink, unfathomable.

Cheng Xun sensed a faint hostility. Why did it feel as though Ming Huazhang was doing this deliberately, in front of him, like a tiger marking its territory at the sight of an intruder?

But Ming Huashang was only his sister, not his fiancée. Sooner or later she would have to marry, and Duke Chengguo’s household was a fitting match for the Ming family — from any angle, Cheng Xun would make a fine brother-in-law. Why would Ming Huazhang react with such hostility?

Yet, thinking of Ming Huazhang’s reputation in the capital, Cheng Xun decided he must be the one judging a gentleman’s heart with a petty man’s measure. Ming Huazhang was known to be upright and dignified, scrupulous in propriety — how could he possibly harbor such feelings toward his own sister? It must simply be that the two siblings were close, and Ming Huazhang had grown anxious seeing his sister catch a chill.

Having reasoned this through to his own satisfaction, Cheng Xun took the initiative to ingratiate himself with his prospective brother-in-law, smiling as he said, “Vice Prefect, what brings you out here?”

Ming Huazhang did not even spare him a glance, saying flatly, “I came to see my own sister. Is there a problem with that?”

Cheng Xun’s expression stiffened slightly. He thought to himself, how strange — why were both these siblings so difficult to deal with? Was this simply how the Ming family behaved? He laughed again and said, “Of course. Second Young Lady only just escaped with her life from Qingchan Temple — no wonder the Vice Prefect feels uneasy. Second Young Lady is fortunate indeed to have such a devoted elder brother as you.”

Unmoved, Ming Huazhang focused on straightening Ming Huashang’s collar, his tone light as air: “It is not her fortune to have become my sister — it is mine.”

Cheng Xun watched closely as Ming Huazhang adjusted Ming Huashang’s collar, his brows knitting briefly before he forced himself to relax, telling himself that the two of them, having grown up together as twins, were naturally closer than ordinary siblings — he shouldn’t read too much into it. Cheng Xun managed a smile with little real warmth and said, “By that logic, whoever marries Second Young Lady one day will be even more fortunate, won’t he?”

“She is currently cultivating at home and will not be considering marriage anytime soon.”

“But I heard Second Young Lady has already turned seventeen this year,” Cheng Xun said, looking steadily at Ming Huazhang. “She cannot live in Duke Zhenguo’s household forever. Eventually, she will have to marry out.”

Hearing that even an outsider could so confidently declare that she would have to leave sooner or later, a surge of resentment rose unbidden in Ming Huazhang’s heart. She had indeed turned seventeen this year, the latest legal age by which a woman was required to marry according to the statutes, and everyone, as though by unspoken agreement, was arranging matches for Ming Huashang — without even thinking to ask his opinion.

Rationally, Ming Huazhang knew that a woman who remained unmarried would face a great deal of gossip, but emotionally, he could not bear even the thought of her settling matters of marriage with another man. He could only convince himself with the excuse that she did not wish to marry — telling himself that he was simply respecting her wishes, not acting out of selfish desire.

Ming Huashang, holding the ties of the cloak, blinked at the two of them, somewhat at a loss. What were they doing? Whether or not she married should be her own decision, shouldn’t it?

Ming Huashang smiled and tactfully interrupted this inexplicable standoff: “Eldest Sister and Third Sister have already walked far ahead — let’s hurry and catch up with them.”

Ming Huazhang and Cheng Xun fell silent at the same moment, following quietly behind Ming Huashang. Ming Yu and Ming Shuo were resting in a pavilion; from a distance, they saw a young woman draped in a black cloak approaching, flanked on either side by two young men, the three of them walking in an oddly silent procession.

Catching sight of them, Ming Shuo pouted and complained, “Grandmother plays favorites, and so does Second Brother. We deliberately cleared the way for them, and yet Second Brother still came chasing after her, worried she might be taken advantage of.”

Ming Yu pretended not to hear, maintaining her air as the eldest sister, and came forward graciously to greet them: “Young Master Cheng, Second Brother, Second Sister — you’ve arrived. Second Sister, is that—”

“My cloak,” Ming Huazhang cut in calmly. “She walked too long in the plum grove and couldn’t bear the cold.”

Something tightened in Ming Yu’s mind. Was it just her imagination, or did something in those words sound faintly pointed?

Ming Yu glanced quickly at Ming Huazhang — cold, noble, and radiant as the bright moon — and told herself she must be overthinking it. She smiled and said, “That was careless of me — I forgot to remind Second Sister to wear a cloak before going out. Lianqiao, fetch my red fox-fur cloak for Second Sister to keep warm.”

The maid was about to comply when Ming Huazhang coldly stopped her: “No need. She’ll wear mine.”

Ming Yu was momentarily at a loss for words, sensing an invisible territorial display. The feeling was absurd enough that Ming Yu laughed awkwardly and said, “That’s true too — Second Brother and Second Sister are twins, so naturally he understands Second Sister’s preferences best. Since Second Sister is cold, let’s go inside quickly, before the wind catches you out here.”

Ming Huashang, forcibly wrapped in Ming Huazhang’s cloak, had no chance to say a single word before once again becoming the delicate doll who feared cold and wind, ushered into the pavilion amid everyone’s fussing. She felt utterly helpless — what had gotten into Ming Huazhang today? He was like a string of firecrackers, snapping at whoever crossed his path.

The five of them sat in the pavilion, facing one another in silence, with only the sound of the wind audible outside. Even Ming Shuo, the most spoiled among them, sensed that something was off and lowered her head without a word.

After enduring the cold wind for a good while, Ming Huashang could bear it no longer and said, “There’s nothing much to see in the winter garden besides this plum grove. The elders must be waiting for us — let’s head back.”

Cheng Xun, too, let out a breath of relief. Although he regretted not having had much chance to speak with Ming Huashang, it was still better than lingering here. Sitting beside Ming Huazhang gave him the inexplicable sensation of a man caught red-handed trying to steal someone else’s beloved, pinned under the weight of moral judgment.

Old Madam Ming and Madam Chengguo had only been chatting for a short while when they suddenly saw Ming Huashang and Cheng Xun return. Old Madam Ming frowned faintly and said, “Eldest Granddaughter, you’re all back from your stroll in the garden?”

Ming Yu replied, “Yes. Second Sister felt a bit cold, so we came back early.”

Hearing this, Madam Chengguo said slowly, “The wind is strong today; it’s good that you came back early. We can pick a better day to stroll through the garden again. Old Madam Ming is truly blessed — your grandchildren are all so outstanding and accomplished, it’s enough to make anyone envious. I wonder, does Duke Zhenguo’s household have any plans for the Lantern Festival?”

Hearing this, Ming Huazhang frowned, very much wanting to refuse, but in front of the elders, the decision was not his to make. Duke Zhenguo answered, “Not yet. Second Daughter has been clamoring to go see the lanterns, but I have business that day and cannot leave the household. My second and third sisters-in-law are not in good health and shouldn’t be jostled about in the crowded streets. I worried that without an elder to watch over her, she’d run wild in the streets, so I haven’t agreed to it yet.”

Hearing this, Ming Huashang let out a soft huff, her face clearly displeased. Cheng Xun noticed, and couldn’t help but smile.

At first, he had assumed Ming Huashang was simply an ordinary noble young lady who acted recklessly because she was doted on. Later, when she had rushed over alone to ask about Lu Du, and comforted him at the gate, the boldness and meticulous care she displayed had left even Cheng Xun feeling inadequate by comparison. Cheng Xun gradually realized that Ming Huashang was not the good-for-nothing of rumor — she might in fact be a remarkably clever young woman.

Today was, in truth, his first real encounter with Ming Huashang. He had seen the rebellious, unyielding spirit beneath her surface, and he had also seen her affectionate, coquettish side in front of her family. Each face was a new version of her, and Cheng Xun couldn’t help but wonder just how many more surprises Ming Huashang held — what was she truly like, underneath it all?

Seeing the look in Cheng Xun’s eyes, Madam Chengguo knew at once that her grandson had taken a liking to the Ming family’s Second Young Lady, and so she said, “Young ladies are different from young men — there are only a few days each year when they can go out and truly enjoy themselves. The Cheng family also plans to view the lanterns that day. If Duke Zhenguo trusts us, perhaps the young ladies could join our procession. The Duke has arranged guards, and the route has already been cleared — I assure you, they will be brought home safe and sound.”

With the Cheng family having spoken so plainly, Duke Zhenguo could hardly refuse, and said, “Then I shall trouble Duke Chengguo and his wife.”

The two families agreed on a time and place to meet on the day of the Lantern Festival, after which the Chengguo family took their leave. Ming Huashang, finally able to go out, could not hide the delight on her face. Ming Yu and Ming Shuo were equally pleased, chattering excitedly about what clothes and jewelry to wear for the festival.

Ming Huazhang watched coldly as Ming Huashang huddled among the maids, gleefully discussing the Lantern Festival with her sisters, seemingly oblivious to the implications behind men and women meeting on that night. He watched her for a long while, but Ming Huashang never once glanced his way. The displeasure in his heart could no longer be suppressed, and with a cold expression, he turned and walked away.

Ming Huazhang made no effort to conceal the sound of his departure from the main hall, walking slowly along the corridor afterward, waiting for Ming Huashang to catch up to him. Yet this time he waited a long while — dawdling all the way to the gate of Qinghui Courtyard — and still, no clear, sweet voice calling “Second Brother” came from behind him.

Ming Huazhang’s heart sank heavily. Could she really be considering marriage to Cheng Xun? But hadn’t she been the one to say she didn’t want to marry, that she wanted her Second Brother to support her for life?