Daylight entered the room; the casement window stood half-open. All the people the Jing Zhaoyiin’s office could spare had gone out, and the building was uncommonly quiet. Ming Huashang was sprawled over the desk, yawning one yawn after another, forcing herself to study the gunpowder formulas.

Xie Jichuan turned a page of his book, glanced at her, and said, “What were you doing last night? You look utterly exhausted.”

Ming Huashang had spent the night lying awake with her thoughts until the second watch before she finally fell asleep. This morning she had dragged herself out of bed looking completely deflated — like a mop. She rubbed the moisture from her eyes and said, “Nothing in particular. I started thinking about things, and then somehow I couldn’t sleep.”

The ten-day deadline hung over the Jing Zhaoyiin’s office like a mountain. Everyone was run ragged — Ming Huazhang, Ren Yao, and Jiang Ling had each led a team out to search the city. Seeing that Ming Huashang was not in good spirits, Ming Huazhang had firmly ordered her to stay at the office, and left with the others.

As for Xie Jichuan, no one dared assign tasks to the Crown Prince’s Secretariat Gentleman — and Xie Jichuan’s sense of shame was also remarkably well-armored. While everyone else ran themselves in circles, he could sit calmly in the office drinking tea, under the impressive pretext of deciphering the riddle.

His fingers were pale and slender. He held the Yue porcelain cup and blew gently over it, then asked at leisure, “Are you thinking about today’s banquet at Princess Taiping’s estate?”

Ming Huashang choked slightly and looked at him in surprise. “Why would I be thinking about that?”

“Oh, so you do know about it.” Xie Jichuan said, “I saw how casually you’re dressed and assumed Princess Taiping hadn’t invited you.”

Ming Huashang choked again. She stared in silence at Xie Jichuan. “Xie Jichuan — has anyone ever told you that you are very good at offending people?”

“Mm.” Xie Jichuan took a sip of tea and gave a mild nod. “Now you have.”

Xie Jichuan was poised and handsome, sitting there holding his tea with one hand, refined as a painting — but that mouth of his was truly insufferable. Ming Huashang curled her lips and said bluntly, “Jichuan, women are not going to like you if you carry on this way.”

“So then,” Xie Jichuan put down his cup and looked at her, “what you were lying awake thinking about was a young man? I thought at worst it would be the case — I had no idea it would be something so ordinary.”

Ming Huashang was indignant. “The affection between men and women is something that arises quite naturally. Is that so ordinary?”

“Is it not?” Xie Jichuan said, then paused for a strange beat and asked with a slight tilt of his head, “So — you really were thinking about that?”

Ming Huashang let out a humph, turned away, and noisily flipped through her book, refusing to engage with him any further. The room fell quiet for a while, with only the soft rustle of paper. After a moment, Xie Jichuan turned a page and, as if idly, asked, “Who is it?”

“Don’t you know that a young girl’s secrets are not to be asked? Go solve your riddle — I don’t want to corrupt you with my ordinary concerns.”

The gunpowder formulas were bound up with alchemy. Even though Ming Huashang had been reading them quite attentively, she remained thoroughly confused. She copied out many of the names and terms, stared at them with a look of deep misery for a while, and ultimately felt that some things in life simply required acceptance.

She picked up her book, crept over to Xie Jichuan’s desk with a conspiratorial air, and grinned. “Jichuan, are you busy?”

“Yes.”

He refused so mercilessly that Ming Huashang was stopped cold. She looked at the book in Xie Jichuan’s hand and accused, “You’re not solving the riddle at all — you’re reading for pleasure. How can you call that busy?”

Xie Jichuan didn’t even bother lifting his eyes. He said languidly, “Don’t you know that a busy person’s thoughts are not to be asked about? I feel like it.”

Ming Huashang met with a thorough rebuff and felt thoroughly at a loss. She had known long ago that Xie Jichuan’s tongue could be cutting, but for some reason today he was more cutting than usual. Still, Ming Huashang kept her smile in place and applied herself shamelessly. “Jichuan possesses exceptional brilliance and surpassing intelligence — keeping several things in mind at once would be absolutely no trouble for you. What riddle could possibly stump you? Jichuan — Xie dear Brother — couldn’t you help me take a look at these alchemy formulas and explain what they mean?”

Ming Huashang was committed to the performance of humble supplication. She spread the scroll out on the desk and diligently poured tea and refilled Xie Jichuan’s cup. Xie Jichuan swept a sleeve aside and condescended to glance at it, asking, “Why are you looking at these?”

Seeing an opening, Ming Huashang quickly pushed the brush and ink toward him and said, “My lived experience is nothing compared to the veteran constables who’ve spent decades out in the world. I can’t be much help when it comes to finding people. So I thought — if I read up on books related to gunpowder, I might be able to imagine myself in the killer’s position and refine the profile. Maybe I’ll even catch something useful.”

Xie Jichuan gave a quiet derisive sound. “In the end, it all comes back to helping him solve the case.”

“How can you call this helping him?” Ming Huashang had been all smiles and banter until now, but her expression became earnest. Her eyes were deep and sincere as she said, “I also want to find the killer soon. I can feel it — this killer is not a bad person at his core. He is simply too disillusioned. If we can find him sooner, there may be a chance to bring him back from the edge. I know that in this world, good being rewarded with good and evil with evil is so often impossible. But I can do what little is within my power to make more people willing to believe: that righteousness prevails over evil, that virtue overcomes wickedness, that justice may be late, but will never be absent. This is not only Second Brother’s aspiration — it is mine as well.”

Aspiration? Xie Jichuan looked into Ming Huashang’s eyes for a long while, then said, “What is an aspiration?”

This question stumped Ming Huashang. She thought for a moment and said, “Perhaps — a will that transcends power and wealth, something more important than life itself?”

Xie Jichuan gave a faint snort, and something contemptuous passed through his dark eyes. He waved his sleeve dismissively. “People die for wealth as birds die for food — for their own sake, people will do anything. There is nothing in this world more important than life.”

Ming Huashang said quietly, “There is.”

Xie Jichuan smiled thinly and asked, “And have you found such a person yourself?”

Ming Huashang was taken aback, and for a moment truly couldn’t think of a convincing example. Xie Jichuan gave an unsurprised snort, and said carelessly, “Second Little Sister, don’t be too naive. The great moral truths in books are there to deceive you. When those sages wrote their moral exhortations, they probably didn’t believe them even themselves.”

Ming Huashang felt that Xie Jichuan’s view was far too bleak, but she couldn’t find the words to refute it. Just then, the casement window was rattled by the wind. Ming Huashang glanced back instinctively, and gave a small sound of surprise.

Xie Jichuan followed her gaze. “What is it?”

Ming Huashang frowned, shaking her head slowly. “Why are there so many fallen petals outside the window? They were blooming so well just a little while ago.”

Ming Huashang and Xie Jichuan waited in the Jing Zhaoyiin’s office for the whole day, and by the time the Hour of the Monkey approached, those who had gone out began to drift back in one by one.

That they could finish this early today was entirely thanks to Princess Taiping. Princess Taiping was hosting a flower-viewing banquet, and true to her custom, she did everything with grand ceremony. Invitations had gone out to every notable imperial relative, noble family, meritorious clan, and man of letters in Chang’an. Though Duke Zhenguo’s estate had declined somewhat in prominence over the years, the title still stood, and Ming Huashang and Ming Huazhang were on the guest list.

Ming Huazhang was preoccupied with the case and had no desire whatsoever to squander time on something like this at such a critical juncture. But as the sole son of Duke Zhenguo, he could not afford to snub Princess Taiping. He had no choice but to swallow his reluctance, finish early, and go through the motions by putting in an appearance.

Jiang Ling and Ren Yao also needed to attend on behalf of their families. Too lazy to return home to change, they found an empty room in the Jing Zhaoyiin’s office to change their clothes there. Ming Huashang had already changed before setting out that morning, so she and Xie Jichuan stood waiting in the courtyard. Ming Huazhang was the first to emerge — and Xie Jichuan raised an eyebrow at the sight of him. “Did you really just change your clothes? Today Princess Taiping has invited a great many members of the imperial family — Prince Liang, Prince Wei, the Crown Prince, Prince Xiang are all going, and from what I hear, the Duke of Yingguo and the Duke of Chengguo will be there too. And you’re going dressed like this?”

“I came without my official robes. That is already courtesy enough.” Ming Huazhang straightened his dagger-coin belt and said with indifference, “We’re just going through the motions. There’s nothing worth fussing over. Let’s go.”

Ming Huashang chimed in with unusual compliance. “Second Brother looks magnificent in anything he wears. This outfit, though simple, is dignified and proper — what is there to fuss about?”

Xie Jichuan’s eyebrow twitched. He glanced at Ming Huashang. Ming Huazhang, having been so openly complimented on his looks in front of everyone, felt suddenly uncomfortable even in his own limbs. He gave a small cough, rare for him to feel sheepish — and genuinely regretted coming out so hastily, when he should have taken a moment to tidy up. He forced himself to look unconcerned and said with studied calm, “Where are the other two?”

Speak of the devil, and there they were — Ren Yao pushed open the door and came out, having changed into a vibrant, capable red ensemble in the barbarian style. Jiang Ling heard from inside that the others were about to leave and scrambled in a flurry. “Wait for me!”

Jiang Ling came rushing out, and Ming Huashang saw the state of his hair and looked at him in distaste. “What happened to your head?”

Jiang Ling felt around himself, and it did seem that his hair crown had come a little loose. Unconcerned, he waved dismissively. “No matter — small issue. Doesn’t affect this son of a Marquis’s good looks.”

“That won’t do!” Ming Huashang was genuinely unable to stand it. “You are not walking beside me looking like that. Second Brother, does the Jing Zhaoyiin’s office have a mirror? Let him redo his hair.”

Jiang Ling tried to adjust the jade hairpin by feel, and Ren Yao watched his clumsy attempts with pained eyes. Unable to bear it any longer, she kicked the back of his knees with her boot and said impatiently, “Stop fidgeting. Lower your head.”

Jiang Ling let out an “oh” and lowered his head, looking rather aggrieved. Ren Yao re-combed his disheveled hair, secured it within the gold headpiece, and fixed it with the jade pin. Ren Yao had strong hands, and Jiang Ling winced and grimaced. “Ow, ow, ow — do you know what you’re doing?”

How would an unmarried young woman know how to dress a man’s hair? Only now did Ren Yao realize that this had been less than proper. Her face flushed red, and she felt suddenly flustered — she could only disguise her embarrassment with a bolder gesture. “Shut up.”

Ren Yao had stepped in so naturally, and Jiang Ling had lowered his head so readily, that even the three others in the courtyard were caught off guard. Ming Huazhang had already been about to send someone to fetch a mirror — now he quietly withdrew that thought, shifted his gaze without expression, and smoothly changed the subject to dispel the awkwardness. “It’s about time. Everyone’s here — let’s go.”

The other four rode on horseback. Ming Huashang absolutely refused to take a carriage and led out a gentle little mare of her own. Five horses stood in the road in what could only be described as considerable chaos. Jiang Ling suddenly bellowed, “Look, everyone — what’s that?!”

Chang’an was already in a state of anxiety over the explosions, and the others in Ming Huashang’s group quickly turned to look — only for Jiang Ling to burst into laughter, kick his horse forward, and surge to the front with a shout. “Ha! I’m first!”

Ming Huashang caught on — and felt her fist harden. Ren Yao snapped “fool” and gave chase as well, taking off after him at full gallop.

Watching those two disappear in a cloud of dust, racing through the streets of Chang’an, Ming Huashang thought she at least shouldn’t be dead last, and was just about to sprint off — when Xie Jichuan, who had had exactly the same idea, shot out in front of her, grazing her horse as he passed.

Ming Huashang yelled “that’s cheating!” and struggled to catch up. Ming Huazhang was left behind alone at the rear. He sighed, and turned to the constable behind him. “Issue each of them a penalty notice — riding at full gallop in Chang’an is forbidden between the Hour of the Monkey and the Hour of the Rooster.”

·

Princess Taiping’s estate was ablaze with lights at this hour, carriages streaming in and out, the atmosphere lively and festive. The estate’s chief steward was standing at the gate with a wide, welcoming smile — when suddenly a rush of wind swept through and several horses came galloping one after another. The leading rider was a young woman who hauled back on her reins with one hand, her horse rearing up on its hind legs with a loud whinny. She sat steady in the saddle, her bearing bold and exuberant, and declared, “Ha! I knew I’d be first.”

A young gentleman in blue came gliding in second. Behind them a young man and young woman were clutching at each other’s reins, each trying to force the other into last place.

The chief steward stared, quite at a loss. Then came the sound of unhurried hoofbeats, and a gentleman in a white robe with an auspicious cloud pattern dismounted. He wore a dagger-coin belt at his waist and black leather boots on his feet. As he stepped down, his robe hem was caught by the wind, and the snowflakes embroidered along the hem in silver thread shimmered and danced — he seemed wrapped in the floating grandeur of a great pear-blossom downpour, like a drift of spring petals whirling back on the wind.

He stood unhurried before the deepening dusk of Chang’an, and in that simple stance he was the very image of the third month’s spring breeze.

The chief steward’s eyes brightened. He had served at Princess Taiping’s estate and had seen countless nobles, officials, and men of talent and elegance — and even so, at the sight of this young man, he was genuinely astonished. The steward stepped forward. “Greetings, young gentleman. May I ask which noble family you are from?”

Ming Huazhang gave a slight bow of acknowledgment, and said, “I am Ming Huazhang of Duke Zhenguo’s estate, and I offer my respectful congratulations for Princess Taiping’s good fortune. The young lady in front is my younger sister — I hope the chief steward will not laugh at us.”

The chief steward understood now — so this was the famous dragon-and-phoenix twins from Duke Zhenguo’s estate. The elder brother was indeed as fine as a jade orchid tree, his bearing regal and elegant. The steward said with a smile, “Second Miss Ming is lively and spirited — a truly genuine nature. Master Ming, please come in.”

Ming Huazhang thanked him and calmly stepped around Jiang Ling, who was still entangled with Ming Huashang. He said levelly, “Huashang — we should go in.”

The chief steward maintained his dignified smile, only now registering: wasn’t that young man the heir of Marquis Jiang’an’s household? After the rest of the group presented their name cards, the chief steward’s expression grew even stranger.

There was a Miss from Marquis Pingnan’s household, and a young gentleman from the Xie family. By rights these were all very respectable families — so why had they produced young people who were so… surprising?

The chief steward watched quietly as they caught up with the pair of siblings ahead. These teenagers and young adults, walking along together — backs straight, limbs slender — their laughter and banter making the onlooker helplessly wistful.

Oh, to be young.

Ming Huashang and Jiang Ling had been bickering all the way over about who had come in last, and were still exchanging threats when they reached the fork where the male and female guests divided. Their voices carried into the women’s parlor where many young ladies had been resting, and heads turned, eyes drifting over in their direction.

Ming Huashang, embarrassed by the scene they were making, could only agree to settle matters another day. She and Ren Yao walked toward the parlor together. The young ladies inside came over to greet them, their expressions laden with meaning. “Wasn’t that just now Second Master Ming and the young heir of the Jiang’an Marquis estate? How did you come to be with them?”

Another young lady added softly, “I also noticed that Master Xie was there as well.”

Ren Yao was faintly startled, realizing for the first time that Jiang Ling — that foolish boy — was apparently quite talked about among the young ladies. Ming Huashang was entirely unperturbed. Having a celebrated elder brother meant this sort of thing had happened countless times since childhood; she was well accustomed to it. She said with easy composure, “That is my second brother. Second Brother happened to run into Xie — ah, Xie Jichuan — and the heir of the Jiang’an estate on the road, and he was kind enough to escort us over.”

The young ladies, on hearing she was Ming Huazhang’s younger sister, immediately warmed to her and drew her into cheerful conversation. Ming Huashang listened to the implied overtures woven into their words, her smile unchanged on the outside, but feeling a quiet pang inside.

These young women were so friendly toward her because they saw her as a potential future sister-in-law — not as a rival. But if the future were different…

But she and he would have no future.

Ming Huashang silenced those thoughts and rallied her spirits. Fearing she might be neglecting Ren Yao, she turned to draw Ren Yao into the conversation — and unexpectedly caught sight of someone.

Su Yuji.

In the dappled glow of the lanterns, she stood among the flowering shrubs, looking quietly back at her.

Ming Huashang was caught off guard, and then someone spoke to her and she gathered herself, smiling and responding to whatever was being said. When she looked back again, Su Yuji was gone — as if she had only been a trick of the eye just now.

Ming Huashang stood puzzled for a moment, then reasoned that Su Yuji must have come with Su Xingzhi. Su Xingzhi was last year’s top scholar and currently serving in the Surveillance Bureau — a promising prospect with considerable prospects ahead of him. Princess Taiping would certainly not pass up the chance to build connections. That Su Xingzhi had been invited and had brought family was not at all surprising.

Running into Su Yuji here had left Ming Huashang somewhat distracted for the remainder of the evening, and Ren Yao, for whatever reason, was also quiet and withdrawn. Neither of them had much to say, and the two of them sat in silence in the midst of the lively parlor, entirely out of place with the laughter and merriment around them.

Before long, a commotion outside announced the arrival of the Zhang brothers — the two guests of honor had arrived. With the final guests in place, the banquet soon began.

Most of those present were members of the imperial family. Under the Empress’s arrangement of marriages, the Li and Wu families had been bound tightly together — everyone was either a relative or a spouse. There was no need to observe strict separation between men and women. Princess Taiping had simply placed a folding screen in the middle of the great hall — men’s tables on the left, women’s tables on the right — the two sides separated by lantern light, with faint, indistinct glimpses through.

There is a saying: view the clouds from a boat, view your shadow by moonlight, view a beauty by lamplight. The young women were each lovely and animated, glances full of expression. On the opposite side, the young men were equally fine and spirited, their silhouettes filling the room with energy.

Princess Taiping had seen all manner of scenes like this in her time. She moved through the banquet with effortless grace, her conversation and laughter flowing freely. After she raised her cup and gave the opening remarks, exquisitely prepared dishes began to arrive in an unbroken stream.

Ming Huashang and Ren Yao shared a table, and both ate with complete and uncomplicated appetite. But not all those at the banquet had come to eat. No sooner had it begun than noblewomen were already leading their daughters forward to toast Princess Taiping.

Princess Taiping was wearing a red gown traced with gold and draped with a gauze-light outer robe in pale yellow. Though it was still only early spring, she had already changed into thin silk, leaving a stretch of lustrous, fair skin visible. After a few cups of wine, the color had risen in her cheeks, and her eyes danced with a beauty that was utterly captivating — she was truly peerless in her radiance.

Many of the young men present were stealing glances at Princess Taiping, and even Ming Huashang couldn’t help but inwardly marvel at her beauty. It was not merely a matter of features, but the assurance and grandeur of a truly magnificent woman — bold and confident, abundant and majestic. That was the only kind of beauty worthy of comparison to a national-treasure peony. By contrast, the slender, delicate young ladies around her seemed to fade like chrysanthemums beside her.

At her mother’s prompting, Princess Anning rose to offer a toast to Princess Taiping.

Princess Taiping looked carefully at her for a long moment when she saw her, and couldn’t help calling her forward and taking her by the hand. “It has been so long since I’ve seen Anning — Anning has grown lovelier and lovelier. With such looks, she might rightly be called the greatest beauty in Chang’an.”

Princess Anning lowered her head and gave a modest smile, but the pride was all there in the corners of her eyes and brow. Others around her hastened to flatter, saying, “What does Your Highness mean? The title of greatest beauty belongs to no one but you.”

Princess Taiping waved a hand. Her sleeve slipped down from her wrist, revealing a stretch of skin as smooth as fine porcelain. She reclined languidly against the armrest and said, “If this were twenty years ago I might have contested it, but now I have several children — it would be laughable to compete with the younger generation for the title of greatest beauty. I am growing old. It is the young people’s world now.”

The Crown Prince’s consort, Consort Wei, felt Princess Taiping’s words were fair enough, but knowing how well-favored the Princess was, still demurred. “They are only children — what would they know of beauty. If Anning and Yongtai can match even one of your fingers, I shall be overjoyed enough to burn incense in gratitude.”

The female guests all echoed her. Princess Taiping, basking in everyone’s praise, broke into a smile. “Do not flatter me so — I shall be laughed at if anyone overhears. It is Wu Chongxun who has gotten the better of the deal — taking Anning as his wife so easily. Where is Chongxun? He should be fined a cup.”

In terms of pure features, Princess Anning was even more striking than Princess Taiping had been at her age. But before she could enjoy the admiration of the young men of the city, she had already been matched into the Wu family. In two months’ time she would marry Wu Chongxun, the legitimate son of Prince Liang.

Separated by only a folding screen, the men’s tables had no difficulty catching Princess Taiping’s words. The young men began teasing Wu Chongxun good-naturedly. Wu Chongxun took it in good spirit — he picked up the wine vessel at his table and drained it in one go, allowing Princess Taiping to jest as she pleased.

With Wu Chongxun’s willing compliance, the men’s side broke into more teasing and laughter, and the whole atmosphere of the banquet hall surged with warmth. Princess Taiping laughed too, and said in mock reproach, “But Anning is the apple of the Eastern Palace’s eye. With so many uncles and brothers watching over her, can you really have gotten her so easily? With our Li family this large, shouldn’t you be toasting each one of them in turn?”

Wu Chongxun, hearing that one cup was not enough — that he had to toast each person individually — felt dread at once. He pleaded immediately, “Your Highness, spare me! I cannot hold my wine — please let me off this once.”

Princess Taiping naturally refused to relent. Prince Wei said with a laugh, “Chongxun, your Aunt Taiping has a heart of stone — pleading will get you nowhere. Why not ask your Royal Uncle Ding to intercede? That might soften her.”

Wu Chongxun, hearing this, immediately turned to play on Prince Ding’s sympathies and beg for mercy. Every eye in the banquet hall fell on Prince Ding — for who did not know that Prince Ding was Princess Taiping’s husband?

Prince Ding kept that refined and gentle smile on his face throughout. Under the weight of all those subtle, knowing stares, he raised his cup toward Prince Wei in a slight gesture. “The Princess has Anning’s interests at heart. Prince Wei, spare me this once — do not use us for amusement.”

Prince Liang said to Prince Wei with a grin, “Second Brother, do you see? They’re of one mind, husband and wife — they won’t speak up for you.”

Laughter continued to ripple from the men’s tables. Princess Taiping had no trouble at all making sport of the younger generation, but when it came to herself, the smile on her face was strained.

She took a sip of wine, her expression cooling slightly, and turned to Princess Yongtai. “These men — they never tire of this kind of talk. Don’t mind them. Yongtai, Anning — let us aunts and nieces share a cup.”

Princess Yongtai was the Crown Prince’s eldest daughter. She had been keeping to Anning’s company all evening. Princess Taiping, afraid her elder niece might feel overlooked, took the initiative to include Yongtai as well.

Princess Yongtai was not like her younger sister in temperament — she was quiet and averse to drawing attention, and in truth she hadn’t minded being overlooked. At Princess Taiping’s sudden prompting, she hesitated a moment, then reached somewhat uncertainly for her cup. “Of course — thank you, Aunt.”

Tonight the ladies had been served a fruit wine light enough that even someone with no tolerance for alcohol could manage it. But on the other side of the screen, Prince Wei’s legitimate eldest son, Wu Yanji, heard this and became anxious. He interrupted Princess Taiping, blurting out, “Your Highness — it is late in the evening, and ladies should not drink too much. Allow me to take Yongtai’s cup in her place.”

Princess Taiping gave a surprised sound and looked at Princess Yongtai with an expression that was half-amused and half-knowing, and teased, “Yanji — that is rather unfair of you. You’ll drink in Yongtai’s place, but not in mine?”

Those assembled understood at once and broke into knowing laughter. Princess Yongtai and Wu Yanji had been married only a year, and both of them were private and reserved by nature. The young couple was suddenly the object of everyone’s amusement and flushed red. But Wu Yanji, even as his face turned the color of a cooked prawn, still held firm and refused to let Princess Yongtai drink.

Everyone present had moved through enough court circles to be perceptive, and with that display, they more or less understood. Princess Taiping did not insist that Princess Yongtai drink. Princess Yongtai sat at her table flushed all over, while her mother leaned toward her and murmured something. Princess Yongtai’s face still red, she gave a small nod.

Ming Huashang had her chopsticks in her mouth and was eating with full concentration — the playing and laughter of the banquet seemed entirely unrelated to her. She couldn’t hear what was being said on the other side, but any fool looking at the scene could guess: Princess Yongtai was most likely expecting a child.

What happy news. Ming Huashang offered a quiet inward blessing. And then, unexpectedly, she thought of the young man at last year’s equally grand palace banquet who had gently caught Princess Yongtai when she stumbled.

That young man, if she recalled correctly, was named Ji Xian — Princess Yongtai’s childhood sweetheart. Ji Xian had accompanied Princess Yongtai through the hardest years of her exile, and that was a love forged through real hardship. Ming Huashang still remembered Princess Yongtai’s bitter resistance and grief when the Empress had forcibly separated her from Ji Xian and betrothed her to Wu Yanji.

And yet, it seemed, even the deepest love and hatred could pass. And the time required had not even been a full year.

Ming Huashang could not help but wonder: if she died, what would Ming Huazhang do?

He would probably grieve for a few months and then return to his usual life. He would still be Chang’an’s famed and fine young gentleman. In a few years, he might well marry and have children. There was no shortage of young ladies in Chang’an and Luoyang who wished to marry him, and with his character, he would surely get along very well with a wife.

He would become a good husband, a good father. All his life he would be the image of the gentleman that books extolled. No one would ever know that he and his younger sister had once shared an undefined and ambiguous attachment — something that had wavered on the edge of propriety without quite crossing it, something that perhaps had never truly existed.

Suddenly Ming Huashang found she had no appetite at all. Meanwhile the imperial family above were reaching the heights of their enjoyment. Princess Taiping said, “Just drinking wine is dull — let us find a game to play. Anning is beautiful, and calling her the greatest beauty in Chang’an is not unwarranted. Since that is so, there ought also to be a greatest talent in Chang’an. At usual banquets, it is always women who are assessed and compared. Today, let us turn the tables. Bring paper and ink — let each gentleman write a poem, and let the ladies present serve as judges. Whichever gentleman’s poem the ladies find pleasing, he shall receive a red flower delivered to him.”