The twelfth day of the third month — an auspicious day for moving into a new home and relocating.

Today was the day the Prince of Yong moved into his royal residence, and Chang’an had been lively since early morning. At Duke Zhenguo’s mansion, the Second Madam of the Ming family looked as though she had shed twenty years, a smile she could not suppress tugging at the corners of her mouth — especially when she saw her daughter, dressed in full splendor and radiant beyond compare, which only lifted her spirits higher.

Today, Duke Zhenguo’s household was to attend the banquet at the Prince of Yong’s residence. Once the ladies of each branch had finished dressing, they were to gather at the Old Madam’s courtyard. The Second Madam led Ming Yu along the covered corridor, laughing and greeting people all the way, practically wearing the phrase “good fortune puts a spring in one’s step” on her face for all to see.

Upon arriving at the Yanshou Hall, it came as no surprise that the mother and daughter of the third branch had already arrived. The Second Madam entered the room, first smiled and paid her respects to the Old Madam, then led Ming Yu to find seats. A maidservant brought the Second Madam a cup of tea; she picked it up and took a delicate sip.

The Third Madam smiled and offered a polite remark: “Second Sister-in-law looks particularly spirited today.”

The Second Madam set down her teacup and said, “How did you come to know that A’Yu and the second son of the Rong family are betrothed?”

The Third Madam’s expression stiffened slightly. Had someone asked her that? Was it not simply that her daughter had secured a good match — was that worth going around announcing to everyone?

The Third Madam forced a smile and had no desire to hear more, but the Second Madam paid no mind and went on happily, “We never dared to aspire to a match with the Rong family. A’Yu is naturally fine in every way, but we are of a concubine’s branch, after all, and I feared the in-law’s family might find fault with her on that account. Who would have thought the Rong family would come to inquire about A’Yu of their own accord? In the old days, I never would have dared to dream that our A’Yu could marry the second son of the Rong family.”

Ming Yu kept her eyes lowered and smiled, the picture of a new bride’s shy demeanor. The Third Madam had little regard for the Second Madam’s small-minded ways, and met her with cold eyes, offering no response. As grandmother, the Old Madam could not help asking a thing or two: “Has the date been set?”

“Not yet, but the horoscope documents have already been exchanged. I think to myself — the Rong family is so grand and powerful, surely they wouldn’t go back on their word after receiving the girl’s documents, wouldn’t you say?”

What could the Third Madam say? She smiled insincerely and said, “Indeed. Congratulations, Second Sister-in-law, on finding a suitable husband for First Young Miss, just as you wished.”

The Second Madam did not take this as a jab at all, and happily accepted the words: “That’s right.”

Because of her concubine-branch status, Ming Yu had worked hard for many years, and now that she had finally gotten her wish, her whole being relaxed. She swept a glance at the Old Madam, whose expression was neutral, and thought: ordinarily, she would have been racking her brains for clever words to make the Old Madam happy. Now, she felt entirely indifferent to who said what — after all, she was not the one the Old Madam valued most.

Ming Yu knew that the Rong family had chosen her not because they truly prized her skill in music, chess, calligraphy, and painting, or her talent for running a household, but because she was a connection to the Prince of Yong. But what of it? As long as the other party had something to gain from her, she need never worry about losing her footing.

Ming Yu knew clearly where her value lay and who she should curry favor with in the future, so she said with considerable equanimity, “Third Aunt, now that we have already divided the family from First Uncle’s branch, the current First Young Miss of Duke Zhenguo’s household is younger sister Yuji — it would not be right to call me First Young Miss any longer.”

The Third Madam’s expression shifted slightly; she smiled without warmth and replied, “Elder is elder, and younger is younger. What of it — can it be that after dividing the household, we can no longer use the family seniority order?”

Ming Yu had just secured a fine match and her future was bright; she had no desire to get entangled with the third branch. She replied mildly, “Third Aunt is overthinking it. I didn’t mean it that way. If Grandfather were still alive, of course we would follow the family seniority order — but now it is First Uncle who heads the household. If I am still called First Young Miss, others might easily misunderstand.”

While they were still speaking, a maidservant’s voice came from outside the room: “Greetings to the two young ladies.”

Ming Yu thought — speak of the devil and the devil appears. She smiled toward the doorway and said, “Third Aunt and I were just talking about you, and here you come at just the right moment. Third Aunt, here is the true First Young Miss of the Ming family.”

Ming Yu knew these words would offend the Third Madam and the Old Madam, but what did it matter? Her future support lay in the Ming family’s connection to the Prince of Yong, and the Prince of Yong clearly held the first branch in closer regard — so how much did the Old Madam’s likes and dislikes really matter?

Not at all.

She had, in some measure, deliberately intended her words to be heard by the newcomers — yet when she turned and saw the two who had entered one after the other, she was still struck by a moment of admiration.

At the beginning of the month, Duke Zhenguo’s household had gone to the Great Zhao National Temple to offer incense, and Su Yuji had moved back to the ducal residence that very day. Not many days later, Duke Zhenguo opened the ancestral shrine and, as his first act, invited Nanny Su’s memorial tablet into the shrine to be enshrined beside the late Duchess Wang Yulan; his second act was to enter Su Yuji into the family register, and Su Yuji was officially renamed Ming Yuji.

To place an outsider — and a servant at that — into one’s own ancestral shrine for veneration was nothing short of astonishing by any convention. But the Duke of Zhenguo disregarded all counsel against it and insisted on carrying it through. On the surface, this seemed to benefit the Su family, but in reality, by elevating Nanny Su’s status, he was lending Ming Yuji his full backing.

Since Nanny Su had been Duchess Wang Yulan’s wet nurse and had also raised Ming Yuji, she could be enshrined in the Ming family’s ancestral shrine — and after that, who would dare question the First Young Miss who had been raised in the countryside and had only just returned to the ducal residence? Duke Zhenguo’s action was not merely a warning to the members of the Ming household; it was also a signal to the outside world: Ming Yuji was his eldest daughter, to be treated in every respect the same as Ming Huashang, and no one should harbor contempt for her because she had grown up in the countryside.

It is easy for sisters to vie for precedence, and the situation in Duke Zhenguo’s household was especially delicate: one daughter had been pampered and kept at his side, while the other had been fostered away in another place. Now that both lived under the same roof, either one could feel she had been wronged.

Everyone waited to see this pair of sisters clash — but contrary to expectation, the two got along amiably. Ming Huashang took the initiative to introduce Ming Yuji to the household staff; when the embroidery room sent over the new season’s garments and jewels, Ming Huashang said before everyone that they should be sent to the Spring Glory Courtyard first, for Ming Yuji to make her selections, and only afterward sent to her own rooms.

Take today, for instance: the Prince of Yong’s residence was hosting a moving-in banquet, and it was easy to imagine it would be a spectacular gathering of finery. At such occasions, wearing the same outfit as another guest was most to be avoided — yet Ming Huashang had proposed that she and Ming Yuji wear matching dresses, Ming Yuji in blue, Ming Huashang in yellow, so that anyone who saw them would recognize at once that they were twins, sparing others the need to ask.

At first, when Ming Yu heard of Ming Huashang’s idea, she had thought her absolutely mad — but now, seeing the two stand together, Ming Yu was struck with admiration. One wore a white blouse with a blue skirt, her accessories centered on blue jade; the other wore a purple blouse with a yellow skirt, her hair adorned with gemstones. One was like a secluded orchid on a cliff after the rain had cleared; the other like a begonia that would not sleep even in the deep of the night. Their resemblance in brow and eye, and in the cut of their clothing, was clearly visible — yet their differences were equally impossible to ignore.

Ming Yu suddenly felt that having a sister might not be so bad after all.

There were so many fine garments in the world, but only sisters could wear identical dresses without the slightest awkwardness.

Ming Yu could not tell whether Ming Huashang was genuinely accepting a sister who surpassed her in every way, or whether she was simply acting the part — and if it was an act, Ming Yu had to admire her for carrying it off to such a degree. Hearing the conversation inside the room, Ming Huashang unwrapped her cloak and smiled as she asked, “Greetings to Grandmother and Aunts. What were you all talking about just now? What about Elder Sister?”

Ming Yu quietly raised an eyebrow. How had she never noticed before? Ming Huashang was the true wolf in sheep’s clothing — soft and harmless on the surface, yet with a clear understanding of everything inside. Ming Huashang had surely understood, but she was unwilling to leave herself open to reproach; she was playing dumb with them.

Ming Yu understood the message without it being said, and let the subject drop, saying with a smile, “Your outfits are truly lovely. Had I known, I would have asked the embroidery room to make this dress for me as well.”

Ming Huashang sat down and said, “If Elder Sister likes it, I’ll have someone send the remaining fabric to Elder Sister’s rooms later. I have yet to congratulate Elder Sister on her betrothal — I wish you and your husband-to-be a lifetime of hearts bound together, growing old side by side.”

The Second Madam brightened the instant this matter was raised; she broke into a smile she could barely contain, then made a show of modesty: “The auspicious ceremony hasn’t even been held yet — it’s not settled. These past few days, Second Brother has been out looking at houses and has taken a liking to a three-courtyard residence in Xuanping Ward. The surroundings are fine, and it is also close to A’Yu’s future in-laws’ home. Second Brother wishes to secure it quickly and has asked me to mention it to Mother.”

Ming Huashang exclaimed in surprise and asked quickly, “Is Second Aunt moving out so soon?”

“Indeed,” the Second Madam said with a smile. “The household has already been divided — it would be unseemly to go on living in First Uncle’s home. And with A’Yu’s marriage settled, this happens only once in a woman’s life; I want A’Yu to leave from her own home.”

However fine Duke Zhenguo’s residence might be, it was not theirs. The Second Madam was, on this point, unexpectedly clear-headed. After the Duke proposed dividing the household, he had not expressly asked them to leave — but people ought to know their own place. Who would want to live with relatives indefinitely? The second branch had nothing to do with the title, and they were not the Old Madam’s own children; sooner or later they would have to leave the ducal residence — better to propose it themselves and come away with some advantage in the process.

And as a mother, the Second Madam cared more that her daughter leave from her own family’s home with her head held high, rather than from a borrowed house, using an uncle’s residence to lend herself face. However splendid Duke Zhenguo’s residence might be, it belonged to Ming Huashang and Ming Yuji. The Rong family would learn soon enough what the second branch was really like — better to be open about it from the start, and let Ming Yu enter the Rong family with her back straight.

Ming Huashang smiled and offered congratulations, asking the Second Madam about the location and what arrangements she planned to make. At first the Second Madam still had some air of speaking for an audience, but as she talked on, her eyebrows danced with delight, and she said excitedly, “Once the new house is set in order, do come visit, both of you sisters. And when the time comes, we shall have to trouble you to send A’Yu off at her wedding.”

“But of course,” Ming Huashang said with a laugh. “Elder Sister has diligently practiced all her life — music, chess, calligraphy, and painting — and now she has found a fine husband. We are all so happy for her.”

Ming Huashang’s words went straight to the Second Madam’s heart. Ming Yuji followed with a few words of congratulations; the Second Madam smiled until her mouth could not close, and Ming Yu lowered her eyes, cheeks flushed. The room was full of warm harmony. The Third Madam kept her smile in place, but when she lowered her head, a flash of cold indifference swept through her eyes.

How thoroughly the tables had turned — now even the second branch dared to snub them. The Second Madam had brought up moving away in front of everyone, was she not pointing the finger straight at them?

The Third Madam was furious but helpless. Once the second branch moved out, it would be utterly shameful for them to go on clinging to the ducal residence. All because the Prince of Yong had shown the slightest unusual attention toward Ming Huashang, and these people came flocking to court his favor — it was utterly nauseating.

The Third Madam thought indignantly: let her just wait and see. Duke Zhenguo had no son — how would the title be passed on? She did not believe they would truly be willing to let the ducal title lapse entirely. As long as the next Duke was her son, even if Ming Huashang and Ming Yuji married into high families, it would be nothing more than paving the road for her son in the end.

After a while of conversation in the Yanshou Hall, the ladies prepared to take carriages to the Prince of Yong’s residence for the banquet. By now, a stream of carriages and horses already thronged the gates of the Prince of Yong’s residence. Ming Yuji stepped down from the carriage and, seeing this spectacle, instinctively felt nervous.

Ming Huashang descended from the carriage behind her, and without drawing attention to it, linked her arm through Ming Yuji’s, saying with a smile, “Sister, shall we go?”

The Prince of Yong’s residence steward, upon learning that it was Duke Zhenguo’s household, received them with great warmth — especially toward Ming Huashang. He dispatched a dedicated attendant to receive her, but Ming Huashang politely declined without success, and could only allow a maidservant to lead the way ahead, while she brought Ming Yuji along to pay their respects to families they were acquainted with.

Ming Yuji followed Ming Huashang passively. Along the way, Ming Huashang smiled and greeted the ladies they encountered, and whenever anyone noticed their dresses, Ming Huashang would say proudly that this was a custom outfit she and her sister had ordered together — drawing Ming Yuji into the social circle in a way that was gentle as a spring breeze, yet impossible to ignore.

It was only then that Ming Yuji truly understood why Ming Huashang had insisted on wearing matching dresses. Ming Huashang knew the knot in Ming Yuji’s heart, but she did not point it out directly; instead, she took the initiative of wearing the same clothing, took the initiative of introducing her to people, and opened up that entirely unfamiliar world to Su Yuji — while never wounding her dignity.

Like a spring rain: soundless and unnoticed, yet nourishing all things.

Ming Yuji quietly sighed inwardly, and the last trace of her unease toward Duke Zhenguo’s household slowly dissolved.

As a child who had been sent away at birth, it was difficult not to resent the father who had abandoned her — but when she finally met that man, she found she could not truly hate him.

Ming Yuji could not accuse him of having done wrong; at that juncture, to protect the greatest number of people, it seemed there had been no other way. And the two children who had taken her place and been raised by Duke Zhenguo — one whose actions spoke louder than words and whose substance outshone all appearances, the other perceptive and kind, outwardly gentle yet inwardly resolute — Ming Yuji could not even bring herself to blame them.

She thought to herself: she had been able to return so smoothly to Duke Zhenguo’s household largely because of Li Huazhang and Ming Huashang. Ming Huashang in particular — her manner was like the spring breeze and fine rain, seemingly unremarkable, yet absolutely essential. Had Ming Huashang not been negotiating between all parties and quietly resolving conflicts on her behalf behind the scenes, Ming Yuji would surely have found every step within Duke Zhenguo’s residence a struggle.

Ming Huashang had led Ming Yuji through the gathering, and most of the familiar faces had been introduced, when her maidservant told her that the Marquis Pingnan’s household had arrived. It had been a long time since Ming Huashang had seen Ren Yao; she quickly sent a maidservant to invite Ren Yao, then sat with Ming Yuji in a pavilion to wait.

Seeing Ming Yuji’s body was tense and she was quietly observing others from the corner of her eye, Ming Huashang said casually, “Sister, there’s no need to be nervous. At gatherings like this, everyone appears composed on the surface while inwardly guarding themselves against making a fool of themselves — and because of that, everyone is really only looking at themselves, and pays little notice to others. Just be as you naturally are; there will be many more such occasions in the future, and you’ll grow used to them.”

Ming Yuji realized that indeed very few people seemed to be paying attention to her, and quietly breathed a sigh of relief. The last time she had attended a gathering at Princess Taiping’s residence, the experience had been dreadful — she had felt like a pheasant that had blundered into a flock of cranes, utterly hemmed in on every side, unable to take a step freely. This time she was attending as a member of Duke Zhenguo’s household, and she had braced herself for many ill-intentioned stares — yet it turned out to be far more welcoming than she had expected.

Nine tenths of that welcome was owed to Ming Huashang, and the remaining tenth to Li Huazhang. Ming Yuji sat with that awkward feeling for a moment, then said to Ming Huashang with sincere feeling, “Thank you.”

Ming Huashang was taken aback, then smiled at the corners of her lips: “What’s there to thank me for? I should be the one thanking you. Before, when I came out to attend banquets, everyone else had a sister to accompany them — I was always alone, without even a person to talk to. Over time, I stopped wanting to come at all. Having you here this time, I feel so much more at ease.”

Ming Huashang was always generous in expressing appreciation for those around her. In the past, Ming Yuji had found it embarrassing to thank those beside her — but under Ming Huashang’s influence, she gradually came to feel that speaking openly about one’s own feelings was not so daunting after all.

Whether happy or not, saying it aloud was the only way to know what one truly wanted. After saying thank you, Ming Yuji’s heart did indeed feel lighter, and that lightness naturally showed on her face.

The two of them chatted easily, and even when the conversation lulled, Ming Yuji felt no more nervousness. Before long, the sound of footsteps reached them from the path, and Ming Huashang looked up — her expression first lit with delight, then froze: “Sister Ren… Jiang Ling, how are you here too?”

Jiang Ling stood beside Ren Yao as a matter of course, and said, “Did you not call us to come?”

Ming Huashang was speechless. She recalled that she had sent a maidservant to invite Marquis Pingnan. This Jiang Ling had grown more and more like a piece of sticky candy — wherever Ren Yao went, he would follow.

As for why Li Huazhang and Xie Jichuan were also there — that was anyone’s guess.

Ming Huashang inwardly found this exasperating, but smiled warmly on the surface: “I didn’t expect you all to come together — I failed to receive you properly. My greetings to the Prince of Yong, Brother Xie, Young Lord Jiang, and Marquis Pingnan.”

Ming Yuji had some acquaintance with these people but was not close with them, and gave a slight nod in greeting. Ming Huashang thought she had calibrated her words very well — but several people immediately took issue with them.

Jiang Ling was displeased: “Why do you call her ‘Marquis’ but call me ‘Young Lord’? Doesn’t that put me a whole generation below her?”

Li Huazhang was also displeased: “Why do you call him ‘Brother Xie’ but call me ‘Prince of Yong’?”

What gave Xie Jichuan precedence over him?

The two spoke at the same time, and Ming Huashang was assailed from both sides, unable to concentrate on either. Unable to bear it any longer, she said, “All right, all right — I was thoughtless. Deputy Prefect Li, General Ren, General Jiang, Librarian Xie — my greetings to all of you distinguished persons. Is that acceptable?”

After the incident at the Flower Festival, those who had participated in rescuing the imperial household received rewards of varying degrees. Needless to say, the very residence beneath their feet was among Li Huazhang’s contributions; in the near future he was likely to be promoted to Prefect of the Capital. Xie Jichuan had been promoted to the rank of junior fifth-tier-lower Crown Prince’s Librarian, responsible for the compilation, editing, and storage of the Eastern Palace’s classical texts and the four categories of books. Ren Yao had been enfeoffed as Marquis Pingnan, with an official position elevated to the junior fifth-tier-upper Roving Cavalry General of the Imperial Guards. Jiang Ling was the heir of the Marquis Jiang’an’s household; as there was nothing further to confer on the Jiang family, the Empress had made an exception and promoted Jiang Ling to the senior fourth-tier-upper rank of Declaring Might General.

Ming Huashang and Ming Yuji, being subjects’ daughters, had no official positions to confer; they had each received an imperial edict and a large sum of wealth. But behind the scenes, the two of them had advanced by a full tier in their rank within the Xuan Xiaowei, and their corresponding retirement stipends had risen considerably as well.

Ming Huashang was very pleased with this arrangement. The outside world believed that Ming Huashang had appeared at the lamp tower on the Flower Festival day because she had followed Li Huazhang, and that her reward was entirely a matter of riding on his coattails. Everyone envied Ming Huashang her good fortune — as though she had been lying down and gifts had simply fallen from the sky — and no one suspected that she carried another hidden identity beneath the surface.

This was very good. Ming Huashang liked the feeling of making one’s fortune quietly, without anyone knowing.

Ming Huashang had thought that addressing everyone by official title would finally put the matter to rest — but unexpectedly, Xie Jichuan suddenly said, “Why did you put me last?”

Before Ming Huashang could protest, Jiang Ling fanned the flames with relish: “Because your rank is the lowest. We’re being quite magnanimous not to take offense — ordinarily, if you met us on the road, you’d be obliged to dismount and greet us first.”

Ming Huashang opened her mouth to smooth things over; Xie Jichuan gave a cold laugh and said, “Young Lord Jiang wields such impressive official authority — then the Young Lord had best take care not to encounter Marquis Pingnan outside. She currently holds the same rank as your father; you should address her as ‘worldly aunt.'”

“That’s quite unnecessary,” Ren Yao said, imagining that scenario and feeling a thorough wave of goosebumps. “I have no need for such a dim-witted nephew.”

Jiang Ling, that short fuse, immediately caught fire and grabbed Ren Yao to demand where he was being dim-witted. Xie Jichuan stood to one side fanning his folding fan, leisurely pouring oil on the flames. Ming Huashang had not expected that a casual order of names could stir up so much trouble. Ming Yuji, standing to one side, rubbed her ear and sincerely asked, “Is this how loud you all are when you usually talk?”

Noisy, childish, and utterly pointless.

Ming Huashang felt a little embarrassed and truly could not bear it any longer; she raised her voice and said firmly, “That is quite enough. I only invited Sister Ren — if the rest of you don’t want to stay and listen, you may leave.”

At the critical moment, a group of people appeared on the path and finally rescued Ming Huashang from the clamor of several hundred ducks.

Li Huazhang saw the approaching party and his expression subtly composed itself; the others, too, simultaneously stopped talking. As the group drew near, Princess Taiping stepped forward first and said with a tone of mock reproach, “Second Brother, how did you end up here? We’ve been looking everywhere for you.”

After Li Huazhang returned to the Li family and was reassigned a place in the imperial household’s generational order, he happened to be the second — and those close to him all called him Second Brother.

Ming Huashang was standing right beside Li Huazhang, and unexpectedly met Princess Taiping’s gaze. For some reason her heart went cold for a moment; she lowered her eyes and respectfully saluted the new arrivals: “This subject’s daughter pays her respects to the Crown Prince, Prince Xiang, and Princess Taiping.”

The Prince of Yong and Duke Zhenguo’s household were presently the talk of Chang’an, and the story of the Duke using his own children to protect the young heir had spread throughout aristocratic circles. Princess Taiping smiled and asked them to rise, swept a glance at the matching dresses worn by Ming Huashang and Ming Yuji, and said, “So you are the famous sister pair from Duke Zhenguo’s household? I originally thought twins would look exactly alike — I didn’t expect you could be so similar yet so different, each beautiful in your own way. Duke Zhenguo is truly blessed.”

Ming Huashang expressed her thanks, presenting herself with exactly the right degree of demure deference, though her manner of speaking carried little warmth or desire for closeness. Ming Yuji was new to all this, and most sensitive to emotion; she could feel that Princess Taiping was merely being polite and had no real desire to know either of them. She followed Ming Huashang’s example by offering a greeting, and did nothing further beyond that.

Princess Taiping naturally had no particular interest in a minor young lady from a duke’s household; she had come today chiefly to foster goodwill within the Li family. The Crown Prince and Prince Xiang, upon seeing Li Huazhang, were both deeply moved; Prince Xiang in particular was nearly moved to tears.

Once the Crown Prince and Prince Xiang had finished speaking, the Crown Princess and the consort of Prince Xiang brought their sons and daughters forward. Ming Huashang had originally been standing beside Li Huazhang, but was jostled further and further back by the commandery princes and commandery princesses, until finally she could only stand at the corner near the railing.

Ming Yuji noticed that Ming Huashang’s spirits had fallen and looked at her questioningly. Ming Huashang smiled back at Ming Yuji and shook her head, indicating she was fine. Ming Yuji glanced at Princess Taiping, who was taking everything into her capable hands, and seemed to understand something; she quietly squeezed Ming Huashang’s arm.

At a moment like this, Ming Huashang was suddenly grateful to have a sister after all. However close brothers might be, some feelings they were simply incapable of understanding by nature.

Ming Huashang’s low spirits were not entirely caused by these princesses and consorts so naturally overlooking her — it was also because of that dream.

She had long wondered who could possibly have wanted to kill her. In time, she had come to realize that she had been cast aside as a disposable shield meant to protect Li Huazhang. How pitiable that she had died without ever knowing what had happened.

Unless something unexpected occurred, the killer who had taken her life in that dream was somewhere in this pavilion right now. Although Li Huazhang had been recognized by the Empress and the events of the dream had not come to pass, someone who had killed her once had every means to kill her a second time — could they not?

As long as they felt she was standing in Li Huazhang’s way, they would eliminate her without a moment’s hesitation.

She could not face her own killer without any feeling, but she did not want to make things difficult for Li Huazhang either — so she stood quietly in the corner, listening to Princess An’le, Prince Linzi, and the others speak of the past with Li Huazhang.

Li Huazhang’s sudden transformation from subject to blood relative left not only the formerly cool and distant members of the imperial household feeling awkward — Li Huazhang himself was not quite used to this change. The Crown Prince and Prince Xiang expressed deep longing for Crown Prince Zhanghuai, but Li Huazhang could feel nonetheless that the Crown Prince did not truly warm to him — the Crown Princess Wei Shi in particular barely bothered to conceal her hostility toward him.

Evidently the Eastern Palace had also heard the rumors that the Empress intended to bypass the Crown Prince and restore the throne to the lineage of Crown Prince Zhanghuai. The Crown Prince’s family had been confined to Luling for over ten years; just when their bitter days had finally turned sweet, there suddenly appeared the surviving child of the former Crown Prince. It was understandable that they would be on edge.

Especially since the Eastern Palace’s only legitimate son, Li Chongrui, had been killed — for the Crown Prince’s family, Li Huazhang’s arrival was truly like frost heaped upon snow.

Prince Xiang harbored no concerns about inheritance rights and was therefore very warm toward Li Huazhang. He brought several of his sons before Li Huazhang and said, “Second Brother was the most brilliant among us brothers. When we were young, he looked after us tirelessly — yet when Second Brother died, there was nothing I could do, and when Guangshun died, I could not save him either. Thank heaven you are still here. From now on, you are my own child, and First Son and Third Son are your brothers. If you have any difficulty, come and tell me — your affairs are the affairs of Prince Xiang’s household.”

Prince Linzi enthusiastically changed his form of address, calling Li Huazhang “Second Brother.” Li Huazhang was not accustomed to this degree of familiarity and did his best to manage the situation, but before long he felt drained of both energy and heart.

He quietly sighed inwardly, and instinctively thought of Ming Huashang. Realizing he had inadvertently neglected her for some time, he quickly went to find her — only to discover her shrinking against a pillar, expression blank, one arm wrapped around herself, seeming lost in thought.

Holding one’s own arm was a sign of considerable unease. Li Huazhang could understand that she disliked such gatherings, but why should she feel uneasy?

He cast his mind back and realized she had gradually fallen silent after seeing Princess Taiping. Li Huazhang knew that Princess Taiping had once considered abandoning Ming Huashang to protect him — it was entirely natural that Ming Huashang might be guarded toward Princess Taiping, but why would Ming Huashang feel this way?

And furthermore, she had accepted Su Yuji’s existence far too smoothly — as though she had known all along there would be such a person, and when the matter of the switched children was exposed, she had needed no adjustment at all, and had immediately thrown herself into the new role.

It was almost as if she could foresee things before they happened.

For the first time, Li Huazhang found himself questioning Ming Huashang: had she experienced something he did not know of?