The fourth month, the season of the locust blossoms: the sky was a deep, open blue, white clouds billowing across it like mountain ranges, growing freely and at will. A breeze swept through and the whole mountain rustled with a soft, rushing sound.

It was the finest time of year for hunting, and from time to time lacquered carriages and fine horses passed along the mountain road; the farming folk at the foot of the Southern Mountain had long grown accustomed to the sight.

At the foot of the Southern Mountain, on a level clearing enclosed by screens and partitions, silk-clad ladies in fine dress moved back and forth, the scene full of life. Ming Yuji had just asked a maidservant to adjust the position of her parasol when a voice called “Sister” from behind her, and Ming Huashang came at a half-run, saying, “Sister, we’re going into the woods to hunt — do you want to come?”

Ming Yuji was briefly startled, then let her gaze drift into the distance. She saw a group of young people in bright riding clothes standing at the edge of the forest, talking and laughing — men and women both among them. Scanning quickly, Ming Yuji picked out Li Huazhang, the Prince of Yihe, Prince Linzi, the Commandery Princess Yonghe, and a number of other sons and daughters of the imperial family; the rest were all the children of marquises and dukes who were prominent names in Chang’an. Ren Yao, the newly celebrated female marquis; Xie Jichuan, the most deeply rooted of the established families’ heirs; and the heir of Marquis Jiang’an’s household, Jiang Ling — all of them were among the group.

Ming Yuji’s eyes met Ming Huashang’s, and something seemed to flash between them in that instant — but both kept their expressions calm, as though it were simply a younger sister asking before going out to hunt. Ming Yuji shook her head and said mildly, “I’ll stay here and look after things. You all go, be careful, and don’t be long.”

Ming Huashang acknowledged this, and, dressed in a fresh, simple riding outfit, jogged back toward the hunting party. After she returned, she said a few words to the group, and they began to mount their horses one by one, riding off into the forest.

Hunting in the mountains was not like ordinary recreation: once the horses were running at full gallop, the formation would scatter, and anyone who was not a skilled rider could easily find themselves isolated. Before long, the group that had been gathered together had dispersed like stars, swallowed up by the dense green, impossible to find.

Ming Yuji watched the backs of those departing figures, and was momentarily lost in thought. Suddenly from behind her came a cheerful greeting: “Greetings, First Young Miss Ming.”

Ming Yuji was startled and quickly turned around; she looked at the newcomer and hesitated slightly: “You are…”

The newcomer was a fair-faced young man, his hair and appearance carefully groomed; he held a folding fan in one hand and smiled at Ming Yuji with a swaggering, charming air. “I am the fifth son of the Marquis Changrong’s household — you may call me Fifth Young Master Ji. It is my honor to meet First Young Miss Ming.”

Marquis Changrong’s household? Ming Yuji was still at a loss, but responded with proper courtesy nonetheless: “Greetings, young master.”

“No need for formality, Young Miss — just call me Fifth Young Master.” Ji’s fifth son snapped his folding fan shut with a flourish and asked, “First Young Miss, the winter jasmine ahead is blooming beautifully just now. Shall we go take a look?”

Truth be told, Ming Yuji had no desire to go — but today’s gathering was hosted by Duke Zhenguo’s household, and with Ming Huashang away, she was the only one in charge of things here. Moreover, Ming Yuji knew that Ming Huashang and the others would not be returning any time soon, which meant it fell all the more to her to look after the guests properly and not disgrace Duke Zhenguo’s household.

Ming Yuji smiled and said, “Very well, Fifth Young Master, please lead the way.”

Seeing Ming Yuji agree, Fifth Young Master Ji’s eyes brightened; he talked all the way with the air of someone widely traveled and well-informed. “One mountain holds four seasons, and ten miles apart the weather differs. The Southern Mountain is colder than Chang’an, and the flowering season comes a little later here. The winter jasmine in Chang’an has all finished blooming by now, but here in the Southern Mountain, it is in full flower.”

Ming Yuji looked quietly at the bright yellow four-petaled blossoms on the branches ahead and said with perfect calm, “That is forsythia.”

She had known from the start that the month was too early for winter jasmine; Fifth Young Master Ji’s so-called winter jasmine in full bloom was something he had simply misidentified.

Fifth Young Master Ji stopped short, and instinctively looked toward the flowers: “That’s clearly winter jasmine…”

“Winter jasmine has round stems, hollow pith, and tends to droop downward; forsythia has stems of a darker hue, bears fruit, and has four petals to a flower.” Ming Yuji’s tone was cool and certain, without the slightest concern for the feelings of the person beside her. Fifth Young Master Ji gave an awkward laugh and attempted to gloss it over: “First Young Miss seems to have made quite a study of wildflowers and plants.”

Ming Yuji gave a short, dismissive laugh. “There’s nothing to study about these things. I’ve seen so much of them that I simply remember.”

The expression on Fifth Young Master Ji’s face shifted slightly; he had not, of course, forgotten that the fashionably dressed woman with the cloud-piled hair before him — who looked every bit the part of a Chang’an noblewoman — had actually grown up in the countryside.

Fifth Young Master Ji paused, then quickly restored his smile and said, in a tone indistinguishable from what it had been before, “Ah, I see. First Young Miss is truly knowledgeable and discerning. I am full of admiration.”

Ming Yuji said nothing. Fifth Young Master Ji thought he had been very skillful in concealing himself — that as long as nothing was said out loud, any contempt simply did not exist. But his split-second reaction upon hearing “countryside” was not something that could be hidden.

These past months, nearly every person she met had worn that same expression. They looked down on her even as she looked down on all these men who could not tell one plant from another and had never done a day’s labor in their lives.

Arms as thin as those — most likely they had less strength than her. If Fifth Young Master Ji were thrown into the countryside where she had grown up, with eyesight so poor he could confuse a forsythia for a winter jasmine, he would not last three days before going to feed the wolves.

Ming Yuji had never learned the aristocratic code — when she was in a bad mood, her face went cold immediately, and she cared nothing at all about whether Fifth Young Master Ji kept face or not. Fifth Young Master Ji grew rather awkward, and casting about for something to say, offered: “I saw Second Young Miss Ming just now going with the Prince of Yong and the others to hunt — why did First Young Miss not go along?”

Ming Yuji was sparing with her words, and replied mildly, “Didn’t want to.”

Fifth Young Master Ji seemed to have found an opening, and smiled as he pressed in: “Does First Young Miss worry about not being able to ride? Don’t be concerned — my riding is fairly decent, and I would be glad to teach you.”

Ming Yuji lifted her gaze, swept him with a cold, clear look, and said, “I won’t conceal it from you — I once spent some time in Beidu, and I learned horsemanship from the Tujue. If Fifth Young Master is in the mood, we could have a horse brought over right now and compete.”

Beidu — the city of Taiyuan — was the founding seat of the Tang royal family and a region where Han and Hu peoples lived intermingled. Since the dynasty’s founding, the Tang had clashed with the Tujue several times and ultimately the nine Tujue clans had submitted to the Tang and settled in the area north of Taiyuan. Ming Yuji had wandered to many places in Jinyang and had long since mastered such skills as haggling over every last coin, quarreling with common women in the street, and picking up a wooden stick to bring down on a ruffian’s head — in that kind of place, if you were not tough enough, you simply could not survive.

She had seen many women who struggled at the very bottom, fighting tooth and nail just to stay alive — and so she had a particular distaste for men who spoke to her from a position of high condescension, offering to “teach” her things. She firmly believed that every gift came with a price already written on it, and that a man’s goodwill was a bottomless pit that only looked like it was free.

Ming Yuji’s pointed challenge left Fifth Young Master Ji first embarrassed, then seething. He was the second son of Marquis Changrong, and even though the Marquis Changrong’s household had declined somewhat in recent years, there had been no shortage of women who had eagerly thrown themselves at him. He had never in all his days gone out of his way like this to flatter a woman.

He had lowered himself to be considerate, and this woman was so… ungrateful. Fifth Young Master Ji’s expression went cold as well; he maintained just enough aristocratic composure to say “I have something to attend to — I’ll take my leave first,” and turned and walked away in long strides.

Duke Zhenguo’s household maidservant, watching Fifth Young Master Ji storm off in anger, came running over with trepidation: “Young Miss…”

“It’s nothing.” Ming Yuji was entirely unperturbed. She looked at the forsythia blooming wildly, reached in and pinched off the unnecessary side branches, and said placidly, “The winter jasmine has finished blooming. Let’s go back.”

Ming Yuji did not want to face the hollow pleasantries of the gathering, and took a roundabout path before returning. As she passed through a stand of trees, she vaguely heard voices from behind her: “Weren’t you off casting your line at that village girl who just got back to Duke Zhenguo’s household? How come you’re back?”

Ming Yuji stopped in her tracks at once, signaling the maidservant to make no sound. The people inside had no idea anyone was out there, and their conversation continued. A familiar voice spoke with a dejected air: “Don’t even mention it. I saw she had some passable looks and thought I’d put up with it and be gracious — hold my nose and tolerate whatever rustic airs she might have. I never expected her temper to be absolutely awful. A woman like that — even if she had ten thousand strings of cash and the face of a goddess, nobody could endure her.”

“Is that so? Are there really women in this world that Fifth Young Master Ji can’t win over?” The other men began asking for the details one after another. Fifth Young Master Ji relayed the earlier exchange with embellishments added, and the others listened and shook their heads one by one: “Won’t do. A woman can’t be coddled like that. If she’s already like this before she’s even crossed the threshold, imagine what she’d be like after she’s had children.”

Another voice, somewhat higher-pitched, chimed in: “What kind of daughter has Duke Zhenguo been raising? His eldest daughter has just come back from the countryside — she doesn’t know proper manners to begin with, and instead of finding her a governess to discipline her promptly, how is he still letting her out in public?”

“You don’t know the whole story,” said the first voice. “Duke Zhenguo used his own child to protect the young imperial heir, and never produced a son — for such a great favor, wouldn’t the imperial family have to compensate him properly? His younger daughter was raised alongside the Prince of Yong as if they were twins; they say when they were little they even shared a bed. And the Ming family has no mistress to supervise things — if she doesn’t end up marrying the Prince of Yong, who would dare marry her afterward? Haven’t you noticed she’s been following the Prince of Yong around these past few days? It looks as though Duke Zhenguo intends to put forward one of his daughters as Princess Consort of Yong. If that happens, the Prince of Yong would be both an adopted son and a son-in-law — his comfort for the rest of his life is assured. With a younger daughter who has married into royalty, what does it matter who the elder daughter marries?”

The maidservant listening from behind felt her blood rise; Ming Yuji raised her hand and restrained the maidservant’s movement. She stood quietly listening to every word. Fifth Young Master Ji spoke up: “Given that connection to the Prince of Yong, taking a rough village woman as a wife might not be out of the question. But her temper is truly something else — what a pity, given that face. Women should be gentle and accommodating.”

Another man offered his counsel: “It’s only a title plaque anyway — if you truly can’t bear her, give her a courtyard on her own and keep her out of your way. Take a few congenial concubines instead.”

The men inside laughed among themselves with mutual understanding, then fell to talking about which new Hu dancing girl had arrived at which pleasure house in the Pingkang Ward, and which courtesan’s skills were the most accomplished. The maidservant, whether out of anger or shame, was red-faced and burning; Ming Yuji pulled back a tree branch and swept a cool look inside, then turned and walked away.

When they emerged, the maidservant followed behind Ming Yuji and said, stumbling over her words, “Young Miss, those men are the most worthless wastrels in all of Chang’an — there is no ivory in a dog’s mouth. Please don’t be angry…”

Ming Yuji came back to herself and smiled at the maidservant, saying, “It’s fine. Everything they said, I already knew. I’ve heard far worse — there’s nothing to be angry about.”

The maidservant did not believe Ming Yuji was truly undisturbed, and kept a careful eye on her expression, choosing her words with care: “Young Miss, those ugly things they said — let them pass through one ear and out the other. The Duke may dote on Second Young Miss, but his care for you is also genuine. Please don’t let it create any distance between you and Second Young Miss.”

Ming Yuji gave a light smile and said, barely above a breath, “I know.”

These past months, Ming Huashang had been taking her to gatherings at various households; Ming Yuji had quickly learned how to put on the elaborate formal dress, what to say and when to say it, and what courtesies to observe. She had been rapidly absorbed into the aristocratic world and now moved among the wives and daughters of great households with polished ease; on the surface, she was all but indistinguishable from those who had been born and raised in Chang’an.

And yet an invisible gulf — as fixed as the lines of a grid — still enclosed her tightly. Ming Yuji knew that what the Fifth Young Master Ji and his ilk had said was the truth. Whatever she herself was like, in the eyes of the official households and established families of Chang’an, she was an uncouth village woman from the back of beyond.

She had not lacked for young men who had shown interest in her, either — but when these men smiled at her, none of them were looking at her.

Duke Zhenguo had no son, and would certainly prepare an enormous dowry for his daughters. Marrying her meant gaining half of the Duke’s assets. And Ming Yuji had a younger sister who looked set to enter the Prince of Yong’s household; if one could become a brother-in-law to the Prince of Yong, once the Li family reclaimed their rightful place, what heights might one not reach?

Some were after the money; others were after the power. Not one of them was interested in Ming Yuji herself.

The main gathering was just ahead; Ming Yuji could already smell the cloud of face powder. She could not help stopping in her tracks, and looked slowly around herself.

Men and women in wide, splendid garments were scattered in clusters among the flowers, maids carrying gold cups of fine wine threading among them. Everyone was smiling; voices were measured and restrained, as though they were all inhabitants of some paradise on earth.

For all the grandeur of the gathering, Ming Yuji felt a bleakness settle over her. An overwhelming sense of unreality swept through her: was this the way she was to live from now on?

While Ming Yuji was adrift in this feeling, those inside had already caught sight of her. A young noblewoman reached out and pulled Ming Yuji’s hand affectionately, saying in a wheedling tone, “First Young Miss Ming, we’re one short for our card game — come quickly.”

Ming Yuji suppressed the impulse to pull her hand away and said with a smile, “I don’t know how to play.”

The smile on the young lady’s face stiffened slightly — she seemed to only then remember that Ming Yuji had come from the countryside — and then smiled again without a seam showing: “It’s fine, I don’t really know how either. You’ll pick it up as you go.”

Ming Yuji was dragged firmly to a seat, and sat down to play leaf cards with a group of young ladies whose names she could not recall. She had not been lying — she genuinely did not know how to play this pastime — but as a covert operative of the Xuan Xiaowei and an elite of the surveillance division, she had one advantage: an excellent memory.

After losing the first two rounds, Ming Yuji had the rules memorized. She drew even in the third, and from the fourth round onward, the tide turned. The other ladies were crushed in round after round and began to look visibly displeased.

One of the ladies smiled and said, “First Young Miss Ming does love her little jokes — you play so well, and yet you told us you didn’t know how.”

“I genuinely didn’t know,” Ming Yuji said matter-of-factly. “I just learned. If I’d known from the start, I wouldn’t have lost those first two rounds.”

The ladies smiled and played along, and seeing that they were about to lose again, one of them threw down her hand and fanned herself, saying, “It’s so warm out. Where have all those people gone hunting — why aren’t they back yet?”

Ming Yuji casually tossed out the last of her cards in her hand — and as expected, she won again. One of the ladies nearby was somewhat out of sorts and asked, “First Young Miss Ming, it’s been so long — where is Second Young Miss?”

Ming Yuji’s expression did not shift at all; she said mildly, “She went hunting with Marquis Pingnan. I didn’t want to go, so I stayed behind.”

The women at the table gave soft, knowing murmurs, exchanged glances, and changed the subject with a certain tacit understanding between them. They seemed to think themselves terribly clever about it — and Ming Yuji barely restrained herself from rolling her eyes.

It seemed everyone assumed she was putting a brave face on things — that she simply could not fit into that uppermost circle and was claiming she had not wanted to go. In truth, Ming Yuji really had not wanted to go.

The aristocracy hunted for amusement — but as a child who had grown up in the countryside, she genuinely did not find hunting enjoyable. And besides, those people were not there to hunt.

Not long ago, Ming Huashang had quietly told her of Li Huazhang’s intentions. Ming Yuji’s first reaction was that Li Huazhang had entirely lost his mind — but then again, thinking about it, it was not entirely surprising.

The aging wolf-king was growing weaker by the day, his strength gradually failing him; sooner or later there would be a contest among the pack to establish who the new king would be.

Ming Yuji was not surprised that the Li family wanted to overthrow the Empress; she was only surprised that they would tell her of all people. She was a member of the Xuan Xiaowei, and specifically assigned to the surveillance division.

It was rather like a thief walking into a shop and announcing to the proprietor that he was going to steal something, or a wanted criminal sitting down with a constable to negotiate: please keep this quiet for me. Utterly absurd.

If she were still Su Yuji, she would have reported without a moment’s hesitation that the two brilliant ones had designs on rebellion and were attempting to recruit within the Xuan Xiaowei — but now she also bore the surname Ming.

Her birth father was firmly bound to Crown Prince Zhanghuai; her younger sister appeared to have fallen deeply and irreversibly for Li Huazhang. She did not believe in loyalty unto death for one’s ruler, or in sacrificing oneself for the sovereign — she believed that the most noble thing in the world was to live, and that the most important people in the world were her family. Whoever sat on the throne had nothing to do with her — but if the person on the throne were a member of the Li family, her father and her younger sister would perhaps be a little happier.

All Ming Yuji could do was acquiesce in silence. She pretended not to know that Ming Huashang and Li Huazhang were using banquet gatherings as cover to draw in supporters for the coup; pretended not to know that those people going up the mountain to hunt were using it as a pretense, their true purpose being to shake off the crowd and hold secret talks among the trees. She sat here below the mountain like someone who had her eyes open yet could see nothing, playing leaf cards with a group of fools, so that Ming Huashang and Li Huazhang’s secret meeting would not be disturbed.

The Empress had bestowed special authority on the Xuan Xiaowei, and Ming Yuji had done a great deal of work on the Empress’s behalf — she owed the Empress nothing. But it was the Empress alone who had extended a hand to her and Su Xingzhi in their most desperate moment. She had given them a place to shelter, taught them the means to protect themselves, and brought Su Xingzhi into official service. That debt of kindness could not be denied, no matter what.

Ming Yuji had no great ambitions. She did not wish to weigh whether the Empress was a tyrant or the Li family were traitors; she only wanted the people around her to go on living. Not participating in their actions, not aiding their rebellion against the Empress — that was her last resolve as a member of the Xuan Xiaowei.

As for the Fifth Young Master Ji and his kind — men who could not even perceive that Chang’an was about to be turned upside down, who could only gain a sense of superiority by humiliating those beneath them — Ming Yuji truly had no energy to spare on them. A pack of useless players — let them go on as they pleased.

Ming Yuji was idling away the time when at last the “hunting” party came riding back down the mountain. The gathering below, which had been as still as stagnant water, immediately sprang to life; many people crowded forward. Ming Yuji did not push her way in, and stood on the outer edge, casting an unhurried eye over the horses those riders had brought back.

The amount of prey varied from person to person — that in itself was normal. But for certain individuals, given their level of horsemanship, to come back with nearly nothing at all was decidedly strange. Ming Yuji gave a quiet internal click of her tongue, thinking these people needed to improve their cover story; with just one glance, she had already made a reasonably good guess as to which of them Li Huazhang had recruited.

Ming Huashang squeezed through the crowd and came bounding over to find Ming Yuji. “Sister, I’m back!”

Compared to Ming Huashang’s enthusiasm, Ming Yuji’s emotions were considerably more contained. She simply gave a quiet nod, and when Ming Huashang drew near, she said with studied nonchalance, “How many pieces of prey did you get today?”

Ming Huashang paused, and a brief look of puzzlement flickered in her eyes — but she caught on quickly and replied, “Not many. My riding isn’t good; I couldn’t even catch up with a rabbit.”

Ming Yuji gave a sound of acknowledgment and asked no more. Ming Huashang instinctively felt that Ming Yuji’s question had something off about it. Jiang Ling might say things without thinking, but Ming Yuji was not one to speak without purpose — she would never make pointless small talk. Ming Huashang looked back at the line of horses, and when she took note of the prey behind them, she was momentarily startled, and then understood completely.

A careless oversight — they had forgotten to make the act convincing all the way through. They would need to be more careful next time.

The Empress had now shown a clear inclination to establish Li Huazhang as her heir, and the Li family princes had all at once become the most sought-after figures in Chang’an; the moment they appeared they were surrounded. Li Huazhang looked away for just a moment and Ming Huashang was already nowhere to be seen. He used the advantage of his height to look over the crowd, and spotted Ming Huashang and Ming Yuji at the very edge of the gathering.

On the point of not going out of one’s way to talk to people, the sisters were remarkably alike, Li Huazhang thought with a quiet sigh inwardly, and resigned himself to being the one to go and find them.

Li Huazhang was in the height of his renown in Chang’an right now. When he had still been Ming Huazhang, he had not deferred to his superiors, and had repeatedly clashed with those above him; his reputation at court had not been good, and many found him arrogant and unversed in social niceties. But now that he had become the Prince of Yong, those same qualities had immediately been reinterpreted: arrogance and a high opinion of himself became exceptional ability; being unversed in social niceties became dedication to the nation and people, a man too principled to bend for propriety.

With Li Huazhang at the Capital Prefecture, no one short-sighted enough would attempt to claim the title of Prefect of the Capital; Li Huazhang naturally assumed the actual authority of the Prefecture. He had ordered the reopening of old case files, reformed the conduct of the Capital Prefecture, established the rule that any murder must be solved without exception, and recruited talent without regard for convention.

A man like this — who could easily have coasted through his life on the Yong prefecture as his fief and the fine name of Crown Prince Zhanghuai’s son — still insisted on constantly working to accumulate merit. He truly left no one else any room to breathe.

If Li Chongrui had still been alive, the two of them might have competed to see whose standing was more distinguished — but the Crown Prince’s only legitimate son was gone, and Li Huazhang had become without question the preeminent figure of the imperial family. Those who wished to court his favor were innumerable. The moment Li Huazhang moved, every gaze in the area converged; they watched him walk through the crowd and go straight to the two women standing the farthest away, and asked, “Why are you both standing here?”

Ming Yuji raised an eyebrow and said, “Where else would we be — should we have gone to receive you?”

Those behind him were astonished. This young woman had a remarkable nerve, daring to speak to the Prince of Yong like that. Yet Li Huazhang’s temper remained entirely even, and he patiently explained, “I didn’t mean it that way — I was only concerned I might have neglected you both. Has everything been agreeable today?”

Ming Yuji swept her gaze over the crowd ahead and said, “It should have been agreeable, I suppose.”

Li Huazhang’s brow shifted slightly; he had caught something unusual. “Should have been?”

Ming Yuji’s eyes were cool and clear, and she said, “Yes — because I don’t know whether it counts as a normal topic of conversation when people say that the Ming family is leveraging favors to force the Prince of Yong to repay them.”

Both Li Huazhang and Ming Huashang were taken aback. Li Huazhang’s expression visibly turned cold; he swept his gaze back over the assembled crowd, and the people who had been merrily talking a moment before fell instantly silent. Li Huazhang looked back, visibly suppressing his anger, and asked, “Who said this?”

Ming Yuji’s eyes flicked to Fifth Young Master Ji and his companions, whose faces had gone pale and ashen — it was evident they had realized Ming Yuji had overheard their conversation. Ming Yuji gave a dismissive laugh and said, “I can’t quite remember the specific person — the Prince of Yong need not take it to heart. Only, being the sort of person I am — poor-tempered — there are some things I cannot leave unsaid. I never learned what being well-behaved and virtuous was supposed to look like; when people point the finger at me and say what they say is true, that’s one thing — but when they fabricate things from nothing, I am not going to hold back from telling them so to their face. And speculating about an innocent young woman in particular is not the conduct of a person of honor. Prince of Yong, do you not agree?”

Li Huazhang’s gaze darkened sharply. Someone had been talking about Huashang? No wonder Ming Yuji had not been giving him a pleasant look.

Li Huazhang drew a deep breath, steadied himself, and said, “You are right to correct me. I always assumed this was a matter between myself and Duke Zhenguo’s household, with no need to speak of it to others — but if anyone dares to point the finger at Second Young Miss, I cannot endure it. Duke Zhenguo holds a place in my heart like a birth father, and the two of you are as close to me as my own kin. I do indeed intend to ask the Duke’s permission to wed Second Young Miss — only I have always felt I was not yet ready, and have not dared to speak of it to the Duke. As it happens, today is a good opportunity to make it known. I hope First Young Miss will put in a good word with the Duke on my behalf. If I can have the honor of marrying Second Young Miss, it would be the greatest fortune of my life.”

Li Huazhang spoke these words facing Ming Yuji and Ming Huashang — but his voice was clear and steady, carrying with a deliberate weight, and it was plainly meant for the ears of everyone behind him. Ming Huashang found herself publicly exposed before the crowd without any warning, and felt as though her whole body had come undone; she could not even tell how she had made it out of there or how she had ended up seated in the carriage. Only when the carriage began to move did it seem as though she woke from a dream, and her cheeks burst into flame.

Thinking of how Jiang Ling and Ren Yao and the rest had all been standing right there, Ming Huashang let out a wail of despair and buried her face in her hands: “It’s over — I can never show my face again.”

Ming Yuji glanced at her and said, “Only now do you think of that. I have never seen a greater fool than you — risking your life for him, and asking for no promise in return.”

“I trust him.” Ming Huashang leaned back against the carriage wall; the scene from just now played through her mind, and though it was mortifying, she could not contain the smile at the corners of her mouth. “I know what kind of person he is. Some things need not be said for the outside world to hear.”

Ming Yuji nodded slowly — right, so she herself was the outside world. She said coolly, “Every woman who has fallen in love believes she has found the right person — that this one can be trusted. And yet there is no shortage of those who end up ruined, their families destroyed by it. His household in particular is a dragon’s den and a tiger’s lair. You would do well to keep your guard up.”

“I know.” Ming Huashang moved to sit beside Ming Yuji, wrapped her arms around her without asking permission, and said with a serious air, “I know Sister is doing this for my good. Yours is the most unyielding mouth wrapped around the softest heart. Don’t worry — we are a family. The days ahead will only get better.”

Ming Yuji stiffened the instant she was grabbed by the arm — but the feeling was not quite the same as when an unfamiliar noblewoman grabbed her in the same way. She kept herself completely still for a moment, and then, with an air of disdain, pried Ming Huashang’s hand away: “Sit over there. You’re warm.”

Ming Huashang obediently said yes, and sat up straight, but did not move away. She remained pressed against Ming Yuji’s side and asked, “And what about Sister? Have you ever thought about what sort of husband you might want in the future?”

A husband? Ming Yuji’s mind ran through the men who had shown interest in her lately, and her expression gradually grew cold. She said, her tone detached, “Never thought about it. I don’t need one. If I have that kind of time, better to use it thinking about what needs to be done in Duke Zhenguo’s household.”

Ming Huashang nodded and said, “Fair enough. Oh, by the way — lately I haven’t seen Brother Su at all. He looked after you for so many years, so he is something like a half-brother to me. Why not invite him to come out with us sometime?”

Ming Yuji shot her a glance, her expression strange: “You want to pull him into your affairs?”

“Not at all.” Ming Huashang looked sincerely exasperated and quickly denied it. “I just genuinely wanted to include him in our outings. If things simply end here, with no contact at all, it would be too much of a pity.”

“Oh.” Ming Yuji responded flatly, without any particular feeling. “I sent him an invitation. He didn’t come. There’s no need to invite him again.”

Ming Huashang studied the expression on Ming Yuji’s face. If she were truly as unmoved as she claimed, the earlier mention of a husband would not have made her unhappy at all. Ming Huashang said nothing more, and just smiled: “In that case, I’ll send him an invitation next time and ask him to come to the residence as a guest. As it happens, I also have some case matters I’d like his advice on.”

Ming Yuji gave a dismissive sound, still with none of her usual warmth: “Don’t bother with him.”

Ming Huashang smiled and slipped her arm through Ming Yuji’s, saying with great conviction, “That’s not going to work — I need him for my investigation. If the case files get sent back by the Censorate, I’ll have wasted all my effort.”