After Ming Huazhang finished speaking, Xie Jichuan’s smile remained unchanged — yet Ming Huashang inexplicably sensed a subtle shift in the air, as though cold arrows and stray bolts were silently grazing past.

Ming Huashang hurriedly said, “We took up so much of your time today, and made Elder Brother Xie wait — I feel terribly guilty about that. There’s nothing of great use I can offer, so I’ve only prepared some small refreshments. I hope Elder Brother Xie won’t fault me for holding everyone back.”

“Of course not,” said Xie Jichuan. “Second Miss helped enormously today — how could you have held anyone back? Jingzhan, wouldn’t you say so?”

This was precisely the last thing Ming Huazhang wished to hear raised, and yet Xie Jichuan insisted on raising it — poking at exactly the sore spot. Ming Huazhang knew that given Xie Jichuan’s petty and narrow nature, responding would only invite an endless exchange. He simply ignored him, turned to Ming Huashang, and said, “Let’s go.”

Ming Huashang nodded vigorously, like a chick pecking at grain, and dutifully followed at Ming Huazhang’s side.

Ming Huazhang’s provocation had already put Xie Jichuan out of sorts, and now Ming Huazhang’s refusal to engage made him even more so. Worst of all, something he had managed to push from his mind now stuck to his thoughts again.

He was no longer clean.

Xie Jichuan resumed his frequent habit of smoothing his sleeves, even though the bloodstained area was already covered. Yet every time the thought surfaced, his entire body felt wrong.

Ming Huazhang caught a glimpse from the corner of his eye and said, with deliberate coldness: “Don’t discard that garment. When you get home, have it tested — find out whether the blood on it is human blood or not.”

Even Ming Huashang, who could not quite fathom Xie Jichuan’s obsessive, compulsive fixation with the moment his sleeve became soiled, felt that Ming Huazhang had gone too far. This was nothing short of striking at the very soul.

Ming Huashang quietly cleared her throat, hoping to redirect the attention of the other two and stop them from tearing each other apart: “Second Brother, while Ren Jiejie and I rested in the guest room, I managed to learn quite a few things from the little maidservants at the Wei household.”

She then gave a general account of what she had gathered, and looked up at Ming Huazhang expectantly: “Second Brother, what do we do next?”

They had a rough picture of what had occurred, but the identity of the killer remained hazy. Who ought they to focus their investigation on? Ming Huazhang made no statement and instead turned the question back on them: “What do you think?”

Ren Yao repeated the conclusions she and Ming Huashang had reached together: “We believe Wei Moyuan killed for money, Wei Zhuyan killed for love, and Hua Nu coveted Wei Baixuan and may have acted against her to that end — all are possible suspects. And then there is Wei Yanqing: the maidservants said that most of the Wei family’s puppets are now made by Wei Baixuan’s hands, while control over the Wei family’s finances rests entirely with Wei Yanqing. We cannot rule out Wei Yanqing killing to protect her authority as head of the household, or to protect the family’s interests.”

Jiang Ling clicked his tongue: “You spent half the day deliberating and in the end you’ve ruled out no one. Obviously the killer is someone within the Wei household — did you really need to spell that out?”

“Shut up!” Ren Yao snapped. “You didn’t help with a single thing, you only created trouble for us, and you still have the nerve to talk?”

Jiang Ling had a young master’s temperament; those words stung, and he took offense immediately: “Who are you calling trouble? If not for my assistance, you would have been exposed the moment you walked through the door!”

The case had yielded no conclusions, yet the two of them had already begun quarrelling. Ming Huashang said helplessly, “All right, all right — Jiang Ling and Ren Jiejie both made great contributions today, each indispensable to the other.”

Ren Yao gave a derisive snort. Jiang Ling turned his head away, expression dark. Neither accepted the peace offering.

Both Ren Yao and Jiang Ling felt Ming Huashang was glossing everything over; neither believed the other had done anything particularly commendable. Ming Huashang sighed, and could only appeal to the remaining two: “Second Brother, Elder Brother Xie — in your estimation, which of these four bears the greatest suspicion?”

At this hour, evening light gilded the haze above the trees; the willow pond shimmered with green. Vendors packing away their stalls were preparing to head home; peddlers with shoulder poles wove through the bustling streets and alleys; children let out from their lessons chased one another and played along the roadside; the air seemed thick with the scent of cooking smoke. This was the liveliest, most alive hour in all of Luoyang’s day.

Ming Huazhang stood in the dusky light of early spring in a dark cyan round-collar robe, his belt drawing a long, lean silhouette. In the fading light, his coloring appeared even more like clear snow, his eyes cold as a winter river.

He did not look at her. His gaze was directed at the multitude of lives passing before him. He said, unhurriedly: “This is a test for you. I have nothing to offer. Suspect whoever you wish — go find the evidence yourself.”

Ming Huashang was startled. She had not expected Ming Huazhang to be so exacting: “Ah? I do have someone in mind — can you at least tell me if I’ve guessed correctly?”

“No,” said Ming Huazhang. “Once you have decided, you will speak that person’s name, and the assessment will be concluded. Do you wish to name someone now?”

“No, no, not yet.” Ming Huashang waved her hands quickly. “I’m only guessing — I haven’t thought it through.”

Ren Yao had felt moments before that the true culprit was nearly within reach, but watching Ming Huazhang’s utter lack of mercy made her doubt herself again. There was only one chance, and she dared not waste it. She sighed: “It seems we’ll need to return to the Wei household tomorrow.”

Ming Huazhang raised an eyebrow at that. “Let me remind you once more: do not expose your identities. You may return to the Wei household, but you must not arouse suspicion. The moment you startle the prey, the entire mission fails. Is that understood?”

“What?” Ren Yao was alarmed. “Does that mean we cannot question them directly?”

Jiang Ling could not help himself: “We can’t show official authority, we can’t send constables to search the premises — then how are we supposed to investigate?”

“And that,” said Ming Huazhang, “is precisely why the Xuan Xiaowei bears the name ‘Xuan.’ I brought you to the Wei household today; I trust you have gathered whatever intelligence you needed. From this point forward, I will no longer accompany you on your operations — what you do next is for you to arrange freely. There is only one condition: the moment the Wei family becomes aware that the court is investigating them, your assessment ends immediately.”

Jiang Ling stared, eyes wide with disbelief. No additional personnel, no authority, and now secrecy was required — wasn’t this simply making things impossible?

But Ming Huazhang’s expression held not a trace of amusement, making plainly clear that this was no jest. Ming Huashang had thought Ming Huazhang was bringing them to the Wei household today to guide them step by step. She had not imagined that this introductory guidance would end so soon.

Ming Huashang asked, “Is there a time limit?”

“There isn’t,” said Ming Huazhang. “But the time taken will affect your rating. Only the first person to complete the task will receive a ‘Di’-rank assessment.”

Ming Huashang felt a sudden tension: “Only one person can receive the Di-rank? But General Han clearly said that anyone who passed the assessment would be admitted into the Di-rank of the Xuan Xiaowei.”

“That is correct,” said Ming Huazhang, his voice still perfectly level. “But is there any assessment without elimination?”

Ming Huashang was left speechless. The group that had been getting along quite amicably moments before was now charged with a subtle tension.

Ming Huashang had originally assumed she only needed to pass the assessment in order to join — and so her attitude had been relaxed, and she had been generous in sharing clues with Ren Yao and Jiang Ling. But now she understood: of the three of them, only one could remain.

And Jiang Ling had been sent by the Marquis of Jiang’an — with a father of such powerful backing, there was hardly any need to guess who would claim the sole position.

Jiang Ling still wore that same nonchalant expression; but Ming Huashang and Ren Yao both fell silent at once.

Xie Jichuan quietly glanced at Ming Huazhang, said nothing, and bowed his head to continue troubling over the bloodstain. Shortly after, they reached the main street. None of the group lingered; they parted in silence and each went their separate way.

Ren Yao and Jiang Ling had already turned off in different directions; Xie Jichuan had walked a while longer before he too departed. Of the five, only Ming Huashang and Ming Huazhang remained, walking side by side.

The two of them returned home in silence. This time Ming Huashang had no need to sneak around — she followed Ming Huazhang through the gate openly. He walked her to the entrance of her courtyard, then said, “From now on, no more slipping out without permission. If something had happened to you today, where would your family even begin to look for you?”

Ming Huashang murmured her assent. The household within heard the movement; Zhao Cai opened the gate to check, caught sight of Ming Huashang, and was overjoyed: “Young Mistress, how are you out here? Where did you go today? We’ve been searching for you all afternoon — if we couldn’t find you soon, we were going to report to the Duke and the Old Madam.”

Ming Huashang was startled: “You haven’t alarmed Father and Grandmother, have you?”

“We haven’t,” said Zhao Cai anxiously. “Young Mistress, where did you go?”

“I was with Second Brother and—” Ming Huashang turned to look, only to find that Ming Huazhang had already slipped away. She let out a quiet sigh. “Never mind — let’s go inside and talk.”

Once inside, Jin Bao, Jixiang, Ruyi, and the others all breathed long sighs of relief to see Ming Huashang return in one piece, then immediately began pressing her for an account of where she had been.

Ming Huashang dared not tell the truth. She produced the rouge she had bought that morning and spun a story with her eyes wide open: “I was feeling a bit stifled from sleeping, and too lazy to call anyone, so I just went out for a little walk — and happened to run into Second Brother on his way out. So I had him take me along.”

She had genuinely returned with Ming Huazhang, and she wasn’t worried about him contradicting her, so she heaped all the responsibility onto him without a moment’s guilt. The maidservants, upon hearing that she had been out with Ming Huazhang, were only somewhat reassured — but still complained at length: “Young Mistress, even when you go out with the Second Young Master, you must bring someone with you. At the very least, send word back — you can’t just up and leave like that. From now on, you mustn’t be so reckless.”

Ming Huashang had much to endure and nowhere to voice it. She had only meant to step out for a quick meeting, expecting to return immediately — who could have predicted an entire day’s worth of upheaval?

Her concealment technique could mask her absence for an hour or two, but if she hadn’t emerged from her room all day, it would inevitably have been discovered. Fortunately, Zhao Cai and Jin Bao had not dared to shoulder such a weighty responsibility on their own, and had been quietly searching all along. Had it gone otherwise, today’s affair would have become very troublesome indeed.

Ming Huashang also knew the maidservants had been frightened, so she let them vent without argument. When she felt they had sufficiently aired their grievances, she asked: “Jin Bao, do you know how to make milk curd?”

Jin Bao started, then felt a wave of exasperation mixed with helplessness: “Young Mistress, at a time like this, you’re still thinking about food!”

“Then that’s a yes,” said Ming Huashang. “Go quickly — ask the kitchen for a basket of fresh cherries, and make a large tray of cherry milk curd. Remember, no sugar.”

Jin Bao agreed, then said, “Young Mistress, it’s already late. If you make a full tray, you might not finish it all — perhaps just a small portion, with the rest tomorrow.”

“A large tray shows proper sincerity,” said Ming Huashang. “Hurry — it’ll be dark soon.”

Jin Bao couldn’t make sense of it, but could only follow Ming Huashang’s instructions. Ming Huashang was Duke Zhenguo’s most beloved daughter; no one in the ducal household dared neglect her wishes. Before long, the kitchen had sent over every cherry they had.

Cherries were a rare delicacy at this time of year; divided among all the household branches, not much remained in any one place. Yet Ming Huashang casually monopolized the entire estate’s supply, and no one could raise a word of complaint. The kitchen, eager to please, even threw in an extra dish of crystal red bean cakes.

Of Ming Huashang’s four personal maidservants, each oversaw a different domain — clothing, food, lodging, and transport. Because Ming Huashang loved to eat, Jin Bao had developed a fine hand in the kitchen. Cherry milk curd was not especially difficult; before long, a large tray of glistening, pearlescent sweets — white shot through with the deep red of cherries — was ready.

Ming Huashang had Zhao Cai arrange flower petals around the edges of the tray until it looked both elegant and refined. Only then did she lift the food box herself and walk toward the front courtyard.

Zhao Cai carried the lantern ahead of her, chattering all the while: “Young Mistress, whatever business you have with the Second Young Master, couldn’t it wait until tomorrow? Why must you go out at this hour?”

For matters of leisure — music, chess, painting, food — a day’s delay was harmless enough. But a murder case most certainly could not wait. And to make things worse, halfway along the path, a gust of wind swept through the dusk, bearing with it a cool, damp chill.

Zhao Cai said urgently: “Young Mistress, it looks like rain — let’s turn back, quickly.”

But Ming Huashang suddenly clutched the food box tighter and broke into a run toward the deepening dark: “All the more reason to hurry — if the cherry milk curd gets rained on, it’ll be ruined.”

Ming Huazhang had changed his clothes, dismissed his attendants, and sat alone in the study. He held his brush, wrist suspended above the paper, moving steadily across it.

He did not write quickly, but his pace was even and unhurried, every stroke reflecting a composure and sureness that could not be taught. Ming Huazhang held a clear image of the Wei family’s workshop in his mind and, using the floor tiles as a scale reference, reproduced the workshop one element at a time.

Very quickly, a room took shape beneath his brush. Outside, the wind had picked up; a cool, refreshing gust swept through the open window, filling the study with the damp, earthy scent of coming rain. Raindrops followed the wind inside, pattering faintly against the windowframe.

Early spring’s wind had shed most of its bite. Ming Huazhang was too indolent to close the window. He exchanged his brush for a finer one and continued refining the details of the drawing. Then, unexpectedly, a startled voice carried in from beyond the room — Shu Li: “Second Young Miss, how have you come here?”

Ming Huashang? Ming Huazhang was genuinely surprised. He set down his brush and walked quickly toward the doorway.

He pulled the door open sharply, and there, beneath the eaves, stood a young girl in a pale lilac short jacket and skirt.

Her hair was damp with rain, strand after strand plastered against her face, which made her fine, fair skin appear all the more delicate and translucent. She held a box in her arms; a maidservant was dabbing at the water on her clothes with a handkerchief. Hearing the door, she looked up — and her eyes curved into a bright, brilliant smile, reflecting the candlelight within, even more luminous than the rain outside.

“Second Brother.”

Ming Huazhang had not expected it to truly be her — out in the rain in the middle of the night, more capable than ever. He asked, “Why have you come?”

Ming Huashang held up the food box with a look of gleaming pride: “I brought you food! The cherry milk curd I bought today — you didn’t seem to enjoy it, so I made you a fresh batch!”

Ming Huazhang glanced at what she held. Her hair was thoroughly drenched, yet the box in her hands bore not a single drop of rain. He had thought she was shielding something precious — it turned out, it was merely a food box.

He looked at her without expression, eyes especially deep in the backlit shadows. Ming Huashang began to feel a little apprehensive. She had come out in the rain for this — surely Ming Huazhang would not refuse to let her in? If so, she might have to ask him for an umbrella on the way out.

Her arms were growing sore from holding the box aloft. She ventured, “Second Brother — do you not like cherry milk curd?”

Ming Huazhang looked at her in silence. Did she have any idea what it meant for a young woman to come in the night rain to deliver food to a young man? He saw her damp, glistening eyes, the rain having made her face appear even paler than usual — and in the end, he stepped aside. “Come in.”

Ming Huashang finally let out a breath of relief. She handed the food box to a servant and stepped inside, gathering her skirt as she went. She thought she could simply endure the dampness until her clothes dried on their own — but before she had finished thinking that, Ming Huazhang emerged from the inner room, holding out a neatly folded set of pale white robes: “These are old clothes of mine — never been worn. Try them on first.”

Ming Huashang cast a sidelong glance at the perfectly composed Ming Huazhang, then at the clothes in his hands. Even with her formidable composure, she felt a flicker of awkwardness: “There’s no need — my clothes aren’t that wet, they’ll dry soon enough.”

“Go change,” said Ming Huazhang. “Early spring nights are still cold — the easiest time to catch a chill.”

Ming Huashang stared at Ming Huazhang’s serene, untroubled face and found herself speechless. He regarded her as his younger sister, and worried that his sister would fall ill — so he was asking his sister to change clothes in his own room. Perfectly reasonable. Besides, they were twins; no one would think anything of it.

The problem was that she knew — she knew she was not his sister.

Ming Huashang felt the difficulty of her position keenly. But refusing his kindness would only draw attention. And when the day finally came that her true identity was revealed, Ming Huazhang, looking back on all this, might well conclude that she and the Su family had conspired together from the start, deliberately concealing the truth from Duke Zhenguo’s household.

Ming Huashang could only perform the easy affection of a twin sister — a touch of bravado and familiarity: “All right. Second Brother, lay out the cherry milk curd first — I’ll be back out to eat it with you.”

She took the clothes from him with a light, natural ease, tucked them in her arms, and walked toward the inner room. Ming Huazhang’s quarters were spacious — larger even than Ming Huashang’s own rooms — and when she pulled the inner door shut and drew the folding screen across, not a single sound from outside could penetrate.

But Ming Huazhang, standing in the main hall, felt strangely ill at ease. He dismissed all the attendants, secured the doors and windows, and moved to sit in the study — the room farthest from the inner chamber. He deliberately stopped listening, tried not to register any sound from within. Yet the more he pushed the awareness away, the stranger the feeling became.

In the inner room, the Ming Huashang who was changing her clothes was likewise quite awkward. The room was Ming Huazhang’s bedchamber, immaculate and orderly; compared to Ming Huashang’s own chambers, the furnishings here were sparse to the point of austerity. Standing in the open, uncluttered space, Ming Huashang felt a strong, inexplicable sensation of being watched.

She made sure the folding screen was firmly in place, then changed as quickly as she possibly could. Tang dynasty women were well accustomed to wearing men’s clothing — particularly women of noble birth, who considered cross-dressing quite fashionable. Ming Huashang had no unfamiliarity with men’s garments, but the moment she remembered these clothes belonged to Ming Huazhang — even though he had never worn them — she felt strange all over.

Even garments from several years ago were far too large on her; the shoulders hung loose and the hem fell too long. Ming Huashang could only cinch the belt as tight as it would go in an attempt to look presentable, then bundled her skirt into a ball under her arm, tiptoeing out with exaggerated stealth.

She felt exactly like a small thief come to steal clothing.

The image that floated into her mind made her laugh despite herself. Ming Huazhang, seated at the desk, looked up at the sound — and saw a girl with tousled, damp hair, collar slightly askew, yet with a waist that was impossibly fine and a complexion that was startlingly pale.

Still in the mood to laugh. She really had no worries in the world.

Ming Huashang met Ming Huazhang’s gaze and quickly pressed her lips together, walking over to sit across from him with proper composure: “Thank you, Second Brother.”

Ming Huazhang glanced over the clothes on her. He had specifically chosen something plain and characterless — yet somehow on Ming Huashang it only seemed to broadcast his presence at every turn.

He shifted his gaze away with a slight awkwardness, lowered his eyes, and said evenly, “It’s dark out, and raining — why did you come?”

After a brief moment of lingering awkwardness, Ming Huashang swiftly returned to her natural state — a social force of nature who turned the tables entirely, speaking in one unbroken stream: “Because I was thinking of Second Brother, of course. This is the cherry milk curd I had Jin Bao make specially — the moment it was done, I brought it straight to you. I haven’t tried it myself yet. Have you? How is it — is it good?”

Her words came so quickly that Ming Huazhang wasn’t sure which one to answer first. He let out a quiet sigh: “You needn’t have. To be honest, I’m not very fond of sweets.”

“It isn’t sweet,” said Ming Huashang. “I know you don’t like sweet things, so I told Jin Bao not to add any sugar. Won’t you try just one?”

As she spoke, she even moved to serve him. Ming Huazhang quickly intercepted her hand: “All right — I’ll help myself.”

He picked up a cherry with his chopsticks and set it gently in his mouth. Ming Huashang watched him intently, and the moment he had tasted it, leaned in eagerly: “Well? How is it?”

Ming Huazhang gave a nod — and then became aware of the actual flavor. He felt a quiet resignation. Faced with a gaze like that, how could anyone find it in themselves to say no?

Ming Huashang brightened at that. She picked up her own chopsticks and, with cheerful consideration, set about helping Ming Huazhang “work through” the rest: “I’m glad Second Brother likes it. Today, while gathering information, I found a stall near the Wei residence almost by accident — and their milk curd turned out to be quite good. I thought right away that Second Brother would enjoy it. Elder Brother Xie is Second Brother’s friend, so it wouldn’t do to favor one over the other — I brought him a portion too. But a pre-packaged serving from a street stall is nothing compared to something freshly made at home. At least now Second Brother has properly tasted it.”

The faint trace of resentment in Ming Huazhang’s heart quietly dissolved. Ming Huashang had brought something for both him and Xie Jichuan — not out of some ceremonial even-handedness, but because Xie Jichuan was his friend.

Ming Huazhang’s expression settled, still as snow: “I understand. That is your prerogative — you need not explain it to me.”

“It’s different,” said Ming Huashang. “You are my twin elder brother — the person closest to me in this world, aside from Father. There are countless young men in this world, but there is only one Second Brother. Of course I must be especially good to Second Brother.”

Ming Huazhang’s knuckles tightened slightly. He had no idea how to meet such frank, unguarded affection. Ming Huashang, seeing that he had stopped eating, cheerfully nudged another cherry in his direction: “Second Brother, come on, eat.”

He lowered his gaze. His lashes cast faint, delicate shadows on his skin: “All right.”

Ming Huazhang carried himself with a cool elegance, and even his manner of eating was restrained and refined; while he finished one cherry, Ming Huashang had already dispatched five. Ming Huazhang surveyed the dramatically unbalanced tray, set down his chopsticks, and left the remaining cherries for Ming Huashang: “Your thoughtfulness is appreciated — but next time, simply send a maidservant. You need not come yourself.”

“That won’t do,” said Ming Huashang, biting into a cherry, earnestness in her voice. “A maidservant sending it is the maidservant’s care; my coming is my care.”

At this point she noticed that Ming Huazhang had already put down his chopsticks. She had come claiming she was delivering food to Ming Huazhang — yet most of it had ended up in her own stomach. Ming Huashang blinked, a faint trace of guilt crossing her face: “Second Brother, why aren’t you eating anymore?”

Ming Huazhang suppressed a laugh: “Go ahead and eat. I don’t eat in the evenings — what I’ve had is enough.”

Ming Huashang, torn between vague guilt about how many meals she had eaten that day and a stubborn inability to stop, proceeded to finish every last cherry on the tray. When the final one was gone, she wiped the corner of her mouth with a handkerchief and said, “Second Brother, there is actually something I wanted to ask you.”

The young man sat in the halo of the lamplight, back straight, neck long, the side of his face gleaming like polished jade, the clarity of his bone structure all the more pronounced. The light falling on him was like moonlight on white snow — cool and refined, yet with a faint, quiet radiance.

He gave a soft, quiet laugh — a sound entirely unsurprised: “You want to ask about the Wei family’s workshop?”

She seemed scatter-brained and easygoing, as if she had no worries — yet her mind ran clear and sharp. She rarely went out of her way to offend anyone; by the same token, when she suddenly showed warmth and consideration toward someone, there was always a reason behind it.

Especially with him. Whenever she coaxed and flattered him, there was always something she wanted in return.