After she said it, the air seemed to go silent — only the sound of wind and snow from beyond the covered walkway remained. Even Zhao Cai found it hard to watch, and quietly tugged at Ming Huashang’s sleeve: “My lady…”

Ming Huashang brushed Zhao Cai’s hand away and made her case with great conviction: “Don’t make a fuss — this is important. You know perfectly well how stingy Luoyang banquets always are, with pastries served like birdseed — gone in one bite. A single meal one can endure, but this is three days. If there isn’t enough to eat, we need to pack food ahead of time.”

She spoke so decisively and earnestly that Ming Huazhang could not, in fact, answer. Because he genuinely did not know whether the banquet’s pastries would be sufficient.

After all, no one attending a banquet had ever done so for the food. Ming Huazhang paused for a moment, then said: “Your concern is reasonable — I overlooked it. Whatever you like to eat, bring it yourself.”

Ming Huashang agreed with delight. Thinking of last night’s dream, she felt that of all those with the least motive, Ming Huazhang topped the list. He was her best chance of survival in what was to come — Ming Huashang decided it was very important to build a good rapport with him. Seeking to ingratiate herself, she asked: “Elder Brother, what do you like to eat? I know every pastry shop in Luoyang — whatever flavor you like, I’ll bring it for you!”

“Thank you, but there is no need,” Ming Huazhang declined without hesitation. Ming Huashang assumed he was being modest and said generously: “Elder Brother, there’s no need to stand on ceremony with me. I’ve heard that a new shop opened in the south of the city — their plum blossom cakes are both sweet and refreshing, and they sell out constantly. If you’d like some, I’ll send Jin Bao out first thing tomorrow to queue early and make sure we get them.”

Having already learned she had a maid called Zhao Cai, finding out the next one was called Jin Bao was perhaps no surprise. Ming Huazhang looked at her, well aware that she was the one who wanted the cakes. He had intended to remind her to be careful with her words at the Feihong Banquet — not to approach strangers, lest she get dragged into the power struggle between the Li and Wu families — but looking at Ming Huashang now, her eyes bright as stars, apparently truly there for the banquet, he thought better of it.

Her head was full of nothing but food and drink; she wouldn’t pay any attention to those commandery princes. Ming Huazhang gave a quiet sigh: “I don’t eat sweets, and I don’t eat pastries. Just prepare what you need for yourself — don’t worry about me. The day before we leave, I’ll send someone over to compare packing lists with you. Is there anything else?”

Ming Huazhang’s appearance was cool and upright, like a clear wind and bright moon. Ming Huashang gave a small shake of her head, not daring to push further.

She felt somewhat deflated. All these years she and Ming Huazhang had not been close, and her attempts at pleasantries had missed the mark entirely. She hadn’t even known that Ming Huazhang didn’t eat sweets.

How could there possibly be a person in the world who didn’t like sweets?

After giving Ming Huashang his instructions, Ming Huazhang turned and left. Once he was safely out of earshot, Zhao Cai dared to lean in and say quietly: “My lady, Second Young Master is so very serious — while he was standing there just now I didn’t even dare speak.”

Ming Huashang gave a shudder and wrapped herself tighter in her fluffy fur collar: “Quite so — that is what true nobility looks like: imposing and authoritative without even needing to show anger. Achoo — quick, hurry back — I am going to freeze to death.”

Ming Huashang practically ran back to her own courtyard. Once indoors, she cradled a hand warmer in her arms, ate a plate of pastries, and drank half a cup of ginger tea — only then did she feel she had returned to the living.

She wore a silver-red long skirt and a white upper garment trimmed at the collar with fur edging, and with no decorum whatsoever she slumped sideways against a bolster cushion. Nestled in the warm, wisteria-scented room, Ming Huashang yawned — she was sleepy.

On any other day she would have gone back to sleep, but today there was real business to attend to. Ming Huashang forced herself to stay awake and called out: “Ruyi.”

A maid with a double-bun hairstyle responded at once and came swiftly to Ming Huashang’s side, her voice clear and crisp: “My lady — what is it?”

Ming Huashang had four personal maids: Zhao Cai, Jin Bao, Jixiang, and Ruyi. Of these, Zhao Cai managed her clothing and jewelry and accompanied her when she went out; Jin Bao had excellent cooking skills and managed food and drink — when Ming Huashang had a craving, she would have Jin Bao cook up a special dish or go out and buy pastries; Jixiang was steady and practical and managed the sweeping and maintenance of the courtyard and its furnishings; Ruyi was sharp and capable, and handled gathering information and maintaining social contacts on Ming Huashang’s behalf.

Ming Huashang crooked a finger; Ruyi understood immediately and leaned close. Ming Huashang said in a low voice: “Go outside and ask around among the older serving women — see if anyone knows of a Nanny Su, a woman of the Su family who was my mother’s wet nurse and formerly served in the main courtyard.”

In the prophetic dream, Duke Zhenguo had stated with absolute certainty, plainly and clearly, that Ming Huashang was a false daughter and Su Yuji was his true one. Her father had spoken with such finality that Ming Huashang did not doubt the truth of it at all — and yet in all her living memory she had never heard mention of anyone called Nanny Su.

Even on the day the truth was exposed, Su Yuji had simply arrived, presented her evidence, Duke Zhenguo had confirmed it, and acknowledged the truth — without anyone ever summoning the ringleader Nanny Su for a direct confrontation. A wet nurse capable of swapping out a Duke’s daughter should have held considerable standing within the inner household — so why did Ming Huashang have absolutely no memory of this person?

Ruyi accepted the order and left. She proved worthy of her reputation as a social butterfly: within a single afternoon, she had found out what there was to find.

In the lamplight, Ming Huashang ate dried tangerine pastries while listening to Ruyi: “…The person my lady is asking about is from quite a while back. I ran about all afternoon and asked over ten people before I finally found someone who had heard of Nanny Su. But even she was not very familiar — she only knew that Nanny Su had once been the most trusted wet nurse of the late Madam, and had accompanied the Madam when she came from Taiyuan to be married. Nanny Su served the Madam closely, and her son and daughter-in-law had been managing the Madam’s shops in Chang’an on her behalf — a very comfortable situation indeed. Sixteen years ago she retired and returned to her home village, and has not been seen since.”

Sixteen years ago? That was the very year Ming Huashang had been born. Ming Huashang pressed on quickly: “Why did she retire and return home?”

“It’s not clear. It seems her grandson was exceptionally gifted — the makings of a scholar. He had been raised by clansmen up until then, but as he grew older, she felt it wasn’t right for the whole family to be separated, so she brought her son and daughter-in-law back to the countryside to devote themselves to supporting his studies.”

Ming Huashang raised an eyebrow — she could not accept this explanation. Retiring to the countryside and doting on one’s grandchildren sounded plausible enough on the surface, but Nanny Su was not a scholar herself — what could she teach a grandson at home? The sensible choice for a normal person would have been to bring the grandson to Chang’an, reuniting the whole family there.

Moreover, Wang Yulan had died after childbirth, leaving her dowry and shops unattended, with two newborn infants crying to be fed. As the Madam’s wet nurse, Nanny Su should have been the most obligated to stay and serve the household in this crisis — looking after the young charges while her son and daughter-in-law took over managing Wang Yulan’s estates and shops. Before the two children were grown, the income from managing that inheritance alone would have been considerable. For Nanny Su to retire and go home at precisely this juncture was profoundly contrary to what any profit-minded person would do.

Ming Huashang asked: “Who gave Nanny Su permission to leave the Duke’s household?”

Ruyi furrowed her brow, working to recall, and said uncertainly: “It should have been the Duke, shouldn’t it? At that time the Duke’s household was still in Chang’an. The Madam had not been well during her pregnancy with you and Second Young Master, and things outside were turbulent — there were raids every few days on suspicion of treason. The Duke was afraid of alarming the Madam, so he sent her to rest and recover at the manor on Mount Zhongnan. The Madam gave birth to Second Young Master and you, my lady, at that manor — but sadly the Madam did not survive, and passed away just after delivering the twins. Later, when the Duke brought the young master and you back to the household, Nanny Su had apparently not been seen from that point on — she was probably dismissed by the Duke.”

Ming Huashang had not known so many things had happened the year she was born. She fell into quiet thought, and gradually a conjecture began to form.

The only thing capable of making someone resist the pull of self-interest was an even greater self-interest. Could it be that Wang Yulan had given birth outside the city — the manor in the countryside not having the strict oversight of the Duke’s household — which gave Nanny Su the opportunity to act? After quietly swapping the two babies, with a guilty conscience she had taken advantage of Wang Yulan’s death and the Duke’s ignorance of the truth to flee under the pretense of retirement?

This was quite likely — but Ming Huashang had the persistent feeling she was overlooking something. She asked: “Who else was with my mother at the mountain manor when she went into confinement?”

Ruyi shook her head: “I don’t know.”

This was something that had happened sixteen years ago. Ruyi had entered the household only twelve years before — how could she know anything about matters from the Yonghui era? Ming Huashang said: “Keep asking around — find out who was with my mother at the manor back then. Once you’ve found someone, don’t make a sound; come and tell me first, and then discreetly bring them to me.”

Ruyi acknowledged this, then hesitated and asked carefully: “My lady — why are you looking into all of this?”

To save her own skin, of course — if not for her life being threatened by some unknown person, who would willingly dig into such old, buried affairs? Ming Huashang breathed out slowly: “I am curious about a few things. You must not tell anyone about any of this — once you step out that door, do not breathe a word to anyone. Not even to my father or Elder Brother. Do you understand?”

Ming Huashang was so rarely this serious that Ruyi was startled, and hastily agreed.

After getting what she needed, Ming Huashang dismissed Ruyi. She sat alone in the room, watching the dancing flame of the candle, and was suddenly overcome with a sense of blankness.

She was Ming Huashang — yet not the Ming Huashang of Duke Zhenguo’s household. After the true daughter returned next year, where would she go? What would become of her?

Quickly find a good husband to marry before then?

This thought appeared in Ming Huashang’s mind for no more than an instant before she dismissed it. When aristocrats and officials formed marriage alliances, did they do so for the sake of the bride herself? What they sought to marry was the wealth and kinship ties that the other party’s family represented — the bride in the arrangement was the least important element. If her own father, who had cherished her as a treasure, was willing to abandon her the moment he learned her true identity, why on earth did she think a man she had just met would remain steadfast by her side?

Staying with the Ming family was something Ming Huashang had crossed off her list from the start. She had no desire to die some baffling, inexplicable death a second time. Perhaps she should go to her real family, the Su family?

This too did not strike her as a good choice. A grandmother who had been so consumed by greed as to trade her own granddaughter for a Duke’s daughter — what kind of household was that likely to be? Not to mention that Nanny Su had a quite remarkable grandson, for whom the whole family had pooled their resources to fund his education. If Ming Huashang returned there, who was to say she wouldn’t be sold off?

She couldn’t stay in Duke Zhenguo’s household; she couldn’t go to the Su family. The only path left was to find a way to stand on her own two feet. But independence was not simply a matter of buying a house — as a woman, if she wanted to live independently without a father, a brother, or a husband, she would have to register as a female-headed household. And the conditions for that were restrictive and difficult — obtaining that registration was anything but simple.

Even if she found a way to navigate the official channels and successfully registered as a female-headed household, how would a woman like her — completely hopeless at music, chess, calligraphy, and painting — support herself?

Ming Huashang looked into this bleak future and let out a long sigh on her own behalf. She noticed that the dried tangerine pastry in her hand had gone cold, and she finished it in one gulp.

Heaven and earth are vast — but eating and sleeping are the greatest matters of all. Thankfully there was still a year, and she could arrange things gradually. The most pressing concern for now was the upcoming Feihong Banquet.

Ming Huashang pulled out a slip of paper and set about carefully listing what food to pack. The plum blossom cakes from the south of the city were really very difficult to get — she needed to have Jin Bao start preparing right away.

In the blink of an eye, the fourteenth day of the first month arrived. The imperial capital lifted its curfew — three days of nationwide celebration, every restriction lifted. Lanterns strung high in red above the Wanshen Palace; flower lanterns filled every street and alley; even the cold and compassionate Buddha images seemed to have been touched by the warmth of the human world. Residents from nearby prefectures and counties brought their whole families to Luoyang to see the lantern fair — while at the same time, many fine horses and fragrant carriages were moving in the opposite direction, making their way out of the city.

Princess Taiping had set up the Feihong Banquet in the Mang Mountains, inviting all the talented people of the capital to come and enjoy the snow and admire the lanterns in the hills. Since the Empress Regnant had come to power, “a woman’s virtue lies in ignorance” had become a phrase of irony — the Empress Regnant herself ruled over all under heaven, and behind her, a line of female officials led by Shangguan Wan’er had entered governance. Serving as ruler or official was no longer the exclusive domain of men. More and more women were stepping out from their inner chambers and entering fields that had once belonged only to men. This Feihong Banquet was much the same — Princess Taiping had invited not only the talented young men of the great families, but also many noblewomen of talent and skill.

In an instant the Mang Mountains were alive with fine horses and carved carriages, the air perfumed all along the road. Ming Huashang had been worried about the difficulty of the mountain paths, but the snow had been packed down flat by the unceasing procession of carriages — she arrived at the mountaintop with reasonable ease. The moment she stepped out of the carriage, the sight before her struck her dumb.

Silks and jewels, a hall full of gold and jade — surely every person of rank in Luoyang was here? Ming Huashang had spent sixteen years as a deadweight; this was her first time seeing such a grand spectacle. Instinctively she sought out Ming Huazhang: “Elder Brother.”

Ming Huazhang was leading his horse, in the middle of saying something to the people at the gate. When he saw Ming Huashang look over, he handed the reins to an attendant and said briefly: “Take the horse to the stable — don’t use their fodder. Use our own. Stay and watch over it yourself — without fail.”

The attendant acknowledged this and led the horse away. Ming Huazhang walked toward Ming Huashang: “The journey up took longer than expected — are you feeling unwell?”

Ming Huashang shook her head: “I’m fine. I had food and drink in the carriage — how could I be unwell? But Elder Brother was on horseback the whole way — are you not cold?”

Still in the mood to eat — she was clearly quite all right. Ming Huazhang said: “A journey of this length is nothing to me. Since you are well, let me take you to where you will be staying first.”

Just as Ming Huazhang and Ming Huashang were about to walk on, a clear, laughing voice suddenly rang out from behind: “Jingzhan.”

Ming Huashang did not notice that her elder brother Ming Huazhang had arched an eyebrow with a look of considerable exasperation — she turned toward the sound and saw a young man standing beneath a snow-covered pine, dressed in blue, slender and handsome. Catching sight of Ming Huashang, he arched his brows and smiled, his eyes full of free-spirited charm: “Jingzhan — so this is your little sister?”