Ming Huashang’s heart lurched wildly and then settled — so this was what he’d meant. She’d been scared to death, thinking Ming Huazhang had found out.
Once her emotions calmed, Ming Huashang felt rather speechless. It was such a small thing — she’d said it offhandedly at the time and hadn’t taken it seriously at all, yet Ming Huazhang still remembered it now.
But Ming Huashang had spent all these years walking a fine line, and in front of Ming Huazhang, how could she not know what to say? She immediately launched into a flood of words: “Second Brother, I don’t doubt at all that you’ll win first place in the examinations. It’s just that in front of Brother Xie, I couldn’t say it too bluntly, or else he’d lose face.”
That mouth of hers — Ming Huazhang knew perfectly well that she said whatever pleased whoever she was talking to, but the gloom in his chest dissipated without him noticing. Ming Huashang took a fresh sheet of paper to write on. Ming Huazhang sat beneath the lamp, quietly watching where she sat. Suddenly he asked, “Shangshang, do you think winning first place matters?”
Ming Huashang’s heart pounded at hearing this. Ming Huazhang always acted with resolve and decisiveness — this was the first time he’d spoken to her in a lost, uncertain tone. Ming Huashang chose her words carefully, feigning ease: “First place is just something to bring good luck. There are so many scholars in the world, and only one can be first. Does that mean everyone else lacks talent or didn’t work hard? As long as you have a clear conscience and haven’t failed yourself, that’s enough.”
Ming Huazhang was quiet for a moment, then stood and walked over to her side, saying slowly, “You’re right.”
Ming Huashang thought Ming Huazhang had come to supervise her writing, but instead he didn’t look at her at all — he stopped in front of the candlestick. The flame flickered, and the shadow of the brush on the paper trembled along with it. Ming Huashang, in the pause between dipping her brush in ink, glanced over in surprise and asked, “Second Brother, what are you doing?”
Ming Huazhang watched a strip of paper turn to ash in the flame and said flatly, “Nothing. Just throwing away some useless, decaying dust.”
The tongue of fire danced quickly, making his pupils flicker bright and dark by turns. Indeed — such a shallow truth, and yet he’d needed Ming Huashang to remind him of it.
He admitted that what Han Jie had said was right: in officialdom, the most important things were balance and tact, reading the intentions of one’s superiors. To accomplish anything, one had to bow to the ways of the world.
But he was unwilling. If winning first place required someone else to hand it to him, then he would rather not have it at all.
Ming Huashang found Ming Huazhang’s behavior strange. He’d suddenly come to her room late at night, and apart from burning a slip of paper he’d said nothing at all — he simply watched her finish writing her policy essay and left. After Ming Huashang locked the doors and windows as instructed, she was thoroughly baffled.
What exactly had he come here for tonight? Could it really just be to check on her schoolwork?
…This elder brother of hers didn’t need to be quite so meticulous about it.
·
The relocation procession drew nearer day by day. According to scout reports, at the current pace, the Empress’s imperial carriage would arrive in Chang’an by tomorrow afternoon. These past few days Chang’an had been in an uproar, and even Zhongnan Mountain, secluded and aloof from the world, could not escape it — the mountain had grown visibly restless.
Today the final assessment concluded, and one by one people received their scores and slipped down the mountain without a sound. In the blink of an eye, the compound seemed empty.
Ming Huashang was among the last group to receive her results. Around the hour of Rizhi, she followed Ming Huazhang to see Han Jie, and the moment she pushed open the door, she found the room already full of people.
That Xie Jichuan, Jiang Ling, and Ren Yao were there came as no surprise, but Ming Huashang hadn’t expected Su Xingzhi and Su Yuji to be there too.
Ming Huashang was a little stunned, but Ming Huazhang appeared perfectly composed, walking unhurriedly toward Han Jie as everyone stepped aside to clear a path for him: “General Han.”
Ming Huashang silently followed behind Ming Huazhang and took her place in the second row. Ming Huazhang, broad-shouldered and long-legged, stood in front and effortlessly shielded her from view. Taking the chance, she asked Jiang Ling beside her, “What’s going on?”
Jiang Ling shook his head, jerked his chin toward Su Xingzhi and Su Yuji, then spread his hands.
It was a very strange expression, but somehow Ming Huashang understood it. By then Han Jie and Ming Huazhang had finished exchanging pleasantries, and Han Jie said, “Good, now that everyone’s here, I’ll say it all at once. First, congratulations — the four of you have performed well these past four months, and Xuan Xiaowei has decided to send you to Chang’an for a mission. Here are your scores, take them.”
So that explained why Su Yuji and Su Xingzhi were there too — it turned out they were also to stay in Chang’an.
Ming Huashang couldn’t help stealing a glance at Su Yuji.
Looking only at her features, Su Yuji was actually delicate and graceful, but her bearing was cold and proud; her thin back was held perfectly straight, instantly dispelling any sense of frailty, like a chrysanthemum under autumn frost — slender and weak in form, yet unyielding in nature at its core. Just going by temperament, she was in some ways similar to Ming Huazhang.
Carrying that thought, Ming Huashang studied Su Xingzhi again, and the longer she looked, the more alike the two siblings seemed.
According to the prophetic dream, next year Su Yuji would show up at the Duke Zhenguo’s household and reveal that she was the true daughter of the Ming family, and Ming Huashang, the cuckoo who’d taken another’s nest, would die silently amid the scent of osmanthus blossoms.
Thinking of this, Ming Huashang suddenly noticed something strange — in the dream she had died at the Duke Zhenguo’s residence in Luoyang, but now the capital had already been relocated, and the entire Duke Zhenguo household had moved to Chang’an. If she didn’t return to Luoyang next year, would she avoid dying at all?
Ming Huashang pondered this for a while and decided the thought was a bit like marking the boat to find a lost sword. If she didn’t find out who wanted to kill her, then whether she was in Chang’an or Luoyang, what difference would it make? Su Xingzhi seemed like a decent person — if she spent this year building a good relationship with him, moving out of the Duke Zhenguo’s residence, and looking out for each other with Su Xingzhi, would there still be time?
While her mind wandered through thoughts of the future, she found herself staring blankly at Su Xingzhi, not realizing it, until the person beside her bumped into her and she snapped back to her senses.
Ming Huashang looked up in a daze to find Jiang Ling staring at her wide-eyed in astonishment, while Ming Huazhang stood in front holding her assessment file, having apparently waited for who knew how long.
Jiang Ling asked strangely, “What were you thinking about?”
Ming Huashang quickly scanned the room — her gaze just now had been so obvious that not only had the Su siblings noticed, but even Han Jie above had noticed too. Mortified nearly to death, she forced her expression steady as she took the file and said, “It’s nothing, I was just thinking about how we’ll be leaving soon, and I feel a little reluctant to go.”
Jiang Ling opened his mouth as if to say something, then looked utterly confused instead. She’d complained every day about how remote this place was and how terrible the food was — he’d never noticed her being reluctant to leave. Besides, even if she truly was reluctant, why would she be staring at a man from another group?
The moment the words left her mouth, Ming Huashang realized she’d come up with a terrible excuse. With everyone’s eyes now on her, she was mortified enough to wish she could disappear into a crack in the floor. Flustered, she changed the subject: “General Han actually finished reading everyone’s exams so quickly — that must have been exhausting. Oh, am I ranked first tier?”
Her voice rose to a pitch on the last few words. Ming Huashang’s heart soared with delight, and she no longer cared about her earlier embarrassment, asking Jiang Ling happily, “How did you do?”
Jiang Ling, who had been quite pleased with himself, frowned at her question: “You’re first tier too?”
Ming Huashang’s smile gradually froze: “Too?”
Ming Huashang and Jiang Ling stared at each other in an odd silence.
The two of them, who looked down on each other despite being equally mediocre, thought almost simultaneously: if both of them had first-tier rankings, then was first tier really worth anything at all?
But on the surface, the two of them still smiled and exchanged congratulations, hypocritically flattering one another. These words fell on Ming Huazhang’s ears like knives, cutting painfully.
She’d deliberately stood in the back row when she came in, just so she could quietly watch Su Xingzhi’s back. She was so playful and casual with Jiang Ling, nowhere near as reserved as she was when facing him.
She had reached the age when a girl’s heart begins to stir, and given her sweet, charming, considerate nature, it would be hard for anyone not to fall for her. Would it not be long before he heard that she wanted to marry?
Ming Huazhang cut in flatly, interrupting Ming Huashang and Jiang Ling: “Quiet. General Han still has more to say.”
Ming Huashang let out a long breath of relief and quickly fell silent, standing obediently. Han Jie made a small sound of surprise, not realizing he had more to say.
He thought about it for a moment and said, “Actually, there’s not much more to say. You’ve all worked hard this stretch of time. Go pack your things and head down the mountain — the mountain roads are hard to walk once it gets any later. Once His Majesty arrives in Chang’an tomorrow, your families will return as well. Make good use of tonight to work out your cover stories, and don’t let anyone see through them.”
Han Jie had spoken quite politely, but translated, it essentially meant: get out, and don’t cause him trouble.
The seven of them fell silent, then took their leave with a tacit understanding. Ming Huazhang walked at the very back, his expression still cool and detached. Ming Huashang trailed close beside him and asked, “Second Brother, I didn’t see you just now — you’re not angry, are you?”
Ming Huazhang said calmly, “No. What right would I have to be angry with you?”
The words sounded a bit odd — if Jiang Ling had said them, Ming Huashang would have thought he was being sarcastic. But coming from Ming Huazhang, she felt she was the one misjudging a gentleman’s intentions with a petty heart. She silently scolded herself for overthinking, then said cheerfully, “That’s good then. Second Brother, could I not move back to live at the Duke Zhenguo’s residence?”
Ming Huazhang’s dark pupils contracted sharply, and he turned to look at her at once. Su Xingzhi, walking slightly ahead and to the side, also flinched visibly and stopped in his tracks.
Su Yuji, puzzled, turned to look at her brother inexplicably: “Brother?”
Ming Huashang was startled by the chill in Ming Huazhang’s eyes and didn’t notice Su Xingzhi’s strange reaction ahead. She blinked, thinking Ming Huazhang had misunderstood, and hurried to explain: “Second Brother, I don’t have any objection to your arrangements — you went to so much trouble to help me find the Deye Temple, and I’m truly grateful. But back in April I declared with such conviction that I wanted to go cultivate in quiet retreat at the temple, and now, only four months later, to move back to the residence and go back on my word — wouldn’t that only raise more suspicion? Why don’t I rent a house outside on my own and live independently — it would be more convenient for carrying out missions in the future too.”
Everyone present knew the full truth; only the Su siblings, unaware of their real identities, would also be staying long-term in Chang’an, and would even be taking the imperial examinations alongside Ming Huazhang next month. By then, Su Xingzhi could easily learn of Ming Huazhang’s background, so there was no need for Ming Huashang to hide anything, and she simply spoke plainly.
After all, whoever wanted her dead within the Duke’s household had still not been found — better to move out and turn passive into active.
Ming Huashang looked at Ming Huazhang expectantly. Yet this time, her usually considerate elder brother didn’t go along with her. His eyes were like cold stars, his gaze sharp and aggressive, but his voice was as calm as a still lake: “Why do you want to move out?”
“Er…” Ming Huashang faltered, then racked her brain and said, “Moving out would give me freedom of movement — I could see whoever I wanted, buy whatever I wanted, come and go without needing anyone’s permission, and it would be easier to keep up a cover story…”
“Fine.” Ming Huazhang nodded flatly. “I’ll solve those problems for you. Come home with me.”
Ming Huashang’s expression froze; she didn’t understand what Ming Huazhang was doing. He glanced up, took hold of Ming Huashang’s hand, and strode past Su Xingzhi, heading outward.
Ming Huashang, caught off guard, stumbled a couple of steps as she was pulled along. Passing the Su siblings, she still managed a friendly smile at them.
Then she felt the grip on her wrist tighten further.
Long after Ming Huazhang and Ming Huashang had walked off, Su Xingzhi still stared fixedly in the direction they’d gone, his gaze striking Su Yuji as strange. She followed his line of sight and asked, puzzled, “Brother, what are you looking at?”
Su Xingzhi came back to himself, looked at Su Yuji’s round, almond-shaped eyes, pressed his lips together, and in the end said nothing.
He lowered his head, hiding the look in his eyes: “Nothing.”
Su Xingzhi watched an ant crawl across a crack in the ground and thought to himself, not without mockery, so it turned out — they were the Duke Zhenguo’s household, they were the Ming family his grandmother had once served.
So it turned out that beautiful, noble young man of unbroken record was the heir of the Ming family, Su Yuji’s own elder brother.
·
Once bitten, twice shy — this time Ming Huashang came down the mountain far more composed, arriving at the city gate by the hour of Xu. Unlike her hurried, distracted trip before, this time after Ming Huazhang brought Ming Huashang into the city, they headed straight for Changxing Ward.
Ming Huazhang barely spoke along the way. Not knowing why her brother was angry, Ming Huashang followed quietly, not daring to provoke him. Only when they stopped in front of a mansion and she looked up to read the characters above did she realize where they were: “Duke Zhenguo’s residence? This is our home?”
Hearing her say “our home” so naturally, the fire in Ming Huazhang’s chest settled somewhat, and he answered flatly, “Yes.”
Ming Huashang’s eyes widened further. Ming Huazhang dismounted and, without hurry, knocked on the gate. After a long while, the door opened a crack; the somewhat hard-of-hearing old servant, hearing it was the second young master and second young lady, wept tears of joy and hurriedly ushered Ming Huazhang and Ming Huashang inside.
There weren’t many people in the residence — it was so quiet one could almost smell the roots of the trees. Ming Huazhang didn’t have the old servant lead the way; he took Ming Huashang to find their quarters himself.
Ancient trees blocked out the sky. Ming Huashang followed behind Ming Huazhang, passing through corridor after corridor; the entire estate seemed to hold only the two of them. As she walked, Ming Huashang glanced this way and that — this residence was different from the Duke Zhenguo’s household in Luoyang, with gray walls and dark tiles and lush trees. Though it covered less ground than the Luoyang estate, it carried its own air of ancient, weathered years.
It was a pity she had no memory of this place at all. Realizing this had been where she’d lived as a young child, Ming Huashang felt a rush of emotion: “So this is the Ming family’s ancestral home. I didn’t expect it to be so well preserved — you’d never guess no one had lived here for over a decade.”
Ming Huazhang said flatly, “I had people restore it.”
“…” Ming Huashang was incredulous. “Weren’t you at Zhongnan Mountain this whole time?”
“I was, but that didn’t stop the house from being restored. Grandmother and Father have finally returned to their old home after so many years apart. As the younger generation, how could we let them live in discomfort?”
Ming Huashang fell silent after hearing this — she really was an unfilial daughter, especially compared to Ming Huazhang; raising her had been less worthwhile than raising a dog.
Ming Huashang said honestly, “Second Brother, you think of everything, bold yet careful — Father is truly fortunate to have you.”
Even Ming Huashang felt too embarrassed to accept such words herself. She laughed and looped her arm through Ming Huazhang’s, saying, “Let’s not go back and forth arguing over this between us siblings — let’s honor Father together.”
Ming Huashang leaned in playfully, and Ming Huazhang couldn’t keep a cold face any longer; the earlier unpleasantness was set aside.
Though to this moment, Ming Huashang still had no idea what had upset him in the first place.
Ming Huazhang led Ming Huashang through a bamboo grove into a side courtyard in the northeast corner. The location was secluded, ringed by bamboo outside, and fell instantly quiet. Inside, the plants grew in graceful disarray, elegant and refined; with the gate shut it was a self-contained courtyard, and with the gate open it led directly out of the residence — not far off were the ward wall and Xiamen Street, making it a spot both close to the bustle and quietly secluded, thoughtfully designed.
Of course, what suited Ming Huashang’s taste best was the grape trellis beneath the eaves. Ming Huashang had none of those refined, literary sentiments — she simply liked things that were edible and useful, like this trellis of grapes.
In her mind, Ming Huashang had already conjured up ten different ways to eat grapes. The flowerbeds in the courtyard were nice too, but a pity they were only for looking, not for use — better to plow them under next year and plant something edible instead. And the bamboo grove outside could all be put to use too.
Ming Huashang circled the rooms inside and out and was overjoyed: “Second Brother, was this prepared for me?”
“Yes.” Ming Huazhang clasped his hands behind his back and said slowly, “How does it compare to going to live outside on your own?”
Ming Huashang truly hadn’t expected this waiting for her here. He’d stayed silent the whole way just because of this?
Ming Huashang couldn’t quite name her own feelings. She stood beneath the grape trellis looking at Ming Huazhang and suddenly felt he seemed both familiar and distant.
Time swept through her like a gust of wind, and when she looked up again, everything had changed.
As children, the two of them had lain side by side in swaddling clothes — carry one away and the other would cry. Their father used to say Ming Huashang had shown little talent but a big temper even as a baby — when Ming Huazhang learned to crawl before she could, she’d pulled hard on his face to stop him from moving. Later, once they could both walk steadily, Ming Huazhang was taken to the outer courtyard by their father, while Ming Huashang stayed in the inner courtyard, content to eat, drink, and play, with no ambition to improve herself.
The two siblings had drifted further and further apart, and yet every year, on New Year’s Eve, Ming Huazhang would always bring her a piece of tooth-sticking candy.
Tooth-sticking candy was a very sticky sweet — if your teeth didn’t fall out after eating it, you would live a long and healthy life. As a child, Ming Huashang had trembled with fear every time she ate it, terrified her teeth would fall out.
Perhaps the candy Ming Huazhang brought really did work — over these sixteen years Ming Huashang had eaten and drunk heartily, grown much sturdier than she’d been as a child, and never fallen ill again.
But they had grown up. The little elder brother who, in her memory, always wore a stern face while bringing her candy had, in the blink of an eye, grown into a tall, handsome young man.
Looking at Ming Huazhang now, Ming Huashang felt a little dazed — he had grown so much taller than her that even if she wanted to pull at his face, she couldn’t manage it anymore.
Nor could she make such a gesture anymore, because she was now a woman of marriageable age, and in a couple of years he too would have a new younger sister, or even a wife — that piece of tooth-sticking candy no longer belonged to her.
Ming Huashang smiled and said, “Second Brother, that’s not what I meant. I know parents alive means the family shouldn’t be divided — I just didn’t want to cause you trouble because of me.”
The grape leaves overhead rustled softly, like whispers beneath the Milky Way. Ming Huazhang studied her just as intently and asked back, “Trouble? I am your elder brother. I arrange a place for you to live, I protect you fully — in your eyes, is that trouble?”
Ming Huashang choked up, a wave of indescribable bitterness rising in her chest.
If he truly were her brother, she would shamelessly lean on him, letting him help her with this and that. But he wasn’t.
He was a thoughtful, responsible good elder brother — but this kindness had never really belonged to her.
Ming Huashang lowered her eyes and said, almost inaudibly, “But I’m different from you. Sooner or later I’ll have to leave the Ming family…”
Her sigh was very soft, but the words happened to strike right at Ming Huazhang’s sorest point, and he caught them at once.
Ming Huazhang only felt a fire rising slowly from deep within him; many things he’d thought he had forgotten, that no longer mattered to him, sprang back to life all at once, converging in an instant into something like a rising tide. His fingers were cold, but the blood within them burned.
Ming Huazhang held back his anger and asked coldly, “Leave the Ming family? How would you leave?”
Ming Huashang lowered her head and said nothing. In her heart she was thinking that she was a fraud, and naturally these sixteen years of brocade and splendor would have to burn away to a handful of drifting ash — but to Ming Huazhang’s ears, it carried an entirely different meaning.
Ming Huazhang’s heart sank colder and colder — so she really had fallen for someone, and that was why she was so eager to move out of the residence, to make it easier to meet that person in private?
She didn’t answer, so Ming Huazhang answered for her: “By marrying? You just said you had no wish to marry.”
The moment the words left his mouth, Ming Huazhang himself froze. He asked himself, almost in shock — was he losing his mind? Why would he say such a thing?
Ming Huashang was asking herself the same question — what did this have to do with her getting married? Baffled, she said, half-joking, “I haven’t even thought about marriage yet. After all, having seen a father as patient and generous as mine, and a second brother as upright and capable as you — how could I possibly look twice at anyone else?”
Her words were like a spark of light in the chaos, and in an instant the storm quieted and the fire died down. Ming Huazhang realized that all his struggling just now had been, in the end, only to hear this one sentence from her.
This realization frightened him even more than seeing Ming Huashang stare blankly at Su Xingzhi had.
The palm-sized grape leaves rustled, and Ming Huazhang thought unexpectedly back to when he’d had the old house restored, right around the Qixi festival. He’d heard people say that if you stood beneath a grapevine on Qixi, you could hear the whispered words of the Cowherd and the Weaver Girl as they reunited.
Of course, he hadn’t planted grapes to eavesdrop from afar — it was said that lovers who stood beneath the grapevine on that day would receive the blessing of the Cowherd and the Weaver Girl, to be bound together forever in love for life.
Such a legend was only worth hearing for fun, surely not real — but Ming Huazhang had, as if possessed, bought a whole grapevine and had it transplanted into this courtyard.
In a household as grand as the Duke’s, no one would have the leisure to plant grapes in a courtyard. And even if someone had, after more than ten years without anyone to tend it, it should have withered and died long ago. This grapevine, the flowerbeds in the courtyard, even the furnishings inside the rooms — all of it he had arranged with his own hands, simply because he thought she would like it.
The first time he’d come to the Duke Zhenguo’s residence to learn the layout, he had taken a liking to this spot. This small, quiet, convenient courtyard was perfectly suited to leave for her. The courtyard next to it was close by — with the gates shut, neither would disturb the other, but anyone leaving this courtyard through the residence would necessarily pass by the one next door, which happened to be where he lived.
Ming Huazhang had been satisfied with it the moment he first saw it, and had renovated this small courtyard with great care, even having nearly the entire plot of ground redone, intending for her to “cultivate in retreat” at home from now on.
He had made up the pretext of the Deye Temple for her, but he couldn’t really let her go to a temple — the Duke Zhenguo had only this one daughter, and letting her leave the household made no sense by any reasoning. While at Zhongnan Mountain, he’d been able to watch over her himself, so it hadn’t mattered, but back in Chang’an, he was determined to let her live the most comfortable, most contented life possible.
If she didn’t want to marry, then she needn’t marry — there was no shortage of noble families in Chang’an where daughters cultivated in religious retreat at home. He owed her a debt, and it was only right that he protect her for the rest of her life.
The care he had poured into this small courtyard was no less than what it would take to build an entire house from scratch, far exceeding what one would do simply out of consideration for family. What was he doing? Why was he doing this?
This question, Ming Huazhang had buried in his heart all along, refusing to think about it. Now, he knew he could no longer avoid it.