After emerging from Phoenix Gate, Ming Huazhang rode on horseback through the streets along the route the court had arranged. This was nothing more than another performance put on by those in power for the benefit of the old noble families—it had nothing to do with the commoners cheering below, and nothing to do with the people chosen to parade. Ming Huazhang had little enthusiasm for any of it. He was more interested in what the Empress had actually written on that paper she had used to “point at a deer and call it a horse.”

Burning the slip of paper on the spot had been truly careless of him. He had been too proud and headstrong—and before he had even entered official life, his own foolishness had tripped him up.

Before he entered government service, he had been celebrated as the “Jade Tree of Luoyang.” Even if Ming Huazhang cared nothing for external fame, there had indeed been a period when he had looked down on others and held himself above them all. Now at last he understood: what people called “the outstanding talent of a young age,” what people called “the fine young man of the divine capital”—it was nothing more than children playing house.

Every person he would encounter in the official world was either a Presented Scholar or from an ancestral distinguished family. Who among them was actually a fool? The mediocre officials and incompetent officials he had looked down upon—if he himself tried their positions, he might end up performing far worse than they had.

Ming Huazhang reminded himself once more, inwardly and silently, never to be arrogant—always remember there is a higher mountain beyond every mountain, never underestimate any person. He held this thought, and when he looked again at the procession around him, men with their honorary red robes and flowers pinned on them, all high spirits and ease, he felt nothing but a kind of weary indifference.

At this moment, the new Presented Scholars were bathed in imperial favor, admired by the Empress, praised by the people—there was nothing more exhilarating than this. And yet the cheers of the crowds never lingered for any one person, and the heart of a ruler was even less predictable. Today they rode through all of Chang’an in full glory, every one of them with ambitions to make something of themselves—to be a clean official, a good official, an upright official, to fulfill their aspirations and benefit one region. But a year from now, how many of them would still be standing? And of those who remained, how many would still hold their original ideals?

It was like a story whose ending was foreknown even before it began. The jubilant noise around him suddenly felt unreal. Ming Huazhang rode down Vermilion Sparrow Street as though watching a silent farce. Then a voice—bright and warm and clear, like a valley nightingale—cut abruptly through the silence and reached his ears.

“The first-place scholar looks wonderful today!”

Those words were like a needle piercing through an invisible membrane. The outside world came rushing back into Ming Huazhang’s ears like a tide. He emerged from those formless, nameless melancholy thoughts and looked up, following the voice.

He saw, standing on a high building by the street, a young lady. She was dressed in a pink upper robe and a pale yellow long skirt, her blue silk shawl drifting in the breeze over her bent arm, fresh and lovely as a cloud against the bright blue sky.

Only this particular cloud was not very restrained—she was waving with great animation at the young men below, a red sachet in her hand, poised to throw it but not yet letting go.

Half a horse-length behind him, Xie Jichuan’s distinctive voice—simultaneously thin and cool yet warmly gentle—sounded: “Your younger sister has come too. Who is she planning to give that sachet to?”

Su Xingzhi, hearing them speak, looked up in surprise and likewise noticed Ming Huashang standing on the second floor, waving in the breeze. Under the combined gaze of three young and handsome newly-crowned Presented Scholars, Ming Huashang’s smile grew slightly strained, her fingertips twitching a little.

Oh, this… she had only bought two sachets. Even trying to give one to each person would not go around. What kind of foolish head had she been born with? When she bought the sachets just now, how had she failed to think that there were three people she knew on the list?

In ancient times, two peaches had been used to bring about the deaths of three warriors. Today, two sachets were going to be the death of Ming Huashang. In front of everyone like this—what on earth was she supposed to do?

Ming Huazhang was her false elder brother and Su Xingzhi was her true elder brother. To skip over either of them would be wrong—but she had also known Xie Jichuan for a long time, and during their time on the Zhongnan Mountains, she had copied a great deal of his work. If she tossed the sachets to the two elder brothers and left nothing for Xie Jichuan, that would also be painfully awkward.

Perhaps she should try tossing the sachets to Su Xingzhi and Xie Jichuan and explain to Ming Huazhang later when they got home? After all, he was family, so of course she should first consider the feelings of outsiders, and after returning home and closing the door they could celebrate privately with Second Elder Brother?

This did seem like a viable solution—but looking at Ming Huazhang’s clear and unreadable eyes, Ming Huashang truly did not dare, in front of him, toss her pouch to another young man.

Jiang Ling watched her hold her arm poised to throw for a long moment without releasing it. Unable to help himself, he asked: “Who do you want to give it to, anyway? Do you want me to throw it for you?”

Ming Huashang inwardly cursed at Jiang Ling for being useless, then in a flash of inspiration, she turned around and pressed the sachet into Ren Yao’s hands. Ren Yao was leaning on the railing watching the streets of Chang’an, and was caught completely off guard—her hand was suddenly filled with something, and she said in surprise: “What is this?”

Ming Huashang pressed her hand down so she couldn’t take the sachet out, then looked into Ren Yao’s eyes with grave sincerity and deliberately said in a loud, clear voice: “Eldest Sister Ren, congratulations on passing the military examination and becoming Military Top Scholar—you are truly remarkable!”

Ming Huashang said these words with such emphasis and feeling, as though she wished the people downstairs could hear her too. Inwardly, Ming Huashang quietly complimented her own quick thinking: she had said she was giving it to the top scholar—she had not specified which top scholar. Ren Yao was also a top military scholar, and there was absolutely nothing wrong with that.

Out in the street, the noise and chaos were overwhelming. Ming Huashang’s voice was like a small droplet disappearing into the broader environment, entirely inconspicuous—but to the ears of someone deliberately listening, it came through quite clearly.

And quite theatrically overdone.

Xie Jichuan gave a quiet laugh and said to Ming Huazhang: “The moment you looked at her, she gave the sachet to someone else. So it wasn’t for you after all? I assumed you two siblings had a very deep bond.”

Xie Jichuan was obviously stirring up trouble with great deliberateness. Ming Huazhang paid him no attention, withdrew his gaze, tightened his knees slightly against the horse’s flanks, and rode on past the building below.

Though it was not a very gentlemanly thought, he had to admit that the fact that she had not given the embroidered pouch to Su Xingzhi made him, inexplicably, feel a quiet relief. To give it to no one was still better than giving it to someone else in front of him. He had already sunk so low as to deceive himself like this.

Ming Huazhang suddenly increased his speed, nearly overtaking Su Xingzhi. Su Xingzhi withdrew his gaze from the building above, gave Ming Huazhang a thoughtful sidelong glance, and also quickened his pace.

The tall horses quickly passed by below the building. Ming Huashang, seeing the procession move off uneventfully, finally let out a breath of relief. Jiang Ling leaned on the railing, bewildered, and looked Ming Huashang up and down: “What were you doing? Why did you give her the pouch?”

Ming Huashang gave Jiang Ling an impatient look: “I admire Eldest Sister Ren for standing out among so many men and becoming Military Top Scholar with overwhelming superiority. I’m expressing my feelings with a small token of regard—any objection?”

As she said it, she realized she had been very careless about Ren Yao. Su Xingzhi—a scholar of humble origins who had placed above children of the nobility—had done something extraordinary, but Ren Yao had beaten an entire group of men as a woman. Was that not even more remarkable?

Ren Yao had kept her entry into the military examination secret from the Marquis Pingnan household. Lady Ren would not approve of her showing her face in public; her uncles and cousins were waiting eagerly for her to marry so they could get their hands on her estate, and would never truly wish her well. In all of vast Chang’an, the only ones who would celebrate for Ren Yao were them.

Jiang Ling heard Ming Huashang’s words and felt unaccountably uncomfortable. Not to be outdone, he snapped back: “Just one measly sachet, worth a few coins—you had the nerve to call that a gift. Boy, bring all the flower vendors selling on the street up here—I don’t care how many flowers they’ve got, I’ll take the lot. Send them all up to this room.”

The shop attendant was overjoyed and lauded the young master’s generosity without end. Ren Yao’s head immediately began to ache when she heard this, and she quickly said: “What do we want with flowers? They can’t be eaten, can’t be used, and wilt within a day. I’ve never cared for such things. Don’t waste the money—people will laugh at us.”

“When Jiang Ling does something, who dares laugh?” Jiang Ling paid her no mind and went on: “This is all just part of the occasion anyway. When the flowers wilt, throw them away—the important thing is that today you deserve some pomp and ceremony. Pass word down: ten coins reward for everyone who brings a flower up to the wine house, an extra ten coins for anyone who says something auspicious, no limit on the number of times, no upper limit on the total.”

Ren Yao quickly tried to grab Jiang Ling’s arm with a stern expression: “What are you doing? Today is the auspicious day of the civil examination’s posting. Making this kind of spectacle—are you deliberately trying to clash with everyone?”

“I don’t feel like putting up with it, that’s all. I’ve always been the capital’s most useless noble scion—that’s just how I am.” Jiang Ling still wore that same reckless, couldn’t-care-less expression, chin tilted up: “The court gave the civil examination’s top scholars special treatment and arranged a street procession. The military examination’s top scholar has no one paying any attention. I just don’t believe that—I want the entire length of this street to know that this year’s military top scholar is a young woman named Ren Yao, from the Marquis Pingnan household.”

From the time she was small, the word Ren Yao had heard most often was “endure”: their household had no man to stand at the head, so she had to endure; the estate was to pass to a cousin’s branch of the family in the future, so when the cousin’s daughter tried to take things that belonged to her, she had to endure; her grandmother would not live many years more and she would have to depend on the cousin’s family for support, so she had to endure even more. But now here was someone saying he was going to make the entire length of the street come and celebrate for her.

Ren Yao still instinctively felt uneasy. She believed she deserved to suffer, and that she was neither fit for nor worthy of this much attention: “It’s too showy. Never mind. It’s enough that just we know…”

“Eldest Sister Ren.” Ming Huashang took Ren Yao’s hand and said: “If he feels like spending the money, let him spend it. You placed first in the military examinations. You are the most important person here today. Let’s eat first, and afterward we’ll go window-shopping, listen to some music, and then take a boat out on Qujiang Pond—whatever is fun, we’ll do.”

Jiang Ling agreed wholeheartedly; he and Ming Huashang had not a shred of talent for poetry and classics between them, but when it came to eating, drinking, and having fun, they could talk for hours. The two of them discussed plans, thoroughly enjoying themselves. Ren Yao, surrounded by this warmth, felt a strange mixture of being at a loss and of her eyes growing hot.

She had once resented the world’s harshness toward women. Was she not working hard enough? Why did she still run into walls everywhere she turned? But after enough disappointments, she gradually grew calm—what seemed like equanimity was, in truth, numbness. She had grown accustomed to her efforts producing no response—just like being denied an official appointment despite passing the military examination. Ren Yao was angry, but in her heart she also thought: this is normal.

Without realizing it, she had lost the strength to resist. But now Ren Yao suddenly felt something stirring in her—even if the world was a mountain, so long as there was a single crack in the ground, a vine could break through the soil and pierce the stone. The Ministry of War’s old fossils would not accept a female officer or grant her an appointment—then she would go and find someone who could accept a woman serving as a military officer. She believed that where there is a will, there is a way; that heaven never closes every door.

Ming Huashang and Jiang Ling accompanied Ren Yao and they had a wonderful, carefree day all over Chang’an. Only as the curfew approached did the three of them go their separate ways home. Ming Huashang now lived in a small courtyard with its own gate, so coming and going was extremely easy. She slipped in through the side door as she always did—and pushed open the room door to find the light inside already burning.

Zhao Cai and the others saw Ming Huashang return and came forward at once: “My lady, you are finally back. Second Young Master has already been waiting a long time.”

Ming Huashang quickly glanced at the window, then lowered her voice to ask Zhao Cai: “When did he arrive?”

Zhao Cai lowered her voice equally: “Some time ago. After the evening meal, Second Young Master came directly here. Today Second Young Master passed the examination, and the Duke and the Old Madam were so happy they ordered a big banquet for the evening. When you were not at home, the Old Madam was especially displeased and was on the verge of sending servants to fetch you back. Fortunately, Second Young Master stepped in and persuaded the Old Madam not to trouble your evening out. He said he would wait here for you himself—if anything happened to you, he would take full responsibility. Second Young Master has already been waiting for more than an hour. He hasn’t said a word and hasn’t touched any refreshments—he’s just been sitting in the room with a scroll open. My lady, if you had been any later returning, we servants would truly have been scared to death.”

Because Ming Huazhang was there, Zhao Cai, Jin Bao, and the others had not dared stay inside; they had all crowded in the courtyard, eyes straining toward the gate and praying for Ming Huashang to return. Who could have imagined the wait would drag on until curfew? Never mind the Old Madam—even Zhao Cai and Jin Bao and the other two maidservants felt that Ming Huashang had gone too far.

Today was such a momentous day—Second Young Master had passed the examination, and as his younger sister she had not been at his side. It was truly unbecoming. Ming Huashang gave a dry laugh and made eyes at the four maidservants: “I know. You all stand down—let me go and speak with Second Elder Brother.”

In Zhao Cai and the others’ eyes, Ming Huashang and Ming Huazhang were siblings, so being alone together was of no consequence. They curtsied and each returned to their own rooms to rest. Ming Huashang picked up the hem of her skirt and tiptoed toward the lamplight, then shoved the window open abruptly: “Second Elder Brother!”

She had intended to startle him, but from Ming Huazhang’s perspective, the noise she had made coming in through the gate had been loud enough, and then all that time she had spent whispering with the maidservants—to think she could catch him off guard with this, she was truly treating him as deaf.

Ming Huazhang did not react at all. He calmly reached out and shielded the base of the candle flame. The faint flame danced twice, trembled, and righted itself; the lamplight on his book brightened again. The light shone through his hand, revealing the translucent, smooth warmth of fine jade.

Seeing that he showed absolutely no reaction, Ming Huashang let down her hand in disappointment and propped herself on the windowsill: “How did you not react at all? No fun.”

Ming Huazhang treated the muttered complaint as though he had not heard it, and asked: “You’re back? Where did you and the others go today?”

Ming Huashang was surprised: “How did you know I was with them?”

Ming Huazhang gave a quiet laugh: “All of Chang’an knows that the young heir of the Marquis Jiang’an household spent a fortune buying every flower in the city to celebrate the young lady of the Marquis Pingnan household for winning top honors in the military examination. Now quite a few people are praising Ren Yao as the tiger-daughter of a family of military officers, carrying on the Ren family’s tradition of the spear.”

Ming Huashang had known that Jiang Ling’s financial offensive would produce good results, but had not imagined the effect would be this strong—even today’s true official star Ming Huazhang had heard the talk spreading among the people. Ming Huashang was pleased in her heart and edged close to Ming Huazhang, saying: “The money was Jiang Ling’s. The rhyme I made up myself. Was it good?”

Ming Huazhang exhaled softly, set his book down, turned, and flicked her on the forehead: “No effort put into your studies, but you rush to the front on schemes like this. If you spent this energy finding Ren Yao an official appointment instead, that would be more useful than thinking about tomorrow morning’s formal greetings and how to explain yourself to your grandmother and father.”

Ming Huashang was unconcerned. She climbed in through the window, hands behind her back, hopping along, and said: “How hard can it be? I’ve been this rotting piece of timber for more than ten years—Grandmother and Father are long used to it. At worst it’ll be a period of confinement and copying sutras. Besides, Father doesn’t have the heart to actually beat me.”

Ming Huashang had a rather philosophical, “what’s done is done” ease about her. She said it carelessly, but someone else heard it all too well. Ming Huazhang had at first been amused and helpless—but slowly, a sadness rose in his heart.

Duke Zhenguo was very indulgent with Ming Huashang, while the Old Madam had a preference for grandsons over granddaughters; toward a granddaughter who was neither accomplished nor charming, even scolding her was beneath her.

And yet, it should not have been like this.

Ming Huazhang could no longer keep the smile on his face. Ming Huashang had already come and sat down on the opposite side of the couch. She noticed Ming Huazhang’s expression become unfocused and gently waved a hand in front of his face: “Second Elder Brother, what are you thinking about?”

Ming Huazhang came back to himself, looked at Ming Huashang, hesitated on the verge of saying something, and in the end said with a breath of resignation: “Tomorrow I’ll accompany you to pay our morning respects. If the Old Madam insists on punishing you, I’ll take it on your behalf.”

“Oh, please don’t.” Ming Huashang quickly said. “Going to see the elders without first notifying them and then coming home late—that was my mistake to begin with. It’s only right that I receive whatever punishment comes. Second Elder Brother, you just passed the examination and there will be many banquets and poetry gatherings to attend from now on. You can’t let me drag you into something so trivial.”

“You are my younger sister. If our elders are punishing you—how can that be called trivial?” Ming Huazhang said. “Don’t say any more. I don’t want to go to those poetry gatherings anyway. I’d rather stay with you during your confinement.”

He said it so naturally and straightforwardly, with such composure. Ming Huashang startled, and something welled up inside her that she could not quite put a name to.

Such a good person—and he was her elder brother. Such a good person—and he could only be her elder brother.

Ming Huashang pressed her palm hard, quickly collected herself, and said with a smile: “All right then—but the Old Madam won’t have the heart to delay your career over something like this. If Second Elder Brother says that, she’ll definitely get angry, and in the end the punishment will probably just fizzle out. Thank you for saving me, Second Elder Brother!”

The two of them chatted by lamplight—affectionate and easy with each other, yet never exceeding what was proper, like the siblings of any ordinary family who happened to be close. Ming Huashang almost doubted that the conversation beneath the grapevine trellis some days ago had been a hallucination. But then a cool wind blew in from outside, and the grapevine leaves rustled in the night air—and Ming Huashang knew it had not been a hallucination.

They walked along the edge between sibling feeling and transgression, testing back and forth. Sometimes Ming Huashang inadvertently crossed over, and she would hurriedly retreat; Ming Huazhang would then step forward a fraction, ambiguous and uncertain, hovering between real and unreal, and Ming Huashang could not tell whether it was coincidence or intention.

Just as now—Ming Huazhang looked at her with a smile, his dark pupils shimmering in the lamplight, as soft and deep as spring ripples—and said, as though teasing: “Where’s my thank-you gift?”

Ming Huashang paused slightly. She could not tell whether he was an elder brother playfully teasing his younger sister, or a young man being coy with a young woman. Any time a man helped a woman and then brought up a thank-you gift in a joking tone, it was absolutely not a ceremonial remark.

Ming Huashang paused for the briefest instant, then laughed as well: “Of course there is one. I haven’t congratulated Second Elder Brother yet on placing in the examinations. Today during the procession, I was going to toss you a flower—but I only bought two sachets, and I was afraid Su Elder Brother and Brother Xie might misunderstand, so I held back. Now I can give them to Second Elder Brother all at once!”

Ming Huazhang’s eyes were clear as autumn water, his composure unshaken, and he said: “What you’re giving me wouldn’t happen to be the same kind as the one you gave Ren Yao just now, would it.”

Ming Huashang’s hand, already reaching into her sleeve, froze—she had to admit, he was absolutely right.

She had no trouble understanding what Ming Huazhang was saying between the lines. Ming Huashang, nimble as ever, fished out a random pouch from her sleeve, put on a completely composed face, and said to Ming Huazhang without a flicker: “Of course not. Second Elder Brother is the most important person to me—how could I use the same thing as for someone else? Everything for Second Elder Brother is one of a kind.”

Ming Huashang said it all with great conviction—and only then looked at the pouch she had produced. She stared at the unidentifiable embroidered creature on its surface for a moment, then put it back with an unchanged expression: “I grabbed the wrong one—the one for Second Elder Brother is actually another. Please wait a moment, Second Elder Brother, I’ll get it from the inner room.”

“No need.” Ming Huazhang leaned forward, his long arm reaching out, and plucked the pouch from her hand, then examined it carefully in the lamplight—that lopsided, chaotic-stitched pouch. Ming Huashang’s eyelid gave a fierce twitch. She felt she had lost every last shred of her dignity in this lifetime, and hastily reached to take it back: “Second Elder Brother, this one is really too ugly. Let me swap it for another…”

From the embroidery on the pouch, it was difficult for anyone but Ming Huashang to have produced it. One could see she was genuinely not skilled at needlework—but precisely because of that, it was all the more precious. Ming Huazhang reached out and lightly caught both her wrists, holding them in place, and fastened the ugly-yet-charming pouch to his waistband: “I want this one. Only what is one of a kind has meaning. If it is something everyone has—no matter how fine or how valuable—I don’t want it.”

Ming Huashang’s eyelid twitched again. Was it her imagination, or did it feel as though Ming Huazhang’s words carried a double meaning?