Ming Huashang thought of how she had originally intended to toss her sachet to Su Xingzhi today and felt an inexplicable twinge of guilt. She gave two hollow laughs and said: “Second Elder Brother is talented in both civil and military arts, a jade tree standing tall in the wind—naturally everything about you deserves to be one of a kind.”
Ming Huazhang’s fingers stroked the pouch, his lashes lowered, his expression unreadable. He said, unhurried: “You are one of a kind to me, too. I only wonder—am I one of a kind to you?”
Ming Huashang noticed that ever since the two of them had parted on bad terms that evening, Ming Huazhang’s manner toward her had become more and more strange—and more and more pointed. Ming Huashang was not sure whether it was deliberate on his part, or whether she was simply overthinking it. She said vaguely: “I only have Second Elder Brother as my one elder brother, so of course you are one of a kind.”
Inwardly, Ming Huashang added a silent clarification: Ming Huazhang had been her only person for the first sixteen years of her life; Su Xingzhi was the only elder brother she had after returning to the Su family. No problem there—she had merely omitted a qualifying condition. How could that count as telling an untruth?
Ming Huazhang finally felt somewhat settled in his heart. He set down his scroll, rose, and said: “Seeing that you’ve come home safely, I can rest easy. It’s late—go to sleep.”
Having said that, he paused and added: “Crescent, remember what you said today. I don’t ask to be compared to Ren Yao—but at the very least, no other young man should be ranked above me.”
Ming Huashang looked up and, without meaning to, caught Ming Huazhang’s eyes. One was standing, the other seated. Ming Huazhang looked down at her from above; the candlelight cast a shadow over him, and those eyes were half in light, half in shadow—luminous and deep, waveless and still, carrying a meaning that was impossible to read.
That strange feeling came over her again. Ming Huashang had the inexplicable impression that Ming Huazhang right now resembled a cat on the hunt—having spotted its prey, it bided its time, toying with a paw but not striking, not moving in for the kill but not allowing the prey to leave either. She paused a moment, then stood up with a smile and gave a light, unconcerned reply: “Of course. Good night, Second Elder Brother, safe travels.”
Now that she was on her feet, she could see his eyes more clearly—clear to the bottom, black and white distinct, as though the sensation from that one fleeting glance just now had been only Ming Huashang’s imagination. She saw Ming Huazhang out to the door; he stopped her from going any further at the doorway, gave her the time of the morning greeting for the next day, and then turned and walked out into the rustling autumn wind.
Ming Huashang had been playing all day and was long exhausted. She quickly put the conversation just now out of her mind, washed up simply, and went to sleep.
The next day, Ming Huazhang accompanied her to the morning greeting as promised, and sure enough the Old Madam’s expression was unfavorable. But with Ming Huazhang present, she could not make too much of a scene; she could only cold-face it and scold Ming Huashang a few times, then order her to copy out a book of texts to settle her wayward temperament.
Ming Huashang took it with the best of attitudes—a few harsh words truly made no real impact—but Ming Huazhang could not stand it. Unable to openly rebuke the Old Madam, he quietly frequented Ming Huashang’s courtyard instead and brought her all manner of compensatory gifts. Duke Zhenguo also worried his daughter might be upset and kept buying the newest, most interesting things from outside to cheer her up.
Ming Huashang received a daily supply of the freshest delicacies, had all sorts of toys to keep her amused, and could stay home without going out with complete justification. She had practically landed in the life she had always dreamed of. She made a show of copying out a few pages of the Female Precepts, then ate and slept as she pleased—her days more comfortable than usual—until people were almost tempted to wonder whether it was she who had been punished by her elders, or whether her elders had been given the cold-shoulder treatment by her.
After lying peacefully idle for several days, news came from the palace that the Empress would be taking the new Presented Scholars and the imperial family to play a polo match, and Ming Huashang had no choice but to drag herself up, put herself together, and go to the Hibiscus Garden for the banquet.
Polo—also called “hitting the ball”—was enormously fashionable at the time. The sport involved hitting a fist-sized colored ball from horseback, testing both equestrian skill and teamwork. It was highly competitive and highly entertaining, and was the sport most beloved by the imperial family and the aristocracy, second in scale only to imperial hunts. Emperor Taizong had at one time used it as a military training exercise; later emperors Gaozong and the Empress had also attached great importance to it. As the imperial examinations flourished, the two great institutions had even been merged, becoming the climactic highlight of the annual examination celebrations—the new Presented Scholars’ polo match.
This was naturally a mark of a prosperous era: even the most elite scholars, selected one in ten thousand through a grueling, multi-stage examination, were still capable of riding and playing polo, drawing a bow on foot—complete civil and military talents. The new Presented Scholars played polo in the imperial gardens in front of all the people of Chang’an—both a shared celebration with the populace, an opportunity to demonstrate their abilities to those above them, and a show of national power to surrounding tributary states.
The Empress was growing older, and the empire had reached the point where a successor needed to be chosen, making a display of military prestige especially important. This was the first event showcasing military prowess since the Empress’s return to Chang’an, and she attached great importance to it. Not only did she come out of the palace in person to watch, bringing with her the Crown Prince, Prince Xiang, Prince Liang, and other princes and princesses of both the Li and Wu families, but she also opened the Hibiscus Garden on the day of the event, allowing the people to come and go freely.
Seeing such an impressive gesture from the palace, other noble and official families hurried to prepare as well. The young men rushed to practice their riding, scheming to make a name for themselves on the day of the match; the young ladies spun like spinning tops, buying new clothes and new skirts, hearts full of happy anticipation for the garden outing—perhaps they might even encounter a good match. In no time at all, the prices of fine horses, rouge, and face powder in Chang’an soared; the foreign merchants in the east and west markets rushed out one new item after another, each crying out with a more extravagant pitch than the last. Amid this city-wide festivity, the day of the polo match arrived.
Ming Huashang went out with the elder women and her sisters, and—no surprise—Chang’an’s streets were clogged with carriages again. Ming Huashang lifted the carriage curtain: ahead were nothing but servants in smart clothes, each bearing a different family crest, cursing at each other and refusing to give way. Looking back was the same—fine horses and fragrant carriages as far as the eye could see. Ming Huashang dropped the curtain and settled back inside: “Well, we may as well wait. Nothing’s moving for a while yet.”
Ming Huashang was sharing a carriage with Ming Shuo. Ming Shuo was on her goodness-only-knew-which round of checking her cosmetics; she spotted Ming Huashang fanning herself without a care for appearances, and let out a contemptuous sound: “No sense of decorum. Disgraceful.”
Ming Huashang leaned sideways against the carriage wall, waving her round fan at the side of her neck. If not for the number of people, she would have liked to loosen her collar for some air. She looked at Ming Shuo—her clothes heavy and gorgeous, layered three times inside and three times outside—and just as puzzledly asked: “Aren’t you hot?”
Ming Shuo humphed, clearly stifling in the heat until her neck had gone red, yet still held her head high with proud disdain and said: “Today is a momentous occasion—our household has produced a new Presented Scholar. People will be watching us every step of the way, and we may well be presented to royal consorts and princesses. How can we lose our decorum?”
Ming Huashang clicked her tongue and asked: “So what does that have to do with being hot or not? You’re going to see a princess—does that mean the sun will spare you?”
“You—!” Ming Shuo sputtered in indignation, glared furiously at Ming Huashang, and then tilted her chin up: “You cannot discuss ice with a summer insect. I have nothing to say to you.”
Ming Huashang shrugged, equally of the opinion that there was no common language between them. The closer they drew to the Hibiscus Garden, the more slowly the carriage moved. Ming Huashang lifted the carriage curtain to let in some air, and she caught sight of a stall selling cold drinks by the road. She called Zhao Cai over and murmured a few instructions: “Ask at that stall how much the cold drinks are. If the price is reasonable, buy however many they have—bring them back to our carriage.”
Ming Shuo had been listening with her ears pricked, but when she heard Ming Huashang asking someone to buy cold drinks, she was both irritated and disdainful: “Truly hopeless. The garden is full of noble and prominent people, and you’re still thinking about food and drink? Aren’t you afraid of embarrassing yourself in front of the important guests?”
In the capital, banquets of every description followed one after another, and young ladies, in order to maintain their composure, would not touch a morsel of food or a drop of water before attending. Some even fasted for three or four days beforehand.
Ming Huashang propped one arm on the carriage window and slowly waved her fan, saying languidly: “My dear foolish younger sister, eating and drinking are the great matters of life. As long as there is food and drink, nothing is insurmountable; but if there is nothing to eat or drink, even the Jade Emperor himself would be powerless.”
Ming Shuo found this beneath contempt. She looked with great disdain upon this elder cousin who, despite her superior birth as an eldest daughter of the household, showed no ambition and thought only of eating and drinking. The eldest daughter of a duke’s household should have been the standard-bearer of the Duke Zhenguo family—and this great responsibility had fallen to Ming Huashang. Truly: casting precious jade before swine, heaven without eyes.
The carriage column moved at a crawl, but fortunately they were now very close to the Hibiscus Garden—and half an hour later, Ming Huashang finally stood inside the garden.
Ming Huazhang, as one of today’s principal figures, had not traveled with the Duke Zhenguo household. He had entered the palace early and would be arriving at the Hibiscus Garden along with the Empress, the Crown Prince, and the others.
The Old Madam treated this outing as a matter of life and death. In her estimation, Ming Huazhang had done honor to himself by placing second in the examinations—an excellent omen for the Ming family’s return to prominence. She was determined to seize this occasion to reopen the Duke Zhenguo household’s social circle, rebuild contact with the great noble families, and, ideally, use the granddaughters to forge a few good marriage alliances and smooth the path for Ming Huazhang’s future career.
Ming Huashang obediently followed behind the elders and her sisters. The stretch of road from where the carriages had stopped to the polo grounds involved the Old Madam stopping more than ten times along the way, constantly exchanging pleasantries with other noble ladies and sizing up each other’s younger members. Ming Huashang put on a show of a shy, retiring smile, waited in boredom, and by the time they finally arrived at the polo grounds, the place was already a sea of powdered faces and fragrant sleeves.
The imperial family had not yet arrived. The ladies were scattered about in groups conversing; the sound of delicate laughter rose and fell. Thanks to Ming Huazhang, the Duke Zhenguo household had been enjoying great renown of late, and the moment the Old Madam appeared, she attracted considerable attention. Quite a few ladies took the initiative to bring their daughters over to pay their respects, and in between, they not-so-subtly inquired about Ming Huazhang’s marriage situation.
By the time the wife of the Minister of Personnel, Madam Wu, came over with her daughter, everyone in the Ming family was stunned. The Old Madam’s wrinkles all smiled open at once. She held the other young lady’s hands and looked her over from side to side, asking: “Young Lady Wu is such a lovely girl—what books has she been reading of late?”
Young Lady Wu bowed her head, her expression carrying just the right degree of gentle, modest shyness: “This girl is foolish and has only read the Classic of Filial Piety, the Zuo Commentary, and the Selections of Refined Literature.”
The Old Madam was more satisfied the more she heard. The Minister of Personnel oversaw all government appointments and promotions—he was head of the Six Ministries. As great a commotion as the examination had caused, in truth passing the examinations only secured the qualification to serve as an official. Whether one was actually given an appointment—and what kind of post—still depended on the Personnel Ministry’s assessment.
With the Duke Zhenguo household’s name behind him, the Personnel Ministry was unlikely to withhold an appointment for Ming Huazhang entirely. But in the murky depths of court, what position one was assigned would practically determine one’s future ceiling—meaning that Ming Huazhang’s official path from here forward was entirely in the hands of the Ministry of Personnel’s minister.
The minister’s wife, Madam Wu, taking the initiative to come and seek out the Ming family made the Old Madam feel as though she was being granted an unexpected and wondrous favor. To form a marriage alliance with the Ministry of Personnel’s minister’s daughter—how many young men in the capital sought that and never obtained it? And this young lady was especially favored by her father and had read books meant for men; if she were taken into the household as a wife, would there be any fear that Ming Huazhang could not get a good, profitable post?
The Old Madam’s gaze toward Young Lady Wu grew more and more kindly. She patted Young Lady Wu’s hand affectionately and said to Madam Wu with a smile: “Young Lady is clever and studious, gentle and virtuous—how fortunate you are, Madam.”
Madam Wu smiled: “She’s been spoiled by her father and is as wild as a little monkey—you flatter her too much, Old Madam.”
The Old Madam and Madam Wu smiled at each other, exchanging these intimate words as two people who fully understood each other’s meaning. Ming Huashang stood right behind the Old Madam; listening to these words, she felt as though a basin of cold water had been splashed in her face, a chill rushing from her veins straight into the tip of her heart.
She of course understood what the Old Madam and Madam Wu meant: Madam Wu had taken a liking to Ming Huazhang and wished to form a marriage alliance, and the Old Madam was more than glad to see it happen.
Indeed—the daughter of the Ministry of Personnel’s minister, what a fine match. Ming Huashang felt as though someone had stopped her breathing; her whole body constricted with no outlet for release.
Ming Huazhang was an orchid and jade tree; the minister’s daughter was of delicate virtue and fragrant heart—anyone would say they were exceptionally well-matched. She did not even have the right to feel unhappy about it.
After Madam Wu and the Old Madam had exchanged pleasantries, Madam Wu’s attention was caught by a young lady standing in the group whose looks were fresh and appealing. She wore a pale yellow upper robe and a pomegranate-red skirt, her shoulders draped with a lake-blue silk shawl, the colors vivid and bright—unlike the fashionable style of the day that leaned toward delicate and fragile, willow-waist charm. She looked healthy and natural.
Madam Wu studied the girl’s features more carefully. She had an oval face, a delicate nose and red lips, and large, round almond eyes—a face that was both striking and auspicious-looking. But those eyes had the quality of a startled deer in deep forest: clear and lively, full of unspoken feeling, hovering on the verge of speech—which in an instant gave her a great deal of spirit and life. Like a fully bloomed tri-colored peony: beautiful without being rigid, gloriously rich without being vulgar.
Madam Wu was quietly astonished. She had long known that the Duke Zhenguo household had a promising young son—Ming Huazhang had already been celebrated as a talented scholar in Luoyang, and together with Xie Jichuan of the Chenjun Xie clan, the two had been acknowledged as the leading talents of their generation; now both had placed in the examinations together, a celebrated pairing. A handsome and ambitious young man was hard to come by, and what was more, Ming Huazhang kept his conduct spotless and never frequented dissolute establishments; there were not even any chamber maids or concubines in his household. Added to this, his birth mother had died young, and Duke Zhenguo had devoted himself to raising his son and had never remarried—a standard of upbringing that was especially rare and admirable. So whether it was Minister Wu himself or Madam Wu, they were both very pleased with Ming Huazhang.
Madam Wu had made an effort to investigate the Duke Zhenguo household’s situation before coming today. But she had no idea the household also contained a young lady of such striking appearance.
Madam Wu felt a flash of surprise and wariness, then smiled and asked: “This young lady looks unfamiliar—she is…”
The Old Madam glanced back and said: “Oh, that is this old woman’s second granddaughter—the second young master’s full younger sister. Forgive the sight.”
Ming Huashang had not expected the topic to suddenly turn to her, and smiled and curtsied in greeting. Madam Wu vaguely recalled that Ming Huazhang was apparently a twin with his sister, and asked in surprise: “Could it be—this is the second young master’s twin younger sister?”
“Indeed she is.”
The quiet tension Madam Wu had been holding released, and her smile became more genuine. She drew Ming Huashang closer to look her over. Even Young Lady Wu, upon hearing that Ming Huashang was Ming Huazhang’s younger sister, warmed noticeably toward her—abandoning her earlier attitude of treating Ming Huashang as invisible, and speaking to her in a friendly, approachable way.
After Young Lady Wu made contact with her, Ming Huashang very nearly pulled her hand away by instinct. She kept her smile in place with some effort, listening without speaking; whatever she was asked, she responded with only a smile—and sure enough, in no time at all Young Lady Wu found she had nothing more to say, and withdrew her hand somewhat awkwardly.
The Old Madam saw Ming Huashang’s wooden, block-like manner and was furious, but fortunately she still had two other bright granddaughters: Ming Yu and Ming Shuo, seeing the opening, stepped in at once and, without drawing attention, smoothly eased Ming Huashang out of the way.
Ming Yu was inwardly mocking Ming Huashang’s stupidity for failing to make the most of the chance to cultivate a good relationship with the minister’s daughter—the future sister-in-law—but little did she know that Ming Huashang too felt quietly relieved. She stood behind the Old Madam posing as an invisible person; when she saw no one was paying her any attention, she quietly said to the Third Madam: “Third Aunt, I need to use the powder room.”
The Third Madam was busy cultivating ties with the minister’s wife and did not even turn her head, just gave a casual nod.
Ming Huashang slipped away from the group without a sound. Zhao Cai followed close behind her, and asked in puzzlement: “My lady, why have you come out here?”
Looking out in every direction, there were nothing but noble ladies chatting softly with elegant smiles and well-dressed young ladies armed to every last hair strand. Ming Huashang walked briskly through this bustling arena of fame and profit, and said lightly: “A room full of people in masks—not a single word of truth among them. Dull.”
“Ah?” Zhao Cai was both surprised and a little anxious, and quickened her steps to keep up behind Ming Huashang. “But my lady, it is almost time to be thinking of your marriage. You have no mother to arrange things for you, and if you don’t go and meet these noble ladies, how will your marriage ever be settled?”
“I am still a Daoist novice—I’m not supposed to be thinking about marriage to begin with.” Ming Huashang’s mood seemed exceptionally poor. She said coldly: “Besides—marriage and wedlock are not as simple as eating or drinking. People do not die from remaining unmarried.”
Zhao Cai stared at Ming Huashang in astonishment. In the past, however big the matter, Ming Huashang had always been emotionally steady—she could even turn around and reassure them, her maidservants. In all the years Zhao Cai had followed Ming Huashang, this was the first time she had ever seen her in such a temper.
Ming Huashang realized she had lost her composure. She took a deep breath and quickly got her feelings under control, and said: “The weather is too hot. I was baking in the sun until my heart went agitated. Zhao Cai, go to the carriage and get me a cup of cold drink—I’m thirsty.”
“Ah?” Zhao Cai’s expression was complex; she opened her mouth to speak, then thought better of it. “My lady, there are so many ladies from official families here—you want to drink a cold drink?”
“Why not?” Ming Huashang looked at her just as puzzledly, her gaze limpid and guileless. “Is drinking something at a banquet against the law?”
Zhao Cai had nothing more to say, and after curtsying, turned silently to go. Ming Huashang let her gaze drift casually across the grounds—then it suddenly stopped, and she said to Zhao Cai: “Bring two cups.”
With Zhao Cai dispatched, Ming Huashang felt lightened, and walked slowly toward the edge of the polo grounds.
Standing outside the polo grounds was a young woman—her figure lean and supple, dressed in the fashionable style of the day, though her colors were on the quieter side. She had put some distance between herself and the crowd, and stood at the far edge of the polo grounds looking into the distance. The wind lifted the hem of her cream-white skirt, as though she were about to take wing and rise with it.
Ming Huashang recognized her in a single glance as Su Yuji. Ming Huashang had no desire whatsoever to go back and listen to her grandmother and the minister’s wife discussing Ming Huazhang’s marriage, and by comparison, it was much preferable to go and chat with the true daughter.
Today, knowing there was her elder brother’s polo match, Su Yuji had come to the Hibiscus Garden early in the morning. But once she arrived, she was deeply disappointed. These official ladies who looked gentle and gracious but were snobbier than anyone—best not to speak of them at all.
Su Yuji had found herself a quiet spot off to the side to catch a breeze. If not for Su Xingzhi, she would frankly have liked to turn around and leave. She was standing gazing absently at the empty polo field when a voice behind her spoke with a smile: “Miss Su.”
Su Yuji turned in surprise. Seeing who it was, she looked both astonished and guarded: “Why is it you?”
“It’s me.” Ming Huashang grinned and bounced over to Su Yuji’s side, saying: “You’re here to watch the polo match too? The opening is probably still a while away. The sun is so fierce—let’s go find a shaded spot to sit.”
Su Yuji looked at Ming Huashang and felt quite at a loss for words. Did these noble young ladies go about being this matter-of-fact in their social interactions? They were not even that well acquainted—and yet Ming Huashang came straight over to invite her?
Su Yuji said coolly: “No, thank you—I intend to wait here for my elder brother. Please do not trouble yourself, Miss Ming.”
Ming Huashang acted as though she could not hear the implication behind Su Yuji’s words, and still smiled pleasantly: “I’m also waiting for my elder brother. Let’s wait together. And I haven’t yet congratulated your elder brother on winning first place—the other day during the procession, Scholar Su was truly dazzling.”
You don’t strike a smiling face; since Ming Huashang was being so warm and forthright about it, Su Yuji could hardly keep a cold expression, and had no choice but to nod in thanks: “Thank you. My elder brother told me that Ming Huazhang and Xie Jichuan are the truly talented and brilliant ones. That he could take first place—there was probably some element of luck to it.”
“Winning is winning—where is there so much luck in the world?” Ming Huashang smiled and asked: “How is Scholar Su’s skill at polo? How is his horsemanship? Can he defend his title today?”
Su Yuji looked silently at Ming Huashang. She truly was frightening—Su Yuji was almost tempted to doubt the nature of their relationship. Su Yuji said: “Elder Brother’s horsemanship is passable, but polo is a team sport. Whether they win or not depends on the team.”
“True enough.” Ming Huashang nodded, and said: “Even though Scholar Su is very impressive, I’m still betting that my Second Elder Brother’s side wins.”
Su Yuji looked at her without expression: “As you wish.”
She had never really expected Ming Huashang to take their side, had she? In any case, she knew her brother’s character clearly—whatever happened, in her heart Su Xingzhi was always the best.
After this exchange, Su Yuji felt slightly more familiar with Ming Huashang. They had met on the Zhongnan Mountains, and now running into each other in the packed Hibiscus Garden, they were at least familiar faces. The surrounding noise was overwhelming, and no one was paying attention to the two of them. Ming Huashang suddenly asked: “That day at Heavenly Fragrance Tower—it was you who deliberately knocked over the drying rack, wasn’t it?”
Su Yuji gave a flat glance and said: “I’ve never been to Heavenly Fragrance Tower. I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
Concealing one’s identity and hiding one’s whereabouts at all times—that was what a qualified Xuan Xiaowei operative did. Ming Huashang gave a nod, and did not press further, saying softly: “Thank you.”
Su Yuji still did not acknowledge it. Just then, Zhao Cai came hurrying over with two cups of cold drink. She had searched for some time, and finally found Ming Huashang in the crowd. She came rushing up, out of breath, saying: “My lady, why did you come all the way over here? This servant has been looking everywhere for you.”
Ming Huashang turned, saw Zhao Cai, and smiled, waving her over: “Zhao Cai, come quickly and meet Miss Su.”
Su Yuji heard that name and gave a slight start, wondering if she had heard incorrectly. Zhao Cai, thinking this was some noble young lady, curtsied as instructed: “This servant greets the young lady.”
Ming Huashang took the cold drink from Zhao Cai’s hands and said: “You’ve worked hard, Zhao Cai—go find yourself a shaded spot and rest. You don’t need to follow me here.”
Zhao Cai was a girl of seventeen or eighteen herself—and now that she was at the scenic and beautiful Hibiscus Garden, of course she wanted to look around. She hesitated: “But my lady…”
“How old am I—I can manage on my own for a bit.” Ming Huashang said generously. “Go on. If the Old Madam asks, tell her I sent you away. Don’t worry.”
Zhao Cai said no more, curtsied, and skipped away happily. Su Yuji watched Ming Huashang’s interaction with the maidservant and, to be honest, found it rather surprising.
Her own grandmother had once served as a maidservant in a great household, and understood very clearly that in the eyes of those mistresses and young ladies, maids were not even human—steadfast loyalty, inexhaustible effort, and taking the blame for the mistress were all expected. Especially on an important occasion like today’s, there was not a single young lady who would let her maid go off to play.
Yet Ming Huashang interacted with her maidservant in an easy, natural way—not like mistress and servant, more like… equals.
Su Yuji looked at Ming Huashang with a very complicated expression. Ming Huashang held out a cup of cold drink to her and said: “The ice has been melting for a while—it’s a little watered down, but it’ll do.”
Su Yuji did not accept it. Ming Huashang raised an eyebrow with understanding: “You’re afraid I’ve put something in it? Then we can swap—take mine.”
Su Yuji felt increasingly unable to make sense of this young woman. She was born rich and privileged, yet had developed an easy, warm, and open nature. Word had it she was utterly idle—that after ten years of lessons in music, chess, calligraphy, painting, and needlework she had still not managed to learn a single one—yet she could swiftly identify the culprit and work her way through account books numbered in the thousands.
Su Yuji felt at sea. Which was the real one—the version of her in the rumors, or the version Su Yuji was looking at now?
Ming Huashang was already preparing to exchange the drinks, but then Su Yuji reached out and took the cup—without checking it for anything—brought it to her lips, and took a small sip, then asked: “I’ve heard it said that you are the only daughter of the Duke Zhenguo household, pampered and adored from birth by your father—so spoiled you became a good-for-nothing who never learned music, chess, calligraphy, painting, or needlework. Yet on the mountain you insisted on finishing ten full laps of running. Why?”
Ming Huashang saw how frankly Su Yuji had accepted the drink and also smiled a little, and said, gripping the cold cup and staring somewhat into the distance: “Perhaps because music, chess, calligraphy, painting, and needlework were not things I learned for myself—they were for finding a good husband. In which case, what was the point of putting in the effort? Does a wrapped gift work hard on its own decorations in order to make itself seem more valuable?”
Su Yuji raised an eyebrow and looked for a long time at her profile. Ming Huashang turned her head and touched her own face: “What is it?”
Su Yuji shook her head. She looked forward, and after a while said quietly: “You are nothing at all like I imagined.”
“Oh?” Ming Huashang raised an eyebrow. “What did you imagine I’d be like?”
“I’m not sure either.” Su Yuji said. “Looking at your outward appearance, I always got the impression you were a very cherished person—adored by your father and brothers before marriage, adored by your husband after. By all rights you should have been the kind of lady who had no idea of real work or hardship. I really never expected you to say something like that.”
Ming Huashang laughed, bowed her head, and took a big drink of the sour plum cold drink: “I could feel it—you were telling the truth.”
The autumn tiger was still blazing and fierce. The two of them stood in the midst of Chang’an’s arena of fame and gain, surrounded by the sound of the ladies Su Yuji had described—those “ladies who had no idea of real work or hardship”—chatting and laughing. Half a cup of sour plum cold drink went down, and something between the two of them seemed to shift subtly.
Su Yuji asked: “Just now I heard—you call your maidservant Zhao Cai. Which characters are those?”
“The characters for ‘attract wealth.'” Ming Huashang said proudly. “That name is pretty good, isn’t it!”
Su Yuji had no words. It really was those two characters. She said with disdain: “Why not call her Jixiang or Ruyi instead?”
Ming Huashang clapped her hands with the joy of meeting a kindred spirit: “My other two maidservants really are called Jixiang and Ruyi!”
Su Yuji choked. She was at a loss for words for half a moment before finally managing: “You’re really something…”
Suddenly a rushing sound filled the air from the field. Ming Huashang had her back to the polo grounds and was chatting with Su Yuji. Su Yuji saw the colored ball flying at great speed from behind Ming Huashang, and her face changed at once. She seized Ming Huashang and yanked her out of the way.
Cries of alarm rang out on all sides, high and low. Before Ming Huashang even understood what had happened, she was stumbling and being dragged aside by Su Yuji.
A violent rush of air swept over her head; the force of it sent her silk tassel ornaments chiming against each other. Ming Huashang lost her footing and nearly fell backward—then she felt a force from behind, steady and firm, catching her by the arm.
Ming Huashang looked up in shock and saw Ming Huazhang appear behind her. With his other hand, he caught the polo ball bare-handed before it could hit her. Ming Huazhang’s eyes were cold as winter stars, his expression glacial. He tossed the ball lightly upward, casually picked up a crescent-shaped mallet nearby, and as the ball came back down, the mallet swung hard and struck it with full force. The polo ball shot forward with the force of a thousand men, straight at the one who had sent it flying in the first place.