Yan Qing had not slept well that night. Early in the morning, she heard the Big Tiger straining its throat to announce the day.

“Yan Qing, good morning.”

“Yan Qing, good morning.”

Yan Qing rolled over on the bed, propped her head up, and looked at the Big Tiger. “Do you birds not need sleep at all?”

Hearing her voice, Jing Zhi pushed open the door and entered. “Miss, you’re awake.”

She set down the hot water and towel, then helped Yan Qing sit up.

“Miss, did you not sleep well last night? You have dark circles under your eyes.” Jing Zhi said with concern. “Was it that Second Young Master Shi who upset you?”

“It’s nothing. Don’t mention him again.” Yan Qing washed her face, dabbed on some cold cream, and casually picked up the newspaper lying nearby.

In the modern age, if you wanted to read the news, all you had to do was go online, browse a few pages, and whatever was happening—big or small—would be laid out clearly on the trending list. But here, newspapers were the primary medium of communication. Wealthy households subscribed to them; ordinary families passed them around among themselves. All the strange and wonderful happenings under heaven were contained within these thin sheets of paper.

The newspaper’s articles were as varied as could be. There was the report that opera master Yi Zhi Mei had arrived in Shun Cheng, drawing crowds that emptied the streets—everyone rushing out just to catch a glimpse; there was news that the Shun Harbor Railway had opened and was offering free rides to the first passengers who signed up; and there was the announcement that renowned actress Lin Xianxian’s new film, *Peach Blossom Red*, had been released to such demand that tickets were nearly impossible to obtain.

This era had its own splendor. Even without television, computers, or the internet, life still flourished with color and flavor in every corner.

In a small corner of the newspaper, Yan Qing spotted a reward notice. It had been issued by the Military Police Bureau, and its contents were a call for eyewitnesses to a assault case that had occurred on Yanqing West Road at eleven o’clock on the night of the fifteenth.

“An assault case?” Yan Qing murmured to herself.

Jing Zhi was tidying up the washbasin nearby. Hearing Yan Qing speak, she leaned in. “Miss, have you not heard? Another case has happened in Shun Cheng.”

“Is it this assault?” The newspaper hadn’t described the details of the case—it was simply seeking eyewitnesses.

“I heard from the maids in the other courtyards that a dancer and a female bank employee were struck from behind on their way home at night—their skulls smashed in—and then violated. Word on the street is that there’s a head-bashing maniac in Shun Cheng who prowls at midnight, targeting women who are alone, first striking them from behind and then violating them.”

Yan Qing frowned slightly. A violation followed by murder? This killer was truly depraved.

“This case has happened twice now, and people are terrified. Lots of girls don’t dare come home late anymore, and even those who do make sure to have family or friends escort them. I really hope the Military Police Bureau cracks the case soon and catches the killer.” Jing Zhi finished speaking, then carried the washbasin off to empty it.

As she passed by the Big Tiger, it hopped about and chanted: “Killer, killer, killer.”

Jing Zhi clicked her tongue at it. “Look at you, so clever—learning things nobody even taught you.”

Yan Qing gave the Big Tiger a gentle look and shook her head helplessly.

At midday, Yan Qing sat in the courtyard enjoying the sun while Jing Zhi and Murong worked on their needlework. Murong would occasionally hum a few lines of opera with great animation.

Jing Zhi teased her: “You love singing opera so much—if you ever had the chance to meet the opera master Yi Zhi Mei in person, you’d have to get his autograph.”

“I’ve only heard that Yi Zhi Mei has come to Shun Cheng.” Murong said. “Our master doesn’t care much for opera, so he certainly won’t be inviting a troupe to perform at home.”

“Is this Yi Zhi Mei very famous?” Yan Qing had been listening to their exchange and was curious.

“Miss, you may not know, but Yi Zhi Mei is famous throughout the land. Wherever he performs, the streets empty out to see him. However, his troupe only sings for wealthy and powerful households. As for the fans who can’t get in, they all crowd outside the courtyard walls—and even catching a few distant notes is enough to leave them utterly satisfied.”

“He’s a man who plays female roles?”

“Yi Zhi Mei is indeed a man, but when he dresses as a woman, he’s absolutely spellbinding.”

Yan Qing knew that Murong loved opera. The master who had taught her martial arts since childhood had been a devoted opera enthusiast, and Murong, having grown up surrounded by it, had come to love it herself.

As they were talking, the maid A Xi from Master Yan’s courtyard stepped in through the gate.

“Greetings, Sixth Miss.” A Xi offered a bow, then presented an invitation card gleaming with gold in both hands. “This is an invitation that the master asked me to pass along to Miss. The master also reminded Miss that tomorrow at noon, she should set off punctually without delay. He asks that Miss prepare herself properly.”

“This is—?”

A Xi smiled. “The Commander-in-Chief’s Mansion has invited Yi Zhi Mei to perform. All the great families on good terms with the mansion have received invitations.”

Yan Qing hadn’t expected that they had only just been talking about Yi Zhi Mei, and now she was being invited to watch his performance.

After A Xi departed, Jing Zhi excitedly said to Murong, “Murong, why don’t you be the one to accompany Miss this time? You can also get a look at that opera master you admire so much.”

Though Murong was pleased at heart, her first thought was for Yan Qing’s feelings. “Miss, if you don’t want to go to the Shi Mansion, you can let the master know.”

“Never mind.” She had already made her position clear to Master Yan the day before, and yet he had held firm. In the eyes of people of this era, a woman could only secure a stable life by finding a good husband’s family. Master Yan’s intentions were well-meaning—how could she coldly trample on them again and again?

“Murong, get everything ready. We leave on time tomorrow. Don’t be late.”

Murong and Jing Zhi exchanged a glance and said in unison, “Understood.”

Yi Zhi Mei’s arrival in Shun Cheng had come with enormous fanfare. Countless officials and dignitaries in the city lined up to invite him to perform at their homes. In this era there were no popular songs; opera was one of the primary forms of entertainment in high society. From the oldest to the youngest, from the highest rank to the lowest, nearly everyone could hum a few bars of a familiar tune.

By seniority and status, the Commander-in-Chief’s Mansion was naturally the first venue for Yi Zhi Mei to perform, and the old matriarch of the Shi family was passionately devoted to opera. Giving the Commander-in-Chief enough face was the only way to secure a firm foothold in Shun Cheng.

Yan Qing had visited the Shi Mansion once before, on the occasion of the Commander-in-Chief’s birthday. This was her second time crossing through the Shi family’s gates.

Inside the Shi family’s courtyard, an opera stage had already been erected. Beneath it stood dozens of round tables set with dried fruits, pastries, and tea sets.

The guests who had come to watch were all distinguished officials and nobles—people of standing and influence in Shun Cheng. Naturally, no expense could be spared in hosting them.

A dozen or so maids wove busily through the hall beneath the stage, rushing about without a moment’s rest.

Master Yan had only brought Lady Yan and his sixth daughter, intending to keep a low profile—but the moment they walked in, they ran into Shi Guang.

Shi Guang seemed to have been waiting deliberately. The moment he saw the three of them, he immediately came forward to greet them.

“I’ve arranged a prime seat for Uncle Yan. Please, Uncle, take your place.” He turned to look at Yan Qing. “Moving around in a wheelchair is inconvenient for you, so I’ve set you up in the front row—it’s close to the stage, so you’ll have a clear view.”

Shi Guang’s sudden attentiveness left Lady Yan rather puzzled. She remembered that the last time they had come to the Shi Mansion, Shi Guang had been perfectly indifferent toward Yan Qing.

Lady Yan gave a cold inward sniff, but kept her face smiling. “Second Young Master Shi is so thoughtful toward our Qing Qing. Qing Qing, aren’t you going to thank Second Young Master?”

Yan Qing didn’t so much as glance at Shi Guang. She said in a flat, dispassionate tone: “No need. Being too close, I find it noisy.”

Lady Yan had just begun to open her mouth to reprimand her when Shi Guang spoke, apparently entirely untroubled by Yan Qing’s rudeness. “If you find it noisy, I’ll arrange a seat further back for you.”

Yan Qing had no wish to deal with him and urged Murong to wheel her inside.

Master Yan felt somewhat embarrassed. He forced a strained smile. “Nephew, please don’t take offense. This child has been in a rather strange mood lately.”

Shi Guang smiled. “Yan Qing is my future wife—naturally, I would never hold anything against her.”

He gazed at the retreating figure of Yan Qing, lost in thought.

With that irritating presence gone, Yan Qing and Murong picked out an inconspicuous seat to sit down. The hall was full of people coming and going, lively and noisy, and she couldn’t help but look around for a while.

Murong said softly: “Miss, are you looking for Director Shi?”

Yan Qing’s face instantly flushed red. “What would I be looking for him for? I’m just taking in the scene—seeing whether these officials and nobles were all born with three heads and six arms.”

Murong smiled, wearing the expression of someone who had seen through everything but chose to say nothing.

“Director Shi might still be at the Military Police Bureau. These two head-bashing cases have had a terrible effect, and orders from above have already set a deadline for solving them.” Murong peeled a little dried fruit and offered it to Yan Qing. “Miss, have something to eat.”

People continued to gradually fill the seats around them. Yan Qing then saw Shi Guang making his way toward her again.

Her instinct was revulsion, and yet there was nowhere to go.

“I’ll take you to meet Grandmother,” Shi Guang said. “My mother and father are here as well.”

“I’ll pass.” Yan Qing lowered her voice. “I’m only here to watch the opera.”

“You’ll be marrying into the Shi family eventually—you might as well get acquainted now.” Shi Guang suggested with a smile.

“Second Young Master Shi, the words I said yesterday—I hope you’ll give them serious consideration.”

“I’ve made my decision about you. There’s nothing to consider.”

Just as Shi Guang was speaking, Yan Qing suddenly caught sight of a tall, slender figure standing at the doorway. That figure stood apart from the jostling crowd like a crane among a flock of birds—radiant and dazzling, like a luminous pearl.

The moment she saw him, it was as if someone had begun beating a small drum inside her chest.

And the man standing there on the steps seemed to have spotted her as well. He looked over, his gaze deep and intent.

Shi Guang noticed the change in Yan Qing and turned to follow the direction of her gaze. Behind him, the crowd milled about—men in Western suits, women in qipaos of every color, all genteel and resplendent, glittering with jewels.

“What were you just looking at?” Shi Guang asked, curious.

Yan Qing said: “The opera is about to start. Second Young Master Shi, please make yourself comfortable elsewhere and don’t block my view. Thank you.”

“Yan Qing, do you have some kind of misunderstanding about me?”

“No misunderstanding—but I do genuinely dislike you.”

Shi Guang frowned. “Why do you dislike me?”

“Disliking someone doesn’t require a reason.” Yan Qing tilted her chin up slightly. “Surely Second Young Master Shi doesn’t think he’s so universally beloved that everyone who lays eyes on him is bound to like him?”

For a moment, Shi Guang was at a complete loss for words.

Just then, drums and gongs rang out from the opera stage, and waves of enthusiastic cheering rose from the audience below. Yi Zhi Mei’s grand performance was about to begin.

Shi Guang could not stand here blocking everyone’s view indefinitely, so he had no choice but to return to his seat in the front row.

The moment he left, Yan Qing couldn’t help glancing eagerly back toward the steps. The spot was quiet and deserted—already empty.

Something in her chest felt suddenly hollow, a vague and wistful sense of loss.

Amid the strains of the music, the red curtain on the stage slowly parted to either side. A performer dressed in a brilliant, multicolored costume stepped forward in small, graceful paces, appearing before the audience with a beautifully poised and sinuous bearing.

—