With voice came person—a flash of emerald swept straight through the door. It was the late-arriving Third Miss Qiu, Qiu Yuluo, who was one year younger than Feng Zhiwei. She could be considered as having grown up together with Feng Zhiwei from childhood, yet their temperaments were poles apart. She was extremely proud and stubborn.
Qiu Yuluo rushed directly into the room, not even glancing at Feng Zhiwei, only staring at Lady Qiu, her tone full of disbelief. “Mother, I asked you several times for Caijia Residence and you wouldn’t give it to me. Now you’re giving it to an outsider?”
Lady Qiu groaned inwardly—she had no way to explain the advantages and disadvantages involved to her daughter, yet she could not allow her daughter to continue treating the Feng family mother and son as before. Overturning over a decade of habit in one day—others could be managed, but her own children were the hardest to account to. Seeing Feng Zhiwei sitting to one side in silence without explanation, watching the show, she felt even more stifled.
Within that frustration, suspicion also arose—given Feng Zhiwei’s current circumstances, she need not necessarily return to the Qiu Mansion. Why had she come back? Was it because she could not bear to leave the Feng family mother and son? To avenge years of humiliation? Or did she have other plans?
The doubt flashed by. Lady Qiu rallied her spirits, pulled her daughter over, and smiled. “Your Cousin Feng has finally returned. Why don’t you go greet her?”
“My eldest sister married into the Chang family where her husband serves as Regional Commander of Nanhai.” Qiu Yuluo wore a cold smile. “What kind of sister is this supposed to be?”
Originally today, she had been instructed not to go pay respects to Madam and to honestly embroider in her room. But after embroidering just a few stitches, Nanny An had requested to see her. The bruised and swollen face had startled her. She had been raised by Nanny An since childhood and their feelings ran deep. Hearing Nanny An’s tearful complaint, anger immediately rose from her heart, and she had thrown down her embroidery frame and come over.
“Yuluo!” Lady Qiu’s face darkened. “You’re being too inconsiderate!”
Qiu Yuluo turned her face directly toward Feng Zhiwei. “When did she go to Grandfather’s house? How come I didn’t know? Mother, don’t be deceived by some petty person.”
“The affairs of the mansion are not for you to question.” Lady Qiu gestured for attendants to escort the young lady away. “You’re not young anymore, yet still so impetuous. Are you truly going to disgrace our Qiu Mansion? Go back and do your embroidery work!”
This statement, rather than helping, only further ignited Qiu Yuluo’s anger. Her face turned iron blue as she gripped tightly the fine silk dragon-whisker mat on the couch, tears already welling in her eyes. “What embroidery work? What embroidery work? Why should I do embroidery work?” By the final repetition, her voice had completely turned into a sobbing cry.
Lady Qiu’s expression also changed. She secretly regretted her unsettled state causing her to misspeak. Sighing, just as she was about to say something gentle to dismiss her daughter, Feng Zhiwei had already stood up with a smile.
“Third Miss need not worry.” She said, “How would Zhiwei dare to live in Eldest Miss’s chambers? I think that Cuifang Studio from before is quite nice. It’s a pity to leave it empty—let’s use that one.”
“At least you know your place!” Qiu Yuluo snorted coldly.
“Naturally.” Feng Zhiwei said gracefully, “This elder sister wouldn’t dare provoke Third Miss’s anger and spoil your mood. Embroidery work requires the utmost calm concentration and tranquility—otherwise if it turns out unsatisfactory, that would be elder sister’s offense.”
“You—” Qiu Yuluo choked with anger. This woman was so detestable! Knowing she was sensitive about this topic, yet deliberately provoking her!
Her thoughts turned to the tumultuous marriage arrangements of the past six months, to that day after the early winter snow, that startling glimpse by the flower wall of the inner courtyard—the pale gold enchantment of datura flowers, a turn of the head releasing a burst of romantic fragrance. She thought of how her dream was moving farther from her day by day, embroidering a wedding gown for a bride yet unable to marry the good man in her heart. In that instant, sorrow welled from within. Tears filled her eyes, yet stubbornly refusing to cry, she raised her head, flicked her sleeves, and left.
“Luo’er is truly inconsiderate…” Lady Qiu helplessly turned her face away, then invited Feng Zhiwei, “Let’s dine together.”
Feng Zhiwei watched Qiu Yuluo’s retreating figure, recalling some news Yan Huaishi had gathered—Miss Qiu had originally been engaged in a marriage arrangement. Just as the betrothal gifts were about to be sent, the Crown Prince’s treason case erupted, that family fell from power and was exiled to the frontier. Soon after, she was engaged to the second son of Duke Yingguo’s family. Not long after, Duke Yingguo was implicated in the old case of falsely accused meritorious officials, and that marriage also fell through. From Yan Huaishi’s tone, Feng Zhiwei understood that after the Crown Prince and Fifth Prince affair, the Qiu family also intended to align themselves with Prince Chu, who currently enjoyed the emperor’s favor. The Qiu family’s eldest daughter had married the eldest son of the Chang family, Regional Commander of Nanhai. The Chang family was precisely the maternal family of Fifth Prince’s mother, Noble Consort Chang. The Chang clan was a powerful aristocratic family with considerable influence. If the Qiu family’s youngest daughter married Prince Chu, with the two Qiu daughters married into two different factions, the family could basically ensure they would not fall during the imperial succession struggle.
However, after two consecutive failed marriage arrangements, busybodies in the capital had already given Qiu Yuluo the evil reputation of “bringing misfortune to husbands.” No matter how thick-skinned Qiu Shangqi was, he was too embarrassed to request she become Prince Chu’s principal consort, and there was absolutely no precedent for a legitimate daughter of the Qiu family to become a concubine. This matter he dared not contemplate further. Rallying his spirits, he arranged for Qiu Yuluo to be engaged to the eldest grandson of Academician Li of the Secretariat. The Li family had always maintained a pure reputation, producing great scholars throughout the realm. Such refined and noble civil officials were individuals any emperor in any dynasty would employ. Qiu Shangqi learned from his lessons—this time it seemed he had finally made the right choice.
However, Young Master Li was reportedly away studying and traveling, so the wedding date was set for next year.
Feng Zhiwei felt the name was somewhat familiar. Thinking carefully, she suddenly remembered—wasn’t that the Young Master Li whose testicles she had crushed?
The marriage fortune of Miss Qiu truly was tumultuous indeed…
“Let’s eat together.” Lost in thought, she heard Lady Qiu invite Lady Feng and Feng Hao, followed by Lady Feng’s soft, tactful refusal.
She smiled coldly.
“Mother, don’t leave.” Feng Zhiwei gently took Lady Feng’s arm. “After so long, don’t you miss me?”
She had clearly admonished herself to henceforth maintain a cold heart and cold feelings, only performing superficial false gestures, no longer seeking self-inflicted troubles. Yet somehow, once these coquettish words left her mouth, her heart inexplicably ached.
Lady Feng looked at Feng Zhiwei, raised her hand to stroke her face, and said nothing. Feng Zhiwei caught the familiar fragrance from her fingers, the sourness in her heart growing stronger. She quickly stepped back and withdrew.
“Madam, Mother.” She turned guest into host, smiling lightly as she poured wine. “This cellared ‘Pearl in a Bushel’ is truly excellent—rich and mellow with an endless aftertaste. Everyone have a cup.”
The elaborate “welcoming banquet” was prepared grandly but eaten hastily. Except for Feng Hao who ate heartily with an iron-blue face, everyone else had their own preoccupations, merely touching their food lightly.
After the meal, Feng Zhiwei went to Cuifang Studio. The Qiu Mansion’s steward was very efficient—in the time of one meal, the place had been cleaned. Some furnishings, Lady Qiu said, would be delivered tomorrow. She also suggested the Feng mother and son move over together, but Lady Feng flatly refused.
Feng Zhiwei neither agreed nor disagreed. She closed the door to rest. After a while, outside a secluded courtyard wall in the Qiu Mansion’s back garden, Yan Huaishi received Feng Zhiwei and Gu Nanyi, who had changed clothes and sneaked out.
“There are guests.” Yan Huaishi informed them simply.
Feng Zhiwei looked at his expression and smiled. “Not those noble personages, I hope?”
“You truly have a crystal heart and liver.” Yan Huaishi laughed. “Want to hide?”
“Hide from what?” Feng Zhiwei smiled and strode forward, heading straight for her own mansion gate. “I’ve long since entered the quagmire.”
“What quagmire? The Wei Mansion has elegant pavilions and exquisite towers. If it’s a quagmire, then my princely mansion could be called a sheep pen, ha ha.” With a long laugh, someone strode forward with the gait of a dragon and tiger, stepping out with large strides. Judging by his bearing, one would think he was the master of the Wei Mansion.
Feng Zhiwei smiled and stepped forward to bow. “Not knowing Prince Wei had arrived, I failed to welcome you from afar. Please forgive me, please forgive me.”
The Second Prince Ning Sheng, enfeoffed as Prince Wei, laughed heartily as he supported Feng Zhiwei, preventing her from completing her bow. His expression was forthright and his manner cordial, though between the flashing of his eyes, there seemed to be a hint of displeasure.
“Second Brother, even being modest, you shouldn’t say such things.” Suddenly someone with a cold, severe smile slowly approached. “Your Prince Wei Mansion gathers exceptional scholars and capable people—how can you call it a sheep pen? At the very least, it’s a cattle pen.”
Chunyu Meng immediately lost control and snorted with laughter—Second Prince Ning Sheng was fond of martial arts but disliked studying, for which he was often scolded by Emperor Tiansheng. Once, the emperor had said he was “muddled like an ox of earth or horse of wood.” This matter was known throughout the court and had long become a laughing stock. Now that the Fifth Prince was exposing his embarrassment to his face, the straightforward Chunyu Meng was the first unable to control himself.
Ning Sheng glanced sideways at Chunyu Meng. Feng Zhiwei stepped forward, blocking his gaze, and smiled. “Fifth Prince also graces my humble abode—truly making it shine with glory.”
“Minister Wei need not be modest with him.” Second Prince Ning Sheng clapped Feng Zhiwei’s shoulder. “Fifth Brother may seem cold-faced, but actually has the warmest heart. He absolutely cannot miss out on any good fortune.”
This was a veiled mockery of Fifth Prince Ning Yan’s involvement in the recent old case of falsely accused meritorious officials. Feng Zhiwei sighed inwardly, thinking: you brothers may be incompatible as fire and water, but you can’t quarrel at my doorstep.
“What are elder brothers doing? Blocking someone’s door and not letting the master enter?” A warm, clear laugh came. The Seventh Prince Ning Yi, known as the “Seven Virtuous Princes,” very timely emerged to mediate.
“Today truly is an auspicious day.” Feng Zhiwei raised her eyebrows and smiled, gesturing with her hand. “Your Highnesses, please.”
The several princes each smiled and followed Feng Zhiwei into the mansion. They had long intended to befriend Feng Zhiwei, but as princes could not freely associate with outer officials, they dared not act rashly. A few days ago in the Imperial Study, their father the emperor had tested their studies and reprimanded them all thoroughly, even saying, “There are so many scholars in court with knowledge spanning past and present—why don’t you fools know to seek their instruction?” Immediately the clouds parted to reveal the moon—what could be more appropriate than seeking instruction from a “national scholar”?
So that very night, the Second Prince gathered all the beautiful concubines in his mansion, compared them this way and that, selected the most beautiful one, and rushed over bright and early the next morning. On Dongyang Boulevard, he “coincidentally encountered” the Fifth Prince. The beauties had to be left halfway, and the two traveled together. Passing by “Mountain Moon Bookshop,” the Fifth Prince suddenly said he recalled having questions to ask Minister Wei but had forgotten to bring his books—better to buy new ones at the bookshop to take along. Then they once again “fortuitously met” the Seventh Prince at Mountain Moon Bookshop, and two travelers became three.
Second Prince Ning Sheng felt stifled in his heart, and his smile at everyone held hidden cold glints.
Feng Zhiwei saw it all—according to court rumors, the Second Prince was fierce, the Fifth Prince cold, the Sixth Prince romantic, and the Seventh Prince virtuous. In reality, none might actually be as described. If the Second Prince truly had a cannon-like temper, how could he have responded so quickly to that remark just now? Imperial family members without even a bit of cunning would have turned to bones and ashes long ago.
Still, she felt somewhat relieved—the person she least wanted to see apparently had not come. How good, how good.
The four-person group of princes and national scholar, each harboring ulterior motives, proceeded all the way into the mansion. Feng Zhiwei smiled. “In this sweltering weather, the rooms are rather stuffy. Your Highnesses, please move to Lanyue Pavilion in the back garden—it will be cooler there.”
“Good.” Second Prince grinned. “I know this mansion originally belonged to Right Consultant Old Wang. His Lanyue Pavilion was built on high ground—one can climb high to embrace the moon and receive cool breezes. It’s considered one of the capital’s finest features. Within the pavilion, there’s even a winding stream for floating wine cups—today we’ll have some fun.”
“His Highness, heroic and vigorous in spirit, actually enjoys these scholarly little diversions.” Feng Zhiwei smiled. “I thought wielding a halberd while composing poetry would suit Your Highness better…”
Her words suddenly stopped.
The princes’ footsteps came to a simultaneous halt. They looked up, stared wide-eyed, their expressions splendid.
Before them stood a low mountain built of white stone. Atop the small mountain was a pavilion with upturned eaves. Beneath the eave corners hung jade bells of varying heights. When wind passed, they rang with tinkling sounds. Each bell’s voice was slightly different, and when blown together by the wind, it was like a peerless performer playing a naturally exquisite melody.
There was someone in the pavilion.
That person held a jade cup, poured emerald wine, leaned against the pavilion railing. Moon-white sleeves embroidered with gold-threaded dragon patterns, a pearl and gold crown binding flowing black hair. The long wind of the high pavilion smoothly swept past, lifting strands of his temple hair slightly, which he reached up to tuck gently back.
The serving maids in the pavilion all stopped breathing.
Peerless elegance and magnificence.
And his leisurely, languid bearing made him seem the master of this place. When he drained one cup and raised it at an angle, immediately a maid attentively refilled it for him.
Everyone below stood dumbfounded.
“Everyone’s arrived?” From the pavilion’s peak, he turned guest into host, raising his cup with a smile in invitation. “Come, come. Young Master Wei’s cellared ‘Pingjiang Spring’ is truly excellent—rich and mellow with an endless aftertaste. Don’t be polite—everyone come have a cup.”