Shi Guang heard his own name and couldn’t help slowing his steps.

He had been paying close attention lately to the situation between Yin Minghui and Shi Ting. Through Zuo Liang’s inquiries, he had learned that the two of them were having more and more contact — and on several occasions, it had even been at night.

A man and a woman, alone in the dark — what they could be doing needed no explanation.

Every time he heard such news, Shi Guang’s feelings were deeply conflicted. On one hand, he felt it was unfair to Yan Qing. On the other, he couldn’t suppress a furtive sense of satisfaction.

“I think it’s the Second Young Master,” the maidservant’s voice cut through Shi Guang’s thoughts. “The Second Young Master is single, and the Seventh Young Master already has a proper wife. A girl with Miss Yin’s looks would have to be out of her mind to pass up becoming Second Young Mistress just to be someone’s concubine.”

“When you put it that way, that does make more sense. I think the Second Young Master is the more likely one too.”

Just as the two maidservants were enthusiastically speculating, the sound of footsteps behind them made both girls spin around. They saw Shi Guang, his expression dark and stormy, and immediately shrank back against the wall, heads bowed, not daring to make a sound.

Shi Guang had no interest in making an issue of two maidservants. In any case, the matter of Yin Minghui and Shi Ting couldn’t stay hidden forever. The way things were going, Shi Ting would end up taking Yin Minghui as a wife.

Even if Shi Ting didn’t take the initiative, the Qian Family would likely come knocking, and then whether he wanted to or not, he would have no choice.

Once Yin Minghui entered the household, Yan Qing would certainly make a scene. Knowing Yan Qing as he did, she would never stay on with Shi Ting under such circumstances. Her unyielding spirit, her absolute decisiveness — those were the very things that obsessed him.

Even though Yan Qing despised him so thoroughly, he simply could not stop himself from being enthralled by her.

Shi Guang paid no further mind to the maidservants and walked on toward his own quarters. As he passed the white jade arch bridge, he unexpectedly caught sight of a slender, solitary figure.

He hadn’t expected to encounter Yan Qing here. His heart leapt with sudden delight, and at the same time began to beat at a frantic pace.

He watched her from a distance for a moment, then walked over.

Yan Qing seemed to sense someone approaching, and slowly lifted her head. The moment she saw it was Shi Guang, her brow instinctively creased.

Shi Guang smiled bitterly to himself. She was still the same — harboring toward him an inexplicable, bone-deep aversion — and he had no idea what he had ever done to make her feel this way.

But what could he do about it? The man she cared for with her whole heart was still being flirtatious with another woman, after all. The person she had chosen all those years ago had only warmed to her for a time — now that someone else had appeared, he had tossed her aside without a thought.

With that in mind, Shi Guang lifted the hem of his long robe and sat down across from her.

Since it was winter, all the stone seats in the Shi Mansion had been covered with wool cushions filled with warm fleece, so sitting on them was not cold at all.

Separated by a table, Shi Guang watched Yan Qing with quiet intensity.

Yan Qing ignored him, writing something on a sheet of colored paper. When she finished, her slender, nimble hands moved up and down, turning and folding the paper until, before long, the shape of a bird emerged.

Shi Guang couldn’t help asking with curiosity: “What is that?”

Yan Qing replied with rare brevity: “A paper crane.”

“A paper crane? I’ve never heard of that before — what a poetic name.” Shi Guang ventured boldly: “May I have a look?”

Yan Qing paused, then passed him the freshly folded crane with an indifferent expression.

Shi Guang took it and examined it carefully. “What is it for?”

Yan Qing said, “If there’s something you want to say, you write it on the paper and fold it into a crane. Your worries float away with the water, and whoever is meant to receive your words will find your heart inside.”

“What did you write in this one?”

“Nothing.” Yan Qing’s expression changed at once, and she reached out and took the crane back.

Shi Guang smiled and lowered his voice. “Yan Qing, can you tell me — why do you dislike me so much? Is it because I didn’t insist on marrying you back then? Or because later I suggested you become a concubine? But you know very well that none of that was within my control. When our engagement was called off, I was away, and my mother had kept it from me entirely. By the time I returned, it was too late. As for asking you to be a concubine — I only did that because I was so drawn to you. It was the only way I could think of to bring you to my side.”

“None of that has anything to do with it,” Yan Qing said, her expression cooling slightly. “Some people are simply born to grate on each other’s nerves.”

Shi Guang shook his head helplessly. “Then can you try to see something good in me?”

“Shi Guang, what’s the point of sitting here saying all this?” Yan Qing stood and, ignoring him entirely, walked quickly down the steps.

Knowing her temperament, Shi Guang made no move to follow. He sat and watched, transfixed, as she made her way to the edge of the stream.

She seemed to deliberate for a moment, then set the paper crane onto the water. The current was gentle, and the crane drifted slowly downstream.

Yan Qing let it go without a backward glance in his direction.

Shi Guang watched her retreating figure and thought: Yan Qing must have found out about Shi Ting and Yin Minghui — that was why she had been sitting here, lost in quiet sorrow.

He remembered an occasion when he had come across her and Shi Ting at this very spot, the two of them playing chess together, talking and laughing without a care in the world.

Now Shi Ting had already found a new infatuation, and she had become the forlorn one left behind. Thinking of what she must be feeling now, Shi Guang’s heart was full of complicated emotions.

But it also strengthened a certain conviction within him. Sooner or later, everything in this world would be his — and Yan Qing would be his too.

With that thought, Shi Guang stepped quickly down from the white jade bridge and set off along the stream in the direction the crane had drifted.

He wanted to know what she had written inside. He wanted to be the one who understood her, who answered her.

The paper crane drifted farther and farther downstream — and Yin Minghui, meanwhile, received an exquisitely crafted paper crane of her own.

“Miss, Miss!” Xue Tao came running in, brimming with excitement. “Jin Shan sent this.”

“What is this — folded paper?” Yin Minghui took it and turned it over in her hands.

“I’ve never seen anyone fold something like this before. Miss, open it and have a look.”

Yin Minghui unfolded the crane to find a single character written inside: “Longing.”

Yin Minghui rubbed her eyes in disbelief. “Xue Tao, look — is this the character for longing?”

“It is,” Xue Tao confirmed excitedly. “Jin Shan says this is a paper crane — folded by Seventh Young Master himself.”

“Then what does he mean by writing this character?”

Xue Tao beamed. “It naturally means he’s longing for Miss.”

Yin Minghui flushed crimson at once. “Do you really think so?”

“What else could it possibly mean?” Xue Tao covered a laugh. “Miss, Seventh Young Master is longing for you.”

At once delighted and overwhelmed, Yin Minghui didn’t know quite what to do with herself. “Then — then what should I do now?”

Xue Tao thought it over. “Why not fold one in return and send it to Seventh Young Master?”

“But how do you fold one?” Yin Minghui was stumped.

“Let me see.” Xue Tao followed the fold lines to slowly unfold and reconstruct the crane, studying it carefully until at last she managed to fold a complete one again.

“What should we write inside?” Yin Minghui asked, her excitement rising.

“How about a line of poetry?” Xue Tao suggested. “Something about longing — Seventh Young Master will understand Miss’s feelings immediately. It’ll be your answer to him.”

“Then help me think of something.”

Xue Tao said with mild embarrassment: “Miss, you’re asking too much of me — I’ve barely learned to read. What would I know about poetry?”

Yin Minghui thought for a while and eventually composed a line herself, then wrote it out neatly on the paper, folded it into a paper crane, and sent it off.

Over the following days, Yin Minghui kept receiving paper cranes delivered by Jin Shan, each one bearing something inside — sometimes verses of poetry, sometimes written words.

She became more and more certain that Shi Ting had been entirely won over by her. Given a little more time, her wish would come true.

Yin Minghui’s unusually radiant mood over those days did not escape Qian Lan’s notice. During a quiet moment over tea, she kept her niece back after the others left.

The two sat together over tea, chatting idly.

“Minghui, have you been preoccupied with something lately?” Qian Lan asked with concern. “I’ve noticed you always seem to be keeping some secret — is there something you’re hiding from your auntie?”

Yin Minghui looked as though she’d been seen right through. She lowered her head with a touch of embarrassment, twisting the handkerchief in her hands, her thoughts clearly elsewhere.

“Did San Yitai speak true the other day — that you’ve found someone you fancy?” Qian Lan studied her niece’s expression thoughtfully.

At such a direct question from her own aunt, Yin Minghui couldn’t help feeling flustered. “Auntie, why are you teasing me just like the rest of them?”

“I’m not teasing you,” Qian Lan said. “If you’ve truly taken a liking to someone, your auntie can ask the Old Madam and the Marshal to make the decision for you.”

Yin Minghui’s heart soared at that — but remembering what Xue Tao and Jin Shan had advised, she decided she still needed to play it properly restrained.

Watching Yin Minghui’s reaction, Qian Lan saw everything clearly. The girl had fallen for someone, but couldn’t bring herself to say it outright. As for who that person was — Qian Lan already knew in her heart.

Nothing that happened in this household escaped her notice. And Yin Minghui’s recent behavior was all connected to a certain someone.

Qian Lan smiled inwardly, while keeping up a look of warm concern on her face. “Minghui, even without you telling me, I can guess what’s on your mind. In matters like this, the woman shouldn’t take the first step — you’d only risk your reputation. Rest assured, I know who it is you’ve set your heart on, and I’ll find the right opportunity to mention it to the Old Madam and the Marshal, so that person can come and propose to you without delay.”

Yin Minghui’s delight was immediate. “Auntie, can you really make that happen for me?”

Qian Lan took her niece’s hands and patted them gently. “Trust me. Although we haven’t known each other long, I truly adore you as a niece. I want to see you get everything you hope for — to spend your life with the person you love.”

Yin Minghui’s face reddened with gratitude. “Then I’ll leave it to Auntie.”

Qian Lan smiled, the picture of a devoted aunt — while turning over her own calculations in her mind.

She liked Yin Minghui precisely because this type of person was the easiest to manipulate. Someone who was clever in the wrong ways was always the most useful.

That day, the Old Madam paid a rare visit to the front courtyard to dine with the family.

Qian Lan had placed Jing’er’s cradle beside the Old Madam. Jing’er had a small bell in his hand, which he shook happily from side to side.

The Old Madam glanced over at her grandson from time to time, the tenderness in her eyes impossible to conceal.

Yan Qing watched the Old Madam coax her grandchild, then cast a glance at Qian Lan. The Old Madam rarely came to the front courtyard — and every time she did, she brought some great trouble with her.

—