After stepping into the courtyard, all six women stopped in their tracks.

It was spring now, the season of flowers.

Blossoms of every color lined both sides of the path, giving this small home a look that truly set it apart.

“Jiu’er.” Duan Liuyang pointed toward one spot. “Look, this is the flower I meant.”

The words had barely left her mouth before she was already walking into the flower beds along the narrow stone path in the middle.

Duan Liuyang stopped beside a cluster of blossoms and turned to look back at the person still on the main path.

“Jiu’er, it’s this kind.” She drew her eyes back to Feng Jiu’er and crouched down.

Duan Liuyang bent forward, gently pinched a cluster of the flowers, and took a sniff. She shook her head.

“Same as with mine — take it home to plant, and it just won’t grow with that same fragrance.”

By then Feng Jiu’er had come up beside her.

Feng Jiu’er crouched down too, bending low to sniff carefully at the blossoms.

“Liuyang, are you saying this is the same flower that rouge from earlier was made from?”

“Mm.” Duan Liuyang looked up and gave Xiao Yingtao a confirming nod. “Unfortunately, the scent’s different now.”

“The scent is different?” Qiao Mu’s brow creased slightly.

Her gaze, too, settled on the cluster of flowers.

“The fragrance changed.” Duan Liuyang stood up. “I found this flower on a mountain near my own home, too.”

“It was because the scent was so distinctive that I even dug up two plants to bring home and grow. But after I brought them home, they just…”

Duan Liuyang lowered her eyes to look at the flowers again, a trace of regret on her face.

“Not only did they fail to flourish, the blossoms weren’t nearly as vivid — but the most obvious change was the scent.”

“The fragrance became something completely different. Nothing like the feeling it gave before.”

“Hello!” A woman leaning on a cane stepped out from the house.

She had overheard Duan Liuyang and turned to look at her.

“Hello! Do you know this flower?”

“Rong’er, this is the City Lord — greet the City Lord!” The shopkeeper pulled his daughter forward.

The woman immediately realized and turned her gaze to Feng Jiu’er.

She set her cane against a nearby post and bowed. “City Lord, hello. I’m Shen Rong’er.”

Feng Jiu’er turned to look at the woman, a faint smile on her lips. “Hello, Rong’er.”

“City Lord, why don’t you all come in and sit? My wife is preparing tea.” Old Man Shen called out warmly.

“We don’t have any fine tea in this house, but the flower tea my daughter makes is quite popular. City Lord, would you like to try some?”

“All right.” Feng Jiu’er nodded and turned back toward the house.

The others who had followed her out turned and walked back inside as well.

The main room wasn’t large, with a table set squarely in the middle. A woman was steeping tea.

Hearing footsteps, she immediately set down what she was holding, turned, placed both hands at her waist, and bowed.

“Greetings, City Lord. Greetings, young ladies.”

“No need for such formality.” A smile — Feng Jiu’er’s signature expression — rested on her face.

“Please, sit!” Old Man Shen hurried over, grabbed his sleeve, and quickly wiped down each chair.

“Please!”

“Old Sir Shen, you’re too kind.” Feng Jiu’er nodded and sat.

The others sat down as well.

The woman didn’t sit — she stood and poured tea for everyone.

“This is flower tea. I’m not sure if it suits the City Lord’s taste.”

“We all love flower tea.” Xiao Yingtao stood and took the cup the woman handed her.

“By the way, Rong’er.” Feng Jiu’er took a light sip of tea and set the cup down.

“That flower from earlier — do you know it?”

Though Shen Rong’er had sat down, she still gripped her cane tightly, looking somewhat timid.

“City Lord, do you mean the small cluster of blossoms you saw just now?”

“Mm.” Feng Jiu’er nodded. “We’re around the same age — from now on, just call me by name. Jiu’er is fine.”

“I…” Shen Rong’er glanced up, then immediately lowered her head again.

“City Lord, I’m sorry!” Old Man Shen looked apologetic. “Our Rong’er has always been timid, ever since she was little.”

“All she likes is working with fragrances and spices — she doesn’t pay attention to anything else.”

With that, Old Man Shen turned to his daughter. “Rong’er, the City Lord is speaking to you. You should answer.”

“The City Lord is right — you’re close in age, so don’t stammer. Just speak.”

“Mm.” Shen Rong’er took a deep breath and lifted her eyes to meet Feng Jiu’er’s gaze.

“Ji— Jiu’er, I don’t actually know this flower. I only asked earlier because I overheard you all discussing it.”

If she hadn’t cared so much about those little flowers, she would never have worked up the nerve to ask.

“Where did you find the flower?” Feng Jiu’er went on.

“Houshan.” Shen Rong’er answered.

“Houshan — the mountain behind us?” Qiao Mu’s voice was flatter than most women’s. “I didn’t see any mountain behind this place.”

“Houshan — the hou meaning ‘thick,’ not the hou meaning ‘behind.'” Shen Rong’er said softly.

“Houshan — you could see it from a distance on the road you took to get here.” Old Man Shen chimed in.

“It’s roughly between here and the market. If you’re heading out that way, it’ll be on your right.”

Feng Jiu’er furrowed her crescent brows, trying to recall the journey over.

After leaving the market, they had passed a fair number of fields and groves. At the time she’d thought the air pleasant, so they’d drawn back the curtains on both sides of the carriage.

As it happened, Feng Jiu’er had been sitting on the left, and she remembered seeing a mountain then — no, two mountains.

Now, heading back, the mountain was on the right; earlier, on the way here, it had been on the left.

“Two mountains of nearly the same height?” Feng Jiu’er thought it over for a moment before asking.

“That’s right.” Old Man Shen nodded with a smile. “The City Lord noticed that too, did you?”

“The two mountains are about the same height, but one is thicker and one is thinner, so the locals named them Thick Mountain and Thin Mountain.”

The origin of the name Houshan really was that simple.

“Mm, those must be the ones.” Feng Jiu’er nodded, her gaze returning to Shen Rong’er.

“Rong’er, I heard from Liuyang that this flower didn’t originally smell like this. Is that right?”

“Mm.” Shen Rong’er nodded. “Its original scent was rich but never cloying — very pleasant. I used it not only to make rouge, but also sachets.”

“Mother.” Shen Rong’er looked up at her mother. “Go to my room and bring the cloth pouch from the second drawer.”

“All right.” The woman nodded, turned, and walked off toward the other side of the house.

Seeing everyone fall silent, Old Man Shen quickly stood and waved his hands.

“Drink your tea, drink some tea.”

“All right.” Feng Jiu’er lifted her teacup again.

The others raised their cups too, each taking a sip.

Duan Liuyang creased her brow and set her cup down.

“Actually, it happened to me too. I once brought this flower home from the mountains, and no matter how I tended it, I could never get it to grow well.”

“The real problem was the scent — it changed completely, and not for the better.”

Shen Rong’er looked up at Duan Liuyang, recalling what she’d overheard on her way out earlier.

“That’s right.” She nodded. “It’s the same situation exactly.”

“I love this flower. This time when I went into the mountains, I meant to bring back some of the soil to try cultivating it, but I never expected…”

She looked down at her own feet, a helpless look on her face.