Hua Zhi had the servants prepare several bed warmers, signaled for Bailin to look after the younger brothers, then took a few of them and lifted the curtain to go inside.

“Elder Sister.” Those inside all rose to their feet when they saw her.

“Sit down.” She tucked a bed warmer into the arms of each of them, then settled herself onto a vacant prayer cushion nearby and added coals to the brazier. “When no rites are being performed, sit and rest a while. Kneeling for too long will take a toll on you — don’t let it leave a lasting hurt.”

Everyone murmured their assent. They had seldom had occasion to interact closely with this elder sister, and if anything, had carried a quiet disdain for her all this time. Now, thrown together in such close proximity, they found themselves uncertain how to draw near to her.

The warmth from the bed warmer gradually spread through their bodies, and as the body warmed, somehow the heart seemed to warm as well. Hua Xin looked across at Hua Zhi, and something within her grew quietly still.

It was a good thing for the Hua Family to have an elder sister capable of bearing the weight, she thought. At the very least, it told them what they ought to do and how they ought to do it. Hua Zhi did not assert her authority over them, nor did she seem intent on establishing dominance. Or perhaps one could say — she was actually trying, in her way, to protect them.

Whatever anyone else might think, she herself would respect this elder sister from now on. That was what Hua Xin decided.

Hua Rong was Hua Zhi’s half-sister by a different mother. Relying on the slightly closer blood tie that put her one degree nearer to Hua Zhi than Hua Xin or Hua Ling, she edged a little closer toward Hua Zhi and asked in a low voice, “Will we have to stay here the whole time?”

Hua Zhi looked at her. “You would rather not?”

“That is not it.” Hua Rong glanced up at her once, then lowered her gaze again. “If a male visitor comes…”

“In a mourning hall, there is no distinction between men and women. You need only remember that you are all Grandmother’s granddaughters. Whoever comes, male or female, has nothing to do with us. We need only fulfill our duty as children and grandchildren in mourning.”

“…Yes.” Hua Rong felt a flicker of dissatisfaction. She had moved closer in hopes of catching her elder sister’s particular attention — not to be gently reprimanded for stepping forward out of turn.

“These days will not be easy. I cannot stay on this side the whole time. Look after one another, and do only what is within your strength.”

“Yes, Elder Sister.”

Hua Zhi harbored no illusion that a handful of words could win them over. For the moment, all she needed was for them to stay well-behaved through these few days. Hearing a stir outside, she lifted the curtain and peered out — and upon recognizing the figure, she quickly stepped out to receive her.

Hua Nian was being supported by her eldest son, weeping so hard she could scarcely draw breath, her appearance thoroughly haggard. Those who did not know the circumstances might well have mistaken her for the eldest daughter of the Hua Family.

Hua Zhi offered a deep bow from a distance, and a wave of relief moved through her.

Grandmother had been a kind woman. Though she had always been especially fond of her eldest daughter, she had never been harsh with her concubine-born daughters either — what was due to them was given in full, whatever they wished to learn she would arrange for teachers, and the dowries she provided upon their marriages had been generous. She had fulfilled every duty of a formal wife and mother.

It was fortunate that this one had not grown crooked. She still remembered the kindness she had been shown.

Hua Nian was not blessed with many children — she had only one son, Yang Sui’an, who was no more than fourteen yet already remarkably mature. He knelt beside his mother, bowing and burning incense with full and careful propriety.

Once she had wept for a while, Hua Zhi stepped forward and said gently, “Aunt, your health must come first. Grandmother, knowing you have come, would surely be glad.”

Hua Nian looked up, eyes blurred with tears, at this eldest niece of her parental family. A wave of bitterness surged through her heart. The family had already fallen — and now the Old Madam had to go as well. What was to become of this great Hua Family?

She bitterly resented her husband’s family for their heartlessness. In the days when there had been something to gain, they had urged her over and again to go home for visits. The moment the Hua Family fell, they had kept her shut in the house. This time they had even threatened her with divorce. But this was her parental home — even stripped of its wealth and glory, it was still the place that had given her life and raised her. Grandmother had passed away. How could she not come back?

Thinking on it only made Hua Nian’s tears fall faster. How fickle and cold the ways of the world — and yet whose heart was not made of flesh?

Hua Zhi signaled to Nanny Su to come forward. “Please escort the aunt to the concubine-aunt’s room.”

“Yes.”

Hua Zhi looked toward Yang Sui’an. Uncertain of his intentions, she asked, “Cousin, you…”

“I came to observe mourning for my maternal grandmother. I will not go inside.” He paused. “I will stay out here.”

Hua Zhi thought for a moment, then gestured for him to follow and led him to a quieter section of the covered walkway. “Did the Yang Family object to letting the aunt come back?”

Yang Sui’an did not know the full situation inside the Hua Family and could not quite bring himself to answer directly. He spoke only vaguely. “She ought to have come.”

Hua Zhi understood all that needed to be understood. She lowered her head with a faint smile and made a quiet, weighty note of the Yang Family. “Sui’an, watch and see — whether it is the Yang Family who falls first, or the Hua Family. And when that day comes, even if your father wishes to come and kowtow at my grandmother’s grave, the Yang Family will not be permitted past the gates of the Hua ancestral grounds.”

Yang Sui’an was overcome with shame and did not speak a single word in his father’s defense. The facts were before him — there was nothing to argue. As a son-in-law of the Hua Family, his father should have come the very day the news of the death arrived. Instead, not only had he himself stayed away, he had kept his wife from coming. Had Yang Sui’an not made a great scene about it, his mother would likely still be locked in the house right now, unable to step outside the door.

When the Old Patriarch had still been in his position, when had his father ever treated his mother this way? How utterly mercenary — so mercenary that even he, as a son, felt his face burn with it.

“Sui’an, I remember it all.”

Yang Sui’an looked up at his cousin.

Hua Zhi looked toward the mourning hall, listening as Sanskrit chanting rose once more from within. She said nothing further. “Go on.”

Yang Sui’an walked away, then turned back. By that point, his cousin had already turned and gone. He had understood what she meant, of course — but he could only pretend he had not. Whatever else could be said of the Yang Family, it was still his own. Others could hold it in contempt, others could speak ill of it — he could not.

Hua Zhi quietly settled everything within herself and returned to the mourning hall. Through the entire morning, aside from the second aunt who had returned to offer condolences, the only visitors had been the Zhu Family. Hua Zhi felt her heart sink a little, though her face showed nothing of it. She closed her eyes, and let herself follow the Sanskrit chanting and the rhythm of the wooden fish, murmuring along with the prayer for the departed soul.

An announcement rang out: “Master Lu has come to offer his condolences.”

Hua Zhi’s eyes snapped open. She looked toward the man now walking in through the main gate — dressed in a white cloak, his tall and upright bearing only more pronounced against it, his solemn expression lending the scar on his face a cold and cutting severity.

He accepted the incense, bent at the waist, and offered three bows. Hua Zhi led her brothers and sisters in kneeling in return prostration.

Suppressing the impulse to step forward and help them all rise, Gu Yanxi said in a low, steady voice, “Please rise.”

Everyone rose to their feet. Hua Zhi turned to Gu Yanxi and offered a bow. “Many thanks, Master Lu.”

For concealing the truth, and for bringing me back with all possible speed, and for sending people to watch over the Hua Family while I was away — thank you for all of it.

Gu Yanxi gave a slight nod, accepting her gratitude. “My condolences in your grief.”

“Yes.”

Their eyes met for a moment. Gu Yanxi turned and left — he had come quickly and departed just as quickly.

He was of the imperial bloodline, a Shizi, the half-son the Emperor himself had raised and educated at his side — and yet he had carved the scar into his own face with his own hand.

His overt identities were so numerous that sometimes even he forgot who he truly was. Yet this face — the one that was truly, solely his — remained always hidden in the shadows. Only a handful of people knew it. His own father he had not seen in many years. The only person truly close to him was a half-sister who had lost her memory. His power was vast and far-reaching, yet coming here still required him to go to the palace afterward and give the Emperor — his Imperial Uncle — an adequate explanation.

He held power over many things, yet in truth he had nothing at all.

And now — that was no longer so.

Author’s Note: Don’t worry, dear readers — even though the author tends to focus on plot, she hasn’t forgotten to give these two a proper romance.