Though Hua Zhi had been born and raised in the capital, she had the slender build of a southerner — narrow shoulders, a willow waist, and a swanlike neck. She was not particularly tall, yet she carried herself with a willowy grace.

When she chose to make herself invisible, she appeared to others as nothing more than a young woman of pleasant looks and refined manner. But when she fixed you with a cold, unflinching gaze and you knew you had something to hide, you would not dare meet her eyes.

Under that gaze, Hua Jing instinctively stepped back. Her legs buckled, and she sank to the ground. She scrambled to get up in her disheveled state, but try as she might, she could not manage it.

Everyone was watching her.

The Hua Family’s people, the onlookers — not a single person came forward to help. She felt both humiliated and furious, and tears streamed freely down her face. She presented the very picture of a woman wronged by the whole world.

Yet who could have imagined that this seemingly pitiable creature had driven her own mother to her death? That she had come here to stir the household into further chaos? That she had forgotten the debt of giving birth, forgotten the debt of raising her, forgotten the bonds of sisterhood, forgotten that everything she had ever owned had come from her family home.

Hua Zhi looked down at Hua Jing from above. Just as the onlookers braced themselves for her to say something even more cutting, she turned and walked away. Her cloak billowed in the wind, and her hood slipped back.

From where the women were standing, only her profile was visible — and it was indeed beautiful. A high, straight nose, pale white skin that made her lips appear all the more vividly red.

Nanny Su hurried to replace the hood on the eldest young lady’s head and helped her up the steps.

Steward Xu, who was too old to have followed the procession, came forward now to meet her. “Eldest Young Lady, that person outside…”

“Pay her no mind. If she dares set foot through the Hua Family’s gate, have her thrown out.”

“Rest assured, Eldest Young Lady — she will not get in!”

The mourning hall was already being dismantled. Hua Zhi stood watching quietly for a while before she spoke. “By custom, will the monks be returning?”

“They will come back to chant sutras for another half hour — to dispel any remaining inauspicious energy and clear away ill fortune.”

“Prepare some vegetarian food and fruit. See to it that they are properly received.”

“Yes.”

She returned to her room and washed herself. She did not dare take a full bath, afraid that once she relaxed into the water she would never be able to get up.

She set aside her mourning garments and changed into a robe of pale moon-white, which looked little different from the mourning clothes. All members of the Hua Family were to observe mourning for one year — she did not know whether the others had plain-colored clothing to wear.

If the family businesses were doing reasonably well, she ought to have several sets of plain garments made for everyone.

“Miss, please drink some soup.” Fu Dong brought over a small tureen and held it directly to Hua Zhi’s lips. It smelled wonderful.

Hua Zhi took a few sips. “You added mushroom oil?”

“Yes, I simmered it myself. I asked around, and it doesn’t break any of the mourning rules.” A full year was a long time — they couldn’t eat plain vegetarian food every single day. Their bodies couldn’t withstand it.

“Make a larger batch and send it to the main kitchen.”

“Yes.” Fu Dong responded with delight and bounded out of the room. Ying Chun, working to knead the stiffness from the young lady’s shoulders, muttered under her breath, “Running and jumping about — what kind of manner is that? All those lessons in deportment, completely wasted.”

“Complaining to me won’t do any good. Go tell her yourself.” Hua Zhi closed her eyes and let her body sway with the pressure. It hurt, but it was bearable.

Ying Chun said nothing more. If it weren’t for the fact that Fu Dong had been badly frightened recently, she would not be indulging her like this.

The monks arrived well past midday. After another half hour of rites, the matter was at last considered fully concluded. The monks had eaten considerably more at this meal than during the previous days.

After seeing the monks to the gate, Hua Zhi bowed with deep and genuine reverence to the head monk, Master Boruoye.

He pressed his palms together and returned the bow, intoning a Buddhist phrase before leading his disciples away. In that moment, Hua Zhi thought she heard a soft sigh.

She glanced at the canopied shelter. Steward Xu understood at once, bowing slightly. “She has gone, young lady. I will have it taken down immediately.”

Hua Zhi nodded. “Close the gates. Everyone is exhausted — take turns resting. And send Xu Jie to see me.”

“Yes.”

By this time, Hua Jing had returned to the Song household. The news had not yet spread, and Old Madam Song, seeing her looking agitated, assumed it was simply the grief of losing her mother. In a rare moment of leniency, she refrained from finding fault with her and let her retire to her room.

Hua Jing did not even ask where her husband or her children had gone. Back in her room, she sat gnawing at her fingernails and turning over her options. She had to find a way to distance herself from the accusation — before those women passed the story along, she had to make people believe she had been wronged. Yes, that was it — she had been wronged.

Hardening her resolve, Hua Jing rubbed her eyes until they were red and raw, then worked herself into a state of tears and let them stream down her face before summoning her personal maidservant. If she wanted others to believe her, the people closest to her had to believe it first.

The Hua Family’s gates were firmly shut. After these past few days of strain, both the members of the household and the servants had reached their limits. Aside from those left to keep necessary watch at the gates, everyone else — regardless of whether it was day or night — fell into a heavy, dreamless sleep. The whole of the Hua Family fell silent.

That night, Gu Yanxi slipped noiselessly into Hua Zhi’s bedchamber. The young maidservants slept soundly, completely unaware that someone had entered their young lady’s room.

Hua Zhi was not sleeping well. Her brow was drawn together in a constant furrow. Gu Yanxi suppressed the urge to smooth away that crease, knowing better than anyone how wary Hua Zhi truly was. Even though there was no comparison between their levels of martial ability, any movement on his part would surely wake her.

He could only sit on the edge of the bed, careful even not to let his gaze grow too intense. He looked at her pale face, his heart filling with a feeling that was not unfamiliar to him.

It was the same feeling that had accompanied him on the road to the northern lands. The same feeling that had gripped him when news came of Old Madam Hua’s passing — a dull, numbing ache that spread through the chest.

When his grandmother had asked him, he had said the time was not yet right. But in that moment, he had felt a sudden impulse — to name Hua Zhi on the spot. Hua Zhi of the Hua Family. He believed that given the bond between his grandmother and Old Madam Hua, and given how deeply his grandmother cherished him, she would surely have helped him. Once an imperial decree was issued, regardless of the Hua Family’s situation, regardless of how unwilling Hua Zhi might be, she would have had no choice but to marry him once the one-year mourning period had passed — or even during the hottest period of mourning, if he had wished it.

But the impulse faded as quickly as it had come. He could not bring himself to clip her wings. He could not bring himself to confine her to the inner quarters. He did not want to see Hua Zhi look at him with eyes full of revulsion and displeasure.

He wanted her to willingly don the red bridal robes and become his wife.

And he also wanted to see, under her guidance, where the Hua Family would go.

He could wait. He was also very willing to wait.

When Hua Zhi finally woke from her sleep, her whole body had begun to ache. It was as though lead had been poured into her limbs — every step she took felt like it required her full strength. Without drawing attention to herself, she made her way to the outer courtyard.

It was no longer convenient to conduct her affairs from the inner courtyard. She had a room that had previously served as a resting area during lessons cleared out and put in order — from now on, this would be where she handled business.

“Miss, is the wound hurting again?” Ying Chun had been holding back for the entire walk and could finally contain herself no longer — though the wound on the young lady’s leg had clearly already formed a scab.

“The wound is growing new flesh. It itches.” She offered the explanation without dwelling on it and turned her gaze to Nian Qiu. “Go over this period’s income with me.”

“Yes.” Nian Qiu spread open the account ledger, her voice clear and bright. “In the thirty-two days you were away, Green Moss Lane brought in a total of four thousand one hundred and sixty-two taels. Costs came to approximately six hundred and eighty taels. Business slowed somewhat as the weather turned cold, but the number of buyers sent by wealthy households has increased. I believe that when the weather improves, turnover will more than double.”