Finding someone already inside, the three sisters hesitated. Molan glanced at Rulan, who raised her chin and stepped in first. Molan and Minglan followed. The sisters settled on a long arhat-style chair beneath the window, then their maids and serving women streamed in one after another, setting out tea, fruits, and refreshments brought from the carriage, before going outside to fetch hot water for brewing fresh tea.

The girl watched all these attendants serving with great ceremony but made no move herself, only idly playing with her teacup lid. Minglan studied her carefully: she wore a rose-red Hangzhou satin short jacket with cut-thread silk brocade and a fitted waist, edged at collar and cuffs with grey squirrel fur, embroidered all over with golden curling floral vines, with a pale moon-white skirt beneath embroidered in pulled thread work. From her neck hung an enormous solid-gold auspicious lock, gleaming brilliantly. Her hair was adorned with a pair of pearl and gem-encrusted gold-filigreed jade hairpins. The girl also looked the three sisters over: their clothing was rich and fine; each wore a solid-gold openwork necklace with a jade pendant of exceptional quality, and their manner was dignified and graceful.

After a few sips of tea, Molan went forward to strike up conversation. Within a few exchanges, she had given their own backgrounds, and the girl replied with a reserved air: “My family name is Rong, and my given name is Feiyan. My father is the Marquis Fuchang.”

Molan paused slightly, then smiled: “So you are the niece of Noble Consort Rong.”

Rulan and Minglan exchanged glances with differing expressions. This family sounded prestigious at first hearing but was, in truth, quite precarious. A golden phoenix had flown out of a common tiler’s household — a beauty favored at the emperor’s side one fine day, and the family had been ennobled accordingly. But as everyone knew, unless such a consort could produce a son — or the son could be established as heir or elevated to king — families ennobled this way were almost never granted hereditary succession without limit. The best cases might inherit for five generations; less fortunate ones were stripped of the title after one generation, or reduced to commoner rank after gradual reduction. Such families therefore typically rushed to forge marriages in all directions and cultivate capable men, hoping to preserve their prosperity.

Young Noble Consort Rong was a reigning favorite in the palace, but the aging emperor was willing but unable, and had produced no son with her — which cast a shadow over this family’s matrimonial prospects.

Rong Feiyan smiled: “My brother and his wife brought me along. The room over there was crowded and the noise was giving me a headache, so I came here looking for quiet — and I’ve gone and imposed on you ladies instead.”

The words were polite enough, but her expression carried an undeniable air of superiority. Rulan, who despised anyone who outranked her, simply helped herself to tea and made no effort to engage. Minglan, recalling the Rong Xian who had been on horseback whipping people that morning, felt a surge of distaste and likewise said little. That left Molan alone to make pleasant conversation, and by obliging herself with continual deference, she gradually coaxed Rong Feiyan into talking more freely. The subject eventually drifted to the Sheng family’s life in Dengzhou.

“…You’re connected with the Qi family by acquaintance?” Rong Feiyan’s eyes brightened for a moment, then, sensing she had shown too much, she composed herself and asked carefully: “Have you met his family’s Second Young Master?”

Molan smiled: “How could we not know him? When we were in Dengzhou, he studied together with my elder brother. And at the Marquis Zhongqin’s birthday banquet before the New Year, we sisters attended as well — and even met the Sixth Princess Consort and the Honored County Miss Jiacheng.”

Rong Feiyan gave a huff of displeasure: “How is it that a vassal king’s family members, who should be staying properly in their fiefdom, keep running back to the capital? Every one of them is like this — isn’t that in violation of ancestral regulations?”

Molan smiled pleasantly, as though trying to soothe her: “Sister, please don’t speak like that. The Sixth Prince is a person of great influence right now, and who can say — great fortune may yet await him!”

Rong Feiyan’s expression soured. She clenched her fist and rested it on the table, the sound of her solid-gold pomegranate ring set with diamonds grating against the surface. She said with a cold sneer: “Great fortune? Perhaps it will turn out to be a great humiliation instead.”

Molan smiled her most accommodating smile. Only someone who had spent years in her company, as Minglan had, could detect that Molan also found Rong Feiyan genuinely disagreeable. Then Molan adeptly steered the conversation toward the fashionable gossip among the capital’s prominent young ladies.

The Sixth Prince’s household and the Rong family were two sides of the same coin — one currently languishing but potentially on the rise, the other holding present influence but prone to a swift expiration date. Minglan lowered her head and picked at the crispy fried pine nut cream rolls in the dish before her, casting an unobtrusive glance at Molan.

In this small city of the capital, there was a crowd of women from prominent households — outwardly dignified but inwardly bursting with gossip. The Rong family’s interest in Qi Heng was hardly a secret by now. But every time the Rong family had hinted at a match, the Qi family had rebuffed them with polite evasiveness. And now with the County Miss Jiacheng in the picture, it was like two families fighting over a single choice cut of meat — endlessly entertaining.

After a few more exchanges, a Rong family maid came to call Rong Feiyan back, and a serving woman from Wang Shi’s side came to bring the three sisters for the vegetarian midday meal. After a morning outing, all three were famished. Even the refined Molan ate a full bowl of rice. Minglan on her own finished half a basin of blanched mustard greens, while Rulan held on to a dish of spring bamboo shoots braised with flower mushrooms and refused to let anyone near it. After the meal, everyone was served Guangji Temple’s own specially roasted clear tea, which Minglan sipped slowly, feeling a warm, pleasant fullness spreading through her.

By rights, they should have been departing. But Lady Hai, ever attentive, noticed that the Old Madam looked tired and quietly suggested: “It would not be good to get straight into the carriage on a full stomach — why don’t we rest a little while before departing? Old Madam, what do you think?” Wang Shi was also fatigued and readily agreed. The Old Madam nodded as well.

Seeing the elders had all consented, Minglan promptly went to find Nanny You to ask for a blanket and pillow, hoping for a short nap.

But Molan walked up to the Old Madam and Wang Shi with a smile: “Grandmother, Mother, Sister-in-law — your granddaughter has long heard that the Dripping Dew Pavilion in the rear courtyard of Guangji Temple is an ancient monument from a past dynasty, with poetry inscribed on its pillars by the great master of that time. And the Nine Dragon Screen is said to be unrivaled under heaven — truly magnificent. Since we have come all this way, your granddaughter would like to go and see it and broaden her experience.”

Rulan, having no desire to sit still, immediately perked up at this and ran to Wang Shi’s side, tugging at her arm with a show of pleading: “Mother, you always say the capital has strict rules of conduct and you keep us cooped up without any freedom. Since we’ve had this rare chance to go out, please let us have a look around.”

Wang Shi’s heart softened at Rulan’s coaxing. She turned to look at the Old Madam, who was resting against the back of the arhat bed with her eyes half closed: “Have a few serving women accompany them and keep a close eye on things.” Wang Shi understood this as agreement and turned back to Rulan with a stern expression: “You have exactly one hour. Once you’ve seen it, come straight back!”

Rulan was overjoyed. She curtsied at Wang Shi and the Old Madam with the energy of a leaping monkey, then spun around and came to drag Minglan along.

Minglan was feeling listless and leaned against Nanny You: “I’d rather not go — just let me rest a while. Sisters, you go ahead without me.”

Rulan glared: “You just ate — if you don’t go for a walk, you’ll end up sick in the carriage again!” Then she bent toward Minglan’s ear and hissed: “I am not wandering around with her — you’re coming whether you want to or not!” And she pinched Minglan’s arm with considerable force.

Minglan had no choice but to go along.

Beyond the third main hall of Guangji Temple lay a broad expanse of stone-paved ground, used for Buddhist ceremonies. At its center was a clear reflecting pool, and beyond the pool stretched a long curved wall that extended in one direction toward Dripping Dew Pavilion and in the other toward the rear mountain plum grove. The courtyard was peaceful, with a few young novice monks quietly sweeping fallen leaves.

It being early spring, the sunlight fell on one’s shoulders without heat — only gentle and pleasant warmth. The sisters walked slowly along the pebbled path accompanied by a few maids and serving women. The first thing they encountered was the central section of the Nine Dragon Screen — a massive, ferocious dragon coiling at its center, appearing to thrust halfway out from the wall itself, its colored glaze scales still brilliantly vivid despite weathering and years.

Molan suddenly appeared to develop a passionate interest in folk sculptural art. She admired and praised as she went, from the individual scales on each dragon all the way to where the glaze had worn away. Rulan, chafing under any constraint, had already shaken off all the maids and serving women, leaving them in the courtyard. She now skipped along freely, chatting and laughing as she liked. Minglan walked along lazily, barely suppressing yawns. But as they walked further, she caught the faint scent of plum blossom drifting on the air, and her expression shifted. She stopped immediately: “Fourth Sister — let’s stop here. We should go the other way to see the Dripping Dew Pavilion. We haven’t visited it yet.”

Molan was walking forward with great enthusiasm. She turned at this and said: “We haven’t finished looking at this side yet — let’s go a little further.”

Minglan saw the easy smile on her face, which showed no obvious artifice. She smiled in return: “The Nine Dragon Screen is symmetrical on both sides — having seen one half, it’s as good as having seen the whole. We’ll save some time and spare our feet.”

But no matter what Minglan said, Molan refused to turn back, insisting on seeing the rest. Rulan had not caught on at first, but seeing Molan’s soft, alluring expression and recalling how Molan had taken extra care with her appearance before they set out, she began to suspect something. She said loudly: “If we go further, we’ll be entering the plum grove — and right now there’s a whole gathering of people in there for a poetry party. It would look very bad to be seen.”

Molan smiled serenely: “We’re only looking at the stone screen — what does it have to do with anyone else? And even if we are seen, there’s nothing wrong with that.” She spoke with an air of perfect uprightness and even raised her chin to demonstrate her unblemished conscience.

Rulan laughed coldly: “You’ve always been the most eloquent — but don’t think I can’t see what you’re really after. Let me tell you — put that idea right out of your head. Look at that coy, flirtatious manner of yours — don’t go dragging our family’s reputation through the mud out here!”

Molan’s lovely face flushed red. She immediately shot back: “I don’t know what you mean, Sister. We’re all family — there was no need to say it so harshly. In fact, now I am all the more determined to go forward. We’ll see what happens! If you have the nerve, call out loudly for someone to come drag me back!”

With that, she turned and walked on.

Rulan was struck speechless with rage. They were so close to the plum grove that she didn’t dare raise her voice. She could only stamp her foot in fury.

Minglan moved quickly and stepped into Molan’s path, her expression calm and level. Molan said through clenched teeth: “You too are going to oppose me?! To slander my reputation for no reason — out of sheer spite, I will go forward!”

Minglan reached out and caught Molan’s arm. She said flatly: “You truly are not going back?”

Molan had worked herself into a fury: “I am not!”

“Fine!”

And with that, Minglan’s hand moved in a swift arc, sending something flying at Molan. Molan let out a sharp cry. There on the hem of her rain-sky-blue Suzhou embroidered skirt was a large smear of mud.

“What is that?” Molan demanded, her face turning a deep red as she hissed furiously.

Minglan calmly opened the handkerchief in her hand to reveal a lump of mud inside. She had taken advantage of the moment when Rulan was speaking to scoop up a clump of mud and wrap it inside the cloth.

“You… you… you…!” Molan trembled with rage, pointing at Minglan. Rulan stood frozen in astonishment.

Minglan said mildly: “If you still intend to go, try going to meet those young lords in that state. And if you take another step forward, I’ll aim for your face.”

“How dare you treat me like this?!” Molan finally found her voice.

Minglan said coldly: “I had half a mind to slap you awake. But considering we’re sisters, I’ll spare you that. I have only one thing to say: you may have no care for your own face, but we still care for ours! Father has spent his entire life being cautious and careful, and the Old Madam has managed this household with the same diligence — how can we allow you to destroy all of that?!” In honesty, she had wanted to do this for a very long time.

Molan raised her arm to strike Minglan, but Minglan was quicker and dodged. From behind, Rulan grabbed Molan’s arms and held them. Molan’s eyes went red and she cried out: “I’m going to tell Father! You two ganged up on me!”

Rulan burst out laughing: “Go ahead and tell him! I’d like to see what happens when Father hears you were trying to make a spectacle of yourself in public. If he doesn’t take a switch to you, you’ll have gotten off lightly!” She thought for a moment and added for good measure: “Sixth Sister is known as the mild and gentle one — even if Father doesn’t believe me, he’ll certainly believe her!”

Molan bit her lip in stubborn resentment, glaring at Minglan and Rulan with blazing fury. Minglan met her gaze without flinching, then turned to Rulan: “Just now while we were looking at the Nine Dragon Screen, Fourth Sister unfortunately tripped and soiled her skirt. Let’s both help her back — by the looks of the time, the Old Madam will want to return to the mansion soon.”

Rulan clapped her hands delightedly: “Fourth Sister, aren’t you heading back?”

Molan stamped her foot furiously and strode away. Rulan hurried after her, calling out cheerfully: “Fourth Sister, let me help you!” At that moment, she dearly wished as many people as possible would see Molan in her disheveled and soiled state.

Minglan followed behind, inwardly laughing, her spirits lifted considerably. All the weariness of the morning seemed to have vanished. Over the years, whenever Molan was truly unbearable, Minglan’s natural impulse would have been to march over and give her a sound lesson — but the Old Madam had always reined her in. She had said: a woman is bound by many constraints. Unless you have a firm hold on the other person’s wrongdoing and can strike decisively, do not ignite a conflict lightly, lest you come across as a shrew or a bully in others’ eyes, which will only make things more difficult for you in the future.

Molan and Lin Yiniang were cut from the same cloth — all manner of petty scheming and troublemaking on ordinary days, yet the moment they stood before Sheng Hong, they became the very picture of fragile and persecuted helplessness, as though the entire household were conspiring against them. Even that time when Molan made a spectacle of herself in front of Pingning Junzhu, Sheng Hong had punished her — but then Lin Yiniang’s tears turned him around, and he ended up convinced it was Wang Shi who had deliberately humiliated Molan in front of outsiders.

Such favoritism had but one cause: Wang Shi and Rulan had long since left Sheng Hong with the impression of being overbearing and loud-mouthed. A mother and daughter who acted like a pair of fierce lionesses, pitted against a mother and daughter who played the role of meek and pitiful sheep — when faced with this contrast, a man’s judgment typically collapsed, and masculine instinct made the most foolish possible conclusion.

And so Minglan never quarreled with Molan — especially not in front of Sheng Hong. In his presence, she always maintained the appearance of harmonious sisterhood.

Minglan flicked her handkerchief clean, then rolled it up and tucked it back into her sleeve. She was just about to leave when she heard a soft laugh from behind her. She went rigid, and immediately turned. Because she had been looking down, the first thing she saw was a pair of pale-soled, black satin cloud-pattern boots, and the hem of a robe in sapphire blue with dark embroidered silver patterns.

She raised her eyes. A tall shadow fell directly over her.

Minglan stepped back two paces and squinted up. At that moment the sun was directly overhead, falling on one half of the man’s sapphire-blue straight-cut robe with pure and vivid brilliance, while his other half was cast in the shadow of the stone wall in a deep and darkened blue. The embroidered patterns on his robe seemed etched in place like enamel inlay against the two-toned contrast.

“Second Grand-Uncle,” Minglan said, with careful and proper courtesy as she dipped in a bow.

Gu Tingye tilted his mouth in a sardonic line: “Such a way to treat one’s own sister — was that quite right?”

Minglan kept her head respectfully lowered: “Even the most upright official struggles to pass judgment on household affairs. If your niece has done wrong, Father will attend to it himself.” The unspoken meaning was clear: what business is it of yours, you meddlesome busybody?

Gu Tingye’s brows arched sharply. He paused for a moment: “Since you’ve called me Grand-Uncle, I may as well offer a word of guidance.”

Minglan raised her head and smiled mischievously, then said suddenly: “I haven’t yet congratulated Second Grand-Uncle on your recent marriage.”

She then cupped her two small, plump hands together and dipped in another neat, charming bow: “My best wishes to Second Grand-Uncle and his new wife — may your love bloom like flowers together, and may you share white hair and old age!”

Gu Tingye’s expression immediately darkened. His gaze turned sharp and cold. Minglan felt a flash of regret — and couldn’t help stepping back a pace.

Just last month, Gu Tingye had taken Yan Ran’s younger sister as his bride. This new Second Young Mistress had been pampered and spoiled from birth, with a thoroughly fierce temperament, and had set about reforming the capital’s most notorious rake from the very day of their wedding. On the fifth day after the ceremony, she sold off Gu Tingye’s two live-in maids. By the tenth day, she was forcing him to study and practice his martial arts and forbidding him to go out and carouse. On the fifteenth day, she drove away the friends who came to take him to the opera. On the twentieth day — from who knew what source of information — she led a large contingent of the husband’s family’s manservants to the residence of Gu Tingye’s outside mistress and proceeded to smash the place thoroughly. Had Gu Tingye not arrived in time, Man Niang and her child might well have been bound up and sold on the spot.

Gu Tingye, not being possessed of a docile nature, had promptly demanded a divorce. The Marquis of Ningyuan naturally refused, and what followed was a chaotic storm of shouting between father and son that nearly ended up before the Court of the Imperial Clan once again. These successive dramatic scenes had provided the capital’s idle households with a wealth of entertaining material for teatime gossip.

Seeing the dangerous look in Gu Tingye’s eyes, Minglan’s mind automatically sounded the alarm, and she immediately arranged her features into an expression of apologetic contrition, lowering her head and saying softly: “Please don’t be angry, Grand-Uncle. Minglan misspoke.”

Gu Tingye’s anger eased slightly. He looked at Minglan’s lowered head and thought that it was beneath him to take offense at a child. He said coldly: “What wrong has Man Niang done?”

Minglan immediately expressed agreement: “Second Grand-Uncle is absolutely right! The new wife… did act with some haste.”

She even nodded her head vigorously for good measure, displaying impeccable toadying instincts.

Gu Tingye heard this and, for no clear reason, felt a fresh flare of anger. He glanced down at Minglan with an expression of arrogant disdain: “Stop playing the fool. You’re all the same — looking down on people. What Man Niang has suffered, who would understand!”

Minglan gave up trying. She had found it was extremely difficult to manage this man. She sighed and said: “Second Grand-Uncle, it doesn’t matter what other people think. As long as you yourself understand Man Niang’s virtues, that is enough. As far as the Yu family is concerned — a lone woman traveling with two young children, making her way safely from the capital all the way to Dengzhou, and then having the boldness to go and make a scene at the Yu residence — anyone would think: this woman is not ordinary.”

Gu Tingye gave a cold snort, looking down at Minglan with a dismissive air: “She grew up fighting for everything from a young age — naturally she has her wits about her. Nothing like you pampered girls from sheltered households.”

Wonderful. Another Sheng Hong. Another Lin Yiniang. Whatever Lin Yiniang did was right — even if she killed someone and set a fire, it was always everyone else’s fault!

Minglan felt a surge of revulsion. She raised her head and met his gaze directly, working hard to smooth down the irritation within her, and spoke as evenly as she could: “Second Grand-Uncle, Minglan has a question, and wonders whether Second Grand-Uncle might help clear something up.”

Gu Tingye was slightly taken aback: “Say it.”

Minglan drew a breath and said plainly: “The Yu family’s eldest daughter stayed with Elder Yu in the capital right up until she was ten years old, and among the inner circles of the gentry she was known for her virtue and quiet composure. Surely Second Grand-Uncle must have heard of this reputation — which is precisely why you called upon the family sincerely, more than once, to seek a formal marriage proposal. In that case, if Man Niang truly wished only to enter the household as a concubine, she had only to wait for the Yu eldest daughter to be received as the proper wife. Given how gentle and easy-going that young lady’s nature is, even if the old Marquis and his wife were initially unwilling, they could eventually have been persuaded — and at that point, Man Niang could have obtained what she sought without any of this. Why would she trouble herself to go all the way to Dengzhou to cause a scene? The only result was angering Elder Yu — thoroughly ruining everything, wasn’t it?”

Gu Tingye’s lips moved. He had just said that Man Niang was a woman of intelligence and resourcefulness — he could hardly now suggest that she had “failed to anticipate” the consequences.

Minglan smiled coldly inwardly. She had thought through these things long ago.

Man Niang’s journey to Dengzhou to weep and plead at the door was never about getting Yan Ran to accept her. Quite the opposite — she feared that Yan Ran, with her virtue, kindness, and exceptional beauty, would capture Gu Tingye’s heart and eclipse her own position. What Man Niang truly wanted was for Gu Tingye to marry a fierce and difficult wife, someone who would make the marriage a battlefield of conflict and resentment — so that Man Niang, as the outside mistress, could live in ease and security, unmovable as a mountain.

Watching Gu Tingye’s expression shift between dark and light, Minglan quickly softened her voice and said with an entirely convincing air of sincerity: “Grand-Uncle, you are a man of upright character — please consider what Minglan has said the petty suspicion of a small mind. It is only because I have been close to the Yu family’s eldest daughter since childhood, and feel for her injustice. Perhaps Man Niang truly had some difficulty she could not speak of openly.”

When all was said and done, the reason Minglan dared to speak so boldly was that she had observed enough of this Second Master Gu’s character to understand him somewhat. He was arrogant, lawless, and did entirely as he pleased. In the modern world, he would merely be considered an unconventional free spirit. But in this age of rigid social codes and ritual propriety, he could only be classified as a rake and a wastrel. Men of his type — even when they were villains — were straightforward, genuine villains. Not hypocrites. Not the crawling, sly sort of scoundrels. Flattering such a person was never a wasted effort.

Gu Tingye’s mind was already a knot of tangled feelings, and hearing Minglan’s thoroughly insincere speech only irritated him further. He lowered his voice to a rumble: “Now get lost!”

Minglan received these words like a heavenly gift, lifted her skirt, and bolted — disappearing in a flash.