Spring passed in the blink of an eye. The Empress held a banquet with the imperial consorts in the Imperial Garden to appreciate the flowers.

The selection had just concluded, and many new people had entered the palace. The harem beauties gathered together, their appearances so exquisite they were no less beautiful than the spring flowers. Halfway through tea, some consort suggested composing linked poetry according to the flower calendar. Finding this idea elegant, the Empress ordered someone to fetch the flower calendar from the Bureau of Astronomy.

When Qiu Xinran brought the flower calendar over, she heard from afar the Empress praise someone beside her: “Hearing Consort Xu’s verse—simple and natural yet not lacking fresh charm—truly rare.” A chorus of agreement came from below. As she presented the flower calendar, she couldn’t help curiously glancing down. Among the assembled women, a lady in a moon-white dress rose gracefully to express her thanks—presumably this was Consort Xu who had just received praise.

This Consort Xu’s appearance wasn’t particularly outstanding—she could only be called pleasant-looking—but she possessed throughout her person a rare quality of elegant refinement that inspired affection.

Hearing the Empress’s praise, Noble Consort Xian also smiled from the side: “When I last visited Fukang Palace, I learned that the Buddhist sutras the Empress Dowager recites daily were hand-copied by Consort Xu.”

The Empress showed some surprise at these words: “Does Consort Xu regularly copy sutras in the palace?”

Consort Xu replied: “My mother is devoted to Buddhism. When I was at home, I often accompanied her to stay briefly at monasteries and frequently helped her copy sutras. Over time, this became a habit.”

“No wonder His Majesty favors you.” The Empress noticed Qiu Xinran nearby and said to Consort Xu: “This Bureau Director Qiu comes from the Nine Sects, is the beloved disciple of Daoist Baoyu, and often walks about the palace. If Consort Xu enjoys such things, in your leisure time you could have her send some sutras over to you.”

Being mentioned by name, Qiu Xinran turned and gave Consort Xu a Daoist bow. She was clearly a woman yet entered wearing blue official robes, already quite eye-catching. Many newly entered consorts had been curious, and now hearing the Empress explain her identity, they vaguely recalled this diviner’s reputation, looking at her with even greater curiosity.

“Consort Xu is well-versed in literature—she probably knows more than I do. This subject is somewhat out of her depth.” Her words and expression were playful. The Empress smiled with her eyes and deliberately said: “If that’s truly so, I think His Majesty should punish you.” The young Daoist made a woeful expression, drawing laughter from everyone in the garden. Consort Xu standing below also lowered her head with a smile.

Yuan Zhou waited for her outside the Imperial Garden. After Qiu Xinran withdrew, the two walked back to the Bureau of Astronomy together. He’d just heard laughter from inside. When Qiu Xinran mentioned it, he recalled another matter: “A letter came from the mountain this morning—the sect is holding the Flower Pinning Ceremony, and Uncle Master is calling you back.”

The Nine Sects’ Flower Pinning Ceremony held once every three years was a major sect event. Having been down the mountain for a year, Qiu Xinran should indeed return for a visit. She nodded, then remarked casually: “The capital has been under martial law recently—I wonder if returning will be troublesome.”

Yuan Zhou said: “The city gates lifted restrictions two days ago. You didn’t know?”

Qiu Xinran froze: “The culprit who wounded Minister Wei has been found?”

“Jingzhao Prefecture discovered a corpse in the northern city outskirts. Though wild beasts had mangled it beyond recognition, they confirmed it should be Zhang Rong, the youngest son of former Yulin Guard Commander Zhang Yong. Since he’s already dead, this matter is considered concluded, and the city gate restrictions were lifted.”

Qiu Xinran pressed: “How did they determine it was him?”

Yuan Zhou looked at her baffled: “How would I know that?”

“What about his younger sister’s whereabouts—were they found?”

“Haven’t heard anything.” Yuan Zhou looked at her strangely. “Do you know this Young Master Zhang?”

Qiu Xinran shook her head. Thinking of the figure turning to leave that day, she sighed inwardly, inevitably feeling some melancholy.

In early summer, the lotus flowers in the Imperial Garden bloomed. When the wind blew, the entire pond filled with floral fragrance.

Qiu Xinran sat with Li Hanyuan on the grass by the lake, weaving flower crowns. She’d been busy with miscellaneous affairs at the Bureau of Astronomy recently and hadn’t visited the Academy for some time. Li Hanyuan told her about recent palace happenings: “Ever since that fortune-teller outside told Xiao Ling she had no connection with Elder Brother Xia, she’s been sad in her room for several days and hasn’t come to find me. When I heard about this, I had someone write her a letter, telling her that fortune-tellers outside are unreliable, and when she next enters the palace, I’d have her come find you for a reading.”

Recalling this incident, Qiu Xinran felt somewhat guilty and cleared her throat: “I’ve been so busy at the Bureau of Astronomy these days I can’t get away—there might not be an opportunity.”

Li Hanyuan looked up at her curiously: “What are you busy with? I feel like I haven’t seen you in forever.”

“In a few days I need to return to the mountain, so these past days I’ve been at the Bureau of Astronomy trying to finish everything ahead of time.”

“You’re going back to the mountain?” Li Hanyuan cried out, sitting up to ask worriedly: “Why? You’re not coming back?”

Qiu Xinran hastily said: “I’m coming back, but it just happens to coincide with the sect’s triennial Flower Pinning Ceremony. Master sent a letter calling me back.”

Li Hanyuan breathed a sigh of relief: “When will you return?”

“I should be back in about two months.”

Though she said this, Li Hanyuan still showed a gloomy expression. She rarely displayed such a troubled appearance. Qiu Xinran couldn’t help asking: “Has the Princess had some worry recently?”

Li Hanyuan first shook her head, then after a while fell silent. Qiu Xinran waited for a long time before seeing her secretly retrieve a white jade ring from her bosom and place it in her palm.

“What is this?”

“I found this behind the rockery on the garden’s west side.” She said in a small voice: “A few days ago I heard sounds behind the rockery, strange sounds… When I approached there was no one, only this on the ground.”

The ring was made of the finest mutton-fat jade, even finer than the one Xia Xiuyan had given her last time. Who in the palace could use such a fine ring? Qiu Xinran’s face grew grave: “Has the Princess told the Empress about this?”

Li Hanyuan shook her head. After a moment she bit her lip: “Mother Empress recognizes this ring.” The implication was clear—naturally she also knew who owned the ring. For a moment Qiu Xinran didn’t know what to say. Then Li Hanyuan leaned close to whisper: “Xinran, could you help me keep this ring? These past two days, afraid Aunt Rongyue might discover it, I’ve had to hide it on my person.”

Qiu Xinran hesitated: “Why doesn’t the Princess want the Empress to know?”

Li Hanyuan lowered her head, pulling at the flower crown without speaking. After a while she said softly: “Mother Empress cannot know.”

Qiu Xinran sighed: “Alright, I promise you.” The little princess looked up at her with an embarrassed smile: “I knew it—Xinran, you’re truly wonderful.” She was still an eleven-year-old little girl, her eyes pure and transparent. When she smiled at you, she could soften anyone’s heart in the world.

Looking into her eyes, Qiu Xinran said seriously again: “But the Princess must also promise me—if there truly is something wrong, you’ll still tell the Empress, alright?”

“Alright.” The Ninth Princess pressed her lips together, then suddenly seemed to forget all her worries, pulling at Qiu Xinran’s sleeve to ask about the Nine Sects.

“What’s the mountain like? Is it the same as the hunting grounds at the traveling palace?”

“Why is your master calling you back? Does Warden Yuan also have to go?”

“Mother Consort said when I’m a bit older I can leave the palace with my brothers. Can I come with you to see the mountain then?”

…

Qiu Xinran patiently answered all her questions one by one, placing the completed flower crown on her head and promising: “Our Music Master’s senior sisters are very skilled at making rouge. I’ll ask them for a box and bring it back to give to you.”

Li Hanyuan’s eyes lit up as she smiled with curved eyes: “Good! Then I’ll have Xiao Ling come to the palace to teach me how to paint flower ornaments!”

Several days later, Qiu Xinran indeed requested leave to return to the mountain. By the time Xia Xiuyan heard the news, she’d already been gone for nearly half a month. In the astronomy class, the students in the Academy still wore expressions of drowsy lethargy. Bai Jingming walked around below holding a book.

The youth seated by the eastern window lifted his head during the interval of switching hands to prop up his chin, habitually glancing at the small desk beside the instructor’s lectern. Sitting there was an unfamiliar-looking young Daoist acolyte, also wearing blue official robes, hair bound with a wooden hairpin, bent over the desk writing furiously to transcribe word-for-word the content the instructor taught in class.

He recalled the person who used to sit there. She always sat quietly behind the desk, the window behind her open, letting in a beam of light that fell on her profile. His eyesight was excellent—in the sunlight he could sometimes almost see clearly the soft down on her face.

Bai Jingming used his characteristically slow and low voice to explain word by word the records in the book. Below, a whole group had fallen asleep, but her spine remained straight, her gaze following the person at the lectern, occasionally lowering her head to take notes. When encountering puzzling passages, she would stop and furrow her brow. Bai Jingming seemed to notice every time and would explain a bit more, until she relaxed her brow, revealing a smile of understanding before lowering her head to continue writing.

Each time this happened, he felt as if in this classroom there were only the two of them, master and disciple, while everyone else was merely observers.

…

The incense at the lectern had nearly burned out. Bai Jingming walked back to his position. Passing by the young Daoist’s side, he paused slightly to glance at his notes, seeming to sigh lightly. Turning to the others in the Academy, he said: “Today’s lesson ends here. If you have questions, you may ask me separately.”

Naturally there were none.

The others stood up one after another, bowing to bid the instructor farewell. After the instructor left, the Academy grew lively again, instantly filled with the bustling laughter of half-grown youths.

The young Daoist gathered his things and stood, using his sleeve to wipe the fine sweat from his forehead, also heading out of the Academy. Passing by Xia Xiuyan’s side, he was suddenly called to stop by this Heir.

Xia Xiuyan typically spoke little in the Academy, giving people a gloomy feeling. He’d never dealt with this Heir before. Being called to stop so unexpectedly actually startled him. His heart still uneasy, he heard the other ask as if casually: “Has the Bureau of Astronomy recently had any vacant positions open up?”

The young Daoist was completely bewildered but still replied respectfully: “I haven’t heard of any transfer edicts.”

“That former Bureau Director…” He spoke halfway, seeming to weigh his remaining words. After a long while he continued asking: “From now on, will you always be following Instructor Bai?”

“Probably not.” The young Daoist thought of his notes that he’d understood barely half of, saying dejectedly: “I’m not the Director’s student. When Bureau Director Qiu returns, I’ll probably be able to go back.”

After he finished speaking, he stole a glance at the other’s expression. Seeing his expression was bland, unclear whether he was satisfied with this answer, he seemed somewhat lost in thought. But seeing no further questions, the Daoist bowed and withdrew.