Early in the morning, everyone in Prince Qing’s residence was already busy.
“Make sure the garden is tidy.”
“…Are these the best flowers we have?”
“…Have the imperial kitchen’s people arrived yet?”
The steward’s voice never stopped for a moment, and his constant shouting sent the servants hurrying back and forth across the vast residence, making the whole place lively again – almost as if it were the day they first moved in.
Anyone who didn’t know better would think they were expecting a grand company of guests.
“No need to be so nervous. She’s a very easygoing person,” said Duke Jin’an with a smile as he helped fasten Prince Qing’s robe and patted him on the shoulder. “There. Go play.”
The little prince, already impatient, immediately raised his hands and ran out, with a cluster of eunuchs hurrying after him.
“It’s just an ordinary meal – nothing to fuss about,” the duke said, standing under the veranda and gazing out.
The steward answered promptly, but his gaze flicked briefly toward Duke Jin’an.
The duke immediately noticed.
“What is it?” he asked, glancing down at himself as well.
“Nothing, nothing,” the steward hurriedly replied, shaking his head.
Duke Jin’an made a soft “oh” in response but still lowered his head to inspect his clothes.
Today he was wearing a white robe with blue and violet trim and a round collar, cinched with a vermilion belt inlaid with bits of jade and emerald – a striking sight in the early winter chill.
A bit too flashy, perhaps?
“You go keep an eye on them,” he said, turning to step inside. “I’ll go in for a moment.”
The steward acknowledged the order and went back to his busy work.
“What about this one?”
Duke Jin’an stood behind, holding up a robe with the help of two young eunuchs, comparing it to another, while questioning the four eunuchs standing before him.
“Good, good,” they all nodded in agreement.
“And compared to the one just now?” the duke asked.
The four eunuchs exchanged uneasy looks.
“…About the same, I suppose…” one of them stammered.
Blue, green, yellow, red – in the end, they were all just clothes once you put them on.
Duke Jin’an waved his hand.
“Go, go – call the women in.”
The eunuchs looked as if they’d been granted amnesty; matters of what looked best were best left to the women to decide.
“…His Highness looks good in this one…”
“No, no, that one’s not right – this one, this one is much better…”
The room instantly grew lively, filled with a chorus of chirping, lilting voices.
Having no opinion was troublesome enough, but having too many was even worse; before long, Duke Jin’an’s head was spinning from the noise.
“All right, enough! Just tell me – which one actually looks best on me?” he barked.
The ten palace maids standing in the room all turned toward him at once.
Under the bright indoor light, the nineteen-year-old youth no longer bore any trace of boyishness. After years spent traveling outside and playing roughhousing games with Prince Qing, his frame had grown strong and well-built. Beneath the noble air of a pampered prince was a brimming vitality; his brows were fine, his features elegant, his bearing striking.
“Your Highness looks good in anything,” the maids answered in unison.
Duke Jin’an let out a half-exasperated, half-amused sigh.
“Your Highness, Your Highness – Lady Cheng has arrived!”
The steward’s voice called from outside the door.
Duke Jin’an immediately panicked again.
“Which one, then?”
“Forget it – just throw one on!”
“Hurry, hurry!”
The room fell into chaos once more.
Ban Qin stepped down from the carriage and helped Cheng Jiao-niang alight, then glanced around the residence with curiosity.
“It’s not a very large place,” said the palace matron who had come to greet them, smiling. “But it’s rare to find one so close to the palace.”
Cheng Jiao-niang nodded and began to walk forward.
It was, of course, only polite small talk – in truth, the residence was quite spacious.
But… had this lady actually taken the remark seriously?
The matron was momentarily taken aback. Then, recalling the steward’s warning that this lady was not someone to be treated as an ordinary guest, she quickly recovered and hurried after her.
“You’ve come.”
The moment they reached the entrance, Duke Jin’an’s voice sounded from within.
Cheng Jiao-niang stopped and looked up just as the speaker appeared.
The young duke emerged wearing a long robe of indigo and violet patterned with pale white blossoms, his bright smile lighting up his face.
“This way, please,” he said, pretending not to notice the steward’s startled expression beside him.
Cheng Jiao-niang offered a formal bow before following him inside.
“What is he doing?” the palace matron whispered to the steward.
The steward only smiled and shook his head.
“A woman adorns herself for the one who pleases her,” he said softly.
“Don’t talk nonsense,” the matron hissed. “That lady is a proper woman – she wouldn’t think like that.”
The steward smiled and nodded.
“Yes, of course. I wasn’t talking about her,” he said.
If not her, then who? The matron was even more puzzled, but before she could ask further, the steward had already hurried after them – so she could only drop the matter.
“Liu Ge’er, Liu Ge’er – come quickly and greet Lady Cheng!”
Duke Jin’an’s voice rang out from within the hall.
“…It’s only when His Highness meets this lady that he actually calls Prince Qing over himself.”
“…Yes, any other time he’s afraid someone might see the young prince and keeps him hidden away,”
Two maids whispered as they stepped out of the hall – until someone in front of them gave a sharp, pointed cough.
“Of course Lady Cheng is here to see Prince Qing,” the palace matron said sternly. “She’s skilled in medicine – otherwise, why would we have invited her?”
The two maids hastily bowed their heads and murmured “yes,” not daring to utter another word.
The palace matron looked into the hall and saw Prince Qing being led toward Cheng Jiao-niang by Duke Jin’an.
Prince Qing disliked being held or restrained; his face showed clear displeasure as he let out a string of “ah-ah-ah” cries. Yet the lady before him showed neither fear nor distaste – her expression was as calm and unruffled as when she looked at Duke Jin’an himself.
A true doctor indeed – before her eyes, all beings were equal.
Cheng Jiao-niang offered Prince Qing a courteous bow before standing up again.
Only then did Duke Jin’an release his grip, and the young prince impatiently ran off.
“Would you like to have a look around?” Duke Jin’an asked, gesturing around them with a smile.
“Gladly,” Cheng Jiao-niang replied.
Delighted, Duke Jin’an stepped forward and called out once more, “Liu Ge’er, let’s go for a walk!”
So they really were going to look around. The palace matron shook her head, sighed inwardly, and hurried after them.
“Cheng Fang, Cheng Fang – look over there! That used to be a lake, but I had it filled in and planted with a great field of flowers. By next spring and summer, we’ll be able to enjoy them in full bloom…”
Duke Jin’an spoke as he pointed toward the distance.
Cheng Jiao-niang followed his gesture, looked carefully, and nodded seriously.
“It would be nice to arrange them into a pattern as well,” she said.
“That’s a good idea! What kind of pattern?” Duke Jin’an asked eagerly.
“A yin–yang pattern,” Cheng Jiao-niang replied, her gaze sweeping over the area.
Duke Jin’an nodded and immediately turned to instruct the steward.
“Your Highness,” the steward said in a low voice, “the layout and geomancy of this place were all approved by the Bureau of Astronomy – it mustn’t be altered lightly.”
“It’s precisely because they approved it that I want to change it,” Duke Jin’an answered just as quietly.
The steward was momentarily stunned. Duke Jin’an gave him a firm, confirming glance before turning back to Cheng Jiao-niang with a smile.
“Cheng Fang, let’s take a look over here,” he said, beckoning to her.
Cheng Jiao-niang nodded and followed him forward.
Up ahead, Prince Qing was running along, holding a pinwheel and laughing, while the maids and eunuchs followed a short distance behind – stretching into a long line across the bluestone path.
“Is he really going to change it?” someone quickly asked the steward.
The steward shook his head.
“You all know what His Highness’s temper is like,” he said. “Just report it to the palace.”
“If the people from the Bureau of Astronomy find out, they’ll definitely start nagging again,” one eunuch muttered, shaking his head.
“Ah – wait, my lord,” another eunuch suddenly brightened, “we might not be able to reason with the Bureau, but we could ask someone else.”
“Ask who? The monks at Puxiu Temple?” the steward asked, frowning.
“No, I heard that Master Han – the one who correctly predicted the solar eclipse – is coming to the capital. When he arrives, we could ask him to take a look. If he says it’s fine, that should shut the Bureau up,” the eunuch said with a grin.
The Bureau of Astronomy had failed to predict nine out of ten eclipses; the one time they got it right, it was sheer luck. This year’s case had been particularly remarkable: while the Bureau’s forecast was off again, someone else had predicted it accurately and even organized the townspeople to take precautions. The whole town rejoiced at the auspicious event, and people from other places were full of envy.
The official who had led that effort became famous overnight. Conveniently, it was right before the imperial performance review, and he was praised up and down the ranks – promoted from county magistrate to prefect – and was due to arrive in the capital soon to have an audience with the Emperor.
The steward nodded.
“Yes, yes, that’s a good idea,” he said. “Keep an eye out. As soon as he arrives, let me know.”
The eunuchs all acknowledged the order. The steward then looked toward the duke and his companions, now growing smaller in the distance, and hurried after them.
…
“Zhile.”
A voice came from beside him, and Qin Shi’san-lang drew his gaze back from the window.
“All right, all right,” he replied with a smile at once.
“All right, what all right? Don’t brush me off,” a young man said, turning the wine bowl in his hand. “I can’t come up with the next two lines.”
Just as he spoke, the door slid open, and a young lady entered, followed by a little maid carrying a qin.
The room of seven or eight men instantly grew lively.
“You actually managed to invite Lady Zhu!”
“Lady Zhu is so hard to invite indeed!”
Laughter and teasing filled the room, but Lady Zhu kept her composure, her expression serene and smiling as she offered polite bows to everyone. When she reached Qin Shi’san-lang, he too returned her smile with a courteous nod.
“…I just wanted some Maoyuan Mountain – why don’t you sell it? Aren’t you supposed to be the best shop in the capital?”
A man’s loud voice came from the corridor outside.
“…Honored guest, Maoyuan Mountain is something only Lady Cheng has. If she won’t sell it, there’s nothing we can do…”
Only Lady Cheng had it – no one else. And she wouldn’t sell it either. She’d let people have a taste once, whetting their appetites, but then ignored them all. She feared neither lack of money nor loss of influence, caring nothing for wealth or status – leaving everyone helpless and longing.
Qin Shi’san-lang’s lips curved into a faint smile.
The door was pulled shut, cutting off the noise from the corridor outside.
“Qin Hu!”
Qin Shi’san-lang looked toward the speaker, raising his wine bowl and giving it a playful shake.
“Why are you scolding me?” he said with a grin.
“Because that’s the only way you’ll listen,” the young man replied, shaking his head. “What’s with you today? We came especially to celebrate your birthday, yet you’re all distracted.”
At the words celebrate your birthday, Lady Zhu, who had been tuning her qin with her head lowered, lifted her eyes toward him for a brief moment – then quickly lowered them again.
“I was only lost in thought over your poem,” Qin Shi’san-lang said with a laugh, pulling his robe aside as he sat down. “All right, all right – have you come up with the last two lines yet?”
The young man, diverted from his scolding, immediately dropped the subject and went back to pondering his verse.
“… In the courtyard stands a single ancient paulownia tree, Its towering trunk rises high, piercing the clouds…” he murmured the two lines over and over, frowning in concentration.
“… Its branches greet the birds that fly from north and south, Its leaves bid farewell to the ever-wandering wind.”
A lady’s voice suddenly supplied.
At those words, everyone present repeated the couplet to themselves – and then burst into applause and exclamations of praise.
“Lady Zhu truly deserves her title as the finest talent in the capital!” everyone laughed, and a few stepped forward to pour her wine in salute.
“I’ve only shown my humble skill,” Lady Zhu replied with a gentle smile, raising her sleeve as she accepted the cup and drained it in one graceful motion.
The hall erupted again with cheers and applause.
“Gifted in both art and spirit – Lady Zhu, you’re magnificent!”
Qin Shi’san-lang laughed as well and emptied his own wine bowl in one go.
“Tomorrow is your actual birthday, so we won’t be able to come celebrate,” several of the young men said, looking at him and then at Lady Zhu. “So tonight, we’ll make merry while we can – Lady Zhu, go keep the birthday man company with a drink!”
Qin Shi’san-lang quickly protested, “I wouldn’t dare.”
“You dare! Don’t worry – even if your father hears of it, he won’t break your legs!” the others hooted and jeered good-naturedly.
Lady Zhu rose to her feet but did not move to sit beside him; instead, she smiled and offered a graceful bow.
“Pouring wine is a small matter,” she said lightly. “Why not let me sing and dance instead – to add some cheer while the young masters drink?”
Lady Zhu was known for her gifts in both song and dance, yet she seldom performed before others. At most, she would play the qin in accompaniment; only during the great festivals of the eighth and first lunar months, or when the wealthiest households offered lavish invitations, would she sing and dance in person.
No one had expected not only to have her here tonight, but to be granted a private performance as well.
“Blessings from the birthday star! All thanks to the birthday star’s fortune!” everyone laughed and cheered.
Qin Shi’san-lang laughed along, lifting his wine bowl toward Lady Zhu in salute.
She smiled, lowered her gaze, and returned the bow. Then, stepping back, she lifted her sleeves – at once, her song rose, sultry and enchanting.
The hall erupted again with cries of praise and delight.
Qin Shi’san-lang watched, smiling – until, unconsciously, he began to frown.
She had said she had another engagement today… where had she meant to go? He should have asked then, instead of holding back.
But what would asking have changed? Would he have followed her there?
The thought made him laugh quietly at himself. He raised his bowl and drank slowly.
Amid her swirling turns and flowing sleeves, Lady Zhu glanced toward him through the fluttering silk – something dim and sorrowful flickered in her eyes, but it vanished in an instant. She twirled again, her waist swaying, shoulders rippling, voice like velvet, dance like flame – until everyone in the hall sat utterly spellbound.
