At the beginning of June, the capital was so hot that even the cicadas had grown lazy. They would chirp for a while, fall silent for a while, and after resting long enough, drag out a perfunctory, drawn-out call.
Outside the walls of the Gu Family Residence, the leaves of the old locust trees had curled under the relentless sun. When the wind passed through, they rustled briefly before falling still again. The bluestone pavement had been baked scorching hot; even through satin embroidered shoes, the heat could be felt rising from the ground and creeping upward from the soles of one’s feet.
The lotus flowers along the moat, however, were blooming at their finest.
From Zhengyang Gate to Chongwen Gate, dense emerald lotus leaves covered most of the river’s surface. Pink-and-white buds peeked out from among the leaves. Some had already blossomed, their petals curling slightly at the edges to reveal tender yellow stamens within.
The boats selling lotus seedpods had occupied the riverbanks before dawn. The boatmen rowed bare-chested, their calls carrying far through the morning mist. Lotus seedpods cost two copper coins each, and anyone who bought five received a lotus leaf for free.
As the sun climbed higher, the moisture rising from the river became a thin white haze. Mixed with the clean fragrance of lotus blossoms and the faint bitterness released when lotus seedpods were split open, it drifted ashore on the breeze, spreading between the teahouses and shops lining the river.
Gu Jinzhao stood on the second floor of a teahouse inside Chongwen Gate, leaning against the railing as she gazed toward the moat.
Today she wore a lotus-purple summer jacket that her grandmother had recently sent from Jiangnan. The fabric was an exceptionally thin patterned gauze. The cuffs were embroidered with pale green intertwined lotus motifs, and a moon-white silk sash encircled her waist, making her appear fresh and elegant.
The white jade bracelet on her wrist reflected a warm, gentle glow in the morning sunlight. She raised her fan to block the sunlight from her face. The plain silk round fan had been dug out of a chest by Qing Pu earlier that morning. Nothing had been painted on it, and only a moon-white tassel hung from its handle.
Speaking of it, before leaving home, Jinzhao had suddenly stopped and asked Qing Pu to wait a moment. She had returned to her dressing table, opened an old jewelry box, and taken out that white jade bracelet to slip onto her wrist.
Qing Pu had glanced at her but said nothing. She had merely exchanged the fan she had prepared for another whose tassel color matched the bracelet better.
Pretending not to notice the fleeting curve at the corner of Qing Pu’s lips, Jinzhao adjusted her sleeve and climbed into the carriage.
Today was the sixth day of the sixth lunar month, the Heavenly Bestowal Festival.
According to the capital’s customs, people aired books and clothing and bathed their cats and dogs on this day. Every household brought out winter garments stored away in trunks and hung them in the courtyards to dry. Scholarly families spread scriptures and classical texts across their courtyards, using the dry midsummer heat to repel insects and prevent mildew.
Every year on this day, Great Ci’en Temple held a Scripture Airing Festival. The temple’s scriptures were brought out from the Sutra Repository and laid out in the square before the halls for worshippers to admire and copy.
Although it was called a scripture airing, it was essentially a modest temple fair as well.
Vendors selling incense and candles, vegetarian pastries, and hand-copied Buddhist scriptures set up their stalls before dawn. The mountain path was packed on both sides, bustling with activity.
Every year on the sixth day of the sixth month, Jinzhao’s grandmother copied a copy of the Heart Sutra and offered it to the temple. This year, Jinzhao had copied it on her behalf and intended to deliver it during the Scripture Airing Festival.
In truth, she had copied an extra one this year.
No one else knew about it.
The day before, Lady Gao had sent Maid Feng with an invitation, saying that the Scripture Airing Festival at Great Ci’en Temple was rarely so lively and asking Jinzhao to visit together.
A separate note had been attached:
“A-Xian says he isn’t going. He says it’s too hot.”
When Gu Jinzhao read that line, she could not help laughing.
Qing Pu had been arranging combs on her dressing table nearby. Hearing her laugh, she had asked what was so amusing.
Suppressing her smile, Jinzhao had replied that it was nothing. She had set down the invitation, picked up her fan, and fanned herself twice.
He said he wasn’t going.
So was he going, or wasn’t he?
Seeing her lost in thought, Qing Pu gently nudged her arm.
“Miss, the Marchioness’s carriage has arrived.”
Gu Jinzhao came back to herself and looked downstairs.
The carriage of the Changxing Marquis Residence had stopped outside the teahouse. Lady Gao lifted the curtain and poked half her face out, waving toward her.
“Jinzhao, come down. Let’s walk together. The temple gates are too crowded for carriages.”
Gu Jinzhao answered and descended with Qing Pu.
Lady Gao wore a dark blue patterned gauze jacket today, simpler than her usual attire. She had brought only two maids and a young servant carrying a scripture case.
The scripture inside was a Diamond Sutra she had copied for Ye Xian, neatly packed in an indigo cloth-covered case.
As Gu Jinzhao stepped forward to greet Lady Gao, she also presented her own scripture scroll wrapped in blue cloth.
Lady Gao accepted it and flipped through several pages.
Surprise appeared in her eyes.
“Such tiny script, yet every character is steady and precise. Copying an entire Heart Sutra in handwriting this small must have strained your eyes considerably.”
Returning the scroll, she could not help giving Jinzhao another look.
“My grandmother said the Heart Sutra had to be offered on the sixth day of the sixth month. I woke up early for several days to finish it. I ruined two sheets before managing this copy. It isn’t as neat or beautiful as yours, Madam.”
The two women walked side by side along the moat toward Great Ci’en Temple.
The riverbanks were shaded by drooping willows. Their branches swayed wildly in the morning breeze and occasionally brushed the shoulders of passersby.
Several half-grown children were catching small fish along the shore, barefoot on the stone steps. Water splashed onto the lotus leaves and rolled into sparkling droplets.
After they had passed half the moat, the sun climbed higher.
Gu Jinzhao had just raised her fan toward her forehead when a familiar voice drifted over from one of the lotus seedpod boats.
“This one, this one, and this one. I’ll take these. No need for change.”
A young man was crouching by the riverbank, holding a gilded folding fan in one hand while pointing at lotus seedpods with the other. His attendant fumbled frantically for copper coins.
He examined the seedpods more seriously than he would have selected candied fruit, nudging them around with his fan until the boatman fanned himself impatiently with a straw hat.
“Young Master Xu,” Gu Jinzhao called.
Xu Jingting turned around. Seeing her, he grinned.
He snatched two lotus seedpods from his attendant and hurried over.
“Miss Gu! Why do I see you everywhere? No, wait—why do I see Brother Ye everywhe—”
His gaze swept behind her. Seeing only Lady Gao several paces away selecting incense, he immediately corrected himself.
“Why do I see Aunt Gao everywhere?”
“Watch your tongue,” Lady Gao tossed back without even turning around.
Xu Jingting chuckled and shoved the lotus seedpods into his attendant’s arms before rushing over to Jinzhao.
Just as he was about to speak, he suddenly noticed the white jade bracelet on her left wrist.
He lowered his head to look at the bracelet, then looked back at her face.
The scrutiny was so strange that she instinctively raised her fan to cover herself.
Yet he said nothing.
His mouth merely twitched before he smacked his forehead.
“No wonder he kept rummaging through the storerooms for days on end.”
“What?”
“Nothing, nothing.”
Xu Jingting coughed twice and casually flipped his fan over.
“Oh, right. Miss Gu probably doesn’t know. Brother Ye is at the temple today too.”
Gu Jinzhao’s steps faltered.
Beside her, Lady Gao was comparing two sticks of incense. She turned her head at those words.
“A-Xian came?” Her tone held three parts surprise and seven parts amusement. “Didn’t he say it was too hot?”
“He did say that.” Xu Jingting struggled not to laugh as he pointed toward the temple gates. “But he arrived before dawn. Said he wanted to get inside before the sun came up, then hide in the Sutra Repository once it got hot. He even claimed the Scripture Airing Festival had nothing to do with him. Said he came to read.”
Lady Gao exchanged a glance with Gu Jinzhao.
“To read.” The corners of Lady Gao’s lips curled meaningfully. “He traveled all this way to read. Is the library at home no longer big enough for him?”
She turned toward Jinzhao, and the two women smiled at each other.
“I thought he went out early this morning for official business.”
Xu Jingting snapped his fan shut and slapped it against his palm.
“Exactly. He’s been digging through old Ministry of Personnel records nonstop lately. Who would believe he came just to read?”
Gu Jinzhao did not answer.
She merely raised her fan slightly higher before her forehead, as though shielding herself from the sun—or perhaps hiding something else.
The white jade bracelet on her wrist shifted gently with the movement. Under the sunlight, the begonia flower carved on its inner surface emerged as the faintest outline.
…
When Gu Jinzhao reached the second floor of the Sutra Repository, she found Ye Xian exactly where Xu Jingting had said he would be.
Half reclining in a huanghuali armchair beside the window, he rested one leg casually on a footstool while the other was bent loosely. He looked less like someone sitting in a sacred library than someone lounging in his own garden.
Today he wore a moon-white patterned gauze robe secured with a white jade belt.
His hair was still tied loosely with that bamboo-patterned jade hairpin. Several loose strands hung beside his forehead, and he made no attempt to brush them away.
Sunlight slanted through the half-open window, falling across his shoulder and the pages of the book in his hands.
Outside, the leaves of the old ginkgo tree glowed almost translucent beneath the light. Whenever the wind stirred them, they rustled softly and cast shifting patches of sunlight across his pale robe.
Before she could speak, he did.
“You’ve arrived.”
The two words were spoken so casually it was almost absurd.
His eyes remained fixed on the page. Only after turning it did he add the rest.
“I calculated that you should be here by now.”
…