After Qingming, the capital experienced two more rains.
The rain was light, falling in a steady drizzling pattern that tapped against the eaves all night with a continuous ding-dong sound. Lying in her canopy bed, Gu Jinzhao listened to the rain and tossed and turned without being able to sleep. She simply got up, lit a lamp, and draped a worn light-apricot padded jacket over herself before sitting at the dressing table to undo her hair.
In the bronze mirror, her face appeared—bare and fresh without rouge, her features clear and clean.
She was thinking about that peace amulet.
She did not know whether Lady Gao had passed it on to Ye Xian. She probably had. But had he accepted it? Where had he placed it? Or had he casually handed it to a maid to store away?
She absentmindedly combed the ends of her hair. When she reached the thirty-seventh stroke, she suddenly realized she had been counting. She put the comb down and frowned at her reflection.
“Gu Jinzhao, have some dignity,” she whispered.
Outside, the rain grew heavier, as if answering her.
The next morning, a servant woman from Changxing Marquis Residence arrived.
Her surname was Feng, an old attendant beside Lady Gao. She wore a dark indigo cross-collared jacket, her hair smoothed so neatly it gleamed, and her smile was warm and polite. The invitation she delivered stated that Lady Gao invited the eldest Miss Gu to visit the manor in three days to enjoy the spring blossoms.
“Our Madam said she formed an instant connection with Miss Gu at the apricot grove last time,” Maid Feng said with a smile. “Now that the crabapple flowers in the garden are blooming, she would like to invite Miss Gu over for tea and to admire the flowers.”
She added, “Our Madam earnestly requests Miss Gu’s presence.”
Madam Gu paused slightly as she held her teacup in the main hall. She glanced at her daughter standing quietly at the side, her gaze carrying both surprise and scrutiny.
“Lady Gao is too courteous,” Madam Gu said coolly. “It’s just that Jinzhao is young and may not understand proper etiquette.”
Maid Feng quickly replied, “Our Madam said Miss Gu is well-mannered and composed. She liked her very much at first sight. It’s only a simple flower viewing; no need for formalities.”
At that point, Madam Gu could not refuse further. She glanced at Jinzhao again. Seeing her daughter standing properly with lowered eyes and no unusual expression, her doubt eased slightly.
“Very well. You may go,” Madam Gu said. “But bring Qing Pu and two reliable matrons.”
Maid Feng agreed repeatedly and withdrew.
From beginning to end, Gu Jinzhao said nothing. Only when the servant turned to leave did her eyelashes tremble slightly.
Three days later, she arrived at Changxing Marquis Residence and sat in the flower hall.
The residence was simpler than she had imagined. The furnishings were restrained—no gold-painted pillars, no heavy rosewood furniture. Instead, there were pale blue porcelain vases and ink landscape paintings. Even the maids were dressed more plainly than those in other noble households. Only the twelve-panel Huanghuali screen hinted at hidden luxury, its inlaid mother-of-pearl shimmering softly in the daylight.
Lady Gao sat on a rosewood chair in front of the screen, dressed in a dark blue jacket with a stone-green brocade outer layer. Her hair was meticulously arranged, and the same jade hairpin she had worn in the apricot grove adorned her temple. When she saw Gu Jinzhao, she smiled and beckoned her closer.
“You’re finally here,” she said warmly, holding her hand and examining her. “This color suits you. Last time you wore white; I thought you would look even better in blue. And indeed you do.”
“Madam flatters me,” Gu Jinzhao replied softly.
“Don’t call me Madam; it sounds distant,” Lady Gao said, patting her hand. “By seniority, you are somewhat related to A-Xian.”
Before Gu Jinzhao could respond, a lazy voice came from behind the screen.
“Relations beyond four generations are strangers in the capital.”
Ye Xian walked out.
He looked as though he had just come from the study. Ink scent lingered faintly on him. He wore a pale moon-white robe with subtle patterns and loosely tied hair, a strand falling over his brow. His steps were slow and unhurried.
He glanced briefly at his mother, then at Gu Jinzhao.
“Greetings, Heir Apparent,” she said, standing to greet him.
He responded casually and sat down, appearing uninterested in both of them.
Lady Gao broke the silence after a moment. “The Vice Minister Ji’s wife recently sent a letter…”
“Mother,” Ye Xian interrupted lazily.
He placed his teacup down with a sharp clink. “Don’t bring up matters from half a month ago. I’ve already refused. If you want a daughter-in-law, just say so directly.”
Lady Gao was not angered—she only smiled more deeply.
“Fine, I won’t mention it,” she said, standing. “Jinzhao, come. Let’s go see the flowers.”
The garden of Changxing Marquis Residence was not large, but it was exquisitely maintained. Crabapple blossoms were in full bloom—soft pale pink petals like diluted rouge scattered across the branches. When the wind blew, petals drifted down like snow.
Lady Gao walked ahead, holding Gu Jinzhao’s hand and pointing out the plants.
Passing a rockery, she suddenly said, “This is where A-Xian fell when he was a child.”
She described how he had climbed too high, fallen, and bloodied his face, refusing treatment because he thought scars would make him look ugly.
“He was so vain even then?” Gu Jinzhao asked, amused.
“More than vain,” Lady Gao laughed.
“Mother.”
A voice came from behind.
Ye Xian stood under the corridor, half in shadow. His expression was hard to see, but his discomfort was obvious.
“Are you done looking at flowers?” he said flatly. “If not, come back and drink tea. It’s too noisy to read.”
Lady Gao laughed and left the garden, leaving the two of them behind.
Gu Jinzhao walked toward him.
“Please lead the way, Heir Apparent.”
“I will,” he said. “But don’t expect me to walk fast.”
He walked ahead at a leisurely pace. She followed at a distance.
The air carried the scent of earth and crabapple blossoms, mixed with the faint ink scent on his sleeves.
He spoke occasionally about the flowers with precise detail, as if reading from a ledger. She listened, smiling quietly.
Then she asked, “Heir Apparent, may I ask something?”
“Ask.”
“At the Buddhist temple last time… did you receive a blank letter?”
He paused for the briefest moment, then continued walking.
“What blank letter,” he said evenly.
She explained gently. “A letter with no writing, only a bamboo leaf.”
This time, he turned and looked at her directly.
“You already know who sent it,” he said.
It was not a question.
She did not answer.
Instead, she smiled lightly and shifted the topic, pointing out implications about Minister Ji’s family investigation.
The wind passed through the crabapple trees. Petals fell between them.
After a long silence, he finally spoke her full name:
“Gu Jinzhao.”
His tone was still calm, but something in the air had changed.
Before he could continue, she tilted her head.
Then he changed the subject abruptly. “What tea do you like?”
She froze slightly.
He had not pursued her answer.
Instead, he said, “You said Longjing was a bit bitter last time, so I had it replaced with Junshan Yinzhen.”
Something in her chest softened unexpectedly.
“Junshan Yinzhen?” she repeated, smiling. “Then next time, can I have it with Longjing pastries?”
“Up to you,” he said, turning away. His ears were faintly red.
Later, when she left the residence at dusk, she leaned against the carriage wall, still smiling faintly.
Qing Pu asked softly, “Miss, how did Heir Apparent know you found Longjing bitter?”
Without opening her eyes, she replied lightly, “I told him.”
Then she added, “You talk too much.”
Outside, the capital’s streets lit up one by one as night fell.
Inside the carriage, Gu Jinzhao slowly opened her eyes.
She suddenly remembered something.
The bamboo leaf in the blank letter was not from ordinary bamboo. It was purple bamboo—rare, found only near Qingfeng Academy.
And that meant the matter was more complicated than she had thought.
Her expression gradually sharpened.
“Qing Pu,” she said quietly, “when we return, bring me the Jinshen Register.”
The carriage rolled forward into the deepening dusk, toward a night that had just begun to gather its secrets.