News of the flower-viewing banquet spread like wildfire among the young ladies of the capital. It wasn’t that Marquis Yongning’s banquet was particularly special—rather, it was because Su Qingyin would be meeting potential suitors there. No, not exactly “choosing a husband,” but “taking a look.”
Su Qingyin was sixteen this year, and Marchioness Yongning was growing anxious. Invitations had been sent to households with eligible young men. The event was called a flower-viewing banquet, but in truth, it was a matchmaking gathering.
Shen Jin heard the news while brushing Yuanbao’s fur.
“Miss, who do you think Miss Su will choose?” Chun Tao crouched nearby, her face full of gossip.
“She won’t choose me, that’s for sure.” Shen Jin rolled the brushed-out clumps of cat fur into a ball and tossed it to Yuanbao.
Yuanbao pounced, batting it around like a mouse, utterly delighted.
“Miss! I meant seriously!”
“I’m serious too.” Shen Jin wiped her hands. “Who Su Qingyin chooses is her business. I’m just going to enjoy the flowers. Nothing more.”
Chun Tao hesitated.
“Out with it.”
“Miss, don’t you think… the timing of this banquet is a little too convenient?”
Shen Jin glanced at her maid. This girl’s mind had grown sharper lately.
“What do you mean by convenient?”
“You just stole the spotlight at the Spring Banquet, and now Miss Su is hosting a flower-viewing banquet and inviting you. Isn’t it obvious—” Chun Tao lowered her voice, “—she’s borrowing your popularity?”
Shen Jin laughed.
Chun Tao was right. Su Qingyin was clever; she wouldn’t host such an event without reason. Choosing this moment, inviting Shen Jinshu, who had just “shone brilliantly” at the Spring Banquet, was indeed a way to ride her popularity. But Shen Jin didn’t care. If Su Qingyin wanted to borrow her fame, let her. Shen Jinshu’s “popularity” wasn’t something she valued anymore.
“Chun Tao, help me prepare clothes for the banquet.”
“What kind?”
“Plain. Nothing too eye-catching.”
Chun Tao was already used to her mistress’s preference for simplicity and began rummaging through the wardrobe.
Shen Jin gazed out the window. Three days later, at the Marquis of Yongning’s estate. Madam Zhou, is your trap ready? Mine is.
At Marquis Dingyuan’s estate, Xiao Heng was also paying attention.
“Steward Chen, who has been invited to Yongning’s banquet?”
Steward Chen handed him a list. “These are the households that received invitations. Miss Shen is included, along with her stepmother and half-sister.”
Xiao Heng scanned the names, his eyes pausing on a few.
Lin Wanqing—the Minister of Personnel’s daughter, Shen Jinshu’s rival.
Wang Caiwei—the Minister of Rites’ daughter, Lin Wanqing’s shadow.
Several others he didn’t recognize, but they didn’t matter.
“On the day of the banquet, have our agents slip inside.”
“Master, Yongning’s estate has strict security. It won’t be easy.”
“Find a way.” Xiao Heng’s tone brooked no refusal. “The Marchioness won’t guard too tightly. With so many guests, it won’t be difficult to blend in.”
Steward Chen thought for a moment. “I can arrange two maids disguised as attendants.”
“That will do.” Xiao Heng nodded. “Have them keep watch on Miss Shen, but not too close. Report any unusual activity immediately.”
“Yes, sir.”
When Steward Chen withdrew, Xiao Heng walked to the window. The March wind still carried a chill, sharp against his face, keeping him alert. He recalled Shen Jinshu’s words that day: “No need. This time, I’ll handle it myself.” She had spoken lightly, as if attending the banquet were no more than strolling through a marketplace.
But Xiao Heng knew better. The banquet would not be simple. Madam Zhou would act there because it was her best chance. In the General’s estate, any move would be too obvious. But outside—at a banquet—everything could be dismissed as an accident, blamed on someone else, leaving her hands perfectly clean.
Xiao Heng’s fingers tapped lightly against the window frame. Shen Jinshu, you said you would handle this yourself. But I cannot let you face it alone.
Because you don’t yet know what kind of people you’re up against.
Madam Zhou. Shen Zhao. Lin Wanqing. Individually, none of them would be much to fear. But together—joined by a circle of princelings who loathe Shen Jinshu to the bone—they could easily drag a fifteen‑year‑old girl into ruin.
You are not just a fifteen‑year‑old girl, Xiao Heng thought. You are the one who speaks of “strategic deception.” But still—you are alone. If I don’t help you, who will?
The day before the flower‑viewing banquet.
Shen Jin went to the main hall to pay respects to Madam Zhou. It was the first time she had gone there of her own accord since her confinement ended. Madam Zhou was sipping tea when she saw Shen Jin enter; her hand paused on the cup.
“Jinshu? Come, sit.” Madam Zhou greeted her with a smile and ordered a maid to serve tea.
Shen Jin sat in the guest seat, accepted the cup, but did not drink.
“Madam, tomorrow at the banquet, I’d like to bring Mingzhu with me.”
Madam Zhou’s smile did not falter. “Of course. Mingzhu has been close to you lately. If you sisters go out together, I’ll be at ease.”
“There’s one more thing.” Shen Jin set down the cup. “I’d like to play a piece at the banquet. I’ll need to bring a qin. Does Madam have a good instrument I could borrow?”
Madam Zhou froze for a moment. Shen Jinshu wanted to play the qin? Wasn’t she supposed to be unable to play?
“You can play?” Madam Zhou asked.
“I’ve been learning recently.” Shen Jin’s expression did not change. “I’ve mastered one piece, and I’d like to show it at the banquet.”
Madam Zhou studied her, suspicion flickering in her eyes, but quickly masked with a smile. “Very well. I’ll prepare one for you. I have a guqin left behind by your mother—the tone is exquisite. You may take it tomorrow.”
Shen Jin’s heart gave a sudden jolt. Her mother’s qin. Madam Zhou was offering it to her—voluntarily? That was not Madam Zhou’s style. Unless… there was something wrong with that qin.
“Thank you, Madam.” Shen Jin rose. “I’ll take my leave.”
“Go on.” Madam Zhou nodded with a smile.
The moment Shen Jin stepped out of the main hall, her smile vanished. Her mother’s qin. Madam Zhou’s gift. That qin must be tainted. Either the instrument itself was flawed—or Madam Zhou had tampered with it.
“Chun Tao,” Shen Jin said softly.
“I’m here.”
“After we return, check on my mother’s qin. Find out exactly where it is, who’s keeping it, and whether anyone has tampered with it.”
“Yes, Miss.”
Shen Jin quickened her pace back to Jinse Pavilion.
In her heart, a plan was forming—a bold plan. Madam Zhou wanted to harm her at the flower‑viewing banquet? Then she would turn the trap back on her. She would let Madam Zhou believe she had fallen into the scheme, only to reverse it at the last moment—exposing Madam Zhou for what she truly was, in front of everyone. But this plan required allies.
Two people came to mind: Su Qingyin and Xiao Heng. One was the hostess of the banquet, with authority to direct the staff. The other was the heir of Marquis Dingyuan, with resources to place hidden guards.
Shen Jin spread out paper and wrote two letters.
To Su Qingyin: “Sister Su, at tomorrow’s banquet I wish to stage a little play. Would you be willing to be my audience?”
To Xiao Heng: “My lord, tomorrow I need someone. Someone skilled in martial arts, someone I can trust. Are you available?”
She sealed both letters. “Chun Tao, deliver this one to Miss Su at Yongning estate. And this one to Heir Xiao at Dingyuan estate.”
“Right now?”
“Right now. The sooner the better.”
Chun Tao took the letters and ran off.
Shen Jin sat by the window, watching Yuanbao in the courtyard. The cat was chasing a butterfly, utterly absorbed.
“Yuanbao,” Shen Jin murmured, “tomorrow I’m going to fight a battle.”
Yuanbao stopped and turned to look at her.
“If I win, I’ll secure my place in this household. If I lose—”
Yuanbao bounded over, leaped onto her lap, and nudged her hand with its head.
Shen Jin stroked it, smiling. “Even if I lose, it doesn’t matter. I still have your master.”
The words startled her. *Your master.* When had she begun to think of Xiao Heng as her fallback?
She shook her head, dismissing the thought. Xiao Heng was not her retreat. Xiao Heng was her… partner. Yes, partner. Nothing more than a partner.
At Dingyuan estate.
Xiao Heng was reading military texts in his study when the letter arrived. He opened it and read the line: “My lord, tomorrow I need someone. Someone skilled in martial arts, someone I can trust. Are you available?”
He read it three times. Then he laughed.
A laugh that made Steward Chen’s hair stand on end. “My lord, what is it?”
“She asked me to go.” Xiao Heng folded the letter and tucked it into his sleeve.
“Who?”
“Shen Jinshu. She wants me at the banquet tomorrow.”
Steward Chen blinked. “Miss Shen invited you? In what capacity?”
Xiao Heng thought for a moment. “As a guest.”
“…But it’s not a dinner feast.”
“Then as someone ‘just passing by.’”
Steward Chen drew a deep breath. Last time, the heir had “just happened to pass by” Tianshui Lane. Now he would “just happen to pass by” Yongning estate? In a capital this small, if he kept ‘passing by’ everywhere, what would people think? But Steward Chen dared not say it aloud. “I’ll make arrangements.”
Xiao Heng rose and stood before the bronze mirror, examining his robes.
Crow‑blue—too plain. Change.
Moon‑white—too bright. Change.
Bamboo‑green—too ordinary. Change.
He changed five times before settling on a dark black robe.
“My lord… are you going to a matchmaking banquet?” Steward Chen couldn’t help blurting out.
Xiao Heng shot him a look. Steward Chen shut his mouth instantly.
“Make preparations,” Xiao Heng said. “Tomorrow I must appear at my best.”
“…Yes.”
As Steward Chen withdrew, he sighed inwardly. My lord, you never even changed clothes for palace banquets. Now, for this flower‑viewing banquet, you’ve tried on five outfits. And you still insist it’s not a matchmaking affair. Who would believe that?