That day, the breeze was gentle, the blossoms radiant, the willows lush—a perfect day for leisure and play.
Luo Xinci sat in the pavilion reserved for the sons of nobility to watch the contests. From her vantage point, she could take in the entire crowd below without even leaning forward.
On the training ground, drums and flutes resounded as two polo teams clashed fiercely, the match hanging in tense balance.
Though her eyes seemed fixed outward, Luo Xinci’s thoughts were elsewhere—she was searching for the figure she had missed before, Wang Jiqiu. She scanned the crowd but found no sign of Jiang Liyang. Quietly, she turned her gaze toward the pavilion on the left.
That pavilion was set a short distance away, its occupants hidden behind shutters and gauzy curtains. She could not see who was inside, but bursts of laughter drifted out, sounding like womenfolk. She looked to the right instead. There, the shutters were wide open and the curtains drawn aside, revealing several young men in scholar’s robes. Some sat in the back, debating loudly; others leaned over the railing, cheering at the match with unrestrained excitement. Her eyes grew sore from searching, yet she still saw no familiar face. Disappointed, she pulled back her gaze and turned toward Ming Yuhe at her side.
Ming Yuhe lounged against a redwood chair, one hand resting on the armrest, the other holding a book. His expression was far from pleasant.
Luo Xinci longed to speak to him, but no words came. Ever since she had uttered those few reckless words about life and death, Ming Yuhe had not addressed her once, not even spared her a proper glance. She had always thought him eccentric, difficult to deal with, impossible to deceive. Only today did she realize he could also be rather petulant.
Luo Xinci sighed inwardly—ah!—and resolved to humble herself and coax him. After all, she had no connections in the capital; everything depended on this elder brother. Just as she was about to speak, a sudden commotion rose from below. She turned her head and saw dust flying across the training ground: two horses had brushed past each other, one rider thrown, the other—his arm bound with a strip of red silk—struggling to rein in his mount, which reared and shrieked.
The noise startled Ming Yuhe. He cast a glance downward.
A maid explained, “It was Second Young Master Yan and Young Master Chang who collided. Second Young Master Yan fell from his horse. But this servant saw Young Master Chang react swiftly—he pulled the reins in time. The injury shouldn’t be too serious.”
The guards and attendants moved quickly; even as she spoke, they had already rushed in to check on Yan’s condition.
Because of the accident, the polo match halted, the grounds filled with clamor.
Luo Xinci thought to seize the chance to speak with Ming Yuhe, but when she looked again, his eyes were fixed on a certain spot below, his brows drawn tight. Curious, she followed his gaze—and noticed a burly guard standing in an inconspicuous corner. She had only a moment to glimpse him before the guard, sensing something, lifted his eyes toward the pavilion—then vanished from sight. Turning back, she met Ming Yuhe’s cold stare.
“So curious about everything… be careful not to stumble upon what you shouldn’t see. You might lose your head.”
Luo Xinci gave an awkward smile. To placate him, she thickened her skin and said, “That won’t happen. My brother will protect me.”
“Protect you?” Ming Yuhe seemed amused. He snapped his book shut, pointed toward that corner, and asked, “Do you know who that man was?”
“Who?” she blurted, then quickly backtracked. “No, no—don’t tell me! I don’t want to know!”
If Ming Yuhe said seeing the wrong thing could cost her head, then that man must be dangerous—likely tied to the capital’s power struggles. She mustn’t know!
“Don’t tell me!”
But Ming Yuhe insisted, “That was the Ta—”
Luo Xinci clapped her hands over her ears, squeezed her eyes shut, refusing to hear another forbidden word. After a moment of evasion, she dared to peek through a slit in her lashes.
Ming Yuhe was summoning a guard, murmuring instructions. The guard withdrew, and Ming Yuhe rose to straighten his robes.
Her heart stirred. She dropped her hands from her ears and asked urgently, “Brother, where are you going? Let me come with you.” She was still waiting for him to introduce her to Wang Jiqiu and Wang Linghao.
Ming Yuhe gave a cold laugh. “Go meet someone—you don’t even dare to hear who he is, and yet you think you can come with me?”
Luo Xinci guessed the person he meant had something to do with that guard just now, and quickly changed her tune: “No, no, I’ll stay here and wait.”
In truth, she had no desire to follow Ming Yuhe—at least not until he introduced her to one or two people she could speak with, so she might gather information. Ignoring the maid at her side, she put on a pitiful air: “Brother, I’m a stranger here in the capital. I’m afraid to be left alone…”
“Don’t worry,” Ming Yuhe replied. “From the moment you stepped down from the carriage, your name has already spread through the city. Few would dare trouble you openly. Besides, I’ve arranged everything for you.”
He lifted his chin toward the outside. Luo Xinci turned her head and saw Jiang Liyang approaching, led by a guard.
“Don’t forget your promise,” Ming Yuhe said. “I’m giving you the chance. Once you’ve done what you agreed to, I’ll bring the person you’ve been wanting to meet right before you.” He arched a brow at her, then strode down from the pavilion without another word.
Luo Xinci opened her mouth, then closed it again, letting him go. Fine then—she would deal with Jiang Liyang first. She was well prepared, and not afraid in the least!
Jiang Liyang had lost his parents young. Though he and his elder brother were of royal blood and attended by many servants, they were still half-grown children, bound to face hardships.
It was their married aunt, Princess Shao’an, who shuttled tirelessly between Marquis Wuling’s household, Prince Ning’s residence, and the imperial palace, shielding the two brothers beneath her wing.
Jiang Liyang revered his aunt deeply. He believed that he and his brother had distracted her so much that the maids of the Marquis’s household found the chance to climb into his bed, giving birth to a bastard child. He despised Ming Niansheng. Seeing Ming Yuhe personally help “Ming Niansheng” down from the carriage filled him with a sense of betrayal so sharp it dulled even his rivalry with Fan Ning.
“Who is that girl?” someone asked him.
Jiang Liyang’s eyes reddened with fury. “What girl? Just a wild seed from Linzhou!”
News traveled fast in the capital. At the mention of Linzhou and “wild seed,” people quickly recalled that Marquis Wuling had a concubine-born daughter raised outside the city.
Some sought to flatter Jiang Liyang, but remembering how Ming Yuhe had helped her down from the carriage, they dared not echo his insults too harshly. Instead, they muttered vaguely: “From Linzhou, is she? That barren place could hardly raise a proper young lady.”
“She’s no proper lady! Last time she even barged into the Marquis’s study. Who knows what sweet words she used, but the Marquis didn’t punish her!”
“I knew it—she’s just like her mother, skilled at beguiling men! The Marquis is taken in, and now my cousin too. Did you all see? She actually had my cousin help her down from the carriage! Do you know who my cousin is…”
The people Jiang Liyang respected most were Princess Shao’an, his cousin, and his elder brother. Those two were the most celebrated youths in the capital: one had entered the army and earned great merit, the other served as Chief Secretary of the Secretariat, handling affairs of the realm. They were leagues above this crowd of idle wastrels. He could not accept that such an outstanding cousin would show care for Ming Niansheng.
“I’ll say it plain—anyone who treats Ming Niansheng kindly is setting themselves against me!”
No sooner had he spoken than Ming Yuhe’s men came to summon him, asking him to look after Ming Niansheng.
Jiang Liyang nearly spat blood in rage. Yet however unwilling, he could not refuse his cousin. Fuming, he went. The first words he hurled at “Ming Niansheng” were a threat: “Try any tricks, and I’ll be the first to make you pay!”
Cold sweat broke across Luo Xinci’s brow.
Today Luo Xinci bore the heavy task of taking revenge on Jiang Liyang—and, besides that, she hoped to pry some news of Wang Jiqiu from his mouth—two schemes at once.
Feeling guilty, her voice softened without meaning to: “I wouldn’t dare.”
“What wouldn’t you dare? Don’t think that putting on a pitiful, fragile act will fool me. Let me tell you—this young master isn’t swayed by softness or hardness!”
Hearing him accuse her again and again of feigning weakness, Luo Xinci raised her voice a little: “I understand.”
“Oh!” Jiang Liyang’s eyes bulged. “There’s your true face! I said you were pretending just now. Fox-spirit! Just like your mother!”
Luo Xinci frowned. She had endured his hostility before, but when he used such vile words to insult Ming Niansheng and her mother, discomfort stirred in her heart. Yet she truly did harbor malicious intent, so she could not refute his accusations. She could only be glad that she and Ming Niansheng had exchanged identities—at least Ming Niansheng herself hadn’t heard these ugly words.
Since guilt could always be twisted into crime, Luo Xinci chose to say nothing at all.
Jiang Liyang pressed on: “Now you’re pretending to be wronged? Putting on a wounded look, as if I were bullying you! Open your eyes—your cousin isn’t here. Put away that stench of yours!”
Even the maid could not bear it and whispered a reminder: “Little Master, before leaving, the young marquis said no one was to bully Miss.”
“Did I bully her?” Jiang Liyang shot the maid a glare, finally ceasing his tirade. He sprawled into a seat, looked around, and complained: “What’s the point of hanging all this gauze on such a fine day? Pull down the curtains!”
The maid smiled and obeyed, opening the pavilion shutters and gathering up the light veils.
Sunlight slanted in, dazzling. Luo Xinci narrowed her eyes and, by chance, glimpsed several pairs of eyes peeking from behind the gauze of the neighboring pavilion.
Jiang Liyang’s voice had been too loud; others had overheard.
Though the insults weren’t aimed at Luo Xinci herself, she still felt humiliated. Her cheeks burned, and she lowered her head.
Jiang Liyang noticed the watchers too and barked: “What are you looking at!”
The neighbors, caught out, boldly lifted their curtain and laughed: “Don’t be angry, young master. I only heard the noise and wanted to ask when the riding match begins. I’ve wagered on your victory.”
Jiang Liyang snorted—one doesn’t strike a smiling face—and said, “Wait until they finish the polo match.”
“That’ll take a while yet,” the other replied regretfully. “I wagered on Young Master Chang, but who would have thought he’d be taken out so soon?”
A young lady asked in surprise, “Wasn’t it only Young Master Yan who was injured? Young Master Chang looked fine—why did he leave as well?”
“To face punishment from his grandfather, of course!” Jiang Liyang said. “Everyone knows Grand Tutor Chang is the strictest of men. Even if it wasn’t Chang Ling’s fault, he won’t escape discipline. I’d guess he won’t have a chance to come out and play again before leaving the capital.”
“Bah! It’s not as if he’ll never return. At most he’ll spend half a year with the Grand Tutor before coming back.”
“Not certain. The Grand Tutor has retired to his native Jiangzhou. If he keeps Chang Ling there to study, that’s possible too…”
The familiar crowd chatted back and forth until someone suddenly asked in shock: “The Grand Tutor is returning to Jiangzhou?”
The question came from Luo Xinci. Having just endured a round of humiliation, even a clay figurine would have some fire left. She was already plotting how to stir up trouble with Fan Ning later, when her ears caught this bit of conversation. At first she paid little mind—until she heard that the Grand Tutor was retiring home.
Grand Tutor Chang was a veteran of three reigns, the present emperor’s own teacher. Upright and incorruptible, he never turned a blind eye to injustice. However difficult, he would see the guilty punished. Countless tales of him circulated among the people.
It was said that twenty years ago, while accompanying the emperor on a southern tour, he accepted a fisherwoman’s petition. He reopened a twenty-year-old case and, after two months of investigation, exposed collusion among the Governor of Jiangnan and others, bringing down more than ten corrupt officials in one stroke. He had also won justice for courtesans, chastised unfilial sons who neglected their elders, and many other deeds besides. Put kindly, he could not tolerate a speck of dust in his eyes. Put harshly, he meddled in everything.
“The Grand Tutor is returning to Jiangzhou? When?” Luo Xinci rose to her feet, asking urgently again.
Those nearby, already aware of her identity from Jiang Liyang’s words, exchanged glances. Before they could answer, Jiang Liyang snapped: “What business is that of yours?”
Luo Xinci ignored his tone, fixing her gaze on him and repeating the question: “When will the Grand Tutor return to Jiangzhou? When was it decided?”
No one understood why she clung to this point.
A kindly young lady answered, “It was decided in early winter. Because of the bitter cold, His Majesty kept him in the capital for another half year. In June, the court will send him back.”
Luo Xinci’s lips twisted into a strained smile at the girl, then froze, unable to move. As a child, she had often envied others for having fathers. She never dared say it aloud, only secretly imagined in the stillness of night. Perhaps her father had committed a capital crime in the capital, and abandoned her and her mother to protect them? Or perhaps he had been stricken with an incurable illness, and left so as not to burden them?
She had woven for herself the fantasy of a noble, self-sacrificing father. As she grew older, she stopped yearning for the man she had never met. But suddenly, disaster struck her family—and the prime suspect was her father. After more than ten years without any connection, why would he suddenly want them dead? Could she have been mistaken?
Feelings are not so easily severed. Clinging to faint hope, Luo Xinci had come to the capital herself, determined to learn whether her father was truly guilty. She thought it would take a long time—at least until she uncovered his identity and spoke with him. But today, by chance, she overheard a few idle words, and the truth struck her unprepared. All her fantasies shattered in an instant.
Grand Tutor Chang’s ancestral home was in Jiangzhou Prefecture, far from Linzhou—but only half a day’s journey from Hongqiao Town.
Every year at Qingming, Luo Xinci’s uncle would take her cousin back to Hongqiao Town to honor their ancestors. Each return became the talk of the town. The townsfolk always mentioned it—who could say when word might reach Grand Tutor Chang’s ears? And Grand Tutor Chang was a man who loved to trace matters to their root.
That winter, the emperor permitted the Grand Tutor to retire home. By year’s end, the Luo household began to suffer poisonings. If the entire family died, no one would return to Hongqiao Town, and no one would ever again speak of the scholar who, after winning high honors, abandoned his wife and child.
“What are you asking about Grand Tutor Chang for? Do you mean to complain about me to him? I’m not afraid!” Jiang Liyang sneered.
Unprepared, Luo Xinci suddenly learned that the true mastermind who wanted to wipe out the Luo family was indeed her own father—and all of it had been set in motion simply because an upright, incorruptible official had retired home. It was as if a knife had been driven straight into her heart. Her ears rang, her mind reeled.
Jiang Liyang shouted at her several times, but seeing her vacant gaze, he grew angry: “I’m talking to you! Did you hear me?” Receiving no reply, he reached out and tapped her shoulder. “I’m talking to you—”
Before he could finish, Luo Xinci swayed, then collapsed softly, like a petal torn from its branch.
The maid cried out in alarm.
From the neighboring pavilion, voices asked what had happened; others scolded Jiang Liyang for laying hands on a young lady. All the sounds surged together, drowning Luo Xinci like a tide. She struggled to rise, but her limbs trembled, powerless. She tried to open her eyes wide, but tears blurred her vision. She could not stop the tears. Desperate, she shook her head, wanting to say it was not Jiang Liyang’s fault—that it was her own weakness. But her throat was parched; no sound came.
Only one thought remained in her mind: It truly was her father who wanted her dead. It truly was her father who wanted to kill her entire family.