“Fourth Miss, the master has sent someone to summon you. He says distinguished guests have arrived and asks you to quickly tidy up and go meet them.”
Upon hearing this, Yun Miaoying lazily responded, “Got it.” Yet inwardly, she was also puzzled. She had not heard her father or mother mention any important guests recently, nor had they specifically instructed her to greet anyone.
Situations like this were rare.
“Go on then,” her aunt Yun Daixuan urged. “Since your father specifically instructed it, there must not be any mistake.”
She continued to cling to her aunt for a while longer, acting spoiled and reluctant, and after thanking her for the pastries, she slowly made her way toward the main hall.
When she crossed the threshold, Yan Huai Jin and several elders of the Yun Clan—including the two direct young masters of the Yun family—had already left. Only Zhan Zhao remained, accompanying Zhuo Qinting as she spoke with the Yun women.
Under constant urging from Lin Taifu over the years, Zhuo Qinting had developed the habit of copying texts from the library. She still maintained this habit today, often selecting books that interested her to transcribe. Over time, even without ever leaving the capital, she had become widely knowledgeable and could truly be called well-read.
Moreover, she intentionally tried to build rapport with the Yun ladies, speaking in an engaging and lively manner, which frequently made everyone in the hall laugh.
When Yun Miaoying arrived, Yun Fangyue immediately pulled her forward and introduced her.
“Miaoying, this is my fourth sister, Yun Miaoying. And Miaoying, this is Sister Li Shanying from the capital. You may call her Sister Ying.”
Yun Miaoying did not take the initiative to greet Zhuo Qinting. Instead, she simply studied her with clear, bright almond-shaped eyes.
Zhuo Qinting, however, was not offended by this slight rudeness. Instead, she smiled gently and met her gaze openly.
“What is it, Sister Miaoying? Have you seen something interesting? Or perhaps… did you and I meet five hundred years ago?”
Her words drew laughter from everyone present. Even the elders who had been preparing to reprimand Yun Miaoying softened their expressions.
“This time you’ve looked enough. Don’t be rude again next time and embarrass the Yun family.”
Yun Miaoying obediently nodded and sat down beside Yun Fangyue.
With this small interruption, the previous topic could no longer continue. Yun Fangyue asked instead:
“Sister Ying, could you tell us some interesting gossip from the capital? I must admit, I’ve lived this long without ever visiting the capital. Hearing you talk about it makes me quite curious.”
Zhuo Qinting readily agreed, looking as though she was about to inherit Zhou Simian’s role as a “storyteller.”
As she spoke, Yun Miaoying quietly observed her from the side.
Her delicate nose and small lips, along with the mole at the corner of her brow, gave her an exceptionally distinctive beauty. Her misty peach blossom eyes naturally carried emotion; when she smiled, they revealed a charming allure, extremely striking.
Yet when her features came together, that initial softness was balanced into something more composed, adding a touch of heroic sharpness. When she did not smile, she seemed distant and untouchable—refined, noble, and almost too exquisite to approach.
Whether speaking to elders or peers, her tone and wording were neither arrogant nor humble, always measured and appropriate. Her composure was clearly not an act but something ingrained in her upbringing, putting others at ease.
Yun Miaoying stared at her for quite a while in a daze.
Just then, Zhuo Qinting lowered her teacup, and their eyes unexpectedly met.
Awkwardness was inevitable.
Before Yun Miaoying could react, Zhuo Qinting smiled openly. The slight upward tilt of her eyes seemed to stir ripples in Yun Miaoying’s heart.
Yun Miaoying froze for a moment, then shifted her gaze downward toward Zhuo Qinting’s jaw and forced a stiff smile in return.
After another half hour, everyone grew tired and agreed to continue another day before dispersing.
Yun Fangyue linked arms with Zhuo Qinting affectionately.
“Sister Ying, would you like to visit Chongyuan Temple? How about tomorrow? On the way, you can tell me more stories. I’m getting married in half a month, and I don’t know if I’ll still have the chance to hear them after that. Please indulge my small wish.”
Zhuo Qinting was slightly surprised upon hearing this.
“In that case, I won’t refuse. I’ll also take the chance to share in your joy when Sister Yue gets married.”
“Go ahead, share all the joy you want,” Yun Fangyue laughed behind her sleeve.
As they talked, Zhuo Qinting noticed Yun Miaoying still lingering nearby.
“Would Sister Miaoying like to join us? It would be more lively with more people.”
Their eyes met again.
After a brief pause, Yun Miaoying declined.
“I already have an appointment to watch a play with a friend tomorrow.”
“Then we’ll meet another time.”
……
Suzhou’s winter was much gentler than that of the capital. The wind carried a faint trace of approaching spring, subtle and barely noticeable.
With numerous rivers throughout the city, the air was also more humid than in the capital, wrapped in a light mist that made one feel refreshed and at ease.
Two young women rode in a Yun family carriage toward Chongyuan Temple.
The temple grounds were crowded. It was the third lunar month, and peach blossoms swayed in the wind at the entrance, falling among the passing crowd. Yet the devotees coming and going did not pause to notice the fragile petals beneath their feet.
A flower can fall in countless ways—petals drifting apart in the wind, rotting from its roots, or like now, scattered first by the breeze and then trampled into the vast crowd.
So it turns into dust and mud—just as the saying goes.
The peach blossoms were pale pink with hints of white, and their stamens were pure white, untouched by impurity.
A petal brushed past Zhuo Qinting’s ear, as if searching for a place to land, before finally resting on her shoulder and then falling to the ground, meeting the same fate as the rest.
Zhuo Qinting had seen many people in her life, most of whom were lost in the worldly splendor of the capital, busy with mundane affairs until their brows grew dull and weary. It was dull and exhausting—she much preferred Suzhou’s misty, poetic world.
Before the Buddha statue, they knelt and offered incense, each drawing a fortune stick.
Yun Fangyue received a favorable lot and was overjoyed.
After much thought, Zhuo Qinting decided to draw a marriage fortune.
She drew the best possible lot.
The abbot smiled at her and said, “What the benefactor seeks is great fortune. Follow your heart; wherever your heart leads, that is the correct path.”
“…The path my heart leads to?” Zhuo Qinting frowned slightly, not yet fully understanding.
Before they left, the abbot added:
“If your heart becomes troubled by love, hatred, or desire, you may come before the Buddha and pray. It will help calm your mind and prevent you from being ruled by emotion.”
They both agreed.
At the temple gate, Zhuo Qinting picked up an untrampled peach blossom from the ground and placed it in Yun Fangyue’s hair.
She tilted her head slightly, gazing at the fading sky.
“The Buddha is compassionate. Even if I pick up a fallen flower from the ground with my own hands, I doubt the Buddha would dislike me.”