Chapter 15: Scheme Fifteen

Qin Xiang didn’t move. She looked cautiously at Yun Qian.

Yun Qian tilted her head at her. “Do you love me, or do you love that cheese?”

Qin Xiang pressed her lips together. Cheese and her sister weren’t an either-or; they could coexist.

“Let’s split it.”

Yun Qian gave an “hmph” and walked off.

Qin Xiang was baffled. What did that “hmph” mean? Years in high office had made her sister’s thoughts deep—beyond a simple mind like hers.

With the person gone, Qin Xiang looked at the melting cheese. Reluctant to waste it, she stepped forward, picked up the bowl, and carefully scooped a spoonful into her mouth, satisfied.

In the summer heat, a bowl of Iced Cheese was perfect comfort.

When it was gone, Qin Xiang began to wonder why her sister had left. It was only one bowl—she should have offered it.

But if she’d wanted it, why order just one? She probably hadn’t wanted it anyway.

Mother Qin had always said girls needed coaxing, loved sweet words, and sulked when things didn’t go their way. Her sister was no exception.

Qin Xiang gave up. She couldn’t understand her sister’s sulking anyway—over a bowl of cheese.

With that thought, she bathed comfortably, soaked in the medicated water, and lay back down on the soft bed.

Soon, the door opened. She scrambled up.

It was Yun Qian.

Yun Qian had changed clothes and bathed: a pale blue lotus-sleeved house robe, a great blue lotus at her waist—blue as the sky. Her cold jade skin made her figure look ethereal, as if she’d turn to a spirit at any moment.

“Would you like to go up to the pavilion and enjoy the moon?”

The tone was unhurried, no trace of intimacy—but the hour was odd.

Qin Xiang glanced outside. The night was dark, lanterns glowing. She looked at the woman before her—cold to the bone, eyes full of light.

For a moment, she hesitated.

“Fruit is laid out.” Yun Qian saw the girl hesitate, her face still round with youth—rather endearing.

A pink-white dumpling, eyes like grapes fixed on her. How could she not be pleased?

At that moment, Yun Qian understood the Emperor’s affection for Qin Xiang in the past life.

A smile surfaced in Yun Qian’s peach-blossom eyes. “Not going?”

“Will it delay your court tomorrow?” Qin Xiang voiced her true hesitation. She herself didn’t matter—sleep late, rise late. But her sister was different.

Yun Qian was taken aback. She hadn’t expected to be worried over. For a moment, her heart was full.

“No matter. We’ll sleep by the hour of the rat.”

“Then—then let’s go.” Qin Xiang scrambled up happily. Realizing she wore only loose nightclothes, she hurried to find proper clothes.

Yun Qian stopped her. “Just throw on a cloak. It’s in the grounds, not far.”

The bridal chamber was called Wanglan Pavilion—since it bore the character “gaze,” there was naturally a tower to gaze from.

When Qin Xiang was ready, she followed Yun Qian toward the northwest. Past the main house, a small bridge came into view, water murmuring beneath.

Qin Xiang was surprised—there was a little pond within Wanglan Pavilion. Quite elegant.

Crossing the bridge, they reached the tower. Maids waited below with lanterns. Looking up, the second floor was brightly lit.

Yun Qian led the way, reminding Qin Xiang to mind her step.

Up the stairs, the second floor was a wide open space, railings on four sides, curtains drawn back. The breeze and lamplight were dim, yet warm—a cozy feeling rose in the heart.

Yun Qian lay gracefully on a lounging chair, wind on her face, and gestured for Qin Xiang to sit.

Qin Xiang didn’t sit. Her eyes went to the grapes. She grabbed a cluster and began eating, looking around. “Does Sister come here often?”

“A single person, no fun—no point. This is my first time.” Yun Qian turned to look at the greedy girl, her eyes drifting. “Good?”

Qin Xiang nodded, plucked a large grape, and offered it to Yun Qian. “It’s so nice here.”

Food, a place to lie, and the wind. What more could one want?

Yun Qian reached for it—couldn’t quite reach. Qin Xiang obediently dragged her chair closer to Yun Qian’s, until half an arm’s length separated them.

Yun Qian caught her wrist, her fingertip brushing the pulse point. That flawless face came into view—unlike the bewitching beauty of the past life, the girl before her was fresh and lovely, like a clear breeze.

Qin Xiang’s heart lurched. Looking up into her sister’s shallow, watery eyes, her whole body went soft.

Yun Qian glanced at her. “Not peeled.”

Only then did Qin Xiang trade it for a cut fruit, reaching for the plate. Under the lamp, her cheeks were flushed.

Yun Qian watched her leisurely. Realizing, Qin Xiang used a silver pick to spear a piece and feed it to her.

Yun Qian still held her wrist. Red lips parted slightly as she slowly bit off a piece of fruit, and nodded, satisfied.

Seeing this, Qin Xiang sat back in her own chair, set the fruit down, and lay back comfortably.

Half an arm’s length—quite close, really. Sleeping side by side on a bed was about the same.

Yun Qian, meanwhile, thought: tomorrow she’d have the chair made bigger—big enough for two.

The moon was bright. On the tower, a small lamp burned faintly. Fireflies wandered in, carrying their own light.

They watched the fireflies. Yun Qian spoke. “A-Xiang, is there anything in Zhenjiang you can’t leave behind—things or people? I’ll send someone to handle it.”

Qin Xiang immediately turned over to face Yun Qian, smiling wryly. “I brought everything I had when I came. Nothing to miss.”

The Qin family was her purchaser, not her family. How could she have anything of her own? She was alone in the world, nothing to hold her.

Yun Qian blinked, feigning confusion. “Did they treat you badly?”

Qin Xiang fell silent.

“Look at my mother—she abandoned me to remarry. Think about it: we’re two of a kind.” Yun Qian sighed deliberately. “I’m worse off than you.”

“But you’re amazing! I’ve never seen a woman become an official. Sister, when you handle cases, do you favor women? Men always favor men.” Qin Xiang asked with great interest, as if a floodgate had opened.

“How could I? Everything follows the law—no division of male and female. Those officials you describe are crooked at heart. They don’t think of man or woman at all—they think of what’s convenient for themselves, and act accordingly.” Yun Qian’s voice was musical, turning it into a lesson. “One day I’ll take you to the Capital Governor’s office. The law matters most.”

Qin Xiang was taken aback, then laughed. “The law naturally favors the noble.”

The topic shifted abruptly. Yun Qian weighed the words. “A-Xiang, if others hear such words, you’ll bring trouble on yourself.”

Qin Xiang smiled in reply.

“A-Xiang, the nobles’ ancestors had merit at court. The descendants lean on that merit to hold their positions. If your ancestor had merit, you too would lean on your family. Naturally, those without merit fade into the crowd. In the future, if they don’t work hard themselves, their houses may collapse one day. But the law restrains them, forces them to behave, forbids them from bullying the people. If they err, they’re still punished. Do you have any grievances?” Yun Qian asked softly, her long fingers sliding over Qin Xiang’s face, light and slow.

Qin Xiang’s face was touched again, reddening. “No grievances.”

Yun Qian didn’t press. Her finger hooked a stray strand of hair and tugged lightly. Qin Xiang hissed at the pain. Yun Qian laughed. “That’s your punishment for not telling the truth.”

“I didn’t lie!” Qin Xiang caught her wrist in protest, then smiled again. “Sister, do you have grievances?”

“I do. I have a mother yet no mother, and now filial piety is used to choke me at every turn. I ask you—can my heart be at peace?” Yun Qian let go. A single strand of hair lay in her palm; she examined it. The color was a bit yellow—poorly cared for. A few dietary adjustments would fix it.

Qin Xiang was surprised. She did have grievances. To give birth but not raise, and then come to flaunt authority and interfere—truly a headache.

Even in high position, it was an unsolvable mess. Qin Xiang sighed. “Why not have her sons transferred out of the capital? She’d go with them, and you’d have peace.”

“Little A-Xiang, you’ve got it wrong. She won’t leave. With no sons in the capital, she’d become even more brazen, using ‘my sons aren’t here to care for me’ as an excuse to move into the residence. I’d be lifting a rock to drop on my own foot.” Yun Qian was thoroughly helpless.

Qin Xiang’s heart swayed at that “Little A-Xiang.” She trembled, ears burning.

“Then there’s truly no way. Does she come often?”

“Nothing happening, once every two or three days. Something happening, twice a day.”

“Ah…” Qin Xiang’s head ached just hearing it. She could be chased out, though. She sighed along. “Sister, you’ve worked so hard.”

Yun Qian gave her a look. “Worked so hard” sounded odd. She asked Qin Xiang, “Your parents at least raised you. Do you miss them?”

Qin Xiang froze, her face stiffening slightly. She nodded slowly. “Yes.”

Yun Qian kept a proper smile. “Little A-Xiang, one day you’ll face a troublesome old crone of the Cheng family, just like me.”

“Oh—right, there’s me too!” Qin Xiang’s realization struck, and in an instant her sorrow was swept away. Cheerfully, she told her sister, “I’ll respect her, pay no heed to her words, feed her well—but grant none of her requests.”

Respect from afar.

Yun Qian reached out, peeled a grape, and handed it to her. “Then—you’ve worked so hard too.”

Her tone was teasing, making Qin Xiang squint. She reached for it, but Yun Qian shook her head. “Passed through one more hand, and it’ll be dirty.”

Qin Xiang had no choice but to rise from her chair, hold her sister’s wrist, and bite the grape.

The grape was sour at first, then sweet. Before she could bite down, a shadow loomed before her, and a soft pressure met her lips.

Qin Xiang’s eyes flew wide with shock. Taking advantage of her open mouth, Yun Qian curled her tongue and stole the grape back.

The grape was gone… leaving only its fragrance—and the taste of her sister.