Qin Xiang took Yun Qian’s hand and walked her back to Wanglan Pavilion, step by step. Knowing her sister had been drinking, she ordered tea—a cup would settle her stomach. After the tea, Yun Qian lay on the outer side as always, and Qin Xiang fell asleep the instant her head touched the pillow. Yun Qian had no sleep in her. Her mind churned with ways to keep Qin Xiang home without spoiling her fun. She watched the girl’s profile, then reached under the blanket and pinched her waist—soft, the skin smooth and tender. Two pinches, and Qin Xiang, wrapped in the quilt, rolled away. No more pinching to be had. Yun Qian turned to look at the incense burner, mulled a moment, and slipped out of bed. She opened the door; the maid on night duty stepped forward at once. “Fetch A-Gui.” The maid hurried off. Soon A-Gui arrived, wrapping her outer robe around herself. Yun Qian called her close and whispered a few words. A-Gui was now fully awake. She shot her mistress a dubious look. That’s not very honorable.
Yun Qian went back inside, lay down comfortably, pulled Qin Xiang to her side, tucked her own leg under the girl’s, and placed Qin Xiang’s hand on her own waist. If Qin Xiang woke in the middle of the night, she’d be scared half to death.
And yet Qin Xiang slept splendidly. She woke at noon.
She had slept wonderfully. She checked the sky—the sun was high—and sat up in a daze. Opening the door, oh, the sun was directly overhead. She froze for a moment, unable to process it. How was it already noon…?
A-Gui greeted her with a smile. “The young master was tired last night. You’ve slept so long—shall I bring lunch?”
“Yes—wait, what about the dragon boats?” Qin Xiang slapped her own cheeks in frustration. How had this happened? How had she slept so long, slept herself into a coma?
A-Gui was shameless. “Skipping is fine—no big matter. Prime Minister Yun said she’ll take you to a banquet tonight. Your clothes are ready; she asked you to wait for her here.”
“Banquet?” Qin Xiang’s eyes went wide. Her sister was bringing her to a banquet? Wasn’t she embarrassed?
“Yes. I hear some lord’s household is holding a celebration. Prime Minister Yun can’t very well decline, so she’ll bring you along.”
Qin Xiang nodded. Back in the Qin family, her adoptive parents always went out and came back together too. She smiled, and her heart felt sweet.
Come dusk, Yun Qian returned from the office, changed at home, and came to collect Qin Xiang. Qin Xiang had changed into a blue scholar’s robe with a jade pendant at her waist, and was waiting at the door to greet her. Yun Qian looked at her. How fortunate—to be personally greeted by the Little Empress. Such ceremony was nearly fit for the Emperor. Qin Xiang stood inside the doorway; Yun Qian paused on the steps, some three or five paces apart. Gazing at her from a distance, Yun Qian remembered her past life—every time she went to the Central Palace, the Little Empress would stand at the door just like this. She had enjoyed treatment fit for an emperor back then without ever realizing it, only ever thinking the Demon Empress wanted something from her. Yun Qian reached out and rubbed the girl’s cheek. “Slept well?”
At the mention of sleep, Qin Xiang was full of regret. “I don’t know what came over me—I slept straight through to noon. I’ll go to bed earlier tonight.” Her tone was so grown-up that Yun Qian frowned. At fifteen or sixteen, a girl should love to play, and here she was, fixated on early bedtime. Yun Qian took her hand and led her out.
Once in the carriage, Yun Qian leaned against her shoulder, eyes half-closed. Qin Xiang held her breath and slipped an arm around her, trying to make her comfortable. Having been self-reliant for so many years, Yun Qian found the attention deeply uncomfortable. She’d never thought of herself as fragile—this was Qin Xiang being needlessly fussy. She grumbled inwardly for a moment, then nuzzled against the girl’s neck, turning her crimson. After the nuzzle, she straightened and asked in the most ordinary tone, “Do you have any brothers or sisters at home?”
Qin Xiang was silent for a moment. “One elder brother, two younger sisters.”
The Qin family had only that one son, and his poor health kept the whole household in turmoil. Qin Mo had a terrible temper—pain wore at him, made him explosive, and tormenting her was routine. He wasn’t even kind to his two full sisters. But these were things Qin Xiang could not say.
Yun Qian grew more puzzled. Two younger sisters? Then why, in her past life, were they dead? She’d sent people to Zhenjiang to investigate back then, but could never uncover what had happened in the Qin family. And after entering the palace, Qin Xiang had taken on adoptive kin, severing all ties with the Qins of Zhenjiang. At the thought, Yun Qian grew troubled.
Meanwhile, Qin Xiang pulled back the curtain and watched the streets roll by. The capital’s crowds were thick, the bustle endless—unlike Zhenjiang, unlike the valley. She loved the commotion, loved weaving through seas of people and feeling the warmth of the everyday world.
Yun Qian spoke again. “Today it was the Great Grand Princess who invited me to a flower-viewing. I thought you might like to see company, so I accepted.”
Qin Xiang was startled. She’d accepted the Great Grand Princess’s invitation for her sake? Meaning she normally disliked such functions, and only agreed because of her. Sensing something off, she said, “She invited you for a reason. She must want something.”
“Little A-Xiang is so clever. Her husband’s younger brother made a mistake, and she wants me to turn a blind eye.” Yun Qian’s tone was light. She lounged against Qin Xiang and, as if forgetting, took the girl’s hand, her fingertip tracing the wrist bone. Qin Xiang was ticklish. Under such provocation, she had no mind left for matters of state. Face flushed, she stammered into silence.
Not content, Yun Qian tilted her head to look at the girl’s burning cheeks. “Why aren’t you talking now?”
“Sister—were you going to the banquet to turn a blind eye?” Qin Xiang pressed her lips together, teeth lightly closed.
“Do you think I should?”
“No. You said the law restrains people’s conduct. How can it be bent on a whim?” Qin Xiang was indignant.
Yun Qian’s gaze deepened, and for a long while she said nothing. In her past life, there had been a minister who erred and, with heavy gold, sought out the Little Empress. The Little Empress took the money, dispelled the disaster, and forcibly intervened in a case already decided. Back then, furious, Yun Qian had gone to confront her. The Little Empress sat behind her desk in phoenix coronet and robes, smiling at her. “I wish to ask Prime Minister Yun to turn a blind eye. Would you?”
That time, Yun Qian had been livid, while the Little Empress only looked at her with that mesmerizing charm, all sweetness and ease. A matter that broke the law—and the Little Empress had simply bought her way out of it. When confronted, she smiled and talked of the scenery. Infuriating. Hateful. Unforgivable.
Yun Qian looked at the girl before her now, gaze profound. The girl cowered under it. “Did I say something wrong?”
“No. I’ll listen to you—then we won’t go to the banquet.” Yun Qian’s mind changed in an instant. She tapped the carriage window. The carriage stopped. She drew the curtain aside. “Back to the residence.”
Qin Xiang was stunned, her heart inexplicably tight. “We’re… not going?”
“We’re not. Home.” Yun Qian’s brow moved, her eyes shading darker. She had always prided herself on being upright—not greedy, not envious. But having come this far, how could she be free of self-interest? She had planned to use this matter to draw in the Great Grand Princess. Qin Xiang had reminded her with a single sentence.
“Little A-Xiang, do you think I can be a good official?” Yun Qian’s heart ached fiercely. Before her death, she’d been branded with the crimes of forming cliques, thrown the blame for a chaotic court and a damaged nation. She had never accepted it. Looking at Qin Xiang’s face, she wondered: had she been wrong about the Little Empress all along?
“If Sister wants to be a good official, then she is one.” Qin Xiang’s tone was solemn. “But I hope Sister will be a good official—one who serves the people.”
Yun Qian spoke slowly. “Have you been wronged?”
Qin Xiang jolted. Had she? Had she? Her whole body trembled. Meeting her sister’s clear eyes, she felt boiling blood doused with cold water. She forced a smile. “No.”
Yun Qian was disappointed. After a moment’s thought, she smiled at her. “If you ever are, tell me. Even at the cost of defying the throne, I will see justice done for you.”
Qin Xiang’s gaze burned at those words. No, no—she could not destroy her sister. She would pretend none of it had ever happened. Cowardly, she thought, and smiled stiffly.
The carriage stopped at the residence gate. A retainer set down the step and announced, “Prime Minister Yun, the old lady is here.”
The atmosphere changed. Yun Qian lifted a brow and curved her lips—the sharpness gone, replaced by a hint of mockery. A wasted trip. Qin Xiang, however, returned home in good spirits. Since the old lady was here, they would dine together.
Summer had arrived, and lotus roots were being dug up—washed, dusted with honey, and hung in the well water for an hour or two until they came out icy cold. Qin Xiang nibbled at her lotus root slices. Old Madam Yun began to talk—this and that, until she’d circled around to the Great Grand Princess. The Emperor had four or five paternal aunts, but they had all joined a rebellion in years past and died, leaving only one. That was why people didn’t use her title; they simply called her the Great Grand Princess.
The moment she heard the name, Qin Xiang frowned. The old lady must have taken someone’s money and come to plead. Disdain flickered in her heart, and she bit down on a whole slice of lotus root. Beside her, Yun Qian spoke. “Mother has taken bribes again. You should know I don’t show mercy. If you plead, I’ll hand down a heavier sentence.”
Qin Xiang pressed her lips together, hesitant—she didn’t dare laugh. But her sister was so funny. Silently, she watched the cool, elegant woman beside her. The next moment, Yun Qian passed her a piece of meat. The moment after, a chopstick landed on their table.
Old Madam Yun was enraged. “You’re deliberately provoking me.”
“Mother is absolutely right. I love provoking you. Go ahead, report me to the authorities. Tell them you took bribes and came to beg me to spare a criminal—tell me, who would have the right of it?” Yun Qian swept a disgusted glance at the chopstick on her own table, and the next instant, flipped the whole meal tray over.
She rose abruptly and faced her mother. “I want to be a good minister—working for the people, working for the court. You keep taking what others offer. I’ll say it once more: if you come to plead, I’ll have the Ministry of Justice impose even heavier punishment—exile commuted to beheading.”
Old Madam Yun froze. Qin Xiang went pale with fright. Her sister, so gentle before, had suddenly become someone else, and it scared her. The next instant, Yun Qian ordered the maids waiting outside, “Send the old lady home.” Then, gritting her teeth against the nausea, she left quickly.
Qin Xiang glanced at the old lady, clenched her fists, and chased after her sister. The sky had fully darkened. She took a lantern from a servant and hurried after her. After searching for a quarter of an hour, she finally spotted a solitary figure on the little bridge over the pond. Tonight’s moon was unusually round—almost mocking. Qin Xiang carried the lantern over, set it aside, and sat down close to her sister. One small lantern, its flame too weak to rival the moonlight. Inch by inch, Qin Xiang looked at her. “Sister, if you’re sad, you can cry a little.”
The night wind was cool, stirring sleeves and hair, rippling through their eyes. Yun Qian glanced at the girl who worried for her and curved her lips slightly. “A-Xiang, if the world spreads rumors that I’m bloodthirsty and cruel, that I harm good ministers—would you believe them?”
“No.” Qin Xiang suddenly felt her sister was terribly innocent. With a mother who loved grabbing money, she could never have a day of peace.
Yun Qian gazed at the moon, smiling deeply. She had gotten too deep into the act—she had almost believed she was truly angry.
Qin Xiang reached out and hugged her shoulders, mumbling, “Sister, you still have me.”
“Little A-Xiang, let me take you swimming.”
