10 Lingbo

"How did this turn into a threat?" Han Yueqi's voice came from behind Ye Lingbo, tinged with amusement as she said, "I already know what Lingbo was going to say. Since the young lady finds it hard to speak for herself, I'll say it for her. Qiao Zhen, newly wed, yet she’s come out to the Flower Festival banquet—she must be missing her husband terribly, crying until her eyes are blurred. No wonder she mistakes doves for mandarin ducks. Don’t you all agree?"

Her status was unparalleled among the young madams of the capital. Lord Shen now held the prestigious position of Minister of Rites, one of the Six Ministries, wielding great power. Master Shen had just passed the top scholar exam and was a disciple of the emperor—his future was limitless. Her own family was noble, her husband’s family powerful, and with a daughter by her side, whenever she appeared at the Flower Festival banquet, even Lu Wenyin would yield her main guest position to her.

So when she appeared, regardless of whether her jokes were funny, everyone had to laugh along. The young madams stepped aside respectfully, and Madame He herself came forward to greet her, saying, “Madam Shen’s honorable presence truly brings brilliance to this humble abode.”

“Not at all,” Han Yueqi said with a gentle smile, taking her hand. “Madame He, you are too polite. I should be the one apologizing to the matriarch. I was supposed to arrive this morning but couldn’t leave due to family matters. By noon, I heard this year’s Flower Festival banquet is particularly splendid, especially with Qinglan here. I simply couldn’t resist leaving my duties at home to come find Qinglan.”

After speaking, she took Lingbo’s hand and smiled at Ye Qinglan. Ye Qinglan looked at her helplessly. “With so much going on at home, why bother coming?”

“I heard from Biwei’s maid that the banquet was lively, so I came,” she replied with a smile, then looked back at Lu Wenyin. “Madam Chen is quite leisurely to have arrived so early. I heard you and my Qinglan are quite close?”

“Jealous, aren’t you?” one madam laughed. “Everyone knows Madam Shen and Miss Ye are the best of friends. Madam Chen only comes in second.”

“Exactly,” Han Yueqi said with a knowing smile toward Lu Wenyin. “I don’t care if you play with others, but if you play with my Qinglan and Lingbo, no matter what family troubles you have, I will definitely come rushing over. If my backyard catches fire, I won’t let you off.”

Her joke naturally caused laughter and lively chatter. Lu Wenyin had no choice but to fall silent, accompanying Yang Qiaozhen and the others with polite smiles.

---

Because Han Yueqi had come, the elderly matriarch He personally arrived to entertain guests. Han Yueqi, ever courteous and refined, repeatedly expressed modesty, all the while smiling as she teased Lu Wenyin, Yang Qiaozhen, and others about mistaking Ye Qinglan’s embroidered doves for mandarin ducks and about teasing Ye Qinglan repeatedly until even the elderly matriarch had to admonish Lu Wenyin: “As a madam, how can you tease a young lady like this? If you treat guests this way, will they dare to come to our home again?” As for Yang Qiaozhen’s mother-in-law, Madam Xue, she personally apologized to Ye Qinglan.

Yet with high status came high burdens. From the moment Han Yueqi appeared at the banquet, the madams around her never ceased to crowd about. Those familiar came to join the fun, while others hurried to attach themselves to her. The young ladies all approached to express admiration for Sister Han, “Han Sister is the model for our young ladies.” It took over an hour before she finally found a chance to be alone with the Ye sisters.

By then, it was afternoon, the sky darkening, the snow had stopped, leaving a thin layer on the ground. Han Yueqi’s housekeeper held an umbrella, surrounded by maids, as she and Qinglan and Lingbo admired the plum blossoms in a secluded courtyard.

---

Finally, they could speak heart to heart.

“Come here, Lingbo,” Han Yueqi said. Though the same age as Qinglan and still youthful in spirit, fond of hearing amusing tales, she could not help but ask, “What exactly happened with the Yang family? Why is Yang Qiaozhen so afraid of you speaking up?”

“It’s nothing serious,” Ye Lingbo answered calmly. “Her ‘Young Master Xue’ has been gambling and owes debts. Madam Xue kept it from Master Xue, and she and her daughter-in-law pooled money to pay it off. Her mother-in-law blames her because it was her cousin who took her gambling, suspecting a trap. Because of this, they didn’t even leave the house together this time.”

Han Yueqi couldn’t help but laugh. “You girl, how do you get such sharp news?”

She meant to praise Lingbo but saw Qinglan frown, so she quickly corrected herself. “You must speak carefully in private. How can you speak of such household secrets at the Flower Festival banquet? To harm the enemy a thousand times but hurt yourself eight hundred times. You are an unmarried young lady—how could you reveal such internal matters? Won’t that confirm suspicions of cunning?”

“Yang Qiaozhen has taken to bullying our family. Without a heavy blow, she won’t know her place,” Lingbo said.

“She’s a petty person, and you’re a noble young lady. There’s no need to mind her,” Qinglan corrected. “Even if it’s for my sake, it’s not worth it. This year’s banquet is about you and A Cuo. You need to take care of yourself and not worry about me.”

Lingbo usually obeyed her sister outside and did not argue. Han Yueqi, however, understood her thoughts and did not expose them but smiled faintly, sighing inwardly.

As they prepared to enter, Qinglan went ahead. Han Yueqi lingered behind, and when Lingbo reached out to support her up the steps, she instead smiled at her.

“Are you really going to renew the red thread?” Han Yueqi asked.

Renewing the red thread is a play about a clever maid named Red Thread who schemes to reunite her lady with Young Master Yang, whose relationship was broken by misunderstanding, so the lady becomes the wife of the top scholar.

Lingbo smiled in return. “A perfect match is rare; naturally, they must be reunited.”

Such a handsome couple—who wouldn’t lament their fate? Even Han Yueqi felt regret and did not try to dissuade her, only sighed. “It’s a pity Madam Meng isn’t here this year. You’re young ladies; many words cannot be spoken, many actions cannot be taken, always constrained. Even if you have the means to intimidate them, you risk appearing overbearing. I know you’re strong, but now you must let a madam speak for you. No matter how clever you are, you need to hold back…”

Lingbo said nothing. Han Yueqi knew she appeared obedient but was stubborn at heart, so she stopped and tried to persuade her.

Though Qinglan was Lingbo’s biological sister, Han Yueqi had grown up with Qinglan and had long treated Lingbo and Yanyan as her own younger sisters; otherwise, she wouldn’t worry so much.

“I know you mean well for Qinglan, but the world is like water, and hearts change easily. Cui Jingyu might not be the same man he once was. Why cling so stubbornly?”

Ye Lingbo remained silent. The white plum blossoms bloomed on the steps where they stood, petals and snow indistinguishable, the faint fragrance lingering. Her face reflected the snow’s light; even with full makeup, she could only be called plain among the blooming grandeur of the Flower Festival banquet.

Fortunately, she no longer cared much for this banquet.

“Of course I know times have changed, and he is now a marquis. Maybe this isn’t a play about renewing the red thread but about pouring water before the horse. Still, it must be tried.” Standing beneath the tree, she spoke softly. “My mother often said, ‘When a phoenix alights on the parasol tree, there is always something to keep it in check.’ If even Sister Qinglan and Cui Jingyu end in bitterness, then what in this world can be trusted?”

Han Yueqi sighed, unable to say more.

Lingbo lifted her skirt and began walking up the steps. Just then, Han Yueqi called from behind, “What about you? Where will you settle?”

Like a phoenix, Ye Qinglan had Cui Jingyu as her parasol tree. Even if their story ended sadly, it wouldn’t betray this banquet’s splendor. But what of Lingbo? This was not her first Flower Festival banquet. In the capital, daughters are like flowers, young men like trees—so which tree would shelter her?

Lingbo did not look back, only smiled.

“This place is lovely, but it is not where I belong. I’ll leave it to fate.”