Chapter One: The Northern Wind Lifts Thin Robes

Few people in the Jiang household were ever willing to visit Ruohua Pavilion.

Everyone in the manor knew that Ruohua Pavilion was home to Fifth Miss Mingchu, a girl unloved by the prince. Her mother had once been a songstress, and died when Mingchu was only four years old. From then on, she had been raised by an old nursemaid.

Another New Year’s Eve arrived, and the Jiang household was bustling with activity. Lanterns were strung up everywhere, tables were set, and guests came and went, filling the air with lively commotion. Only Ruohua Pavilion remained unlit and unadorned, cold and deserted.

From a distance, a little girl, perhaps only six or seven, approached with her hands tucked into her sleeves.

Her hair was tied into two round buns, each adorned with a string of red tassels, and she wore a red jacket over a white dress. Though her clothes were plain and lacking in finery, her innocence and charm shone through—a natural beauty untouched by artifice.

She paused at the side of the Grand Purity Pool, her gaze lingering on its surface.

The Grand Purity Pool was vast. In summer, lotus flowers crowded together, their green leaves pleasing to the eye and the air fragrant with their scent. The nursemaid had once brought her here to pick lotus seeds.

Now, only a few withered clumps of grass remained, lending the scene an air of desolation.

She sighed softly. A gust of chill wind swept across the pool, seeping into her collar and making her shiver. She quickened her pace.

Skirting the pool, she walked down a path lined with old, towering trees.

Her eyes darted about. Suddenly, they brightened as she spotted something and hurried over.

She scooped up a white cat lounging beneath a tree, cuddled it close, and nuzzled its ears affectionately. “Blessing, did you get lost again? I waited at home for so long but you never came back. I was so worried I came out to look for you.”

Blessing gazed at its young mistress with gentle, round eyes.

She lifted Blessing up, noticing the cat’s furrowed brow.

She giggled. “Blessing, do you like my new clothes? Nursemaid made them herself. She said whatever others have, I should have too. Come on, let’s go home now, or Nursemaid will be anxious again.”

Cradling Blessing to her chest, she hopped forward cheerfully.

“Little bastard!”

With a venomous shout, a stone struck the girl’s arm.

Startled, she turned around to see Jiang Zhenyuan approaching, clad in purple and draped in a heavy cloak.

His lips were red against his pale face, the very picture of a wealthy young master from an aristocratic house.

She frowned, thinking to herself, As expected, it’s Jiang Zhenyuan again.

Though he was her third brother in name, Jiang Zhenyuan had always been arrogant and domineering, taking pleasure in tormenting her.

She lowered her eyes and continued on her way.

But Jiang Zhenyuan wouldn’t relent. He strode forward, blocking her path, and gave her a light push. Contemptuously, he said, “Jiang Mingchu, I’m calling you a little bastard. Didn’t you hear me?”

Mingchu glanced at him, gently stroking Blessing’s head, and replied slowly, “You’re Father’s child, and so am I. If you call me a little bastard, then you’re calling yourself the same. And even more, you’re saying Father is the biggest bastard of all, aren’t you?”

The third young master of the Jiang family had always been spoiled and arrogant—who in the manor dared cross him? Yet now, a few words from the baseborn Mingchu had left his face flushed with embarrassment.

He pointed at her, speechless with rage.

Mingchu only smiled and turned to leave.

Jiang Zhenyuan finally recovered and shouted, “Your mother was a lowly songstress, and you’re even lower for being her child!”

Mingchu stopped, her shoulders trembling slightly.

Zhenyuan grinned smugly. “Jiang Mingchu, people like you don’t deserve to live in the Jiang household. Why hasn’t Father thrown you out yet?”

Mingchu set Blessing down and picked up a stone from the ground. From her sleeve, she drew out a small slingshot. In one swift motion—turning, loading, drawing, aiming, firing—the stone struck Zhenyuan’s left cheek, leaving a red mark.

She put the slingshot away and said, “Don’t you dare insult my mother!”

Clutching his cheek, Jiang Zhenyuan howled, “Jiang Mingchu! How dare you hit me! Do you want to die? How dare you strike the third young master of the Jiang family?”

Red-eyed with fury, Zhenyuan balled his fists and lunged at her.

Blessing tensed at Mingchu’s feet, then leapt up and scratched wildly at Zhenyuan’s face. Furious and frightened, he grabbed the cat and flung it into the pool.

Cats are terrified of water. Blessing let out a mournful wail, thrashing about in panic.

“Blessing!” Mingchu cried out, scrambling to the water’s edge and reaching desperately for the cat, but she couldn’t reach.

Most of her body leaned over the pool, when suddenly Zhenyuan shoved her from behind, and Mingchu tumbled into the water.

The icy pool swallowed her in an instant, numbing her senses. She managed to stretch out her arm, finally seizing Blessing, and with the last of her strength hurled the cat onto the bank.

She was freezing. The winter water was sapping all her strength. After a few feeble strokes, she began to sink.

Zhenyuan stood by, watching coldly. When the water finally closed over Mingchu, fear overtook him.

Soaked and shivering, Blessing meowed plaintively by the poolside.

“Jiang Mingchu, come out! Don’t scare me!” Zhenyuan leaned over, but saw only ripples on the surface.

“Jiang Mingchu! Mingchu!”

Complete silence. Only the whisper of wind through withered leaves could be heard.

Zhenyuan collapsed to the ground, staring dumbly at the water. Looking left, then right, he was tempted to run away.

Just as he turned, a biting wind swept past and a shadow flashed by, plunging into the pool with a splash.

Zhenyuan’s eyes widened; he hadn’t even seen what happened. In the next moment, someone surfaced, carrying Mingchu in their arms.

He let out a sigh of relief and studied the figure closely—a youth, pale as death, no more than fourteen or fifteen, yet astonishingly agile. But why was he wearing black nightclothes in broad daylight? Who was he?

Oblivious to the danger he’d nearly caused, Zhenyuan’s mind was consumed with curiosity about the boy’s identity, paying little heed to Mingchu’s safety.

After a bout of rescue, Mingchu coughed up the water in her chest and slowly came to.

The first thing she saw was a pair of eyes—dark as ink, yet burning with clarity.

They reminded her of a midsummer night sky studded with stars, gentle and twinkling, so near and yet so far.