Chapter Six: Today’s Grand Banquet

“Madam, the Fifth Young Lady has arrived,” Lushang announced as she led her inside.

In the main hall, only the Princess Consort and the eldest young lady, Ming Rou, were present, with four maids standing by, each holding a tray. Ming Chu lowered her gaze and curtsied gracefully.

The Princess Consort smiled gently. “Chu’er, come sit by me.” Though no longer in her maiden years, time had not diminished her beauty; rather, it had added to her grace. Ming Chu took the seat beside her, a faint fragrance of powder and blossoms drifting over, making her feel ill at ease. Compared to her father, she was much less familiar with this woman.

Ming Rou beamed brightly. “Fifth Sister, all these dishes are my favorites. I thought you might like them too.”

Ming Chu nodded with a polite smile. “They all look delicious.”

Ming Rou winked playfully. “Mother, didn’t I say so? Fifth Sister is bound to love them.” The Princess Consort glanced affectionately at Ming Rou.

Ming Chu’s eyes lowered in quiet disappointment. Eldest Sister Ming Rou and Jiang Zhenyuan were twins, a boy and a girl—a most auspicious sign, which meant Ming Rou had always been doted on, her temperament somewhat spoiled.

The Princess Consort’s gaze rested on Ming Chu’s face, and she said with a gentle smile, “You’re looking more and more like your mother.”

“She’s been gone from me for a long time now,” Ming Chu replied, sorrow clouding her eyes.

The Princess Consort’s delicate brows knit slightly, and she shook her head slowly, the golden ornaments in her coiffure trembling with the motion. “Your mother… she was truly remarkable. I’ve never met a woman like her.” Her long, phoenix-shaped eyes grew distant, as if lost in memory.

Ming Chu looked puzzled—had the Princess Consort and her mother been close?

“Mother, let Fifth Sister eat first, or the dishes will go cold,” Ming Rou urged.

“Yes, let’s eat.” The Princess Consort collected herself and placed some food in Ming Chu’s bowl. “I’ve been so busy caring for Yuan’er these years—perhaps I’ve neglected you?”

“Fifth Sister, do you have anyone looking after you now?” Ming Rou asked.

“Eldest Sister, I have a nanny to care for me, and there’s also Yuewu.”

The Princess Consort’s hand, holding her chopsticks, paused for a moment. “Yuewu—is she someone your father assigned to you?”

“How can an old nanny manage everything? Clumsy as she is. Mother, why not give Fifth Sister another maid?” Ming Rou suggested.

Night had just fallen. Layers of white mist spread across the grounds. The moonlight was clear and cold, flowing across the earth like water. Yuewu passed through the covered walkway, her figure beneath the moonlight hazy and ethereal.

“Fifth Miss, I eat a lot and I’m a bit lazy, too.”

“All right, I understand. Your name is Yunxi, isn’t it?”

A light, melodious voice echoed in the tranquil night like a mountain spring. Yuewu halted, the corners of his lips curving naturally—he knew Ming Chu would appear soon.

Ming Chu and the maid called Yunxi chatted and laughed as they walked, and when they turned past the red wall, they spotted Yuewu leaning against the corridor, smiling quietly at them.

“Yuewu, what are you doing here?” Ming Chu asked in delight.

“I was afraid you’d be scared walking in the dark alone, Miss.”

“I would have been, but luckily Yunxi was with me.” Ming Chu nudged Yunxi forward. “Yunxi used to serve the Princess Consort, but she thought the nanny was getting on in years, so she sent Yunxi to look after me.”

Yunxi sighed inwardly; surely the Princess Consort found her too lazy and slow-witted, and so dispatched her to serve the Fifth Young Lady. Life would surely be less comfortable now—but at least the Fifth Miss was kind, chatting and laughing with her along the way, without any airs.

Yunxi’s round face squeezed into a self-consoling smile.

In the soft moonlight, all was tranquil within Ruohua Pavilion. Duofu curled up in his own little nest, fast asleep. Occasionally came the sound of dew dripping, or Yunxi’s snoring from her room.

By the dim candlelight, Ming Chu sat behind her desk, stifling yawns.

“Four times done, six more to go… ‘Guan guan, the ospreys cry, on the islet in the river. The gentle…’ Gentle what?”

“A gentle maiden, a worthy match for a nobleman.” The clear voice drifted to her, and Ming Chu immediately remembered, “Yes, yes! A gentle maiden.”

Yuewu set a bowl of lotus-root porridge on her desk. “Miss, I just made this for you.”

Ming Chu sniffed appreciatively. “It smells wonderful.” She lifted the bowl and drank it all in one go.

“Slow down, you’ll burn yourself.”

“Yuewu, you’re amazing. Your porridge is so delicious, and you can recite poetry, too… Oh, what if I can’t memorize it all? The tutor will check tomorrow.” Ming Chu crinkled her brow.

Wiping porridge from the corner of her mouth, Yuewu said, “Making porridge is simple, and memorizing poetry isn’t hard either. As long as you put your heart into it, you can do both.”

He paced to her side, looking over her writing and praising her. “Your calligraphy is bold and strong, quite spirited—though it doesn’t look much like a girl’s handwriting.”

“I modeled mine after my mother’s,” Ming Chu replied, her face lit with happiness.

“‘Guan guan, the ospreys cry, on the islet in the river. The gentle maiden, a worthy match for a nobleman.’ Do you know what it means, Miss?”

“Our tutor said ‘Guan Ju’ speaks of the virtue of the consort. It’s about how a nobleman finds joy in marrying a gentle maiden.” Ming Chu imitated the tutor’s solemn manner, making Yuewu laugh quietly.

“There’s another, simpler meaning to ‘Guan Ju.’ The ospreys sing together on the sandbar in the river; that radiant, beautiful maiden is the one the nobleman admires,” Yuewu explained, his face tinged with a faint blush.

“How beautiful is she?”

“Well… probably about as beautiful as you, Miss.”

The red candle flickered at the window, the silhouettes of one tall and one small cast upon the glass, as moonlight spilled across the floor and dew dampened the tender shoots. Night was deep, yet sleep did not come.

In the pond, spring grass grew, while the garden willows were turning into perches for songbirds.

The spring breeze swept for miles, cool but gentle, like sheer silk brushed softly across the face, bringing a feeling of fresh delight. The warm sun of spring woke the green shoots, the willows along the path just budding. By mid-spring, the willows hung in long, swaying strands, dancing in the east wind.

Ming Chu and her fourth sister, Ming Wan, stood hand in hand before the willows. Even on tiptoe, Ming Chu could not reach the leaves; she gestured enthusiastically. “Fourth Sister, when the willow branches hang low, I’ll weave you a garland—you’ll look wonderful in it.”

“All right, then I’ll look forward to the branches drooping soon,” Ming Wan replied with a smile, pressing her hands together as if making a wish.

“Fifth Sister, did you know? I heard Eldest Brother went off to war with Father this time, too.”

“I know—he often goes with Father to guard the borders.”

“I really think it’s impressive—being able to bring honor to our family, like Eldest Brother.”

Jiang Zhenning was the eldest son of the Jiang family and the Princess Consort’s first child. He had trained in martial arts since childhood, was calm and reserved by nature, and at fifteen began following their father on campaigns. He was away most of the year and had little contact with Ming Chu and Ming Wan.

On the west wall of Ruohua Pavilion, the wisteria climbed the tree trunks, deep green vines interlacing and stretching eagerly upward. Between the leaves peeked soft clusters of lavender blossoms. The green leaves adorned the red walls, and when the wind passed, the rustling leaves sounded like the wall replying to the breeze.

A cascade of laughter, crisp as wind chimes, drifted over the west wall.

Ming Chu sat astride a swing, shouting, “Yunxi, push a little harder!” Her body soared high, the red dress with scattered blossoms fluttering in the wind.