Chapter 1

Chapter 1

I was born into the prestigious Kong Clan of Longshang. I am the fourth child, and my name is Yizhen.

My father is the current Chancellor, greatly trusted and valued by the Emperor.

My mother, Lady Xue, is his primary wife. She bore six children-two sons and four daughters.

The Kong Clan’s ancestral precepts say: “The lessons of the inner chambers must be stricter than the law.”

A daughter of the Kong Clan begins her enlightenment at the age of three, learning the Six Arts.

On top of the Six Arts come the lute, chess, calligraphy, and painting-and even the arts of the bedchamber. In every skill, we are expected to grasp what ordinary sheltered young ladies won’t learn until three years later.

Father prizes the legitimate sons most. My two elder brothers were kept at his side from childhood, taught by him personally.

Among the legitimate daughters who remained, only Eldest Sister Ruzhang was truly given weight.

On the Double Ninth Festival, Prince Xian’s Mansion sent over a pair of Hetian jade bi-discs as a gift.

Before the entire household, Father told Mother to press Eldest Sister’s instruction even harder.

While the two of them spoke casually, Father said, “Yesterday, in the Emperor’s presence, Prince Xian received a pair of twin dragon pendants.”

I stood there watching my parents exchange smiles, my eyes still full of childish ignorance, not yet understanding what those jade discs meant.

I only knew this much about His Highness, Prince Xian: when the Emperor went on his southern inspection tour, he took only one prince with him-and that prince was Prince Xian.

When I left the flower hall, I saw Second Sister Xianghui leaning alone against the covered corridor.

She lightly fanned herself with a round silk fan. The moment she noticed me, her bright almond eyes turned-and her expression changed with them.

“Fourth Younger Sister, you’re finally out,” she said. “I’ve been waiting so long my legs are sore.”

She hooked her arm through mine with practiced intimacy.

“I heard the nanny say the coiled chi-dragon pattern on those jade discs is exactly the same as the designs on the sacrificial vessels in the Imperial Ancestral Temple.”

“Our Eldest Sister really does have enviable luck.”

Seeing my doubtful look, Second Sister Xianghui raised her fan to half-hide her painted lips.

“Forget it. Why am I telling you all this? The sun’s enough to make a person dizzy.” She smiled. “Fourth Sister, come pick some osmanthus with me, will you? Later I’ll have the kitchen steam some osmanthus cakes for you.”

She was always like this-every sentence edged with a hidden blade, yet she never cut too deep. Just enough to leave you uncertain what she truly meant.

Late spring.

The wisteria was in riotous bloom.

Under the trellis, Eldest Sister ran into a cousin from Mother’s Xue family.

He came from a poor branch, yet his features were clean and pleasing. Because he’d failed the civil examinations again and again, he only held a leisurely post in our household, managing flowers and trees and seeing to small repairs.

I don’t know what spell took hold of Eldest Sister, but she accepted a sweat-kerchief from him-embroidered with the words “tied hair, one heart”-and kept it pressed to her body day after day.

After that, she frequently used “taking me to fly a kite” as her excuse to go to the side garden.

Once the kite rose into the sky, she would claim she was tired and tell me to pick flowers and amuse myself. Then she’d go alone to rest in the small pavilion at the northwest corner.

That day, the side garden was unusually quiet.

I was on tiptoe, winding in the kite string, when I suddenly caught a glimpse behind a Taihu rock-just the corner of a stone-blue satin robe.

Father was standing there. I didn’t know when he’d arrived.

His face was dark as forged iron.

For once, there was no crowd of hangers-on and retainers around him.

Steward He and two young attendants stood three paces away with their heads bowed, stiff as three wooden statues.

The spool in my hand slipped from my fingers and fell with a sharp clack.

Father’s gaze swept toward me like a knife.

I panicked and lowered my head at once-yet in that instant, I saw the bamboo blinds of the pavilion, pale and fine, stir in the wind. Through the moving slats, I could just make out shadows within: Eldest Sister and that scholar, hands clasped as they looked into each other’s faces.

Wisteria petals sifted down in a soft, steady fall.

A few landed beside Father’s black boots-only to be crushed into the mud beneath his sole.

When Scholar Xue was dragged out by the servants, his face had already gone deathly gray.

Eldest Sister, however, held her spine straight.

For the first time in her life, she defied Father.

“Your daughter refuses to be a bird in a golden cage,” she said. “I would rather be a pair of wingmates in a humble home-”

“Foolish!”

Father didn’t rage. He laughed.

“You think there is truly some clean place in this world, beyond power and rank?”

“If you lost the title of the Chancellor’s daughter today, you’d understand by tomorrow. A ‘true heart’ without the shelter of power is nothing but fish and meat on the chopping block!”

Eldest Sister tried to speak again, but Father lifted a hand-sharp, final-and cut her off.

“Since the books of sages can’t extinguish your obsession,” he said, “then let the world teach you instead.”

That very night, Eldest Sister was bound hand and foot, shoved into a small sedan with green curtains, and sent away to the estate.

Mother summoned the four remaining sisters to her.

She held golden scissors and, unhurriedly, trimmed a pot of precious crabapple blossoms.

“Do you know why the daughters of noble houses all learn the lute, chess, calligraphy, and painting?”

“It isn’t to make you cling to elegance for elegance’s sake.”

“It’s to make you understand: the most moving elegance in this world often hides the cruelest choices.”

She lifted her eyes then and swept them over the four of us, one by one.

“A daughter of the Chancellor’s Mansion may speak of love,” she said softly, “but it must be under brocade curtains embroidered with gold and phoenixes, and written onto a jade register of equal match.”

“Remember that.”

We bowed and knocked our heads, answering with due obedience.

Barely a month passed before a letter arrived from Eldest Sister.

The paper was mottled with tears, every line a confession of regret.

Mother read it once-then tossed it into the incense brazier.

Flame licked up in a curl, and the letter turned to fluttering black ash, like butterflies taking flight.

Second Sister offered an embroidered handkerchief at just the right moment.

Mother accepted it and said, as though it were an idle thought, “After the New Year, you’ll be of age to be matched. Is there any young gentleman you’ve taken a liking to?”

Second Sister leaned into Mother’s embrace, voice sweet with coquettish grievance.

“Though your daughter is slow, I still know what the Admonitions for Women say-‘leisurely and chaste, quiet and steadfast; guarding virtue, keeping oneself orderly.'”

“Marriage is a great matter. Naturally, it should be decided by Father and Mother. I only hope I can stay by your side a few more years and show my filial devotion.”

Second Sister wasn’t as dazzlingly magnificent as Eldest Sister, but her brows and eyes were quick with spirit, and in dealing with people she was always the most proper-never too much, never too little.

A trace of approval flickered in Mother’s eyes.

She drew Second Sister closer and said in a low voice, “In three days, Prince Xian’s Mansion is holding a flower-viewing banquet. You will come with me.”

I understood.

It was a transaction no one needed to spell out.

This was what it meant to live in a great household.

Every word, every movement carried intent. Even the tenderness of parents toward their children came packed with calculation.