chapter 3

I had gone to see Gu Huaichuan because some foolish hope still lingered in me.

I hoped he would face reality, sever the feelings he should never have allowed to grow, and return everything to its proper place, treating Su Wanwan as nothing more than a dream.

As I had said, he was otherwise flawless as a prospective husband.

The capital held many eligible young men, but just as many noble daughters. Virtuous, ambitious sons were claimed early and betrothed long before adulthood. I had already passed my coming-of-age ceremony. I feared I would never find another man as suitable as Gu Huaichuan.

The world was harsher toward women. A woman whose engagement had been broken was inevitably thought lesser.

When Mother heard that I had resolved to end the match, the normally gentle mistress of our household forgot decorum for the first time in her life and denounced Gu Huaichuan like a fishwife in the market.

Her daughter had been carefully raised from childhood, educated and accomplished in music, chess, calligraphy, and painting. I had done nothing wrong. I had simply sat at home embroidering, only to wake one morning and find myself the laughingstock of our circle because of his romance. Now I would also bear the stigma of a discarded fiancée and endure criticism I had done nothing to invite.

Father administered funds and provisions in the Ministry of Revenue. Making life quietly difficult for the Gu family could hardly have been easier. Knowing themselves at fault, they swallowed every bitter consequence.

As for me, invitations to ladies’ gatherings arrived in uncountable numbers.

Our circle was small, and several noble daughters had never liked me.

They arranged parties for the pleasure of watching me suffer.

But I had lost only a promising marriage and one man.

The Qiao family had not fallen.

I had done nothing wrong. Why should I be too ashamed to show my face?

I attended every gathering with my customary calm.

At one banquet, someone mocked me for calling myself a favored daughter of fate and pretending to be above ordinary amusements. I would not even play a hand of leaf cards, she said, yet in the end I had lost to a lowborn thief.

The voice belonged to Cui Nuanying, daughter of a vice minister.

At the last Flower Ornament Banquet, she too had played the zither, but the Grand Princess had offered her no praise.

“Su Wanwan is no common thief,” I replied evenly. “Her lightness skill is unparalleled and her mind brilliant. She surpasses countless women.”

Cui Nuanying choked. Evidently she had not expected me to defend Su Wanwan. After a moment she sneered. “So you know you are rigid and dull. At least you concede the better woman won.”

I smoothed my sleeve and lifted my chin. “Su Wanwan may indeed be exceptional. But how does her excellence prove that I am not?”

I was an exceptional woman in my own right.

The streets bustled, but my carriage ride home was quiet.

My maid Zhilan held her tongue until she could bear it no longer. “My lady, why did you praise Su Wanwan? She plainly… she plainly… Not only did she ruin your engagement, but what decent unmarried woman calls a man her dearest husband in front of a crowd?”

A corner of the curtain lifted, admitting threads of cool wind.

I gave a bitter laugh.

“I would like to call her shameless and frivolous too. But—

“If I reduce her to something worthless, then what does that make me, the woman who lost to her?”

I had my pride.

Chang’an Avenue remained as lively as ever. A stall had been set up outside the theater. When we passed, I asked the driver to stop.

From a distance I saw that they were again performing the play about Wen Shubai and the Golden Swallow. An attendant hurried out to ask whether I wished to watch; a private room was free upstairs.

I waved him away. Bitterness welled inside me, followed by sudden exhaustion.

Since the engagement ended, I had acted carefree before my parents, relatives, and friends, terrified of giving anyone the satisfaction of seeing me wounded. Sometimes I even comforted Mother. I had not cried once.

Now, without warning, tears nearly spilled from my eyes.

I waved the attendant away again and told him I did not care for plays.

What pleasure was there in watching someone else’s romance?