Chapter 7: Cloud-Coiffed Ladies, Snow-Robed Lords

“What exactly is the Spring Banquet?” Qingyuan asked as she and Baoxian strolled back slowly. The March weather was bright and warm, and even the breeze felt soft. She squinted slightly, feeling the light, apricot-scented air brush past her temples. The round fan in her hand wasn’t needed for cooling—she used it now and then to gently swat at fluttering butterflies, finding it quite delightful.

She had heard of the banquet before. It was held every year after the Cold Food Festival, at Hengtang, and was quite a grand affair. But the threshold for attendance was high—ordinary families couldn’t get in. They could only listen from afar as music and song drifted from the open-air venue, melodious and lingering, echoing across the city.

“Miss doesn’t know about the Spring Banquet?” Baoxian said. “It’s hosted by the Marchioness of Ji in memory of her twin children who died young. She gave birth to a boy and a girl, but they both drowned in a pond on Qingming Day when they were eight. The Marquis and Marchioness were devastated, and to ease their grief, they began holding this banquet. It’s been ten years now. Every year, they invite the most prominent families of Hengtang. Over time, it’s become a prime occasion for matchmaking. All the noble ladies attend—it’s like the ancient Golden Goblet Banquet of the sages.

“They say a small stream runs through the venue, and the handkerchiefs and towels of the young ladies and gentlemen are washed in it. The water that flows out is said to carry fragrance—just imagine how grand it must be.”

“Oh,” Qingyuan said. “With such a backstory, wouldn’t it feel awkward to attend?”

But Baoxian replied, “What’s there to be embarrassed about? Meeting beforehand is better than a blind marriage. So when Third Miss said Eldest Miss should be cautious, she wasn’t wrong. If the Marquis’s eldest son shows up, it’ll be clear enough whether he’s suitable or not.”

Qingyuan smiled. “In the end, it’s still Grandmother who decides. Only if she approves will it truly be a good match.”

Baoxian blinked, thinking to herself that Fourth Miss was still too young.
“No matter what, the marriage will go through. Even if the Marquis’s eldest son really isn’t right in the head, as long as he’s not so far gone he can’t recognize people, it can be tolerated.” Then she asked, “Will you be going, Miss?”

Qingyuan slowly shook her head. Whether she went or not wasn’t up to her. In a setting like that, there was little to gain—more likely, she’d just become a target for gossip.

When they returned to Danyue Pavilion, they had just stepped through the gate when they saw Nanny Tao pacing in front of the house. Chuntai called out, “Miss is back,” and Nanny Tao stepped down from the stairs and gave a distant curtsey.

It was nearly noon, and the small kitchen had already prepared lunch. Chuntai welcomed her in and asked if she wanted the meal served.
Qingyuan waved her hand. “I’m not hungry yet. Let it wait.”

The maid withdrew. The bamboo blinds hanging beneath the carved eaves swayed gently, tapping against the lacquered columns with a soft da-da sound.

“Is everything comfortable here, Nanny?” Qingyuan asked warmly. “This courtyard is full of little chores—I’ll need your help managing them.”

Nanny Tao replied dutifully, “I served here many years ago. This is just returning to old duties—I’m quite used to it. If there’s anything Miss finds unsatisfactory, just give the word.” These were the formalities, the expected opening lines.
Then she lowered her voice and got to the point:
“The maid you asked me to look into—word is, she’s dead. I asked a few old women I know, and they said that after Danyue Pavilion was sealed, the maids who served your mother were sent off to various places. That girl was sent to the old estate in Shengzhou. Not long after, she caught malaria and died.

“But her parents… they seem to have come into a windfall. They bought land in the countryside. Her brother even opened a lamp oil shop. They’re doing quite well now.”

Qingyuan was surprised. “They bought land?”

“Exactly,” Nanny Tao said. “They used to barely have enough to eat—if they hadn’t been that desperate, what family would willingly sell their daughter? Then, all of a sudden, they bought land. Even if farmland in the countryside isn’t worth much, you still need some capital to make a move like that.” She looked at Qingyuan and added, “Fourth Miss, think it over carefully…”

Qingyuan remained silent. These scattered clues were enough to convince her that her mother had indeed been wronged. But with the key witness dead and the family having accepted hush money, they would never speak the truth and risk implicating themselves.

“Where’s her brother’s shop?” Qingyuan asked. “How far is it from Hengtang?”

“I heard it’s in Haozhou,” Nanny Tao replied. “That’s at least three hundred li from Hengtang.”

Three hundred li… that far. Qingyuan murmured, “Someone like me, confined to the inner residence, might never set foot there in a lifetime. Whether someone is dead or alive—who can say for sure?”

Baoxian, who had been listening quietly, finally pieced things together. “Miss is right. If she really died, how did her family end up with the money? Maybe we should send Nanny Tao’s son to Haozhou to investigate. It’s best to know the truth.”

But Qingyuan shook her head. “It’s already been fourteen years. That little maid would have long since married far away. Even if we found her, what then? Could we really expect her to name the person behind it all?”

“So we just let it go?” Baoxian asked, initially indignant. But after a moment, she sighed. “So much time has passed… maybe it’s better not to dig. Miss, you should focus on how to live well in this household from now on.”

Qingyuan pressed her lips together and said nothing. Though young, she had one serious flaw—she held grudges deeply. In this world, many misunderstandings and oversights could be forgiven, but not this—not when it concerned her mother’s life. That wasn’t something she could simply let go.

She gripped the handle of her round fan tightly. The carved bamboo pattern pressed into her palm like a seal. In that moment, a plan began to form in her heart. She would wait for the right time, take a risk—and when the moment came, the truth would be revealed.

But for now, she had to endure. She exhaled slowly and said,
“Father is returning soon. The journey will take ten, maybe twenty days. There’s no rush. When the time is right, I’ll know what to do.”

Nanny Tao hesitated but didn’t press further. “Then is there anything else you’d like me to do, Miss?”

Qingyuan smiled with a touch of childishness. “That magnolia tree in the courtyard—it’s half dead. Let’s just get rid of it. Have someone dig it up and plant a weeping crabapple instead.”

March wasn’t the best time to transplant flowers, but crabapples were hardy, with sparse blossoms and lush foliage—it could be done. Nanny Tao accepted the task and left. Qingyuan had lunch served as usual. Baoxian stayed by her side, watching her closely. Aside from being quieter than usual, Qingyuan showed no other signs of change.

Life, for now, passed in calm. What kind of storm might be brewing beneath that calm—she didn’t think about it.

The only surprise was that Old Madam Xie sent word: Fourth Miss was to prepare to attend the Spring Banquet.

“Seems the old madam does approve of you after all,” Chuntai said as she helped her mistress dress. She held up a robe of vivid turquoise brocade and stood in front of the bronze mirror, comparing it left and right.
“What do you think of this one, Miss? The color’s bright—you’ll stand out in a crowd.”

Qingyuan didn’t like to draw attention to herself. With three older sisters ahead of her, she knew she ought to be more restrained. In the end, she chose a pale jade-colored ruqun with a subtle floral pattern and tied her hair simply before heading to Huifang Garden to see the old madam.

Among the noble families of Hengtang, the Spring Banquet was a major event. Even someone like the old madam, who rarely went out, had dressed up for the occasion. After all, everyone has a few old friends in life. The close companions of youth became lifelong sisters in old age. Over the years, as each household raised its children and grandchildren, these old friendships became ideal channels for arranging marriages. Meeting once a year in lively company—chatting about health, family, and future matches—was a joy in itself.

The old madam was in a good mood today. Days of medicine had improved her health, and she no longer wore a stern expression. When she saw that Qingyuan’s carriage was too modest, she ordered her to ride with her instead.

This granddaughter, she thought, was actually quite decent. Under the light streaming through the window, she studied Qingyuan—dressed plainly, with a good sense of propriety. That was rare. But still, going out for a spring outing should be a happy occasion, and yet Qingyuan showed none of the excitement a young girl should have. It made the old madam wonder—was she still burdened by the shame of her mother’s past, reluctant to face the world?

“Such a lovely day—why not wear something brighter?” the old madam asked pointedly.

Qingyuan looked up and smiled. “I don’t usually like bright colors. Besides, the flowers outside are in full bloom. If I dress simply, it’ll make them stand out even more.”

The old madam nodded, then asked again, “Are you truly willing to appear at the Spring Banquet? You’ll be meeting outsiders, and people will talk.”

Still calm and composed, Qingyuan thought for a moment and replied,
“No one can hide forever. I may be born of a concubine, but I’m still my father’s daughter. And as his daughter, I have nothing to fear. Grandmother is giving me this opportunity—I would be ungrateful to shrink back and waste her efforts.”

Clearly a sensible girl, Old Madam Xie thought to herself, though she didn’t soften her tone. She turned her face away and said,
“I’m not cultivating you. It’s just that everyone already knows the Xie family brought you back. If we keep hiding you away, it’ll only make us a laughingstock.”

Qingyuan still smiled. She was used to harsh words—this didn’t even count. She turned her head to look out the window. The carriage rolled steadily along the straight road, heading toward the outskirts. She was struck by how lush and green the world had become—spring had truly arrived.

The Spring Banquet—a dream for every girl in Hengtang—meant only one thing to Qingyuan: a chance to see the world. The Marquis of Ji’s household was the host, and the event was grand and meticulously arranged. She saw clusters of blooming flowers everywhere, just as Baoxian had described:
“Noble ladies with cloud-like coiffures, graceful young lords in snow-colored robes.”

The daughters of the military governor’s household had arrived and were treated as honored guests. Everyone gathered under the large canopy. The Marchioness of Ji stepped forward from her seat to greet them personally, smiling as she said,
“It’s been so long since I’ve seen the Old Madam. How have you been?”

Old Madam Xie, all warmth and grace in public, took her arm and replied,
“Very well, thank you for your concern. You’ve worked so hard to organize this banquet so perfectly. We’re just here to enjoy the fruits of your labor—it’s almost embarrassing.”

“Not at all,” the Marchioness replied. “I only host this gathering to bring some cheer into my quiet life. I should be thanking all of you for coming. You’re too polite, Old Madam.”

And so the compliments flowed, each more polished than the last.

From a distance, the magistrate’s wife spotted the Xie family’s arrival and brought the Countess of Kaiguo over. After a round of warm greetings, their eyes naturally drifted to the young ladies standing behind Old Madam Xie.

Old Madam Xie was a woman of order and propriety. Even though the magistrate’s wife had given her a heads-up, she didn’t rush to push Qinghe forward. Instead, she introduced her granddaughters one by one, just as she always did:
“This is my eldest granddaughter, Qinghe; second granddaughter, Qingru; third granddaughter, Qingrong; and the youngest, Qingyuan. Come now, greet the Marchioness.”

Though the Xie family came from generations of military men, they were also a scholarly household. The daughters were all well-taught and well-mannered. The four sisters stepped forward and offered their greetings.

The Countess of Kaiguo smiled and said, “No need for such formality. I’ve often heard that the daughters of the Grand Commissioner’s household are all beauties. Seeing them today, the reputation is well deserved.”

Since she had come with the intention of seeing the eldest girl, her gaze lingered on Qinghe. She gently took her hand, lightly stroking it, examining everything from her fingertips to the lines on her palm—subtly, but thoroughly.

“The eldest girl is seventeen this year, yes?” she asked, then turned to Old Madam Xie with a smile.
“Old Madam, we’ve come to this spring outing year after year, and yet we’ve never truly connected. I suppose fate simply hadn’t arrived until now.”

Old Madam Xie responded with practiced ease, “I wasn’t in the best health the past couple of years—arrived late, left early, and missed many things. But this year, all ailments are gone, and with such fine weather, thanks to the Marchioness of Ji’s hospitality, I brought my granddaughters out for a stroll. And look—we’ve finally met.”

As she spoke, she glanced around. “But where are your sons and daughters, Marchioness? I don’t see them.”

The Countess of Kaiguo gave a small laugh. “My children can’t sit still. All the young people have gathered outside to play cuju.”

Then she turned to her maid and instructed, “Go quickly and send word to the eldest young master. Ask him to come greet Old Madam Xie and the young ladies.”

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