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The group sat down and began chattering about the essay.

Shen Lantang was heading upstairs with a book when she caught sight of them. Zheng Qingyu no longer looked stiff and distant, as he had when speaking to her—or, for that matter, every time she had seen him before. His eyes shone, a young man's pride glimmered beneath his expression, and he had blended right in with the others.

"Miss." Shen Lantang stood watching in a daze for a moment before Lan Xin spoke behind her. "There are so many people upstairs today. Are we still going up?"

"Forget it. It's getting late. Let's look around a little longer, then go home."

"All right."

Shen Lantang and Lan Xin left the bookshop with their newly borrowed books. It was already late afternoon. Unlike summer afternoons, an autumn afternoon carried the bleak loneliness of approaching dusk. Shen Lantang no longer felt like browsing. She decided to stop by her favorite pastry shop for a few treats, then head home.

The pastry shop stood on Zhaojing's busiest main street, lined on both sides with a dazzling array of storefronts. Before Shen Lantang reached it, she heard two voices arguing next door:

"What gives you the right to say mine is fake? I could say yours is fake!" The voice was as shrill and spoiled as ever.

The other woman sounded even more overbearing. "What a joke. I'm a daughter of the Liu Family. How could the jewelry I wear be fake? You're some country bumpkin from who knows where who bought a counterfeit, and you still dare make a scene? Do you think Zhaojing is some backwater?"

"You!" Zheng Wanru had gone with her father to the provinces when she was young, and nothing infuriated her more than being called a "country