The study door was still open a crack.
As Biyu passed outside, she glanced in through the gap out of the corner of her eye.
Gu Moran stood behind the door, and their eyes met through the crack.
Biyu's steps faltered for half a beat.
She saw the two cups on the table.
She saw that he had changed clothes.
She saw a plain silver hairpin lying on the floor behind the chair.
Shen Ling'er's hairpin.
Biyu looked away and carried the bowl of tea off.
She walked a couple of steps faster than she had on the way there.
When Biyu entered the Clear Frost Courtyard, Su Yao was sitting by the window practicing calligraphy.
Her brush was dipped in ink, its tip hovering two inches above the paper without coming down.
"Biyu, how long were you gone?"
"Exactly a quarter of an hour."
"A quarter of an hour to fetch a bowl of morning tea? Which route did you take?"
Biyu set the bowl on the corner of the table, her fingers lingering on its rim for a breath.
"I passed by the study."
Su Yao's brush did not move.
"What did you see?"
Biyu's lips moved.
"Miss, Madam Shen stayed the night with His Highness."
The brush landed on the paper, and the ink spread into a round spot the size of a bean.
Su Yao looked at the spot and set the brush back on its stand.
"I see."
"Miss."
"Close the door."
Biyu withdrew, and the door shut from inside without a sound.
Su Yao sat at the table.
She picked up her brush again, dipped it in ink, and began to write.
Stroke by stroke, her horizontals were level and her verticals straight.
She was writing a passage from the Book of Rites.
On the third line, her brushstroke went a fraction crooked.
She stopped, crumpled the paper, and threw it away.
She laid out a fresh sheet and started again.
On the fifth line, it went crooked again.
She crumpled it and threw it away.
When she laid out the third sheet, she gripped the brush so hard that its tip punched a hole in the paper.
She looked at the hole and put the brush down.
Outside the window, the branches of a white plum tree swayed in the wind.
She walked to the window and pushed it open, letting the cold wind pour in.
A few tiny buds had formed on the white plum branches. They were not flowers, but leaf buds.
She watched them for a while, then closed the window.
She turned and went back to the table.
She picked up her brush again.
This time she did not write from the Book of Rites. Biyu did not know what she wrote, but by the sixth sheet, the bristles of the first brush had split.
She switched to a second brush, and by the eighth sheet, its bristles had split too.
The third brush's bristles came completely apart on the tenth sheet.
All three brushes had been worn bald.
Within half a day, the news had spread through all six courtyards.
Even if no one had seen the two pieces of evidence, Shen Ling'er's outer robe and hairpin, with their own eyes, a look from Biyu reached Zitang, a word slipped from Zitang to Cui'er, Batuer saw Cui'er's expression, and Batuer went back and told Murong Xue.
Azure Wolf Courtyard.
Murong Xue squatted in the middle of the courtyard, sharpening her saber.
Batuer stood beside her, setting up the wooden stakes she had freshly chopped the day before, one by one.
"Princess, they're all set up."
Murong Xue stood, picked up her saber, and walked to the first stake.
One chop, and the stake split down the middle.
She walked to the second.
One chop, and it split.
The third.
One chop, and it split.
The fourth.
This chop went crooked. The stake did not break, but a slanting gash appeared in it.
She looked at the gash and gave it another chop.
It broke.
The fifth.
She stood in front of it and raised her saber, but did not bring it down.
Batuer watched her.
"Princess?"
"That Central Plains wastrel."
"Hmm?"
"What does it have to do with me who he consummates his marriage with first?"
Batuer did not answer.
Murong Xue brought her saber down, and the fifth stake shattered into three pieces.
She put her saber away, turned, and went back inside.
When she reached the door, she looked back at the splintered stakes covering the ground.
"Chop ten more and bring them back tomorrow."
Batuer squatted down to clear away the broken wood, muttering under her breath.
"At this rate, there won't be enough trees on the back mountain."
Iron Plum Courtyard.
Zitang carried a basin of hot water into the room and saw Lin Qingdai sitting in front of the weapons rack.
She was wiping her blades.
She cleaned them one by one, from hilt to blade, from spine to edge.
Every one shone.
When she reached the seventh, Zitang heard a sharp crack.
The scabbard had split.
Lin Qingdai gripped the cracked scabbard tightly.
"Miss, the scabbard's broken. Let's get another."
"No."
"Then wrap a layer of cloth around it. Don't cut your hand."
"It won't cut me."
Lin Qingdai threw the cracked scabbard on the floor and drew the longsword from it.
She tightened her grip between thumb and forefinger, loosening her index finger a little.
Her wrist turned in an arc, and the sword tip traced a streak of light through the air.
Steady.
"Miss, please don't be angry. His Highness, he-"
"Who says I'm angry?"
"Then why are you...?"
"I'm practicing swordsmanship."
Zitang set the hot water on the table and retreated to the doorway.
"Who he consummates his marriage with is his business. It's none of mine."
She slashed again.
"I can't be bothered to care."
Another slash.
"I don't give a damn."
On the third slash, the wooden practice board in front of her split in two.
Zitang huddled in the doorway, not daring to breathe too loudly.
Lin Qingdai put her sword away, panting, sweat beading on her forehead.
"Zitang."
"Here, here, I'm here!"
"Go find out exactly how he and Shen Ling'er hooked up."
"Miss, they are married, after all. It's only natural for them to consummate the marriage. Besides, didn't you say you couldn't be bothered to care?"
"I can't be bothered to care! But I have to know!"
Misty Waters Courtyard.
Liu Ruyan sat at the table.
The brush, ink, paper, and inkstone Gu Moran had given her were laid out on it. The Huizhou ink made from ten-year-old pine soot had already been ground, and a sheet of semi-sized jade-plate xuan paper lay spread before her.
She picked up her brush and wrote two lines.
Her strokes were neat, with not one out of place.
When she had finished, she looked them over, rolled up the paper, and put it in the drawer at the corner of the table.
No one saw what she had written.
She stood and walked to the window.
The sky outside was very blue.
Tranquil Ink Courtyard.
Xie Wanqing had made six portions of pastries.
The mung bean cakes were cut into squares of equal size and arranged neatly on plates.
She carried the six plates out of the Tranquil Ink Courtyard, delivering them to each courtyard in turn.
At the Clear Frost Courtyard, Biyu answered the door and said her miss was writing and could not conveniently be disturbed, so Xie Wanqing handed her the plate and left.
At the Azure Wolf Courtyard, Batuer answered the door and said the princess was chopping things and could not conveniently be disturbed, so Xie Wanqing handed her the plate and left.
At the Iron Plum Courtyard, Zitang answered the door and said her miss was practicing swordsmanship and could not conveniently be disturbed, so Xie Wanqing handed her the plate and left.
At the Misty Waters Courtyard, no one answered, so she left the plate on the doorstep.
She came to the entrance of the Green Vine Courtyard.
She paused for two seconds.
Then she bent down, set the plate on the threshold, and turned to leave.
She did not knock.
After three steps, she looked back.
The plate rested on the threshold, the mung bean cakes glistening faintly with oil in the sunlight.
She turned her head and returned to the Tranquil Ink Courtyard.
In the Green Vine Courtyard.
Shen Ling'er stayed wrapped in her quilt all day without coming out.
When Cui'er brought in a meal, she saw the quilt bunched into a mound and heard a muffled voice from inside.
"Madam, please eat something."
"I'm not eating."
"Then how about some water?"
"I'm not drinking."
"There's a plate of mung bean cakes at the door. Madam Xie brought them."
The quilt moved.
"Sister Xie brought them?"
"Mm, she left them on the threshold."
Shen Ling'er stretched a hand out from under the quilt.
"Bring them in."
Cui'er carried the plate inside. Shen Ling'er sat up under the covers and, her hair in disarray, picked up a piece of mung bean cake and took a bite.
"Cui'er."
"Yes?"
"How did everyone outside react?"
"...Madam Su spent the whole morning practicing calligraphy. I heard she wore out three brushes. Princess Murong chopped all her new wooden stakes to pieces. Miss Lin cracked her scabbard in her grip. Everything was normal with Madam Liu. Madam Xie brought everyone pastries."
Shen Ling'er gnawed on the mung bean cake, a complicated expression on her face.
"Did I cause trouble?"
Cui'er opened her mouth but didn't dare answer.
"Cui'er, tell me the truth."
"Madam, you took His Highness's first night. The others... surely can't feel good about it."
Shen Ling'er stuffed the remaining half of the mung bean cake into her mouth, chewed it, and retreated under the covers again.
"I didn't mean to. My foot slipped."
"Madam, can a slip last all night?"
"Cui'er, shut up!"
In the study.
Gu Moran faced the system panel, sweat soaking through the back of his undershirt.
[Shen Ling'er affection: +50 (↑2)] [Su Yao affection: -65 (↓5)] [Lin Qingdai affection: -64 (↓2)] [Murong Xue affection: -23 (↓2)] [Liu Ruyan affection: -13 (no change)] [Xie Wanqing affection: +7 (no change)]
Three people's affection had dropped.
The progress he had worked so hard to build up had been gnawed away by his "consummating the marriage with someone else first."
He rubbed his temples.
"I can't keep the water level in every bowl."
Footsteps sounded at the door. Uncle Fu stood outside.
"Your Highness, there's an invitation."
"Who sent it?"
"The Hanlin Academy."
Uncle Fu passed the invitation inside, and Gu Moran unfolded it and read it through.
The invitation was written in beautiful handwriting on the Hanlin Academy's red stationery. It said that the capital's literary circles were holding a grand poetry gathering in three days and invited the Third Prince to attend as an honored guest, and so on.
There was a pile of pleasantries, but only one matter of substance.