In the third month of the year, it was customary to see hordes of people strolling about, reveling in the warmth of spring. However, by the time Gu Huaixiu, supported by her maid Qingdai, arrived at the teahouse, dusk had already settled. The once-bustling streets had emptied, and the teahouse stood quietly deserted.

“The master just disembarked from the carriage,” Qingdai mentioned as she wiped down the table and chairs, “He said he was going to visit an old friend. Miss, why don’t you rest for a moment? Let’s catch our breath before we continue.”

Gu Huaixiu felt as though her entire body might collapse under its weight. Even the single piece of jewelry in her hair—a delicate white jade hairpin carved in a crabapple blossom design—seemed like it could topple at any moment.

“You call this resting?” she muttered half to herself, adjusting the thin sleeves of her spring robe. With a flick of her wrist, she opened a fan painted with lyrical orchids and gave Qingdai a sidelong look. “We’re but six li away from Tongcheng, practically a stone’s throw. Go tell the driver to take his time. At this pace, it feels like my bones are about to splinter apart.”

As her gaze briefly touched upon the setting sun filtering through the bamboo blinds, Gu Huaixiu stifled a yawn behind her fan, her exhaustion evident.

Qingdai, ever the dutiful maid, quickly assessed the situation. Her master, Gu Zhenguan, had left the carriage near the base of Longmian Mountain, claiming he had an old acquaintance to visit. While Qingdai wasn’t privy to details, the calm and unfazed expression on her young lady’s face emboldened her to ask, “Miss, do you happen to know where the Master has gone?”

“Father has lived in seclusion for years. It has been quite some time since he left Wuxi, hasn’t it?” Gu Huaixiu replied, her tone light and unhurried. “These days, he’s confined himself to his books and the mountains. As for the friends he still has who are alive and breathing, you can count them on one hand.”

Gu Huaixiu knew her father all too well—Gu Zhenguan, a scholar by nature, had been born in the tenth year of the Chongzhen reign. He had entered officialdom and secured the favor of Emperor Kangxi during his early years. Yet, one by one, his friends had passed, leaving him melancholic and isolated. Saddened by the lack of worthy companions, he had ultimately resigned and retreated from the world.

In the six years since his retirement, few close friends remained by his side. The most prominent among them were Nalan Xingde and Wu Zhaoqian, both aging men. Apart from these select individuals, the only other notable relationship was with Zhang Ying, a man of high standing in the imperial court.

“The former Grand Duke, Tong Guogang, died in battle last year, and a mishap in the wording of his eulogy caused quite a stir. Zhang Ying—serving as the Minister of Rites and Chancellor of the Hanlin Academy at the time—took the blame. He ended up demoted and fell out of imperial favor,” Gu Huaixiu continued, swirling the tea in her cup idly without taking a sip.

“So, the Master is visiting Minister Zhang, then?” Qingdai’s face lit up with understanding. Despite his fall from grace, Zhang Ying still wielded considerable influence within scholarly circles and the academy. Considering that the Zhang family resided in Longmian Mountain, it made perfect sense for her master to seize this opportunity to call upon an old ally.

“Minister Zhang is certainly part of the reason,” Gu Huaixiu said languidly, her clear eyes glinting with a hint of sarcasm as she gazed into the ripples of her cup, “but I suspect he’s just as interested in seeing my elder sister.”

Qingdai’s expression turned sour, and she pursed her lips before cautiously proceeding with the topic. “As for the eldest lady’s circumstances—”

“Qingdai,” Gu Huaixiu interrupted sharply, motioning toward the driver and the house servants outside as a deliberate distraction. “Go call the others in for tea and let them rest for a few moments. We’ll continue shortly.”

Chastened, Qingdai quickly acquiesced and stepped outside to summon the household attendants. When she returned, Gu Huaixiu was close to nodding off, clearly fatigued.

“Miss, it’s humid and chilly here in Jiangnan,” Qingdai gently reminded her mistress, touching her arm to shake her awake. “You should be careful not to fall asleep.”

Lowering her voice conspiratorially, she continued, “I’ve heard that Minister Zhang has four sons, three of whom are still unmarried. Minister Zhang’s reputation is one of great scholarship; no doubt his sons must be equally outstanding. Your sister is certainly blessed to have such a match.”

Thwap.

Gu Huaixiu tapped Qingdai’s head lightly with her fan, smothering a yawn as she stretched. “Blessed, you say? Do you really believe in ‘tiger fathers, tiger sons’? Let me tell you—power and wealth rarely endure past three generations. Most fortunes are squandered by the second.”

Before arriving in this era, she had heard endless tales of wealthy families falling prey to such decline. How many sons of the rich and powerful could truly live up to their fathers’ legacies?

Marriage, in Gu Huaixiu’s eyes, was much like picking out food: quality mattered more than quantity, depth more than appearance. She fancied herself an experienced connoisseur of life and took pride in her peculiar insights. While she might not be personally involved with her elder sister’s matrimonial affairs, reflections on her own future would inevitably follow soon. After her sister’s wedding came her second brother’s turn, and then soon after—hers, the third daughter of the Gu family.

Given the scandalous reputation she had accumulated, what respectable suitor would want her?

Just the thought made her head ache. The plight of women who remained unmarried in these ancient times was nothing short of bleak.

“Miss, you shouldn’t joke like that,” Qingdai pouted. “I heard Minister Zhang’s eldest son did exceptionally well in the imperial exams and is already married. The remaining sons should be no less impressive, I’m sure. After the eldest lady’s marriage, your turn surely won’t be far behind.”

She giggled behind her hand, knowing full well how Gu Huaixiu recoiled at the mere mention of marriage.

“Well, well,” Gu Huaixiu sighed, rolling her eyes. “Didn’t I just tell you ‘each generation is worse than the last’? After Tang unified the land, King Zhou destroyed the Shang dynasty. After the First Emperor, Qin’s second ruler let it all collapse. No matter how great a figure Zhang Ying is, his sons can’t possibly compare. Even though Zhang Ying may have fallen from grace for now, his position could very well be restored.”

Qingdai found herself giggling along. “If what you’re saying is true, Miss, then indeed, the Zhang sons must be worthless!” Her voice lilting with amusement, she added, “I’d love to see the sort of husband you end up with!”

Laughing at her mistress’s teasing tone, she was well aware that Gu Huaixiu loved to playfully poke fun at such matters.

Gu Huaixiu simply shook her head, tapping her fan on the wooden table again. “Why bother with one of those sons? Might as well aim high—why not marry Zhang Ying himself?”

Qingdai stood dumbstruck, utterly flabbergasted at the audacity of her mistress’s banter.

Seeing her maid so thoroughly stunned, Gu Huaixiu couldn’t hold back her laughter any longer. “Qingdai, you’re far too easy to fool!”

It took a few moments for Qingdai to recover, her cheeks flushing. “Miss, you’ve teased me once again!”

The teahouse filled with the sound of carefree laughter. Completely oblivious to them, however, were the Zhang brothers who stood awkwardly just outside. Having inadvertently overheard the conversation between mistress and maid, the two brothers were lost for words—especially given the content of what they had just heard.

Zhang Tingyu, the elder of the two, maintained a dignified composure, yet his mood had soured considerably. Clad in a simple azure satin robe, he emanated a striking sense of nobility and integrity. Though the evening breeze softly lifted the hem of his robe, his upright stance was unyielding.

Tongcheng’s springtime scenery was breathtaking, yet Zhang Tingyu found himself unable to enjoy its beauty, thanks to a certain troublesome woman. Rumor had long circulated about the wild temperament of Gu Huaixiu, also known as “Third Lady Gu,” but today, his impression of her had turned from hearsay to undeniable reality.

The Gu family had two daughters, each distinguished in her own way.

The elder, Gu Yaofang, was cultured, demure, and graceful—a true model of gentility. Unfortunately, poor health had plagued her for many years; only recently had she begun to recover, following much diligent treatment. Years ago, a Taoist priest had once predicted she mustn’t marry before the age of twenty, or she would invite misfortune. Thus, she teetered on the edge of spinsterhood, with her marriage prospects emerging only after passing the age of twenty.

By contrast, the third daughter, Gu Huaixiu, made waves for all the wrong reasons. At seventeen, not only had she shown no interest in marriage, but her father doted on her so heavily that extending her single years seemed of little concern. Besides, Gu Huaixiu herself appeared quite content with a life of idle luxury, indulging in pleasures like a cat basking in sunlight. Responsibilities and the serious concerns of life were the furthest thing from her mind.

In matters of recreation, Gu Huaixiu excelled beyond even the sons of influential families, earning whispers of notoriety. People referred to her mockingly as “Gu San.” Lacking the scholarly or literary zeal her father craved, she would often brush off his critiques with phrases like, “A woman’s virtue lies in her absence of talent.” Ironically, it wasn’t her father who took such words most personally—it was her elder sister, Gu Yaofang, known for her scholarly accomplishments both in Wuxi and the capital. Yet, even Yaofang, for all her talent, couldn’t compete with the beauty of her younger sister.

The Gu family, then, was often spoken of as having two daughters: one celebrated for her knowledge and grace, the other a striking beauty but a perceived simpleton—an “embroidered pillow,” they would say.

Gu Yaofang lacked exceptional beauty, but her accomplishments made her shine. Gu Huaixiu, on the other hand, relied solely on her striking appearance, with little else to recommend her.

Thus, though Zhang Tingyu hadn’t yet laid eyes on this so-called beauty, his first impression was already irrevocably tarnished.

Beside him, his younger brother Zhang Tinglu struggled to suppress his mirth, his eyes shining with ill-concealed delight at his elder brother’s misfortune. The corners of his mouth twitched, threatening to betray his amusement at the other’s predicament.

The twenty-year-old Gu Yaofang was of prime matrimonial age, and the purpose of this visit was to discuss her potential engagement to Zhang Tingyu. Gu Zhenguan had earlier departed to reconnect with Zhang Ying, but as night fell, Zhang Ying had grown concerned for Gu Huaixiu and so had dispatched his two sons to escort her safely into town. What they hadn’t anticipated was overhearing a conversation where Gu Huaixiu casually insulted their lineage by suggesting a preference for their father over his sons!

With his lips pressed tightly together, Zhang Tingyu visibly restrained himself, forcing his emotions back in check. After a brief pause to collect his thoughts, he pushed aside the bamboo blinds at the teahouse’s entrance and stepped forward, hands clasped together in a polite greeting.

His voice clear, dignified, and tinged with the formality of their social station, he called out, “Might I ask if the lady seated inside is Third Lady Gu? My father, Zhang Ying, is currently in conversation with your esteemed father. My brother and I have come to escort you safely to the city.”

The laughter inside the teahouse ceased abruptly, as though a switch had been flicked.

A heavy, uncomfortable silence descended, filling the air around them.

Inside, Gu Huaixiu’s eyelid twitched involuntarily. Slowly, she turned toward the bamboo blinds, her eyes narrowing at the silhouettes that stood outside. She shot a sideways glare at Qingdai, animatedly mouthing her next words: “Why didn’t you tell me someone was outside?”

Qingdai’s face flushed with guilt, clearly mortified. Caught up in her lady’s antics, she had been none the wiser.

There was no mistaking who their visitors were. They had introduced themselves, after all.

Gu Huaixiu could only hope that her earlier—rather scandalous—comments hadn’t been overheard. If they had, she was in for no small measure of embarrassment.

Controlling her rising anxiety, she cleared her throat quietly and rose from her seat, her fan fluttering in one hand as she gracefully obscured the lower half of her face. Mimicking the elegant habits of her eldest sister, Gu Yaofang, she spoke with a mild and genteel tone.

“Uncle Zhang is indeed most considerate. I thank you both for your trouble.”

Qingdai, standing beside her, shivered involuntarily, rubbing her arms against the goosebumps that had popped up in reaction to her lady’s uncharacteristic facade.

Noticing Qingdai’s distress, Gu Huaixiu shot her a sharp side-eye.