I sat awake until dawn. Then I put the box away, washed and dressed, and went to find Madam Qin at Weirui Pavilion. I was too early; she was still in bed.
Nanny Liu brought out a small stool for me and said, smiling, "Madam was up past midnight reading one of those popular storybooks. She's sleeping in. Just wait a little, won't you?"
I smiled. "I had no idea Madam liked storybooks."
"Ah, life inside the inner compound gets dull," the nanny said. "We old women can only talk about household matters—there's no one the madam can really talk to. Besides you and the young miss, nothing brings a real smile to her face."
While we were speaking in low voices, Madam stirred. Nanny Liu brought me inside. Madam sat up on the carved bed, eyes still soft with sleep, a storybook still lying open on the pillow beside her.
I went forward, helped her up, and bent to straighten the bedding. "If the moon stays up, so do I," I said lightly. "If the sun won't rise, neither will I."
The serving women in the room broke into laughter. Madam had been sitting at the bronze mirror having her hair combed; she turned and gave me a mock glare.
I made a contrite face, said no more, and tidied the cushions properly. Then I went to her side to choose her hair ornaments. After a moment's thought I held up an elegant jade pin carved in the shape of flowers. "I think only the jade would hold its own against the gold-thread ma mian skirt you're wearing today," I said.
Madam smiled. She took the pin and pressed it here and there against her hair, then slid it in. "It does suit, doesn't it. From now on, Yingzhuang selects all my ornaments."
She took my hand afterward and patted it. "Young Miss Wan Yan is coming to pay her respects shortly. Talk to her for a while. My children both inherited their father's stubbornness. Give Wan Yan an opening and she'll take it. She just needs someone to make the first move."
She meant well; I knew it. And I truly wanted to be on good terms with the young miss again. I nodded.
Madam relaxed when she saw that. She laughed and sent the maids off to prepare the young miss's favourite foods. The room cleared, leaving just the two of us. I helped Madam wash and then brought her to the couch—and Miss Wan Yan arrived almost at the same moment, unhurried, just in time. She greeted her mother and settled at her side and said softly, "Mother."
Serving women brought in several small plates of pastries and a bowl of bird's nest congee for Madam's breakfast. Madam took a spoonful, then asked pleasantly, "Zhang-mama tells me you've been going out often lately. Where have you been?"
"A good friend is having a Spring Betrothal Banquet in her family's honour," Miss Wan Yan said. "She asked me to help her make decisions—and to invite my brother."
Madam smiled. "And did Chener agree?"
Miss Wan Yan shook her head. She sounded faintly resigned. "Mother, you know how he is. He's never given a second thought to any woman. He would certainly never go to a banquet where matches are being made."
Madam looked down. "That's not entirely true. Your brother did attend such a banquet once."
I had been standing to one side of Madam with my head bowed. At those words, I looked up before I thought to stop myself.
Madam noticed. She glanced at me, then looked ahead and began to speak, unhurried. "He was sixteen. He came home and told me there was a girl he wanted to marry. I didn't believe it at first—I thought it was a passing fancy. But he actually went to the banquet."
Miss Wan Yan made a little sound of surprise. "I never heard about any of this. What happened?"
Madam let out a soft sigh. "The girl didn't choose your brother. She made a match with a young man who played the qin. After that, your brother never touched the instrument again."
I kept my eyes down. I thought of the evening the Prince had played—that clear, cold music falling from his fingers. When he finished, there had been something sad in his face, though he had smiled and asked me if I liked it. I had thought nothing of it then. I had not known the story that went with it.
Miss Wan Yan's brows drew together slightly. "Which family's daughter was she? Do I know her?"
The words had barely left her mouth when a serving woman stepped forward, expression carefully contained. "Madam, there is a matchmaker in the front hall. She has requested your presence."
Madam and Miss Wan Yan exchanged a glance. "Whose family sent her?" Madam asked.
The woman hesitated. "The household of Minister Song."
Miss Wan Yan froze. Madam turned and looked at me, searching. I looked back, just as lost. I shook my head slightly.
Madam pulled herself up, smoothed her sleeve, and said quietly, "Let's go. We'll all go and have a look."
Madam and Miss Wan Yan walked ahead. I followed. A hard knot formed in my stomach. As we reached the entrance to the hall, my right eye twitched, hard.
The matchmaker rose when she saw Madam, beaming. "A wife needs a matchmaker's word—that's how it's always been! I come on behalf of another, with a fine proposal between two well-suited families."
Madam inclined her head. "And who sends you?"
"Minister Song, the father. Making a match for the young master. Madam surely knows him—Deputy Minister of Justice, barely grown and already risen so high, and handsome besides. Quite the most celebrated young man in the capital."
"I know of Deputy Minister Song," Madam said. "But I'm uncertain who you've come to match him with."
The matchmaker blinked. She laughed. "What a thing to ask, Madam! You have only one daughter under this roof. Who could she possibly be here for besides Miss Qin?"
The hall went silent.
Madam's teacup paused on the way to her lips. Miss Wan Yan looked at me—fast, involuntary, as though she couldn't help it. I stood there and did not move. My mind went entirely blank. Struck by lightning was the only phrase that fit.
The matchmaker carried on, undisturbed. "Miss Qin is well regarded throughout the capital—accomplished, beautiful, gracious. What a perfect match for the Deputy Minister! Truly made for each other!"