“Curious?”
Everyone except Li Yuyan laughed. “Your experience would indeed make anyone curious—mainly because it’s such a rare sight.”
Though they said so, inwardly they could guess part of the truth. They all knew of the Tao family’s lingering designs on the Second Prince, so the Second Prince’s Consort was likely asking more about Tao Yiran than about Xin An.
Xin An lifted a cup of tea and took a delicate sip. “I was prepared before coming here, so I’m not surprised. Still, the Second Prince’s Consort is truly beautiful—not just in looks, but with a certain air about her. She’s very compelling.”
Li Yuyan said, “She was born to a military family, raised at the frontier, and is said to have once led troops into battle against the enemy. She’s a woman whose courage does not yield to men.”
Her perception was keener than most in the pavilion; she felt Xin An had not spoken the whole truth. The Second Prince’s Consort must have raised other matters—perhaps even had designs on drawing the Xin family into her faction.
In the capital, there were few wealthy merchant clans without a political patron. The lucrative posts at court were already firmly controlled by a few factions. The Xin family would be an excellent choice—and as for the Tang family behind them, they were beneath the Second Prince’s notice.
In an instant, Li Yuyan concluded that Xin An was more valuable than she had imagined, and her manner toward her grew subtly warmer.
As they were speaking, Lin Yao returned from her stroll. “A number of young ladies are gathered in Qianbi Garden, talking. They’ve begun playing the qin, composing poetry, and painting. Shall we go and watch the excitement?”
“What are we waiting for?”
Yan Wenhui smiled. “It’s been some time since I’ve seen such a scene. Who knows—perhaps today some young lady will play a truly exceptional piece.”
For many, the Water and Blossoms Banquet doubled as a marriage market. Eligible young men and women hoped to showcase their talents, to draw attention and increase their prospects. Though these ladies were all married and need not compete, watching as spectators was still enjoyable.
Qianbi Garden was lush and verdant, its rare blooms and exotic plants so abundant they seemed commonplace. Fat tabby cats and plump white rabbits darted among the greenery, adding charm. The rockeries, pavilions, bridges, and streams were arranged with exquisite artistry; every step offered something worth pausing to admire.
To Xin An’s eye, this was wealth piled as high as mountains of gold and silver—prosperity so rich that even the breeze carried the scent of money. Many nouveau riche merchants might spend extravagantly in brothels and teahouses, boasting over a bowl of rare tea, but compared to the Duke of En’s opulence, such displays were not only vulgar but paltry.
“Well, what do you think? This Qianbi Garden is the most magnificent in the capital.”
Yan Wenhui gently stroked the blossom beside her. “This pot of ‘Thousand-Butterfly’ orchids costs a hundred taels. I wanted to buy one for my courtyard last month, but thought it too dear. Here, I’d say there are no fewer than fifty pots, each in a different form and hue. The Duke of En’s household is truly wealthy.”
“Orchids are delicate and hard to keep alive. To raise them so well takes great care—and they have never been cheap.”
Xin An smiled. “Clearly, the Duke’s residence is adorned like a tapestry of flowers—enough to make anyone envious.”
“I heard that there are eighteen different teas being served today. I’ve already tried two—why don’t we go taste another and, at the same time—”
The sound of the qin drifted through the air. Xin An smiled. “—and listen to the music.”
In noble households, a young lady’s qin skill was always taught by a master; such performances could not be heard outside. In the largest pavilion of Qianbi Garden, Qiu Wenyuan waved to them. “I’ve had this pavilion to myself for a while now—if you don’t come, I won’t be able to keep it!”
Lin Yao laughed. “Everyone’s gone to the rockery to listen to music or paint. Who’s going to chase you out?”
“Come, sit down—the tea is ready.”
They settled in, this spot giving them a clear view of the viewing platform on the rockery, where a young woman in green was playing the qin, a man behind her accompanying on the flute. Though their faces could not be clearly seen, their paired talents and appearances were pleasing to the eye.
At the base of the rockery, by a flowing stream, tables were set for painting. Men and women alike worked at their scrolls. Xin An remarked, “This scene here is even better than the flowers—if someone were to capture it on paper, it would be a lively painting indeed.”
“Xin, why don’t you try?”
Xin An quickly waved her hands. “Oh, no—this is my first time at the Water and Blossoms Banquet, I mustn’t disgrace myself.”
Lin Yao teased, “Didn’t you learn a bit of painting back in Huai Jiang?”
Xin An smiled sheepishly. “I learned everything at some point. For a time, my mother even wanted to cultivate me into a ‘talented lady.’ Later she realised I simply wasn’t cut out for it and gave up. But I did study seriously—it’s just that even when the strings broke, I still hadn’t mastered the qin.”
She was not lying. Some things depended on talent—she took to bookkeeping instantly, was decent at needlework, but the refined arts of music and painting were never her strengths. Even so, her teacher said her paintings had spirit and life, if not polish—which was how she managed to capture that vivid portrait of Tang Mo drunk and wailing.
Qiu Wenyuan grinned. “So I’m not the only one! I told you—these things are hard to master; how could everyone be good at them?”
Yan Wenhui teased, “You’ve just found an excuse for your laziness.”
“Of course,” Qiu Wenyuan said earnestly. “These things are just to pass the time in the boudoir. Have you ever seen anyone keep at them after marriage? If you can read the accounts and balance the books, isn’t that enough?”
The music ceased and applause rang out. The qin player rose, and the painters set down their brushes; many gathered around, eager to see whose work was best.
Qiu Wenyuan muttered that being married was no good—it meant she couldn’t join in such fun.
Xin An’s gaze swept the area and spotted several people not far from the rockery. At their head was Tao Yiran, speaking to a small group.
Han Wan’er nudged Xin An. “Remember those women with Tao Yiran—they’re her sycophants, and none of them are good news. If you see them alone, avoid them.”
Xin An tilted her head, smiling. “Eldest Sister-in-law rarely leaves her quarters—sometimes I don’t see her for days. Even if I wanted to offend her, I’d hardly have the chance. They shouldn’t have reason to trouble me.”
“Days without seeing her?”
Everyone in the pavilion was curious. “Doesn’t she have to pay her morning and evening respects?”
Xin An shook her head. “Her health is poor. Grandmother and Mother-in-law have told her to rest and recover, exempting her from greetings.”
Their expressions varied. For a newlywed to be excused from morning and evening salutations meant only two possibilities: either her rank was so exalted that her mother-in-law could not bear her courtesy, or her mother-in-law disdained her so much she did not want her in sight. For Tao Yiran, it was clearly the latter.
“She has always been delicate.”
Lin Yao’s tone was laced with mockery. “I remember once at a banquet, she fainted in front of everyone, and quite a few young men rushed to help her. Today she’s the very picture of a frail willow in the wind—seems her constitution has grown even weaker since marriage.”
Qiu Wenyuan laughed. “No wonder the heir never left the bridal chamber—perhaps she fainted on the spot.”
The sharp tongues of these women were something Xin An had known well in her past life. The difference this time was that their barbs were aimed at someone else. It was… a novel feeling.
Oh so Tao Yiran does have friends. I was wondering.