Her mother instructed her that the matter would end here. Even if she encountered that girl at tomorrow’s Cold Flower Banquet, she was only to act as if she knew nothing and did not recognize her.

Ziran nodded and stayed briefly in Sheyuan Garden before returning.

That day it was raining, and the temperature was colder than the previous few days. The walk back through the courtyard felt damp and chilling. By the time she returned to her small courtyard, the hem of her skirt was already wet.

The maidservants hurried to help her change clothes and lit a warming incense brazier to dry her garments. While waiting, she sat in her inner clothing beside the brazier, carving a bamboo fan.

This was a common pastime for young ladies in the inner chambers. Each fan blade had to be carefully carved through, creating delicate hollow patterns. Even though the floral design was pre-drawn, carving along the curved lines required great precision. One careless slip of the blade would ruin the entire piece.

She bent her head in concentration, pressing the bamboo strip against the small table, just about to begin carving, when Zixin poked her head in from outside.

“Fifth Sister, did you go out to play without me?”

Zixin was the daughter of Ye Xiaoniang and had been raised well. She was very close to Ziran and often followed her like a little shadow. Among the second branch of the family, aside from the eldest sister Ziguan, Fifth Miss Ziran, and Sixth Miss Zixin, there was also Fourth Miss Zijun, born to Concubine Cui. But the eldest was busy studying, and the fourth preferred spending time with her own circle of friends outside the house, so usually it was only Ziran and Zixin together.

“I didn’t go out,” Ziran said. “It’s raining, and it’s freezing outside—what’s there to enjoy?”

She lifted the bamboo pieces in her hand. “I’m carving a fan. I’ve already finished eight pieces—once I finish four more, I can assemble it.”

Zixin leaned against her, resting her chin on Ziran’s shoulder to look, slightly disappointed.

“I ruined mine,” she said. “I almost cut my hand. My mother said there’s no need to go through all that trouble—just buy a finished one outside. I thought about it and felt she had a point.”

Ye Xiaoniang and her daughter had always been like this—practical, straightforward, never forcing themselves. Just like Ye Xiaoniang herself: though she had once admired the Grand Tutor in her youth, after entering the household she quietly turned her heart toward the master of the house and let go of old dreams.

As usual, Zixin had a purpose for coming.

She nudged Ziran. “Fifth Sister, I want to eat Pan Tower’s spicy soup and crispy fish. Send someone to order it—have it delivered by noon, let’s eat that.”

Ziran agreed and had Bozhu bring the money box. She weighed out a small piece of silver and sent someone to make the purchase.

Life in the inner chambers was like this—future household management skills were learned through small games like these: keeping accounts, weighing silver, gradually becoming familiar with their mothers’ household ledgers, and eventually, the full estate accounts under their grandmother’s supervision.

With lunch settled, Ziran returned to her bamboo carving.

Zixin suddenly asked, “Fifth Sister, have you received any strange letters these days?”

Only Zixin knew about the letters.

It had started with the two of them once doing paper-cutting together when the first letter arrived. They had been stunned by the line: “In spring, eat shepherd’s purse for nourishment.”

“Who sent it?” Zixin had asked. “No name, no signature—was it delivered wrongly?”

Ziran had examined the envelope carefully, but there was no hidden clue.

At first, such inexplicable notes could have been discarded. But the handwriting was too elegant to throw away, so she casually kept them between book pages.

Unexpectedly, it did not stop there. More letters arrived—some short, some long, some only a few words, others twenty or thirty characters. Her curiosity grew, but she could never trace their origin. Eventually, it became just another quiet part of her daily life.

“I received another one yesterday,” Ziran said.

She stood and opened a drawer. Inside a small letter case, she took out the neatly stored notes and counted them—there were already seven.

At first, the envelopes were empty. Later, they were addressed “To Miss Tan Five,” making it impossible to believe they were sent by mistake.

She unfolded them again and reread them, but found nothing revealing—only gentle, scattered greetings.

Zixin leaned by the brazier reading them and smiled.

“These letters feel so warm. It’s comforting just reading them. Fifth Sister, do you think the writer is a man or a woman?”

Ziran shook her head. “The first was written on Xue Tao paper, the rest on Chengxin Hall paper. The brushwork is elegant and refined, with an official-style tone. I can’t tell whether it’s a man or a woman.”

That kind of thinking was too tiring for Zixin.

She quickly gave up. “Forget it. It’s just harmless words. Let’s treat it like letters from a distant friend.”

Ziran packed the letters away. Somehow, collecting these fragments had become a habit. As Zixin said—it didn’t matter.

Outside, maidservants brought in pastries. The sisters sat by the window eating as rain continued to fall outside, the brazier warming the room. It felt like they were holding onto the last traces of winter.

Ziran liked winter—the snow, the plum blossoms, even the paper lantern rooms with incense burning. Each season had its charm, but the passing of time always carried a faint sense of nostalgia.

Zixin soon brought up the upcoming clan examination banquet.

It was an annual assessment for Tan family children—not of embroidery or domestic skills, but of their understanding of the Four Books and Five Classics.

Zixin groaned. If you asked her which restaurant in the capital served the best dishes, she could list ten. But if you asked about classical texts, it was as if you were asking for her life.

“I’m not even taking the imperial exams. Why do I still have to explain moral principles? This is torture. I’ll just pretend to be sick that day.”

Ziran calmly poured tea. “You did that last year. Will it work again?”

Zixin replied confidently, “As long as Father doesn’t scold me, I don’t care what the elders think.”

Then she changed the topic, gossiping excitedly about the East Residence family dispute involving marriage exchanges, and soon the conversation was forgotten as food arrived.

The next day was the Cold Flower Banquet.

Early in the morning, all seven Tan sisters set out in carriages. Since it was a royal residence banquet, they had to be led by the grandmother, the Duchess of the household.

The banquet was held at Prince Yi’s residence, a highly prestigious imperial uncle’s estate. The moment the carriages arrived, attendants from the Princess’s side were already waiting to receive them.

Inside, the grounds were vast, with a polo field surrounded by peach blossoms. Guests were already mostly present.

As the Tan family arrived, greetings filled the air.

Ziran looked around—but still did not see Miss Tian.

Then, unexpectedly, Princess Yi herself arrived with a young woman.

It was her.

The moment she appeared, the atmosphere changed. Whispering began among the guests.

The reason was simple: although this was a spring banquet, this Cold Flower Banquet was different.

It was held in memory of a favored concubine named Han Hua, who had once been deeply loved by Prince Yi and the princess, and had even saved the current Empress’s life. She was the only concubine ever officially allowed to participate in these banquets, which she herself had once organized. After her death, she was posthumously honored, and thus everyone wore plain, muted colors in remembrance.

But Miss Tian was wearing a dark sandalwood-colored dress.

Though not bright, it stood out starkly against the sea of pale, subdued clothing.

Ziran sighed inwardly. As expected, fate is shaped by character.

If only this Miss Tian had waited a little longer, she would have realized her difference from the Tan sisters and withdrawn gracefully. Instead, she had ended up in this awkward position.

Princess Yi, clearly suppressing her displeasure, introduced her:

“This young lady says she was recommended by Madam Zhu of the Tan family and came to attend the banquet.”

The Tan family girls all looked at her in confusion.

Sixth Miss asked bluntly, “Who is she? Do any of you know her?”

They all shook their heads.

“No.”

The grandmother smiled faintly. “Ah, I recall now. There is a girl in the capital said to resemble my second granddaughter. That must be her.”

At this point, everyone understood.

Miss Tian’s face turned pale. She tried to explain that Madam Zhu had invited her, recognized her as a foster daughter, and even gifted her clothes and jewelry.

The grandmother only responded calmly, “I was not informed of this. I will ask Madam Zhu later.”

Princess Yi, however, was not so polite. She immediately ordered attendants to escort Miss Tian back home, insisting she be safely delivered to the household matron.

Humiliated beyond endurance, Miss Tian left in tears.

After she was gone, the grandmother sighed.

“Birth is fate. One’s family background is heaven’s decree and cannot be changed. Ambition is not wrong, but it must be directed properly.”

She added calmly, “With this incident, no one will compare her to your second sister anymore. That alone is a blessing for our family.”