Miss Tian’s appearance was like a fallen leaf drifting briefly on a flowing river—carried by wind and water, it soon vanished without a trace.

Before the banquet began, the noblewomen mentioned her in casual conversation.

“She’s the daughter of a seventh-rank official. I hear she’s attended nearly every grand banquet in Bianjing. Her aunt must have gone to great lengths to promote her.”

The Duchess of Xu leaned slightly to one side, allowing a maid to arrange her dishes, and said,
“Showing courtesy to the worthy is admirable, but rules should not be cast aside. It is proper to visit families one is acquainted with during such spring banquets, but barging uninvited into households with no prior connection—being overly eager like that is hardly appropriate. Ladies, when hosting gatherings in your own homes, do be careful to screen your guests. After all, household safety is paramount. If just anyone can enter and something goes wrong, regret will come too late.”

Someone chimed in,
“Spring banquets aren’t limited to female guests—men come and go as well. If someone harbors ulterior motives, even if they don’t target your own sons, causing trouble with another family’s young master in your home would still be disgraceful.”

The remark was rather harsh, placing too much emphasis on social hierarchy. The old matriarch, being fair-minded, did not wish to judge the girl’s character further. She simply lowered her head and sipped her tea.

The County Lady of Hengkang glanced toward the young ladies seated nearby. The younger generation had their own table, and the Tan family’s second young lady sat diagonally across from her, her every movement clearly visible.

Smiling, she said,
“I’ve heard people say that Miss Tian resembles the Tan family’s second young lady. Those who say such things must never have seen the real thing. Madam Tan, you should bring your daughters out more often. If you yield the road too much, others will take it.”

The matriarch waved her hand.
“My girls are not very skilled in socializing—it’s my fault for not guiding them well. As for the claim that she resembles my second girl, that’s merely idle talk from others and has nothing to do with that young lady.”

Princess Consort Yi sighed lightly.
“You are truly considerate, still thinking of that girl’s dignity. Enough of her. Last month, I recruited a group of excellent chefs—formerly head cooks at Jinling’s Jinsu Tower, skilled in both northern and southern cuisines. My husband praises them every time he eats their food. Today, please all of you have a taste. If you enjoy it, do visit more often.”

The guests picked up their chopsticks and began sampling the dishes. The food was indeed exceptional—alongside the thirty-six popular dishes of Bianjing were many rarely seen delicacies.

Seated beside the matriarch, the County Lady of Hengkang occasionally served her dishes while casually probing,
“I’ve heard that the elder daughters are beginning to discuss marriage arrangements. What about your fifth young lady? There must be many suitors seeking her hand.”

No one could resist such beauty. At the banquet, all the girls wore light, understated makeup, yet the Tan family’s fifth young lady, with her naturally radiant face, stood out effortlessly.

The matriarch knew the reason behind the inquiry. The county lady had two sons—the younger had just come of age and was seeking a bride.

Though the family background was suitable, both sons were disappointing. The elder was already married, but his household was in constant turmoil, his wife having returned to her parents’ home for months. The younger had failed the imperial exams and kept several maids attending him in his study. It was unlikely he would achieve anything significant and would probably rely on family wealth.

Still, she could not offend her. The matriarch set down her chopsticks and said,
“There have indeed been proposals, and the young men are all steady and promising. However, her mother is unwilling to rush. We plan to settle the marriages of the elder sisters first before considering the younger ones.”

The phrase “steady and promising” effectively extinguished the county lady’s hopes, though she was not entirely willing to give up.
“If a suitable match presents itself, why insist on order? They have already reached marriageable age.”

The matriarch smiled and shook her head.
“To be honest, I share her mother’s thoughts. Though I love all my granddaughters, the fifth one grew up by my side. When she was young, she fell gravely ill—I sat by her bedside for three days and nights to bring her back from the brink of death. How could I bear to marry her off so soon?”

At that, the county lady had no choice but to smile.
“I understand. With such a wonderful granddaughter, anyone would want to keep her longer.”

The conversation made the matriarch’s intentions clear—only the elder daughters were open for discussion today; the younger ones would remain sheltered a while longer.

Among all of them, the fifth young lady was especially desirable. Not only was she beautiful, but her calligraphy was exceptional—letters, inscriptions, invitations, all written by her hand. She was practically raised like a grandson. Yet since the matriarch refused to commit, others could only watch from afar.

While the elders conversed diplomatically, the girls’ table was far simpler—talking about food and exchanging tips on incense-making.

When the banquet wound down and the elders moved to the outdoor pavilion for tea, the girls were free to stroll.

On the other side of the polo field, the male guests had also finished dining. Soon, the young men formed two teams, eager to display their riding skills before the ladies.

They showed off enthusiastically—performing tricks on horseback, spinning their mallets, displaying everything they had learned in their lives.

Ziran stood with her sisters, smiling as they watched. Her second sister, Ziguan, wanted to yawn but held it in, her eyes watering.

“I really can’t watch this,” she said. “They’re like peacocks spreading their tails to impress the females.”

Among sisters, there was no need for restraint. Ziguan loved reading and writing, yet had a fiery temper. If she had known about Miss Tian earlier, she might have confronted her directly and scolded her to her face.

Fortunately, the family had protected her reputation carefully.

Ziran’s greatest burden over the years had been to keep her sister from acting out.

“Let’s go have tea instead,” she said, pulling Ziguan away.

They quietly left the crowd and went to a small tea pavilion nearby, taking some sweets and tea to sit beneath a crabapple tree.

Spring was perfect—neither hot nor cold, with gentle sunlight.

Ziguan finally asked,
“Who was that girl earlier? People say she looks like me? In what way?”

“She doesn’t,” Ziran replied. “Just nonsense—don’t mind it.”

“Feels like there’s a story behind it.”

“None at all,” Ziran quickly denied.

As they sipped tea, cheers suddenly erupted from the polo field, and they turned to look.

To an observer, it would seem like a painting—the sunlight filtering through leaves, illuminating the sisters. Though they shared similar features, their temperaments differed. Ziran was radiant like a blooming peony, while Ziguan, when silent, was as elegant as a lotus.

After watching for a while, Ziguan suddenly said,
“Why is Eldest Sister smiling at General Liang? Is she planning something?”

“She’s taken a liking to him,” Ziran replied.

“What about Third Sister?” Ziguan asked in shock.

“I don’t know. It’ll reach Grandmother sooner or later.”

Ziguan scoffed,
“In my opinion, one slap would solve everything. If you liked my fiancé, I’d give him to you without hesitation.”

Ziran forced a smile.
“Thank you, but no need.”

Ziguan soon grew restless and went off to find a fan, leaving Ziran alone.

Just then, she heard a low whistle behind her. Turning around, she saw a young man standing not far away. His looks were decent, but there was something slick and unpleasant about him.

“Miss, are you from the Tan family?” he asked, smiling. “Are you the fifth young lady? I’ve long admired you.”

Ziran stood and gave a polite nod.
“This is not a hunting ground. Why are you whistling?”

The man was taken aback—unused to such directness.

“I am Yan Zhengming,” he said quickly. “My father is Yan Songyin, Commissioner of Salt and Iron. I’ve just returned to the capital. I came to pay my respects—please forgive my rudeness.”

Ziran had no interest in engaging and moved to leave, but he blocked her path.

“If you’re still displeased, I’ll host a banquet tomorrow at Banlou to apologize properly. I hope you’ll honor me with your presence.”

His voice was loud enough to draw attention.

Ziran stepped back.
“Please conduct yourself with respect. This is Prince Yi’s residence—there are rules here.”

Yan Zhengming laughed.
“Are you implying I’m a provincial? Then I suppose I must offend you as one.”

He misread her restraint as coyness.

As he reached out to stop her again, his wrist was suddenly seized.

Pain shot through him as he turned—and froze.

“Your Highness… Prince Qin…”

Prince Qin, Gao Yanxiu—the only son of Empress Zhuanghui—stood there, tall and imposing, both martial and refined.

Smiling, yet tightening his grip, he said mockingly,
“Let me see who dares behave rudely toward the Tan family’s fifth young lady.”

Yan Zhengming tried to resist but couldn’t. The pain surged through his arm like electricity, cold sweat forming on his brow.

Just as he feared his wrist would break, he was suddenly shoved back, stumbling several steps away.