The woman in yellow froze, a flicker of panic crossing her face. She tried to smooth it away with affected composure, but the tremor in her voice betrayed her. “Y— you’re talking nonsense!”
“Whether I’m speaking nonsense is for others to judge,” Mo Qinghuan replied coolly. “You, of all people, ought to know the truth.”
A ripple of whispers ran through the gathered crowd.
“My goodness — she can’t bear children? Who would take her now? Even if her grandfather is a duke, she’ll never marry well after this.”
The woman’s hand flew to her mouth as she giggled at the thought.
Mo Qinghuan’s eyes narrowed. No wonder the duke’s household acted so arrogantly.
Mo Yao steadied the trembling woman, whose whole body shook like a sieve, and murmured, “Yiyi, don’t listen to her. She’s no physician; her words are empty.”
Only Zhao Yiyi herself knew how right Mo Qinghuan was — she had been tormented by that worry for a long time.
Before long the Empress arrived, surrounded by a retinue of maids. Everyone dropped to their knees and bowed as one. “Your Majesty.”
The Empress waved them off and took the seat of honor among the flower beds. As people rose, someone jostled Mo Qinghuan. She steadied herself and met Mo Yao’s challenging stare.
“I hear the Emperor recently granted the title of Princess Sayue,” the Empress said, addressing the crowd. “Has she come today?”
Mo Qinghuan stepped forward and knelt at the Empress’s feet. “Your servant Mo Qinghuan pays respects, Your Majesty.”
The Empress glanced down, then called, “Lift your head, let me see you.”
Mo Qinghuan obeyed; she kept her lashes lowered. The Empress’s gaze softened and a faint smile appeared. “Truly a general’s daughter — there’s a likeness to General Mo in your bearing. Very well. Rise. Today is for admiring flowers; no need for stiff formalities. Make yourselves at ease.”
Mo Qinghuan rose and drifted to one side. The so-called “flower viewing” was little more than ritual praise and idle chatter, but the Empress’s presence made the afternoon bearable.
“Aunt,” a young woman’s voice chimed in — Gu Qinglan, the Empress’s niece. She was the kind of beautiful that threatened to chill as much as it enticed, all pale silk and an assured tilt of the chin. “Is this the chrysanthemum the foreign envoy brought three years ago?”
The Empress inclined her head. “Yes. Our gardeners tended it these three years before it finally blossomed. It’s rare.”
Gu Qinglan approached the pot and then looked to her aunt. “What is the name of this variety?”
Mo Qinghuan’s gaze lingered on the bloom for a moment and, without thinking, she said, “The Purple Dragon Lying in Snow.”
A hushed surprise passed through the onlookers. The Empress, startled, prepared to command Mo Qinghuan to kneel.
“I said make yourselves at ease,” the Empress interrupted with a light laugh. “It seems I have a scholar among you.”
Mo Qinghuan straightened and bowed. The Empress's eyes held a new interest. “Where did you see such a flower?”
“Only in books, Your Majesty. Today is my first time seeing one in person.”
The Empress smiled indulgently. “Well then, let us put a little more spirit into the viewing. Poetry, perhaps.”
Gu Qinglan’s face brightened; she loved any chance to display wit. “Yes, Aunt. I delight in verse.”
“All right. I’ll give the first line; you shall finish it,” the Empress declared, glancing toward the Purple Dragon Lying in Snow. “Chrysanthemums split open as autumn winds grow chill—”
“—Petals stand in the garden, their fragrance kissed by dew,” Gu Qinglan supplied, turning a look toward Mo Qinghuan.
Mo Yao hovered at Gu Qinglan’s elbow. “Miss Gu, she can’t compose poetry at all,” she whispered loudly.
The Empress cleared her throat and Mo Yao shut up at once. Mo Qinghuan had no wish for attention, yet the circle had been thrust toward her, and she had little choice.
She stepped closer to the chrysanthemum. Dew still clung to the petals, catching the sunlight and scattering it into tiny prisms. Inspiration came like a breath. “Chrysanthemums split open as autumn winds grow chill; within each heart the dewdrops catch the light.”
A murmur of approval swelled. The Empress clapped once, pleased. “’Catch the light.’ Charming. No one expected Princess Sayue to be so gifted. She may well be called the capital’s foremost talent.”
Mo Qinghuan dropped to her knees again. “You flatter me, Your Majesty. I do not deserve such praise.”
“Nonsense,” the Empress said, lifting her. “I should bestow some reward.” She gave Mo Qinghuan a searching look. “The Mo household’s legitimate daughter dresses plainly, almost humbly compared to the younger one — could your mother be harsh with you? Tell me if that’s the case. If so, I will inform the Emperor.”
She swept the crowd, but Mo Yao was not among them. The Empress shrugged and continued to admire the flowers.
About half an hour later, the sun climbed higher and the Empress rose to take her leave. “I’m fatigued. You may stay and look a while longer,” she said to the lingering guests, smiling at Mo Qinghuan as she passed.
The crowd dispersed. Mo Qinghuan was gathering herself to go when a breathless palace girl came running across the yard. “Princess Sayue! There’s— Miss Mo Two has something terrible happen! You must come! Please!”
“What is it?” Mo Qinghuan asked.
The girl’s cheeks flushed scarlet. “You— you should come and see. It’s hard to explain.”
It was the palace; no one here dared do much to a titled princess. Mo Qinghuan followed.
They wound through corridors until they reached a courtyard yard where a crush of onlookers had already gathered. At the threshold, Mo Qinghuan pushed forward and saw the scene: Mo Yao clutched at her robe, frantic, trying to keep it from falling open as if someone had torn her bodice.
“What’s going on?” Mo Qinghuan asked, her voice low and steady.
Mo Yao glared at her like a cornered animal. “You — you set this up, didn’t you!” she hissed. Her voice rose into a shriek as she tried to cover herself. The male who knelt on the ground beside her cowered, eyes wide.
At that moment Gu Qinglan had summoned the Empress back. The Empress’s face had hardened into a chill mask. “So,” she said, voice sharp as a blade, “you dare disgrace the palace like this? Do you know what the punishment should be?”
The man on the ground knelt trembling. “Mercy, Your Majesty…” He pointed a shaking finger at Mo Yao. “It was she — she seduced me.”
“Lies! Lies!” Mo Yao sobbed, collapsing into a heap of desperate apologies. “I didn’t do it! I was framed—”
Gu Qinglan leaned close to the Empress and whispered. “Aunt. This is Duke Mo’s family, and the man is the younger son of the Court Censor, Du Yan. He’s spoiled rotten — a notorious rake in the capital.”
The Empress considered Mo Qinghuan with a gaze that had softened only a little. “What do you say?”
Mo Qinghuan bowed her head, measured. “Let Your Majesty decide.”
The Empress’s mouth tightened. “Such disgrace would be a stain on both your houses. Both your fathers are ministers who have served the state well. If this scandal goes public, it will be ruinous. Better, then, to put an end to it quietly.” She paused, then declared, “We shall settle this by marriage.”
A hush fell over the courtyard. Mo Yao’s hands went limp. Du Yan’s kneeling figure trembled. Mo Qinghuan’s heart beat a little faster at the Empress’s words — what sort of marriage did the Empress mean? Whatever it was, it would bind family and reputation together and close the matter at a stroke.