Qiao Yan arrived almost at once.
She was the sort who couldn’t keep anything to herself. After last night’s rumpus at the Luo residence with Su Xin, she had been so pleased she practically bounced down the path. No sooner had she stepped into the main compound of Ye Xi’s house than she called out, bright and loud:
“Miss Xi, your garden is exquisite—no less grand than my own. I never would have guessed Prince Yu’an, so cold and distant as he is, has such a deft hand for beauty—really…”
Her sentence died in her throat the moment Qiao Yan looked up and saw Yi Yuan standing straight and still under the corridor, Ye Xi at his side, both watching her with unreadable faces.
Qiao Yan’s cheerfulness faltered. She averted her eyes, embarrassed, then quickly changed the subject. “Miss Xi, it’s been ages. Did you send for me for something important?”
“You always were sharp,” Ye Xi said, stepping forward to smooth the moment. She took Qiao Yan’s hand and guided her toward the hall, giving a quick account of why she had summoned her.
“That’s easy,” Qiao Yan declared, thumping her own chest with a show of confidence. “Leave it to me—I’ll post the notices right away. Although—hosting it here in your Zhihong Garden under my name might look odd.”
“Then we’ll find somewhere else,” Ye Xi said.
“We could use my house, but if it’s a formal matter that might be awkward. Better to book a private room at a teahouse.” Qiao Yan suggested. “Or—there’s the Osmanthus Garden out in the west suburb. I’ve heard the sweet osmanthus are in bloom; it would be a lovely cover. We could invite Miss Liu there.”
Qiao Yan scratched her head and grinned apologetically. “You’ve thought of everything. Fine—leave it to me.”
She left in a small flurry, and the arrangements were made for the next day.
Days had chilled considerably, but today was mercifully fine. The autumn sun lay soft and warm on the skin—comforting rather than harsh. When Ye Xi arrived, Qiao Yan was already waiting at the chosen spot, though Liu Mengxian hadn’t yet appeared.
The two greeted each other and, as friends do, fell into conversation. Qiao Yan’s curiosity was too strong to ignore; after a few hesitations she pressed Ye Xi for the reason behind the summons. Ye Xi trusted Qiao Yan enough not to hide the truth, and—considering the matter would be revealed sooner or later—she told the story plainly.
Qiao Yan’s eyes widened, and she brightened for her friend. Before long a soft, amused voice cut in.
“What are you two whispering about that’s so delightful? You didn’t even wait for me—I won’t stand for it.” Liu Mengxian appeared at their side, smiling.
After a brief bow, Ye Xi felt a surprising nervousness at Liu’s presence. Words rose to her lips and then slipped away. Qiao Yan nudged her lightly. “Ask her,” she urged.
Liu Mengxian, quick to read people, saw at once that Ye Xi had something on her mind. She liked Ye Xi’s manner and admired her talent; she put the two of them at ease. “If there’s something you want to say, Miss Xi, speak freely. If I can help, I will.”
Ye Xi relaxed at that frankness. She linked her wrist with Liu’s in a deliberate show of intimacy and said, “Very well. I’ll be blunt. You must have heard something of my past. Ah Yuan helped me investigate, and it seems my origins may be connected to your family. Did your household ever lose a child—thirteen or fourteen years ago? Or do you know of any relatives who had a little one go missing around then?”
Liu Mengxian hesitated. Seeing the hope and anxiety in Ye Xi’s face, she understood more than half the story. The moment she first met Ye Xi she had felt an odd familiarity; she’d taken to her at once and would be delighted if Ye Xi turned out to be kin. But she could not deny reality.
“Miss Xi,” she said gently, squeezing Ye Xi’s hand. “I felt that same strange familiarity the first time I saw you. But thirteen, fourteen years ago the Liu household was at its height. If a child had vanished then, we would have searched to the ends of the earth—we certainly would have brought them back. And even if we hadn’t found them at the time, there’d have been whispers, paperwork—some trace. There never was.”
Ye Xi’s eyes clouded and Liu’s heart tightened. She hurried on. “Don’t lose hope, though. I might be misremembering. I’ll ask—my third aunt, in particular. She’s close to the woman you mentioned.”
That suggestion sparked a new thought in Ye Xi’s eyes. “Did your third aunt have a nursemaid when she married? A woman with the surname Xi—Madam Xi—who came with her as part of the dowry? Or anyone connected to her who has a granddaughter? Or perhaps patrons who often associated with her?”
Liu’s face grew apologetic. “I’m afraid I was very young then. I don’t remember those details clearly. But your instinct is likely right—if there’s a connection, my third aunt would know. She’s always been gentle and discreet, and she and my aunt were close. I’ll ask her quietly.”
Ye Xi stopped her. “No. I don’t want anyone asked directly.”
She took a breath and spoke with a seriousness that silenced the others.
“Miss Liu, we haven’t known each other long, but I find you level-headed and sincere. You may take offense at what I’m about to say—perhaps rightly so—but this concerns my life. I won’t sugarcoat it. The one who took me was Madam Xi. Why she took me I still don’t know. All I know is she wanted me dead. Not long ago I had barely a year left to live.”
She left the last part vague. She still would not disclose everything—she did not yet trust fate enough to risk revealing the hidden curse that had clung to her. “Only recently have I found a remedy that suppresses the condition. I need time to regain my strength and secrecy. There are people scheming in the dark who would kill me if they knew I was recovering. You both remember the incident at the Qingyun Contest—someone tried to have me killed then. Whether they’re tied to the people who abducted me years ago, I don’t know. But I cannot act rashly. Please—keep this to yourselves. If you can quietly make discreet inquiries instead of confronting people openly, I would be forever grateful.”
The confession stunned and moved them. They were astonished that Ye Xi had lived through so mortal a danger, and touched that she had entrusted them with such a burden. Qiao Yan was the first to clap a hand on her heart and promise. “Don’t worry. Since you trust me, I’ll never let you down.”
Liu Mengxian’s face was woven with conflicting emotions, but she steadied herself and spoke with equal gravity. “You’ve been so frank with us, Miss Xi. I wouldn’t betray that trust. I can’t promise knowledge I don’t possess, but I will ask my third aunt carefully—quietly. I won’t speak a single word about this to others.”
They exchanged a look then, smiles warming into a new, deeper camaraderie.
A moment later a voice behind them sliced through the quiet, edged with anger and urgency: “Miss Ye!”