When Xiao Rencheng and Song Yinghuai reached Wutong Garden, they were stopped at the gate by Song Yongzhen and Song Baiming.
“What are you doing here?” Song Yinghuai frowned. “Caiyu—?”
“We brought Caiyu into town to see the commotion and ran into Miss Lan.” Song Baiming kept it short. “Then both of them saw the new Tartar Kedun.”
“The Kedun actually slipped inside before you,” Song Yongzhen added.
Song Yinghuai nodded.
The three sisters had found one another at last. Clouds parting, moonlight breaking through—that should have been a joy. Only, it didn’t promise to be a pleasant reunion for him.
From inside the garden came a muffled sound of crying, strain and excitement tangled together. Both men’s expressions shifted; they strode into the courtyard.
As soon as they set foot on the threshold, Lan Jinxiang turned and fixed them with a cold stare. Her mouth curled into a sneer. “Lord Xiao,” she said, voice sharp as a blade, “you’ve got yourself quite the bargain.”
Xiao forced a smile, feeling his insides go cold. “Kedun…no, Second Miss, you flatter me. I don’t—”
“What do you mean you don’t?” Lan Jinxiang had no airs of demure highborn lady or dignified national matron. Hands on her hips, brow arched, she spat, “My eldest sister is the sister of the Tartar national mother and the legitimate daughter of Marquis Yongchang, one of Daye’s founding heroes. And you—what are you? A penniless scholar. You actually dared treat my eldest like a kept woman?”
“Who gave you that impression?” Xiao blurted.
“No one gave it to me.” For a long beat he looked embarrassed, then managed a rueful chuckle. “No one gave it to me—I, Xiao, am shameless.”
He could have shouted his innocence a thousand times: it wasn’t that he didn’t want to marry—the elder Miss Lan simply refused. He had even hinted at marriage when his mother pressed him, and had been met only by her cool question about when he would wed and whether, once he did, she could leave. After that question he had no appetite for further probing.
Lan Jinxiang sniffed approval. “You are shameless.” Her tongue was merciless. “You’ve seduced a married woman, forced a wife to leave her husband, and stolen someone else’s place. You’re an official—oh, of course. Daye’s court has rotted under a foolish ruler and a worthless heir; men like you are the inevitable product.”
“Corrupt officials! Usurpers of office! Predators of the people! Embezzlers! Pocketing public funds! Vermin of the state! Scourges of the common folk!”
Xu Ziyi couldn’t help himself and objected, “I, Minister Xu, have never—”
“Shut up!” Lan Jinxiang whipped her head to him. “And what’s your worth, shrinking turtle?”
“When the Lan household broke, your family hid like cowards,” she went on, contempt hot in her words, “so why now do you stick your guilty…neck out?”
Xu’s face darkened. He snapped, “Lan Jinxiang! You are a lady of a great house and now the Tartar national mother; you have no right to speak such filth!”
“My filthy words are for cowardly men like you,” she shot back, eyes blazing as she took a step closer. “If you’re so brave, curse me back. If you’re so daring, hit me.”
“You—Xu Ziyi, you bastard! You worthless coward! You couldn’t beat me before; now I’m a guest of Daye, I’ll see if the four years have taught you anything.”
Xu’s face alternated between green and white. The assembled onlookers waited eagerly for how the Minister of Punishments would retort, but he only clenched his jaw, fought the blood to his eyes, and fell silent.
Xiao’s pulse hammered. “Second Miss, this…this is my fault for mishandling things. Don’t take it out on Second Lord—back then he—”
“So you asked for it,” Lan Jinxiang cut in, unselective in her attacks. “I don’t want to waste breath on you dogs; you foul my language.”
“From today on my eldest comes back with me to the government guesthouse—we’re not leaving her in this filthy place!” she declared.
Xiao’s face drained. “I cannot agree to that.”
“Then what can you do about it?” she scoffed. “My eldest didn’t sign any indenture with your Xiao household. She can go where she pleases. What are you, Chief Censor, that you can stop me? I’m a Kedun of the Tartars, for heaven’s sake.”
“In rank and status, even a Grand Censor like you would bow and pay respects when meeting me.” She paused, then turned a wicked smile on Xu Ziyi. “And you, Minister Xu—same goes for you.”
Xu’s jaw tightened; he kept silent, all stubbornness swallowed. No rash words—no matter how badly he wanted to fight—lest he only hand her a weapon to use.
Lan Jinxiang’s eyes shifted to Song Yinghuai next. The Prince’s brow twitched; he quickly interposed, voice controlled, “Caiyu signed an indenture with the Yan Manor. Second Miss, please—don’t try to take her.”
Lan Jinxiang’s smile widened, all sweetness and ice. “Prince Yan, what nonsense. Shu’er changed her name and entered the manor of her own will. If the prince took her in as a servant, the prince is innocent of sin. I never said I wanted to take Shu’er as well.”
Song Yinghuai let out the breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding. Then Lan Jinxiang’s next words sent a chill along his spine.
“I just wanted to know how the prince trains his servants. He’s managed to make my treasure of a sister obedient as a lamb.”
“Back at the Lan household she was defiant, always stirring up mischief, chattering and arguing. Yet now I hear the prince has the knack of making her keep in line—speak meekly, do as told, afraid even to point east when told west.”
“I could use that method. Tomorrow I return to the Tartars; it will do wonders on those unruly boys in the palace.”
“Lan Jinxiang!” Xu’s face went red again. “You keep…favorites?”
“Shut up!” She snapped. “This isn’t about you. Once I’ve sorted them out, I’ll come for you.”
Xu opened his mouth, closed it, then sealed his lips with hot anger.
Song Yinghuai felt his scalp prickle. Lan Jinxiang wasn’t asking for instruction—she was accusing, hinting that he had bullied Caiyu into obedience. He dropped to his knees in a rare display of contrition. “Song humbly admits he failed at temper. If I offended Miss Caiyu and angered her, I offer my deepest regrets. I will reflect on my faults.”
He had never humbled himself like this before. The memory of yesterday’s incident still haunted him; Caiyu had refused to speak to him. He’d been shaken to the core by the thought of her leaving with Lan Jinxiang—out of Daye’s borders, beyond his reach. If she went into Tartar territory, whatever power he had might not be enough to bring her back.
“Oh, so it’s temper,” Lan Jinxiang nodded as if that explained everything. “Prince on a high pedestal—never contradicted—then suddenly someone who speaks as she pleases repeatedly crosses you. It must be unbearable.”
“Yes…” he stammered.
She changed tack in an instant. “Clearly my sister and the prince are a mismatch. If your characters can’t bend for one another, you’re not fit for husband and wife—nor for master and servant.”
Song paled. “Second Miss—Song will change.”
Lan Jinxiang laughed, a short, cold sound. She took the silent Caiyu’s hand and traced the bruise on her wrist with exaggerated tenderness. Her eyes glittered wickedly. “The prince’s hands, you say? This world has no reason for masters to accommodate servants.”