Madame Hua was quite the sight today, dressed gallantly in a man’s red robe embroidered with circular floral patterns. A snow-cloak of mottled lynx fur was cinched at her waist with a ceremonial belt, and she wore sturdy deerskin boots. Her outfit was crisp and practical; no wonder she had the strength to hurl that snowball and catch up to me. Her husband, Hua Lingheng—a Secretary of the Bureau of Ceremonies—hardly dared to question whether her attire followed proper etiquette, let alone restrain her behavior. Seeing the situation, he merely bowed repeatedly with an apologetic air, joining his wife in offering amends. I wasn't one to be petty. Laughing, I said, "That hit has made my own hands itch. If there were more people, we could have a proper snowball fight!"
"Would adding the two of us make it enough?" Wen Shu stepped out from behind them with a smile, followed by Wen Gan. While they weren't dressed in men's clothing, both wore female riding habits suitable for walking in the snow. General Xiao trailed leisurely behind, carrying the warm hats the two had removed after growing too hot from the walk. I felt a twinge of regret for my hasty choice of outfit today; I hadn't coordinated my clothes well. But one couldn't blame Su Zhenzhen—after all, I was a newcomer and hadn't known the terrain of Luming Garden.
I laughed and replied, "Wonderful! However, Madame Xiao is a figure akin to Fan Lihua or Qin Liangyu; you must go easy on us."
Wen Shu smiled subtly, a glint of mischief in her eyes. "Zhenzhen, why be so modest? We all saw that exquisite footwork just now—even Daoist Wei of the Wujing Sect couldn't catch you."
I let out a hearty laugh, waving it off with a series of "not at alls." Wei Shishu was just playing with me; if she were serious, it wouldn't be a hawk catching a rabbit—it would be a raptor pouncing on a chick.
Since none of them had brought attendants, Wen Xiang patted her husband’s shoulder and gave a cheerful command: "Momo certainly wouldn't want to miss this. Husband, please go find her!" I nearly lost my composure, my eyes widening halfway before I managed to pull back. She actually called Hua Moli "Momo"! It seemed their relationship as sisters-in-law had actually softened after marriage?
Hua Lingheng didn't take offense. He set off at a brisk pace and, sure enough, soon returned with Hua Moli. She was wearing a rather impractical eight-paneled violet-red silk skirt, still dressed in her usual flamboyant and magnificent style. She had someone tucked under her arm, boasting triumphantly, "Five people aren't enough for pairs, so I kidnapped another one!" The "noble" she had kidnapped was none other than Wen Jiang.
While Wen Jiang’s daily attire was always elegant and pleasing to the eye, she had been especially meticulous today. With a few pearl hairpins set at rakish angles and the hem of her skirt peeking out from beneath her cloak, she looked like a figure stepped out of a painting—not a single detail could be added or removed. Her primary color today was blue, a stark contrast to the warm tones most women favored this season. Amidst the ice and snow, it made her appear exceptionally clear and enchanting.
But since we were about to square off, beauty was secondary. I began calculating in my head: Sister Jiang’s outfit wouldn't allow her to move freely at all. Whoever ended up with her would be at a disadvantage...
At that moment, Wei Qingming, who had been watching idly, spoke up calmly. "It is rare for the three of you to be gathered. You must surely re-emerge into the world; it is something to look forward to." She was referring to the "Spiced Tofu Trio," elegantly omitting the nickname itself, but every peer in the capital knew the allusion. Even Hua Lingheng let out a knowing smile.
Thus, my side consisted of Hua Moli and Wen Shu—both formidable warriors. Wasn't Master Wei just handing me an assist? Recalling her childhood memories, I found it even more hilarious. She used to set people up back then, and she was still doing it now, despite how much the Spiced Tofu Trio supported her!
This plan also correctly predicted that Wen Xiang and Hua Moli could never be on the same team. Sure enough, the two immediately began trading barbs. One spoke with mock politeness, calling the other "Sister-in-law Ah-Huang" (since 'Xiang' means yellow), while the other shot back with a grin, calling her "Little Sister Five-Flowers" (since the Hua daughters were all named after flowers, and Hua Moli was unfortunately the fifth). The rest of us exchanged looks, stifling our laughter. These two eccentrics clearly spoke well of each other behind their backs, yet they still had to bicker whenever they met.
With the trash talk finished, the women stripped off their fur coats, tossing them carelessly onto the snow. They tucked up their skirts, rolled up their sleeves, and crouched down to scoop up snow. The three husbands automatically moved a distance away, clearing the battlefield. They chatted casually while watching the fray.
I had thought Wen Jiang would be frail and lethargic, but the first shot came from her, aimed right at me while I was still adjusting my belt. In truth, with my cultivation and footwork, dodging would have been easier than not, but these women were only in the Qi Refinement stage. I, Su Zhenzhen, had to maintain my disguise. I closed my eyes, let out a delicate cry, and pretended to be caught off guard as the snowball struck my left leg. Wen Jiang laughed, called out "Pardon me!", and launched another snowball at Hua Moli.
Wen Xiang followed close behind, with Wen Gan coordinating their movements. The chemistry the three had shared since childhood hadn't faded at all. For a moment, even with me intentionally holding back, my side was thrown into chaos. Madame Xiao began employing military tactics, using the seemingly least mobile Hua Moli as bait for a feint while I served as the actual main force. She herself blocked incoming attacks from the side. For a time, the two sides fought tooth and nail, their laughter and shouting so loud it seemed to shake the earth—though more snow fell on us from the branches shaken by our voices than from the actual fight.
There was no actual scoring; in the end, winning or losing didn't matter. We played for half an hour, which was the limit of their physical endurance. Each of them eventually bent over, hands on knees or hips, panting heavily while still shakily trading playful insults. Just as I followed suit, feigning exhaustion and breathlessness, my dear husband considerately stepped forward to drape a cloak over me and wipe my sweat. It made my face turn bright red, and I frantically signaled her with my eyes that this was too much. Wei Qingming remained unmoved. She even reached out to put back the jewelry I had removed for convenience, one by one, leaving me unable to move forward or retreat.
Anxious, I gave her a gentle push and whispered, "You've started something. If the husbands don't follow suit, it looks bad, but if they do, those without husbands will feel awkward..."
Wei Qingming smiled. She leaned down, her arms circling my neck as she fastened my purple jade collar, tidying both the front and back before answering, "The point is to make them envious."
As she fastened it, she deliberately lingered, her breath brushing against my ear. Her lips were so close they almost touched mine in a phantom kiss. The teasing made all the strength in my body evaporate; I truly felt as exhausted as the others now... Sigh, sometimes I feel Master Wei has more of a 'maiden's heart' than I do, insisting on competing over the smallest things... but I love that about her.
Her display of affection was so distracting that I didn't notice the people around us. By the time I regained my composure, even Wen Jiang had tidied her appearance. Moments ago, she had been a female general firing icy arrows with her fair hands and shouting commands with her red lips—living up to their old reputation as a "bandit gang." Now, wrapped in her luxurious furs, she had returned to the state of a wealthy, elegant socialite. Wen Xiang and the others were sitting on nearby rocks, sipping tea they had brought along and resting amidst lighthearted chatter.
Standing with General Xiao and Secretary Hua were now two more men. Upon introduction, one was the famous General Di Kuan, and the other was a young, wealthy merchant who felt strangely familiar. He was Duan Qimo’s brother—the head of the Duan family, Duan Milou!
Di Kuan was a native of Qingzhou. In his youth, he had severely injured someone during a fight, leading to his arrest and imprisonment. His face had been branded with gold ink, and he was exiled to Adu County in Hanzhou to serve as a common laborer in the military. After four or five years, the new Emperor ascended the throne and declared a general amnesty. Di Kuan had practiced martial arts diligently in the army and earned the appreciation of the then-county magistrate, officially entering the military registers. After seven or eight years of hard work, he finally became a local garrison commander. Wei Qingming had assisted him in clearing out bandits, earning him great merit and a transfer to the Qingzhou front, where he began to distinguish himself. By the year I entered the capital, he had become a prominent figure in the triumphant returning army. Because he refused to remove the gold brand on his cheek as a mark of his resolve, he was known as the "Tattooed-Face General," having risen to the rank of Deputy Commander-in-Chief of a regional circuit. It made sense; in the entire court, he was likely the only military official who could chat freely with a group of aristocrats while bearing such a mark.
Duan Milou was a tall man whose features were strikingly similar to Duan Qimo’s, as if a deity had been unable to decide whether such a face should be male or female and thus created one of each. The Duan family’s demonic lineage was of the Honghu clan—the six-winged birds, one of the five types of phoenixes, specifically the white one. In essence, they were great white swans with three pairs of wings.
Their names reminded me of two lines from a poem by Qin Guan. The brother’s name came from "There is the Milou Pavilion hanging near the Dipper, and the Moon Observatory spanning the sky," while the sister’s came from "At the south end of the Qimo Road, I remember the winding songs and the gentle warmth of that place." Duan Qimo’s aura was cold enough when meeting strangers, but compared to her brother, she was truly "gentle." Duan Milou was like a piece of raw iron in the dead of winter—cold and unyielding. His indifferent face flickered with the cold light of one accustomed to calculation and measuring people by profit. Aside from business matters, he seemed to have neither interest in nor understanding of anything else—the quintessential tycoon. What a waste of such a handsome face.
General Di was quite friendly toward me, his speech carrying a touch of refined elegance. Duan Milou merely gave a cold, casual glance and a nod of greeting before averting his eyes, remaining silent. One could tell at a glance he was the type of man who held utter contempt for women. I didn't bother with him; after greeting them, I quickly retreated to the group of sisters, leaving Master Wei to deal with him.
Strangely, once I stood beside Wen Xiang and Wen Shu, Duan Milou’s gaze followed me. It was hard to say which of us he was looking at, but the gaze vanished as soon as it touched us, as if looking at women was beneath his dignity. My impatience grew, and I was about to suggest finding a new spot to sightsee when a deep, resonant musical note drifted over—ethereal, distant, and soul-cleansing.
The sun was beginning to set. Snow fell softly from the forest trees, and returning birds chirped occasionally, adding a lively, fresh grace to the scene. It was the famous melody "The Phoenix Seeks His Mate." While the skill was far inferior to Yin Deng’s and even less practiced than Zhang Zhuyi’s, whom I had heard through a screen last night, it possessed a rare, lingering tenderness—born from the heart and entirely sincere.
Wei Qingming and I recognized the sound of the zither; it was the very one Zhang Zhuyi had repaired yesterday. Simultaneously, we looked at each other from afar and shared a smile.
Wen Gan said with a grin, "There is a Sima Xiangru here. I wonder which Zhu Wenjun he is seeking?"
the sisters teased and pushed each other, saying, "Go look, go look!" Only Wen Jiang stood quietly in the snow, her expression proud and aloof, yet unable to suppress the slight upward curve of joy at the corner of her mouth. I smiled, took hold of her sleeve, and pulled her along.
Walking upstream along the Qu River, the zither music slid across the icy surface, sounding even more clear and beautiful. The view suddenly opened up to reveal a dome of crystalline blue ice covering a section of the grounds. Inside was a sprawling expanse of pure white flowers—peonies in full bloom, entirely sculpted from snow. The player sat with head slightly bowed, features obscured, but behind them stood a massive ice sculpture like a folding screen, depicting a phoenix crying amidst peonies. Though it was a common folk motif, the craftsmanship was exquisite—thin, delicate, and uniquely styled. It made the performer in the ice-blue robe appear even more noble and extraordinary.
I recalled our first meeting a few days ago, when Wen Jiang had admired the beauty of the peony on my head with envy, her tone carrying a hint of lament that such flowers could not be worn in winter. The pinkish-white peony I wore that day was called "White Lotus Fragrance," a variety specially bred in the greenhouse Wei Qingming had designed for me. Her greenhouse was filled with rare flora, sustained by her arrays using solar power—truly one of a kind in the world. It seemed Wei Shishu’s time at the Qingwei Pavilion hadn't been for nothing. Wen Jiang had always loved peonies; perhaps that offhand comment had been taken to heart by Duan Qimo. Though she could not summon spring early, she could use the world's ice and snow to mimic its arrival.
This world of ice sculptures was pure and flawless—a static beauty. The zither, a deep vermilion bordering on black, lay across the table with a silence spanning a thousand years. Only a pair of ice-blue sleeves moved like rippling light, fluttering in the wind, as if the entire world existed only for this single point of motion to imbue it with a myriad of emotions.
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