Perhaps it truly was the blessing of that auspicious lamp flower, for Alice Lu's journey to the capital proved remarkably smooth.
By the time she and Olivia Yin reached Shengjing, an entire month had passed.
At the city gate, Olivia Yin handed over their travel documents to the guards. As the two women stepped through the towering archway, the sheer splendor of the capital unfurled before them. Olivia Yin, her eyes wide with wonder, breathed, "So this is Shengjing indeed!"
Beyond the inner gate, the streets burst into life. Taverns of every size lined the thoroughfare, and teahouses appeared at nearly every turn. Women in crimson skirts sold peach blossoms whose fragrance drifted sweetly on the spring air. The city hummed with voices, the crowds dense as waves. From the balconies of wine shops hung lanterns draped with beaded veils, glimmering like strings of dew beneath the sunlight.
The day was clear, the skies washed of cloud; the streets bustled, and the prosperity dazzled the eyes.
While Olivia Yin still marveled at the scene, Alice Lu withdrew her gaze and said quietly, "Let us find an inn first."
In the capital, where every inch of land was worth its weight in silver, lodging was costly. The two found a modest but clean guesthouse in the western quarter and took a room. Olivia Yin went to arrange a meal, while Alice Lu descended the stairs.
This inn, situated far from the lavish southern streets, charged modestly and housed mostly itinerant merchants.
At the counter stood the innkeeper, a middle-aged man in a dark plum robe, busy flicking his abacus. Without preamble, a clear, soft voice reached him: "Shopkeeper, might there be a place nearby that sells porcelain?"
He looked up to find before him a young woman unlike the bright, statuesque ladies of Shengjing. She was smaller, almost delicate, her face oval, her eyes dark as lacquer and limpid as spring water. Her complexion was too pale, her frame too slender, and her dress—a simple gown of white silk—was plain to austerity. Only a silk flower of frost-white adorned her dark braid at the temple. Standing there, she was like a lotus rising from clear water—poised, serene, and breathtaking.
A beauty like that could only have been shaped by mountains and rivers themselves—pure, translucent, and rare.
The innkeeper smiled. "You're not from here, are you, miss? You look like you might be from the south—Su'nan, perhaps?"
Alice Lu neither confirmed nor denied, merely returned a polite smile. "I've heard that the Ke family produces fine porcelain. Could you tell me where one might purchase their wares?"
Before the innkeeper could reply, a gruff voice rose from the hall behind her. "The Ke family? Hah! What's so special about their porcelain? They've just had a run of luck, that's all!"
Turning, Alice Lu saw a trader in travel-worn garb, a bowl of rough tea before him. She paused, then asked with courtesy, "Good sir, what do you mean by that?"
The man, softened by her polite address, leaned forward eagerly. "Used to be, the Ke family's porcelain was nothing remarkable—just middling work, not known for any great craftsmanship. Then, about a year ago, fortune smiled on them. The Qi family's steward came buying tableware for the Grand Madam's birthday banquet and happened to choose Ke's goods. The banquet was a grand affair, and the Ke family basked in the reflected glory. Since then, every official household in the capital buys their porcelain. Their name's been made."
He took another gulp of tea and scowled. "Now they've near swallowed the whole porcelain trade of Shengjing. Not a drop of soup left for the rest of us! These days, say 'porcelain' in the capital, and folk think only of the Ke family."
Perhaps he, too, had suffered from their monopoly. Seeing Alice Lu lost in thought, he added kindly, "Little sister, best not bother with them. The Ke family only sells to officials now—no use wasting your time."
Her voice, gentle yet cool, brushed against the air. "On the contrary, your words make me all the more curious. I'd like to see for myself what kind of porcelain could win the favor of the Grand Preceptor's household."
The innkeeper chuckled and pointed the way. "Not hard to find, miss. The Ke Residence is in the southern quarter. Follow this street straight to the Falling Moon Bridge. Cross it, and at the end you'll see Fengle Pavilion. Beneath it runs a narrow alley—go through, and you'll come right to the Ke family's gates."
Alice Lu thanked both the innkeeper and the trader, then returned upstairs. Olivia Yin had already laid out their meal. "My lady, please eat first," she urged.
Alice Lu sat at the table. As they began to eat, Olivia Yin ventured cautiously, "I heard you asking about the Ke household downstairs…"
Alice Lu replied evenly, "Eat first. When we're done, I'll pay the Ke family a visit."
According to the trader, the Ke family's fortunes had risen exactly a year ago—the same time Emma Lu had died.
The coincidence was far too neat to ignore.
The southern quarter was far livelier than the west.
On the Falling Moon Bridge, the throng was thick, and the breeze that swept through the city carried a faint fragrance of rouge and powder. Beneath the bridge railings hung rows of ox-horn lanterns; on clear nights, they said, the lights shimmered like fireflies, the moon's silver glow sinking into the river below.
Past Fengle Pavilion lay a narrow alley that opened onto a grand gate. Upon its plaque were carved two characters: Ke Residence.
It was noon. A young servant in a green jacket slumped against the gate, half-asleep. Though the Ke family was wealthy, their masters were known to be harsh and miserly; with few gatekeepers and little rest, exhaustion was common.
Just as the boy began to doze, a voice startled him. "Young man, is your master Ke Chengxing, the esteemed heir of the house?"
He jerked upright. Before him stood two young women, one wearing a veil.
"Yes," he said warily. "And you are…?"
"My lady," the veiled one replied smoothly, "is the cousin of your late madam's family. She seeks an audience with the Dowager Madam Ke."
In the Ke family's garden, the peonies were in full bloom.
The Dowager Madam had no fondness for plainness; as a merchant's wife, she delighted in splendor. When she bought this new estate, she had the former owner's bamboo groves uprooted, the pond filled in, and the grounds transformed into a lavish flower garden that bloomed year-round in riotous color.
Now she sat upon a couch in the main hall, watching her maids embroider fan panels. On the table before her lay honeyed orange cakes and roasted chestnuts, of which she picked at intervals—only to frown and mutter that the cakes were too bland today.
A servant entered quietly. "Madam, someone at the gate requests an audience—she claims to be a cousin from the late madam's family."
The old lady's expression darkened; her voice rose sharply. "Whose cousin?"
The servant flinched. "The late madam's…"
Her brows knitted. "Wasn't the Lu family wiped out? Since when did she have a cousin?"
Her old nurse sneered. "Likely some destitute relative, hoping to beg a few coins—probably hasn't even heard the Lu family's dead."
The Dowager Madam considered this, then ordered curtly, "Ignore her. Send her away."
The servant bowed and left—but soon returned, uneasy.
"She hasn't gone?" the old lady snapped.
"No…" he faltered. "She says she was close to the late madam and has come to claim the dowry left behind. She swears that if she's not received, she'll sit outside the gates and ask the neighbors about it. Madam, with all these people passing by, it might cause quite a stir…"
The Dowager Madam's face hardened, fury flashing in her eyes. For a long moment, she said nothing, then ground out between her teeth:
"Bring her in."