Chapter 149: Matchmaking Visit

Night wind cut cold at Rui Manor. Gao Yang read Congyang's daily report with relish—Shen Miao's every word and visitor, save latrine and bath. Congyang had been a scout in the Ink Feather Army: skilled, thorough, and a chatterbox.
Gao Yang found it unsettling—until the noon line about Su Mingfeng on the street. Su and Xie had been brothers; odd behavior meant trouble.
Ji Yushu passed, apple in mouth, peeked at the paper. "Ah—the cousin likes Su Mingfeng!"
Gao Yang nearly fell off the stone bench. "Don't startle me!"
"Your fan won't make you brave. Practice sword." Ji pointed at a line. "Miss Luo said both brothers are handsome—that's flirting. I'll play matchmaker—Third Brother knows both houses."
"Who said she likes him?"
"Both my eyes. Look—'equally good-looking.' Why praise a man unless you fancy him?"
Congyang's verbosity had copied Luo Tan's words too. Ji preened, stole Gao Yang's fan, played sage—sneezed mid-winter.
Gao Yang snatched the fan back.
Xie Jingxing entered with Tieyi and Nanqi, travel-worn, face dark. "Third Brother!" Ji waved. Xie ignored him, strode inside. Nanqi and Tieyi looked grim. Ji missed the mood. "Third Brother—Fifth Miss is in trouble!"
Xie stopped, frowned. Gao Yang looked up.
Ji cleared his throat. "Congyang's report—today a rogue molested Fifth Miss's hand."
Nanqi and Tieyi tensed.
Ji wailed, "The rogue is Su Mingfeng—Third Brother's sworn brother—digging your wall, heartless, shameless!"
Nanqi and Tieyi froze. Xie's gaze went arctic. Gao Yang hid behind his fan.
At Shen Manor Shen Miao read by a bean lamp, glancing at the wide-open winter window—indifferent if Xie's men watched; Shen Xin and Luo Xueyan were at office; Shen Qiu too. An unpaid guard, she thought, and a signal that she waited for him.
Su Mingfeng troubled her—Xie's true friend in life; only Xie had dared bury him against the throne. Brothers who know each other. The tiger ring on her wrist was no accident; Su asking if she had seen the dead Young Marquis meant the secret might leak.
Window rustled—purple robe, familiar entry, window shut against wind.
He sat, poured hot tea as if home. She drank. "I need to speak."
"What?"
She hesitated. "Su Mingfeng may know you're alive."
Silence.
She bared her wrist—the jade hoops glowing on pale skin. "He called this a tiger ring, asked if I'd seen you. He may guess."
Xie's smile vanished—cold beauty.
She felt guilty—his mask hid Rui from Ming Qi; her carelessness might endanger the ally who had done so much.
"Can we fix it?"
"Impossible. Su Mingfeng is clever—years of friendship—can't fool him."
She wanted to scold him—why gift tiger rings then?—but asked, "Then what?"
"Let him find out. Ignore it."
"Trouble? Su is official Ming Qi—you're Great Liang—spy suspicions—"
Friendship is precious and fragile; sisters in palace turned knives for less.
He looked at her lazily. "Worried about me?"
"About myself. Same boat—if you're exposed, Shen house sinks—bad trade."
He laughed. "Allies with me don't lose."
She thought of blocking Su anyway. "How long will you wear the mask?"
"Not forever. Someone will know—Su or another."
She startled. "Your kin—Lin'an Marquis, Princess Rongxin, Su—"
He smiled, faintly wicked. "So what if the world hates me?" To her eyes: "I'm not afraid."
Yet the smile tasted lonely—this handsome youth was not as heartless as he seemed.
He ruffled her hair. "Keep the bangle. I gave it—I'm not hiding it."
She hated head-pats—queen to servant, even Shen Qiu annoyed her—but tonight she let it pass.
He stood. "No emergency—I'll go. Call Congyang—your shadow now. Don't leave the window for me. I'll wake you when I come."
Only after he left did she hear the intimacy in that.
"Congyang," she tested—and a black-clad young man appeared.
Headache— a man in her chamber? "You stay inside all day?"
"In the tree at the door, Young Mistress—soft call, I hear."
"Don't call me Young Mistress."
"Yes, Young Mistress."
She waved him off, asked where Xie went—feared he was silencing Su. "Unknown."
Useless spy—or perfect one. Tomorrow she'd send him to chop firewood with the kitchen boys.
Outside Shen Manor Xie told Tieyi, "Keep Ji Yushu away from Congyang's letters."
Tieyi mentioned the wandering Master Guan Zhen at Putuo Temple—the Emperor wanted Xie to see him. "Tomorrow."
Next day fine weather.
Luo Tan brought red paper for New Year window cuts. Shen Miao's scissors wandered to old nightmares—in Qin they'd forced her to cut and stitch until her eyes failed and her knuckles thickened. Back in palace, on Fu Xiuyi's birthday, Consort Mei played zither with jade fingers; Shen Miao offered an embroidery map—then Mei demanded zither too.
Fu Xiuyi said play—she played. The court laughed—not at skill but at the peasant hands on the strings. She feared mockery would reach Wanyu and Fuming. She smiled through it, then ground her skin raw with pumice that night.
"Little Cousin?" Luo Tan called.
The magpie pattern was ruined. Shen Miao dropped the scissors. "No more cutting."
"Why?"
"Calluses." Luo Tan stared—"No wonder your pet name is Jiaojiao."
Guyu entered. "Madam wants you in the hall."
Luo Xueyan was home. "Su family's madam is visiting."
"Surname Su—Pingnan Earl?"
"Yes."
In the hall Luo Xueyan chatted with Su's wife—snow finches from the north, fresh fruit from the estate. Once enemies when Lin'an and Shen clashed; Su had even memorialized against Shen during the defiance scandal—yet today the Su wife was warm, praising Luo's children, never mentioning birds.
Luo Xueyan wondered if Su sought a new patron now Lin'an fell—regretted summoning Shen Miao when the Su wife stared eagerly at the door.
A tall girl in yellow bounced in—bold brows, wheat skin, red dagger at her waist. "Auntie!"
Su Mrs blinked—Mingfeng likes this wild one?
Behind her—slender girl in lilac and white, skin like shelled egg, round bright eyes, walk steady as palace exit. Pride without coquetry—more queenly than the queen Su Mrs had once seen.
"Mother," the girl said; curtsy to Su Mrs.
Luo Xueyan introduced—Su Mrs, her daughter and niece Tan.
Su Mrs had skipped court gossip about Shen Miao vs Ming'an—feared a shrew; Mingliang said Mingfeng loved Shen Miao—today's truth reversed everything.
She tucked purses into both girls' hands—"Two fairies—what fortune."
They stared—no New Year, no closeness—yesterday's tiger ring?
Luo Xueyan stiffened; Su Mrs pressed her hands. "Refuse and I'll sulk—just meeting gifts—don't be stingy. Wish I had two daughters."
"Your sons excel," Luo Xueyan said.
"Where? Mingliang is a scamp. We hear Young Master Shen Qiu was dutiful from boyhood—I envy you."
"And Mingfeng—talented youth."
Su Mrs brightened, shooed the girls. "Boring talk—go play."
Shen Miao's guard rose. She whispered, "Congyang—listen in the hall."
Luo Tan asked what she muttered.
Inside Su Mrs sighed. "Mingfeng never troubled us—handsome, learned, office young, filial—unique in Dingjing."
Luo Xueyan smiled inwardly—she'd praised Shen Qiu moments ago.
Su Mrs wailed, "One flaw—stubborn heart—loves one thing forever—unmarried—tragedy!"