Chapter 89: Missing

The Jade Rabbit Festival lived up to its name—Dingjing had never felt more alive.
After supper Shen Miao was still at her mirror when Bailu and Shuangjiang burst in. "Miss—fireworks in the city! They say they'll go all night—so beautiful!" Hope lit their faces plain as day.
"What's the hurry?" Guyu scolded, comb in hand. "We're going anyway. No need to fuss."
Before she finished, Shen Qiu's laughing voice came from outside. "Little sister—ready yet? Father and Mother are waiting in the front hall."
"Young Master," Jingzhe answered from the doorway, "Miss's hair isn't done. A moment more, please."
"A girl's hair can't take longer than a soldier donning armor," Qiu muttered, then shouted toward the room: "Little sister—I'll go wait in the hall. Come when you're ready."
Shen Miao answered through the window. Guyu finished the last pin, picked from the jewel case, and settled on a jade hairpin. Shen Miao glanced at the bronze mirror and paused. "Why this one?"
"It suits your dress," Guyu smiled. "Fine work, not fussy—perfect for today's single spiral bun."
Shen Miao touched the pin—Xie Jingxing's jade crabapple blossom. The maids had judged it priceless. She had meant to return it, then kept it—thinking that if silver ran short she might pawn it, though heaven knew how angry Xie Jingxing would be.
"Does Miss dislike it?" Guyu asked at her hesitation. "We could change—Young Master brought palace gifts, plenty of ornaments—"
"No need." Shen Miao cut her off. "Changing will only delay us. This will do." Only a hairpin, she thought.
Guyu straightened her collar and draped a cloak. "There."
"Don't forget the hand warmer," Jingzhe said, tucking one into her hands.
In the main hall the Shen household had gathered—as every year, the whole family went to the festival together.
Chen Ruoqiu and Shen Wan were talking. Shen Yue wore a pale pink twelve-panel immortal skirt, hem flowing; even in this cold her underlayers were thin, a peach embroidered cape over all—pretty, useless against wind—yet she looked pleased with herself. Seeing Shen Miao she smiled sweetly. "Fifth Sister."
Shen Miao nodded and looked toward Shen Gui's side. This year's difference: no Ren Wanyun, no Shen Yuanbai. Before, Ren Wanyun had brought the boy; now she was mad and could not leave, and Yuanbai was too young for crowded streets—Old Madam kept him in the estate. Yuan stood beside Shen Wan. Behind Wan, Concubine Wan held a girl's hand—the girl looked this way.
Shen Dongling, second branch's illegitimate daughter.
Dongling wore a long apricot padded jacket—" afraid of cold," she always said—thick and oversized, making her look thinner still. Her features followed Wan's delicate beauty, yet her whole presence was so faint you could almost miss her. She did not greet Shen Miao, only watched in silence—shy or cold, hard to tell.
Shen Miao looked away. Shen Qiu exclaimed: "Little sister—you're prettier every day!"
"Brat!" Shen Xin kicked him. "When was your sister ever not pretty?"
Luo Xueyan came smiling, took Shen Miao's hand. "Our Jiaojiao's a young lady now."
Every eye in the hall turned to Shen Miao with unreadable meaning. A year ago she had been the foolish eldest sister—gold and silver piled on, powder thicker than whitewash. Now she wore purple brocade with gold thread, a peony cloak edged with fine embroidery, a single spiral bun and one slanting jade pin—no jangling ornaments—yet she looked richly noble. Her features were clear; her eyes bright as a fawn's. Had she stood soft and yielding she would have been all girlish charm—but she stood straight and commanding, like the moon above the nine heavens, impossible to meet without lowering your gaze.
Every woman in the room seemed common beside her—paste and powder, nothing more.
Jealousy flashed in Shen Yue's eyes. She had thought Shen Miao least worth comparing with her—yet without notice Shen Miao had begun to steal her light. Yue's pride was scholarly grace and beauty; today beside Shen Miao she felt ashamed. She looked to Chen Ruoqiu for contempt—and found gravity there instead. Her heart chilled further.
Wan sighed inwardly and tightened her grip on Dongling's hand. She had no other thought—legitimate daughters carried themselves differently. However clever her daughter, years shut in a courtyard could not match Shen Miao's bearing.
The men reacted little. Besides Shen Xin and Qiu, Shen Gui and Shen Wan only frowned. Yuan stared at Shen Miao, gaze heavy, thoughts unknown.
Chen Ruoqiu smoothly changed subject. "Everyone's here—let's go."
Old Madam was too aged for the crush; she stayed with Yuanbai, Ren Wanyun, and second branch's concubines. The rest would take to the streets. In past years the walk had been all laughter; this year, after Shen Miao's fire in the ancestral hall, Shen Xin and Qiu kept deliberate distance from the other branches, speaking only with Luo Xueyan.
House guards followed. Each year the city garrison added patrols against trouble in the crowds—usually safe enough.
Shen Xin would not speak with Shen Gui or Shen Wan; they did not press. The brothers talked between themselves. Yue used to walk with Shen Qing and Shen Miao—Miao made her look refined. Now Miao ignored her; Yue would not walk in Miao's shadow and sought Dongling instead. Wan was delighted at Yue's friendliness—but Dongling seemed shy, not warm, almost timid. Yue lost interest quickly.
The procession through the streets turned oddly awkward—not quite estranged, for one household walked together; not quite harmonious, for each faction kept its own corner.
Shen Miao watched lanterns and riddles as she walked. Shen Xin and the others never guessed riddles—military households, rough hands, no patience for literary games. As Qiu put it: "Little sister likes a prize lantern? Tomorrow I'll find a craftsman and carve you the same—why sweat over riddles?"
Qiu could not share Chen Ruoqiu's "refinement." When they finished guessing and moved on, Wan suddenly said to Shen Gui: "Master—I hear the Jade Rabbit fairy dances at Wanli Lake tonight, and this year's great rabbit lantern is there too. Shall we go?"
Chen Ruoqiu frowned. "That fairy is from Baoxiang Tower. We're out with the family's girls—hardly proper." Baoxiang Tower—Dingjing's greatest pleasure house, girls soft and skilled, men abandoning wives and fortunes for one night. Respectable wives despised the place—yet could not deny those girls' talent. So this year's fairy still came from Baoxiang.
"Second Madam," Wan said softly, "it's only a performance—in public the fairy won't misbehave. Just a spectacle—no need to be so serious." Wan had not meant to fight—but like Ren Wanyun she hated Chen Ruoqiu's lofty air, always playing the great house's lady. Wan, born on the stage, heard Chen's swipe at Baoxiang as a swipe at her too.
The men would not meddle in women's quarrels. Dongling only gripped Wan's hand and said nothing. Yue wanted to defend her mother but feared it beneath a legitimate daughter's dignity. Silence.
"Who said Wanli Lake is only for the fairy?" Shen Miao spoke lightly into the quiet. "Ten thousand lanterns on the water isn't an everyday sight. Birth into wealth or poverty isn't chosen—what skill is there in looking down on others? Whatever she was born, tonight she is the Jade Rabbit fairy. Clear hearts need not fuss over outward things."
A beat—then Shen Xin laughed first. "Jiaojiao's right. You don't choose your birth—looking down on folk is no achievement!"
Luo Xueyan smiled. On campaign their ranks held officers' sons and plain farmers alike—some who could not fill their bowls, some whose elders starved. They never despised the poor; Shen Miao's words suited them well.
"Little sister," Qiu clapped her shoulder, "you sound like someone who holds the realm in her chest. Even your big brother's ashamed of his narrow mind."
He was teasing—but Shen Miao went briefly distant. Last life she married Fu Xiuyi and became empress—first for love, then for duty. "Mother to the realm" meant every subject at peace; rulers must love their people. Fu Xiuyi had taught her that, though he never lived it.
Their chorus left Chen Ruoqiu patchy pale—Shen Xin praised Shen Miao's frankness and made Chen look false. Shen Wan's face darkened. Yue seethed but held her tongue.
Wan thought Shen Miao had taken her side and brightened. Dongling shook her head slightly. Yuan's smile stayed cold. Shen Gui looked away.
"Then Wanli Lake," Luo Xueyan ordered—once a woman general, command came naturally. However unwilling, with Shen army guards at their backs, the family followed.
Wanli Lake lay west of the city center—a jade inset in winter when snow fell and boats drifted with wine and history.
Tonight snow fell again. Under ten thousand lights the flakes looked like crystal blossoms spinning down; willows along the shore wore white sleeves—you could not tell snow from lantern glow.
Before they reached the lake, fireworks cracked. The night sky bloomed in sheets of color that dazzled the eye. Below, crowds pressed shoulder to shoulder—lovers arm in arm, families whole—all looking up at a moment made eternal.
"Miss—look!" Jingzhe cried. "Wanli Lake fireworks—they say all night!"
"Beautiful," Guyu murmured.
"Hah—Dingjing's rich," Qiu told Luo Xueyan. "Beats the northwest cold."
Luo Xueyan walked on, sighing with wonder.
Suddenly the crowd surged forward. Shen Xin caught a running man. "Brother—what's ahead? Why the rush?"
"The Jade Rabbit fairy!" the man said. "Everyone's going to see her!" He looked Shen Xin over. "New in town? This year's Liuying from Baoxiang Tower—you'd better hurry!" And he was gone.
Shen Xin turned. Luo Xueyan said coolly: "Still not going to see Liuying?"
"Wife jokes." Shen Xin wiped his brow. "I've seen enough beauty—Liuying's nothing beside you."
Still, having come this far, Luo Xueyan would not spoil the mood. They pushed through the press until someone shouted: "Liuying's here! Liuying's here!"
Shen Miao was too short to see. Qiu pulled her onto a stone platform and stood beside her. She looked up—a flower cart came through the crowd.
Midwinter, yet the cart blazed with fresh flowers—someone had spared no effort. Colors blurred in the lamplight, but the figure inside was clear.
A young woman sat upright in white cotton gauze, fur cape over her shoulders, hair in a flying-immortal bun—ethereal at a glance. Fine brows, teeth like pearls—the arresting thing was her narrow eyes, faint lift at the outer corners, adding a trace of allure. Cold yet inviting, light yet heavy—as if her arrival brought a thread of ambiguous scent on the wind. Fairy and worldly dust mixed: not quite heaven, not quite earth—that chill seduction no mortal color could copy.
Liuying was not classically beautiful; her features even fell short of Wan's. Yet that bone-deep cool coquetry tugged at something vital—was she spirit or demon? For ordinary men, fatal.
Shen Miao's gaze rested a moment, then swept the crowd—looking for someone. Not found. Qiu noticed. "Little sister—what are you looking for?"
"Brother—why aren't you watching Liuying?" She deflected.
Qiu was no fool—but with Shen Miao he rarely dug deeper. "I don't like that type."
Shen Miao raised a brow. "Then what type does Elder Brother like?"
Qiu had no answer.
She almost laughed at his embarrassment. Last life Qiu married a vicious sister-in-law and likely never met a girl he loved. This life—who would become his wife?
"Let's go." Qiu offered his hand to help her down. To see Liuying he had brought her here—ten meters from Shen Xin and the others. Now that the show was over, they should rejoin the family and release river lanterns.
Shen Miao was about to jump when a child's cry cut through the noise. A boy of three or four hung upside down from a shop beam—he had climbed to see better and slipped. He clung with both hands, half his body over empty air; if he fell it would be disaster. Someone had gone for a ladder, but his grip was failing. His mother covered her face and wept.
"Wait here, little sister." Qiu said—and with skill at hand over a few meters, he went.
Before he arrived the child's hands gave way. A collective gasp—Qiu's toe found a pillar, he leaped, caught the boy mid-fall and saved his life. Cheers for the display. Qiu returned the child; the mother wept apologies until Qiu grew awkward.
When the pair was calm, Qiu turned back to the platform.
It was empty.
His chest tightened. He shoved through the crowd in three strides—nothing on the stone, no trace. He still hoped, looked around, shouted twice: "Jiaojiao!" No answer.
He grabbed a bystander near the platform. "The girl who was standing here—did you see her?"
The man snapped: "What girl—no, no!" Then looked Qiu over. "Your miss got snatched? Festival's full of kidnappers—no guards, a young lady wanders off—nine times in ten it's a kidnapper!"
Qiu's body shook violently—the eight-foot soldier who never blinked at enemies on the field—color draining from his face.
……
In the crush on Wanli Lake's shore, two men walked. One in blue with jade crown—bearing tall and open. One in purple—features fine as painted, grace in every step, faint smile drawing glances from the women.
"How long will you follow me?" Xie Jingxing asked.
Su Mingfeng swayed his head. "Such a festival—a friend ought to walk together. Why so unwilling?"
"I have business."
"Chance meeting beats invitation. Since we met, stroll with me. How many Jade Rabbit nights haven't we spent together?" Su Mingfeng complained. "You're getting more mysterious every year."
Su had come with his family and collared Xie when they crossed paths. Su and Xie houses were close; Su's father said nothing. The elders walked ahead; Mingfeng and Jingxing trailed behind.
"Out alone again—your father not angry?" Su Mingfeng asked.
Families went out together; Xie Jingxing alone meant he had slipped away again. Xie Ding was probably furious—paying for a son who felt like a debt from a past life.
"He has his son for company. I'm not that free." Xie Jingxing sounded bored.
Su Mingfeng shook his head. "Easy life you lead."
Ahead, a party hurried toward them. Su Mingfeng paused. "Isn't that General Shen?"
Xie Jingxing looked up. Shen Xin came fast, Qiu and Luo Xueyan behind, a line of guards—every face grave. Su Mingfeng rubbed his chin. "Trouble in the Shen house? Why those looks?"
Among all the festival joy, the Shen party stood out—nothing good. Su's father stopped to speak; Xie and Su hung back, martial ears catching the words.
Su's father asked: "General Shen—where bound?"
"Hah—just wandering." Shen Xin said. "My wife took ill—we're heading home. Enjoy yourself, Su sir." He bowed and left without looking back.
Su and Shen houses did not align politically; the brush-off stung. Su's father moved on. Su Mingfeng said: "General Shen's proud—but this looks serious. Even if Madam Shen is ill, why so many guards?"
Xie Jingxing scanned the escort. "The Shen Fifth Miss isn't there."
"Huh?" Su Mingfeng blinked.
"Shen Miao isn't there." Xie Jingxing watched the retreating column. Given Miao's relations with the other branches, she would not abandon her mother to stroll with second or third house. And she was not in this group—unless she never left the estate, which Shen Xin would never allow on a night like this.
A soft voice piped up: "Sister Shen is missing!"
Xie Jingxing looked down. Su Minglang—Su Mingfeng's little brother—had slipped from the elders and tugged Mingfeng's sleeve. "I sneaked over and heard them—they need to find Sister Shen fast."
The round child was nearly invisible in the crowd—bold enough not to fear being lost.
"They said maybe kidnappers took Sister Shen." Minglang went on. "Big brother—let's save her!"
"Missing?" Xie Jingxing studied the Shen backs, then told Su Mingfeng: "Don't spread this. I'll go first." He bent to Minglang with a wicked smile. "If you tell anyone Shen Miao is gone, I'll sell you to a kidnapper."