Volume One, Chapter One: Hounds of the Hawk

In the early days of spring, the snow that once clung to the eaves had long since melted away, and tender green branches jostled to emerge, each eager to claim a share of the season. Yet, at the Spring Banquet in the Marquis of Yongning’s residence, the only thing to be heard was the sound of ice shattering on the lake, swiftly followed by the startled cries of maids and matrons.

“Hurry! Save them—Sixth Miss and Cousin fell into the water!”

Beneath the surface, Song Xianwan clung tightly to Qin Siyao’s clothes. Only after hearing two more splashes did she finally let go. By then, the esteemed guests gathered on the shore had been led away to the front courtyard by orders of Fifth Lady Gu Shuyuan.

Clutching a handkerchief in her hand, she watched as the swimming maids dredged the two girls from the icy water. Song Xianwan leaned weakly against Fulings’s arms, coughing up mouthfuls of cold water. Heavy cloaks were wrapped snugly around her, driving the chill from her bones.

She coughed, lifting her gaze to meet Gu Shuyuan’s icy, measuring eyes. Song Xianwan’s lips curved in a faint smile before she looked away.

An effort spent for nothing, she thought—by now, Gu Shuyuan likely hated her enough to wish her dead.

“Hurry and take the young ladies back to their rooms. Summon the physician—let them not be left with an illness,” Fourth Lady Lin Wanru quickly interjected. With that, Madam Song and Fulings helped Song Xianwan to her feet and walked her toward the Begonia Courtyard.

Soon, the lakeside was tranquil once again.

Inside the Begonia Courtyard, Song Xianwan held a warming vessel between her hands, now dressed in clean, dry clothes, while Fulings tended the brazier, coaxing warmth into the room. Her coughs came one after another, relentless.

“Miss, your health is already fragile, and now you’ve soaked in the icy lake for so long…” Madam Song said with deep concern.

“It’s nothing. I won’t die,” Song Xianwan replied, pulling the quilt tighter around herself and staring into the distant glow of the brazier.

“This move of yours, hurting the enemy a thousand only to wound yourself eight hundred. You’ve gained nothing, have you?” Fulings said helplessly, glancing at her mistress.

Not only now, but likely from here on, the Fifth Lady would hold a grudge against Song Xianwan. Life in this household, already difficult, would only become harder.

“If I hadn’t done this, I’d have been the one to suffer,” Song Xianwan answered, coughing again as she reached for a cup of hot tea.

In the Marquis of Yongning’s household, she was never truly welcomed—a cousin whose mother had died young, whose father remarried and sent her here. Yet Song Xianwan’s mother, Third Miss Qin, though born of a concubine, had been raised by the Old Madam herself, cherished as her own. Fate had been unkind: her chosen husband proved cold and faithless, bringing his mistress and her two children into the house while his wife lay gravely ill.

Her mother’s body was scarcely cold when Song Xianwan, his only daughter, was banished to a Buddhist hall for five years of solitary confinement.

Had the Old Madam not sent gifts to Liuzhou, she might never have learned of the hardships Song Xianwan endured. In a fit of anger, she had brought her to the capital.

The Old Madam, now elderly, wished only for family harmony, yet there were matters beyond her strength. Outwardly, the Marquis’s household provided Song Xianwan with everything due her, but behind closed doors, who knew how much was withheld?

At this year’s New Year’s Eve banquet, the Old Madam, for reasons unknown, suddenly declared Song Xianwan would be betrothed to the Fifth Branch’s Second Young Master. Thus began a series of troubles.

“Second Young Master is the apple of the Fifth Lady’s eye. The Old Madam meant well, hoping to find you a reliable support, so you could live peacefully here,” Madam Song explained, gently toweling Xianwan’s hair. “But the Fifth Lady cannot abide the slightest slight.”

Second Young Master Qin Yuanjue served in the Hanlin Academy. His rank was modest, but he was the prized disciple of a Grand Academician—an advisor close to the emperor, with every prospect of rising into the cabinet one day. His marriage was a matter for careful calculation by the Fifth Branch; how could they allow a cousin like Xianwan to benefit?

But the Old Madam was resolute. If she couldn’t make Xianwan a wife, she’d make her a favored concubine—anything to place her in the Fifth Branch.

Gu Shuyuan, however, had other plans. She schemed to send Xianwan away entirely, hoping the favor gained would help her husband’s career.

Today’s Spring Banquet was attended by many distinguished guests, among them Deng Bin, Assistant Minister of Revenue, whom Gu Shuyuan had chosen as Xianwan’s prospective match. Known for his lechery and greed, he took a liking to Xianwan at first sight, which suited Gu Shuyuan perfectly.

Her plan was to engineer Xianwan’s fall into the water, and while she changed clothes, have Deng Bin barge in. Even if the plot failed, Xianwan’s reputation would be ruined, and she would have no choice but to become Deng Bin’s concubine.

In return for such a favor, Deng Bin would naturally look after Lord Fifth, also serving in the Ministry of Revenue. Thus, Xianwan would be married off, the Old Madam’s wishes technically fulfilled, and benefits secured—a double victory for Gu Shuyuan.

“The Eldest Young Master, Qin Songting, should be returning soon,” Song Xianwan said suddenly.

“Tomorrow, he’ll arrive in the capital,” Madam Song replied. “But Miss, he’s not someone to be trifled with. As the legitimate son of the house, he keeps close company with eunuchs—people say he’s an imperial lapdog, and even the Old Madam has little affection for him.”

What worried Madam Song was that by provoking this madman—who once drew a blade and executed a minister in the Hall of Supreme Harmony—Xianwan would leave herself no escape.

“All the better,” Song Xianwan replied, clutching the quilt with icy fingers. “The crazier Qin Songting is, the more thoroughly we can muddy the waters of this marquisate.”

Hearing her words, Fulings and Madam Song fell silent.

In the Ink Fragrance Pavilion, Sixth Miss Qin Siyao’s residence, she wept bitterly beneath her blankets, cursing Song Xianwan.

“Mother, that Song Xianwan saw me by the shore and dragged me into the water on purpose—that wretched, detestable girl!”

Qin Siyao had never liked Song Xianwan. From the moment she arrived, she had monopolized their grandmother’s affection, and even Father showed her special care. Anyone who didn’t know better would think Xianwan was his true daughter.

She enjoyed every kindness, every fine gift was sent first to the Begonia Courtyard—enough to drive Qin Siyao mad with envy.

“Stop those tears—what are you crying for?” Gu Shuyuan snapped coldly from across the room. “After all these years, you still show no composure.”

Chastened by her mother’s harsh tone, Qin Siyao sniffled, “Mother, I nearly died in that icy lake today.”

Her complaint was edged with wounded pride. Her mother was always strict, and her father rarely showed warmth. As for Song Xianwan, today should have seen her sent away, but in the end, she’d turned the tables.

Qin Siyao could not swallow this humiliation.

“That’s your own foolishness. How could a sickly girl like her have the strength to pull you in?” Gu Shuyuan retorted. “You’re not to leave the courtyard these next few days. Stay put.”

With that, she cast Qin Siyao a glance and rose to leave, her daughter’s muttered curses trailing after her.

Outside the Ink Fragrance Pavilion, Gu Shuyuan’s expression was cold and severe. Every time she looked at Song Xianwan, she saw echoes of that wretched, long-dead mother. Such wanton airs—utterly revolting.

“Madam, Lord Deng has sent word, asking if your arrangement still stands?” Li Mama inquired in a low voice.

Gu Shuyuan sneered, her foot grinding a dead branch underfoot. “Tell Lord Deng the arrangement stands. He need only wait.”

All her careful plotting would not be undone by anyone. She had not expected Song Xianwan’s life to be so tenacious, to make it all the way to the marquisate alive.

No matter. She would send her to her doom herself.