64 Red Line

Upon taking a look, Mistress Yang could not help but burst into praise. The so-called moonlight dress was a custom of the capital, where people wore white silk tunics on the Lantern Festival to catch the moonlight, perfectly matching the verse: "The white silk gown shines bright in the moonlight, walking across the bridge cures a hundred ills. Passing the front gate once more touches the good fortune, a single stroll brings a whole year of joy." However, white was not a flattering color for everyone, and the possible variations were limited, so the fashion had gradually faded.

Yet Lingbo’s moonlight dress clearly required immense effort. Instead of plain white silk, she used a bolt of heavy brocade. Moonlight-white satin was woven with subtle silver lotus patterns that connected seamlessly in an endless auspicious design. Spread across the couch and reflecting the snow, the luster of the fabric flowed like water, gleaming brilliantly. It was not hard to imagine how breathtaking it would look under the glow of the Lantern Festival lanterns.

The cut and tailoring were equally exquisite. With a round collar and wide sleeves, the cuffs billowed like clouds and flowing water. The buttons were crafted from the finest mutton-fat jade, paired with a floor-length gold-inlaid skirt featuring wave patterns dotted with lotus blossoms. The gold embroidery was lush and heavy, but when worn, only a short hemline peeked out at the bottom. Elegant yet restrained, subtle yet profoundly luxurious, it exuded an air of noble distinction.

Qinglan immediately frowned, asking, "Such a fine garment, why didn't you keep it for yourself?"

"Spare me. I haven't been getting enough sleep lately, and if I wear this, it will only make my complexion look sallow. I plan to wear emerald green instead." She urged Qinglan, "You should wear it. I truly cannot pull it off, and keeping it is useless since it's only meant for the Lantern Festival. If I wore it at any other time, that courtyard over there would start gossiping that I'm cursing Lord Ye."

Qinglan was amused by her remark. Mistress Yang also joined in the persuasion, leaving Qinglan with no choice but to keep it.

In truth, Lingbo had also prepared a set of exceptionally gorgeous pearl jewelry—a necklace, earrings, and a complete head ornament. Fearing that producing everything at once would make her plotting too obvious, she planned to bring them out in the evening, cornering Qinglan so she would have no choice-but to wear them.

While she carefully plotted for Qinglan, she dressed simply herself. Following a habit of many years, she knew that no amount of dressing up would change much, and standing out too much would only attract unwanted attention. Being of ordinary looks was one thing, but letting people see that you were desperately trying to look pretty was far more awkward. Thus, by not over-adorning herself, she appeared all the more magnanimous.

Today, she wore an emerald-green, gold-woven damask gown with wide sleeves. Annoyingly enough, it was made from the leftover fabric intended for Pei Zhao’s clothes. Although Lingbo was skilled at making money, she was rather thrifty in her daily life and begrudged using fine things on herself. Yet that fellow failed to appreciate her kindness and still liked to lock horns with her; just thinking about it made her want to punch him.

By dusk, Qinglan had indeed fallen into the trap. Lingbo busied herself styling Qinglan, while casually pulling out some of her own jewelry, none of which looked impressive. The hairstylist watched, assuming Lingbo was simply a younger sister jealous of her older sister's beauty, purposely withholding the good accessories and stalling for time. Who would have expected that just as the hour of Shen arrived, Shen Biwei would walk in carrying a lantern and urge, "It's almost the hour of You. Are you all ready?" The moment Lingbo saw her, she immediately exclaimed, "Oh, I remember now! Our household has a set of pearl head ornaments, too."

There was a famous play called A Pearl Pendant, and when Lingbo produced this string of pearls, even the hairstylist was left speechless. Not to mention the earrings with pearls larger than thumbs, the most precious item was a necklace of perfectly round, large, and uniform pearls holding an inner glow. Placed upon the dressing table, it illuminated the entire vanity.

Foolish as Qinglan might be, she finally caught on and asked, "Why on earth are you preparing such expensive pearls for me?"

"Who said they were for you? I intended to wear them with the moonlight dress. Since I can't wear the dress now, the pearls naturally have to be worn by you." Lingbo reasoned with absolute confidence, "Hurry, hurry, get your hair styled, or we won't have time. I haven't even done my own hair yet."

Qinglan, who spent her days reading the sages and spouting grand principles, was painfully slow to react. Though she sensed something was amiss, she could not quite figure it out, and under the urging, she had no choice but to let the hairstylist adorn her. Once the hairstylist finished placing the ornaments, she turned to Lingbo and remarked, "Second Young Mistress, there is a bit of empty space."

They had all figured out by now that although Qinglan was the eldest young mistress, all the valuable possessions in the household were managed by Lingbo.

"I told you they weren't made for you. I tailored them to fit my own hair. My hair is finer and softer than yours, so it cannot hold a high bun. On someone like you, the hair comes out in such a thick mass that the ornaments look undersized by comparison," Lingbo complained.

Believing her words to be the absolute truth, Qinglan looked into the mirror and said, "It doesn't matter. Empty space is fine. It's just viewing lanterns on the Lantern Festival, excessive extravagance isn't good anyway."

"That will never do." Lingbo thought for a moment, then pointed at Shen Biwei. "Right, didn't you give me a Zhaojun fur set? Quickly put it on Qinglan. It's fluffy and will fill the space on her head just right."

Watching Lingbo wrap Qinglan around her little finger, Shen Biwei was filled with profound admiration.

Yet under Lingbo's painstaking orchestration, the Qinglan who emerged from these preparations drew gasps of admiration from everyone. The hairstylist praised, "Having dressed hair for so many years, I have never seen such a stunning young mistress. She looks as though she walked right out of a painting, and even the beauties in theatrical plays are nothing compared to her. On the nineteenth day of the second month, for the Bodhisattva's birthday, the young mistress should truly dress up as Guanyin."

Fearing that too much praise would make Qinglan catch on, Lingbo hurriedly interrupted, "Alright, alright, stop flattering her. Don't you just want a reward? Mistress Yang, quickly hand out the tips."

The hairstylist also found this household rather peculiar. If the sisters were supposedly close, why would the second young mistress forbid others from praising the eldest? And if they were not close, how could she generously part with a string of pearl jewelry worth enough to buy several shops?

Qinglan was indeed a bit dense, behaving much like the principle Lingbo often mentioned: people blessed with beauty grew so accustomed to their own reflections in the mirror that they remained entirely unaware of it. Once fully adorned, she stood up. The others were accustomed to her looks, but Ah Cuo, seeing Qinglan in such full regalia for the first time, stared with wide, unblinking eyes. Lingbo frantically signaled her not to offer any compliments, terrified that Qinglan would realize the truth.

Upon reaching the doorway, they ran straight into Pan Yurong, who was also taking Ye Yinjiang out. Meticulously dressed and quite pleased with herself, Pan was speaking to Lord Ye, saying, "With Yinjiang's looks, how can my lord not plan a grand future for her..."

Just at that moment, Ye Qinglan emerged with her sisters. As the eldest sister, she was accustomed to leading the way, holding a rabbit lantern high to illuminate the path for everyone. Surrounded by a cluster of maids, she looked like a bright full moon descending upon the Ye family's doorstep. Pan Yurong was so stunned she did not know what to do with herself.

Lord Ye, a man of wide experience, felt a complex surge of emotions wash over him as he gazed upon his eldest daughter.

He was well aware of Ye Qinglan’s literary talent, character, beauty, and virtue. Even the most beastly-hearted father, when reminded that she had been delayed until the age of twenty-four, would feel a momentary pang of guilt...

Yet Ye Lingbo gave him no chance to speak.

"Alright, everyone make way." With a glance from her, Mistress Yang and the others immediately stepped forward to separate the young mistresses from Lord Ye and Pan Yurong, enveloping them in a tight circle and plunging them straight into the bustling street crowd celebrating the Lantern Festival.

Strolling through the streets on the Lantern Festival to ward off illness was a grand event in the capital, and the Southern District was where the estates of officials and noble families were most heavily concentrated. At this hour, the crowds were at their peak: matrons leading their daughters, servants surrounding their masters. The lanterns illuminated the entire street as bright as day, and people flowed like a weaving shuttle. Yet even amidst this, a respectful distance automatically cleared around the Ye sisters.

Those walking behind dared not press too close, while those ahead turned their heads, caught sight of Ye Qinglan, and instinctively stepped aside. Their expressions were a mix of awe, wariness, a newfound respect, pity, and surprise, while many matrons wore looks of profound reminiscence.

Ye Lingbo sneered inwardly.

Did you really think the undisputed champion of the Flower Festival banquet four years ago was a joke?

The world was mediocre, snobbish, and prone to chasing after the high and trampling the low. At twenty-four—clearly the prime blossoming age of a woman's youth—they had spread malicious gossip, turning Ye Qinglan into an overripe leftover whom no one wished to marry. Even if any suitors approached, they were mostly pathetic specimens who could never have measured up before: men whose former wives had been hounded to death in their households, or individuals of thoroughly wretched character. The more such rumors spread, the lower her perceived value became.

In truth, Qinglan had always remained the same Qinglan; when had she ever changed?

At this thought, murderous intent boiled within Ye Lingbo's heart.

Ever since Cui Jingyu returned to the capital, she had been scheming. But rather than merely repairing a shattered romance, she intended to make Cui Jingyu repay Qinglan for everything the world had unjustly taken from her.

Qinglan deserved the finest romance and the most blissful ending. People claimed Cui Jingyu had his heart broken by the broken engagement, but how many possibilities in this world had Qinglan rejected for his sake? If she had chosen to remarry immediately after the engagement was broken four years ago, wouldn't there have been countless scions of noble houses waiting for her to choose from?

Four years later, Qinglan remained unmarried, even becoming an "old maid" in the eyes of the world precisely because of this devotion—surely that proved enough.

Yet that idiot Cui Jingyu was astonishingly dense. The two of them were foolishly matched in their stubbornness. Four years had passed, both unmarried; wasn't it obvious enough? Yet their minds refused to turn the corner, stubbornly locking horns. In the prime of their youth, an ethereal maiden and a handsome general ought to be forging a magnificent and passionate romance, yet they spent their time squandering it away!

Fortunately, she, Ye Lingbo, was no pushover.

This red thread of fate was going to be tied, whether smoothly or by force. She was determined to stand watch over these two fools, Cui Jingyu and Qinglan, until they poured out their past grievances, untied the knots in their hearts, fulfilled their destiny, and happily married. And ideally, they would bear a stubborn little bull of a child who would chase after her calling her "Aunty"—that would truly be a picture of supreme happiness and fulfillment.