"Lady Tang, the Minister is at the gate—step forward!" cried the steward from the courtyard threshold. "Open the south gate," Tang Qiao barked. "And tell the gardener to hide the peonies. No fuss." "Gardener in position," the steward answered. "Minister Lin's sedan is here." A hush settled over the peony garden as Minister Lin climbed down, officials behind him like shadows. He moved with the calm of someone used to other people making room. "Lord Tang," Lin announced, bowing once. "Lady Tang." His voice was smooth. "What a spring of blossoms you keep." "Minister Lin honors us," Lady Tang replied, smiling so carefully it showed. "This is nothing compared to the Court gardens." "Who painted that scroll?" Lin asked, nodding at the inked peonies on the small table. "It is Yueyao's," Tang Qiao answered before anyone could. He glanced at his daughter. "She studies under her grandfather." Lin's eyes flicked to the young woman by the trellis. Tang Yueyao stood stiff as a reed in the air, fingers stained faintly with ink. She wore a sleeve a shade too plain to catch a minister's eye, but her posture was steady. "Please show me the painter," Lin said. "I must see where talent comes from." Xiao Yu stepped forward, wiping her palms on her apron. "Miss Yueyao drew it," she said. "She prefers the quiet." "Do you paint, Miss Yueyao?" Lin asked. "No," Yueyao said and the single word cut clear. "I heal." Lin smiled like