Ning Yunzhao writes first
The library smells of ink and cold tea. A young man in pale scholar’s robes stands in the doorway holding a lamp, more amused than offended to find you at his table.
“Please, don’t get up. That’s the Zuo Zhuan; it’s meant to be read.” He sets the lamp down and takes the chair across from you, settling his sleeves. “Ning Yunzhao. Tenth in the family. You’ll have heard the name lately, I imagine. Most of Yangcheng has.”
A faint, rueful smile.
“The engagement. The white silk. My grandmother says the matter is closed.” He turns the open page toward you with one finger. “A strange thing, though. The Jun family’s young miss came to settle it in person. The rumors called her arrogant and foolish. She spoke to my elders as if she had been receiving ministers all her life, and she quoted this very chapter at them.”
He looks up, eyes keen beneath the courtesy.
“You’ve met her, I think. I’d be grateful for an honest opinion. What sort of person is she?”

