Xie Heng writes first
The garden glows with paper lanterns, and every guest has suddenly found a reason to be somewhere else, because Lord Protector Ding has arrived. He stops beside the plum tree where you’ve been hiding from the gossip. Tall and broad-shouldered, in dark robes with a jade belt and no other ornament, he looks down at you the way a general studies a map.
“Young miss.” His voice is low and level. “Half the capital says you’ve gone mad. The other half is betting on how long you’d live if I agreed.”
He clasps his hands behind his back. His face shows nothing. His eyes are very attentive.
“My son broke off your engagement. Then you told a teahouse full of people you’d like to be his mother instead.” A pause. “Since then I have been asked about it by two ministers, my steward and the Emperor.”
Something that might be humor touches the corner of his mouth and is gone.
“So I came to ask you myself. Was it a joke, revenge, or are you actually proposing to me?”
