"Second Cousin is so impressive!"
"The one at the Glazed Pavilion."
Song Langyu looked at Yingliu and asked in a calm voice, "Does the master residing at the Glazed Pavilion have no surname? Or no name?"
Yingliu had long stopped treating Wen Jiao as a mistress. The gossip circulating around the manor these past days had all been spread by her. Suddenly being questioned like this, she panicked a little and quickly replied, "It's Miss Wen."
Song Langyu wanted to reprimand her a few words, but then felt that Yingliu's disrespect toward Wen Jiao was also a result of his own indulgence, so he said nothing.
"Help me change. I'll go take a look."
Yingliu dawdled, unwilling, and cautiously advised, "It's late at night, Master. It wouldn't be appropriate for you to go to Miss Wen's courtyard. The weather is hot these days, and young ladies sleep in very little clothing. If you happened to see something you shouldn't, wouldn't she…"
"Yingliu." Song Langyu cut off her words, his voice flat and unruffled. "I recall you've been in this household for five years now. According to the manor's old customs, you should be released from service. You've served diligently these past years, and I'll have Mother give you a generous dowry."
Yingliu's lips trembled. "Please don't send me away, Master… I still want to stay in the manor and continue serving."
Song Langyu stepped forward to leave, his voice slightly cool. "If you don't wish to leave the manor, I'll inform Mother and have you assigned to the country estate."
He was firmly resolved not to keep her at the Calamus Courtyard.
When Song Langyu arrived at the Glazed Pavilion, the manor physician was already taking Wen Jiao's pulse.
He stood outside the folding screen and asked the maidservant, "When did she fall ill?"
This maidservant had been newly assigned today and replied, "About half an hour ago. Miss suddenly said she felt cold. I went in with a thick quilt and discovered she was burning with fever and not fully conscious, so I hurriedly went to fetch someone."
"Was Madam alerted?"
"It's late at night, so I didn't dare disturb Madam."
"No need to disturb Madam. I'll stay here and keep watch."
A moment later, the manor physician came out and clasped his hands to Song Langyu. "Young Master need not worry. Miss Wen has merely caught a chill, compounded by some agitation of the heart. Two doses of medicine to strengthen her constitution and settle her spirit, and she'll recover at once."
"Then I'll trouble you, Doctor."
The physician wrote out the prescription, and the maidservant saw him out. Song Langyu hesitated for a moment, then stepped through the folding screen.
Through a silver-red gauze bed curtain, the girl's graceful figure was faintly visible. Song Langyu's throat tightened, and he turned to leave—when he heard Wen Jiao let out a soft, lingering whimper.
"Mother…"
His steps faltered for an instant, then he quickly walked out the door.
Wen Jiao slowly sat up, pulling the nightgown that had slipped from her shoulder back into place, her eyes clear and calm as still water.
The following days passed without incident in the manor. Wen Jiao kept to her quarters.
One day, just after Wen Jiao had finished her medicine, a maidservant from Madam Wu's courtyard came to deliver a message: the Second Young Master had returned, and a family dinner would be held in the flower hall that evening. Wen Jiao was invited to attend as well.
Wen Jiao knew of this Second Young Master—he was Concubine Zhao's son, who had been studying at the Suibei Academy.
When she arrived at the flower hall in the evening, only Song Xiangyu was there. She pulled Wen Jiao to sit down and asked with concern, "I heard you were ill?"
Wen Jiao gave a weak smile. "I'm much better now. Thank you for your concern, Cousin."
"Jiaojiao," Song Xiangyu tugged at her sleeve, "do you truly like my eldest brother?"
Wen Jiao's eyes were misty with moisture, and she pressed her lips together, shaking her head. "Don't ask, Cousin."
"With that deadpan face of my eldest brother, aren't you afraid to look at him? How could you possibly like someone like him…"
"What secrets are you two whispering about?"
A young male voice cut off Song Xiangyu's words. Wen Jiao turned to look and saw a man around twenty years old with sharp brows and bright eyes, bearing some resemblance to Song Langyu. She surmised this must be Song Langxuan.
Wen Jiao performed a salute and said in a sweet voice, "Jiaojiao greets Second Cousin."
Song Langxuan had returned last night, and Concubine Zhao had already told him about Wen Jiao—that she was a distant relative of Madam Wu. He just hadn't expected her to be so exquisitely beautiful.
Her skin was fair as snow, her apricot-shaped eyes brimming with tenderness. Not only was she beautiful, but her demeanor was obedient and sweet, softening one's heart into a pool of water in an instant.
Song Langxuan was momentarily stunned speechless. Wen Jiao pressed her lips together and smiled at him. It was Song Xiangyu who couldn't bear it any longer, waving her handkerchief in front of his face and teasing, "Second Brother, wake up."
Wen Jiao was extraordinarily beautiful. When she first arrived at the Duke of Zhenguo's mansion, even wearing an old white dress, she was impossible to look away from. These past days, accompanying Madam Wu to banquets at various households, there was no one who didn't praise her looks.
Quite a few frivolous young men had come inquiring about her, but unfortunately her eldest brother had poor eyesight—turning down such a beauty. If someone else plucked this flower in the future, there would be no one like her to be had again…
Song Xiangyu suddenly felt a sense of urgency. She thought Wen Jiao was truly wonderful—there wasn't another girl in all of the capital with such looks and such a temperament!
Turning to see Song Langxuan's eyes glued to Wen Jiao as he asked all sorts of questions to ingratiate himself, Song Xiangyu grew even more anxious. Just as she was about to squeeze between the two of them, she saw Song Langyu approaching.
"Eldest Brother, sit here!" Song Xiangyu enthusiastically directed Song Langyu to sit between Wen Jiao and Song Langxuan.
"How many policy essays did you write at the academy?" Song Langyu asked as soon as he sat down.
Song Langxuan feared his elder brother more than his father, because Song Langyu had sat for the imperial examinations and passed at a young age, well-versed in the classics and histories—not an easy person to fool.
"T-ten essays."
"Which ten?"
Song Langxuan swallowed hard, trying to recall the policy essays he'd written over the past six months. Song Langyu listened quietly, and after he finished, asked him one by one about his specific arguments and evidence.
Song Langxuan wasn't exactly outstanding, but he did read reasonably well. Still, there was no way he could remember every single essay. Where he couldn't explain, his palms broke out in anxious sweat.
Fortunately, Madam Wu and Song Heng arrived. Song Langxuan felt a wave of relief and quickly rose to greet them. As everyone took their seats, he heard Song Langyu beside him say, "Come find me at the Iris Courtyard after the banquet."
Song Langxuan felt that the honey-glazed roast quail before him had instantly lost its appeal.
Once the feast began, everyone chatted and laughed merrily. Song Langxuan was witty in his speech, and as he recounted his experiences over the past six months, he had everyone laughing without pause.
Wen Jiao laughed along with the others, but she didn't speak, nor did she look at Song Langyu.
After the guests dispersed, Song Langxuan came to find Wen Jiao, smiling as he asked, "Cousin Jiaojiao, do you have time tomorrow?"
The courtyard was quiet, and the soft yellow light of the lanterns fell upon Wen Jiao's face, lending her an air of purity and mystery. Her eyes curved into crescents, tiny glimmers of light dancing in their depths, and her voice was soft and sweet: "Does Second Cousin have something in mind?"
Song Langxuan swallowed, his ears turning red. He stammered slightly: "Cousin, does cousin… like flying kites?"
The case at Qiedu Temple had hit a dead end. The young nuns had all been acting under orders, and Miaoshan refused to confess. Before torture could even be applied, she had already attempted suicide twice—once by biting her tongue, once by throwing herself against a pillar.
As for the assassins who had been captured, they refused to say a single word.
Although the officials' wives had been recommended to Qiedu Temple by the Grand Princess, that alone was not enough to convict anyone.
Song Langyu's mind was occupied with the case when he suddenly heard the silvery, bell-like laughter of a young woman not far away. Following the sound, he first spotted a fish-shaped kite painted with the pattern of "adding longevity to the sea house" soaring above the courtyard, and only then did he see Wen Jiao holding the kite's string.
She tilted her head up, shielding her eyes with one hand as she gazed at the sky, a clear smile on her lips. In a crisp voice, she said to the person beside her, "Oh dear! The wind is too strong—cousin, please help me reel in the string quickly. Don't let it come crashing down!"
Song Langxuan's eyes were glued to Wen Jiao. Instead of taking the reel, he reached out and tugged at the kite's guide string.
"Don't worry, cousin. Let out a little more line and let the kite fly even higher."
The young man was willing, and the maiden was eager—a pleasing sight to behold.
Song Langyu furrowed his brow.
Just a few days ago, she had confessed her feelings to him and been rejected, and now she was already turning around to charm Song Langxuan. It was like a fly chasing after filth.
Any lingering guilt Song Langyu felt toward Wen Jiao vanished completely. He found her behavior frivolous and shameless.
Wen Jiao's cheerful voice drifted into his ears.
"It's flying higher! Even higher!"
"Second cousin is amazing!"
Song Langyu cast a faint glance in their direction, then turned and walked toward the Calamus Courtyard.
If she wished to grow close to Song Langxuan, then she wouldn't come bothering him again. Let her be.
After the evening meal, Song Langxuan arrived at the Calamus Courtyard. Song Langyu tested him on his studies, and his answers were satisfactory, earning him a word of praise from Song Langyu, which immediately filled him with delight.
"Brother, is there anything else?"
Song Langyu glanced at him and asked, "Do you have something to do?"
"I've arranged to meet Cousin Jiao in the garden to catch fireflies." Song Langxuan's face was brimming with joy.
In just a single day, he was already addressing her so intimately.
"You'll be sitting for the autumn provincial examination this year. Are you certain of success?"
"Brother, no one can claim absolute certainty about the autumn examination. I'll do my best." Song Langxuan gave an awkward smile.
He had grown up in the shadow of Song Langyu's brilliance. Fortunately, he had an easygoing nature—after a period of inferiority in his youth, he had come to accept reality and never harbored resentment or envy. As for the imperial examinations, he treated them with equanimity and did not demand too much of himself.
"How can you be so lacking in ambition? For the remaining half year, you must not slacken in your studies. Focus your mind on the autumn examination. I will test you once every three days." Song Langyu said coolly.
Song Langxuan responded with a dejected acknowledgment and left the room.
The case was progressing slowly, and the household was restless as well. Song Langyu rubbed his brow, suddenly craving something sweet and rich, but the corner of his desk was clean and bare—nothing there.
The next morning, Song Langyu went to pay his respects to Madam Wu. Just as he was about to enter, he saw Wen Jiao emerging from the courtyard.
She wore a bean-green silk jacket patterned with lychees over a low-necked blouse, her slender, fair neck exposed. Her black hair was like clouds, and she was more lovely than the flowers—clearly dressed with great care.
Her eyes sparkled with joy, but the moment she saw Song Langyu, that joy instantly faded. She froze, then offered a proper, courteous salute and said in a soft voice, "Elder cousin."
Song Langyu noticed the familiar food box in her hand and guessed she had made pastries again to curry favor with Madam Wu. He couldn't help but think even less of her.
Just as he was wondering how he might decline if she offered him some pastries, Song Langxuan arrived. He greeted Song Langyu, then said to Wen Jiao with a face full of delight, "Are these pastries for me?"
"I only made mille-feuille cakes, filled with osmanthus honey. I sent some to Aunt, and the rest are all for Second Cousin." Wen Jiao's eyes regained their joy, and her voice turned a few degrees sweeter as she handed over the heavy food box.
Song Langxuan immediately reached out to take it.
The food box passed in front of Song Langyu, its vermilion handle like a red silk ribbon of celebration.
Seeing his elder brother staring at the food box, Song Langxuan gave an awkward smile and asked, "Brother, would you like some mille-feuille cake?"