Song Yanzhou was the closest to her. He instinctively reached out to help her up, but his hand froze in midair, and all he managed to say was, “Miss, are you all right?”
He did not understand why he had reacted so instinctively.
Perhaps it was because she looked so delicate.
That was what he thought.
The moment he stopped, Dongzhi had already run over, muttering nonstop.
“Oh, my lady, does it hurt? How did you manage to fall? This chair is far too thoughtless!”
Wen Yunwan rolled her eyes at Dongzhi, then turned toward Song Yanzhou with ill temper. “What do you think? Do I look all right?”
It was not that much of a fall. It was simply humiliating.
Seeing the rare look of blankness on the young man’s face, Wen Yunwan grew even more irritated. She stretched out an arm toward him. “What are you waiting for? Help me up!”
Her tone was still imperious, angry yet entirely natural, as though she had ordered him around a thousand times before.
At times like this, she missed the Song Yanzhou of her previous life terribly.
Forget letting her fall—even if the chair had merely made a sound, he would have come over at once and lifted her securely into his arms. He absolutely would not have let her fall to the ground.
She had grown used to being cared for by Song Yanzhou.
Tianqi did not have such strict rules about contact between men and women. Helping her up was nothing significant.
The young man obediently supported her slender arm with his right palm, while his left hand restrainedly steadied her wrist. The awkwardness had already faded from his face, and his voice returned to its calm composure.
“This chair has fallen into disrepair. You have to sit on it with a certain finesse for it not to give way. I caused you this trouble, Miss. Song owes you an apology.”
Wen Yunwan stood up and pulled her arm from his grasp. Supporting her waist, she said irritably, “Why didn’t you fix it?”
She said “fix,” not “buy.”
Because she knew that, at this point in time, Song Yanzhou had to split every penny in half before spending it.
The warm, soft sensation in his palm disappeared. The young man’s hand instinctively curled inward, as though he wanted to hold on to that trace of softness, but he quickly relaxed it again. He bent down and gathered up the broken pieces of wood one by one, speaking as he did so.
“I had to prepare for the examinations, so I didn’t get around to repairing it.”
“There’s only some plain rice porridge at home. Would you like some?”
He rose and looked at the dust-stained hem of her crimson skirt. “I have nothing else here, Miss.”
The tottering square table, the broken chair, the tiny courtyard, the plain rice porridge that barely sustained him.
Wen Yunwan realized that in her previous life, she had never paid attention to any of these details. Even when she had chased him all the way home, she had looked down on his circumstances and refused to sit. While he was cooking the porridge, she had imperiously ordered someone to buy dishes from a restaurant.
Song Yanzhou had not shown any reaction at the time, but he had not eaten the restaurant food either. He had simply allowed her to run wild in his tiny courtyard while calmly drinking the plain porridge he had cooked himself before a table laden with delicacies.
Thinking about it now, anyone else would have held a grudge after suffering such humiliation.
Lord Song truly deserved to have risen to the position of chancellor at such a young age. His magnanimity was no ordinary thing.
With that thought, Wen Yunwan clapped her hands boldly. “That will do. My stomach hasn’t been well lately, and plain porridge is good for it.”
The precious daughter of the prefect, who could make even drinking porridge seem extravagant and ostentatious, stood in the little courtyard—which was not even as large as her bedchamber—with her hands on her hips, ordering the young man in front of her around.
“Go on, hurry up and serve me a bowl.”
Still imperious, still habitually ordering him about.
The young man lowered his eyes to look at her. His dark, lustrous eyes held no emotion. He turned around and served her a bowl of porridge.
The chair was broken, and there was nowhere to sit.
Wen Yunwan sent someone to buy a new chair, then took a sip of the plain porridge in her hands.
It had almost no flavor, contained very few grains of rice, and the bottom of the bowl did nothing to keep the heat from reaching her fingers. It was scalding.
She forced a smile at Song Yanzhou. “It’s delicious.”
How strange.
In her previous life, even when Song Yanzhou cooked plain porridge, he could make it soft, sticky, and thick. Why was the porridge he made now no different from rice soaked in water?
Song Yanzhou noticed that her fingertips had reddened, though at first he had no intention of interfering.
He was not the only person drawn to him because of this handsome face of his, and he had never cared what any of them thought.
Those noble young ladies made no effort to conceal their disdain for his current circumstances. They promised him some distant future, yet not one of them spared a thought for the dignity of a scholar from a poor family.
He could not afford to offend them, so he simply did not.
There was no chance of him being considerate and attentive to them.
But the young woman before him was different.
She clearly found it unpleasant and clearly did not like drinking porridge, yet she seemed to be taking extraordinary care to preserve his dignity.
Dignity was something he had discarded long ago.
But seeing how carefully she was trying to protect his, Song Yanzhou’s heartbeat inexplicably quickened by half a beat.
He followed along with her transparently poor performance.
“If it’s too hot, set it aside for a while.”
Song Yanzhou gathered up the things on the table and carried them back inside. Behind him came the girl’s puzzled voice.
“Why aren’t you eating?”
Wen Yunwan set the bowl on the table and hid her scalded, reddened fingertips inside her sleeve.
When she turned around, she happened to see the young man standing inside the room, looking at her calmly.
“I only cooked one bowl.”
After a pause, he added, “There’s only one bowl in the house.”
Wen Yunwan: …
This was bad. She had originally come to save him so that she could ease her own conscience.
But it seemed she had snatched someone else’s food instead.
How embarrassing.
Just as Wen Yunwan was about to pick up the bowl again, a voice came from the doorway—a voice that sounded like heavenly music to her.
“Where’s Song Yanzhou? Tell him to come out and repay his debt!”
They had finally arrived!
Wen Yunwan spun around, her crimson skirt flying out behind her. With both hands on her hips, she shouted arrogantly, “Who’s out there?”
She had turned too quickly to notice the fleeting darkness in the young man’s eyes behind her.
“Well, well, Jieyuan Song certainly has quite the airs now. He’s only just become a jieyuan, and he’s already refusing to honor his debts? I have written proof of the loan right here!”
The people outside seemed to unfold a piece of paper, then began making a commotion at the entrance.
“Come and see, everyone! Song Yanzhou, who just placed first as a jieyuan, is actually a shameless deadbeat who refuses to repay his debts!”
Immediately afterward, an old person’s weeping rang out, joined by cries accusing Song Yanzhou of refusing to acknowledge his own family and of being cold-hearted and heartless all these years.
Anyone hearing it would have felt their temper rise.
Song Yanzhou had just finished putting the things away. When he turned around, he saw Wen Yunwan’s crimson gauze skirt disappear in a flurry among the blue-clad household servants.
What was she going to do?
Song Yanzhou finally frowned and hurried after her.
“You say Song Yanzhou refuses to repay his debts? If you have the nerve, take him to court!”
The girl’s clear voice instantly silenced the chaotic scene.
Song Yanhuai looked at the girl before him. She was beautiful in a way that bordered on brazen, her arms crossed over her chest as she looked down at him with her nose in the air.
“Don’t you have evidence? Take it to the authorities and make Song Yanzhou’s reputation utterly disgraceful.”
The evidence was completely fabricated and would not withstand investigation. All they wanted was to ruin Song Yanzhou’s reputation amid the chaos.
More importantly, they wanted to take advantage of the confusion to cripple his right hand.
From the way she carried herself, Song Yanhuai knew she came from a powerful family. And when it came to women, reputation was what they valued most.
A glint flashed through his eyes. Then he began shouting loudly.
“Jieyuan Song truly is something else! With that handsome face of his, he’s even managed to get a noble young lady to support him. A poor scholar living off a woman, is he?”
Whether it was true or not, spreading the claim that a distinguished jieyuan was living off a woman would have a tremendous impact on both their reputations.
Especially hers.