“Why did you bring Song Fengmian back?”
With the doors and windows closed, only the two brothers remained in the study room. Yan Dong stood in front of the desk, getting straight to the point. His face was no longer smiling, and he looked like he was ready to stage a coup.
Yan Song said, “The small courtyard is no longer safe.”
Yan Dong understood that Song Fengmian’s safety affected the Fourth Prince’s situation, but he couldn’t help but sneer, “Isn’t there anywhere safe in this vast Yongjing? Is our home the only place? In such a big mansion, is your Xunfeng Courtyard the only place to hide someone?”
The one sitting was calm and composed, while the one standing was aggressive, and the atmosphere in the study room was slightly tense.
Yan Song looked at Yan Dong, squinting slightly as if pondering something, then said, “I don’t need to explain this to you.”
Yan Dong didn’t back down, his eyes blazing, “Song Fengmian has a special identity, and you insist on hiding him at home. Are you afraid no one will accuse you of intentionally taking sides and plotting to seize the position of heir?”
“Are you genuinely concerned about my situation in the court, or do you just want to use this as an excuse to make me drive Song Fengmian away?” Yan Song said, not really expecting Yan Dong to answer, “Enough.”
It was clear he didn’t want to discuss it further. Normally, Yan Dong wouldn’t mind, but this time it felt different—dismissive, secretive, pushing him away, all for Song Fengmian?!
Yan Dong’s ears buzzed, about to explode, and he couldn’t help but speak without restraint, “Do you have feelings or are you just aware? You were just fooling me that day, lying to me, having an affair behind my back—”
“What nonsense are you spouting?” Yan Song frowned, “Did you read your books into a dog’s stomach? What do you mean by having an affair behind your back?”
Yan Dong rolled his tongue in anger, “I mean, you’re having a romantic relationship with someone behind my back!”
“Whoever I have a romantic relationship with, I don’t need to hide it from you.” Yan Song looked at Yan Dong, patiently and firmly teaching him, just like when he taught young Yan Dong to call him “brother”—what their relationship was, “I am your elder brother, I don’t need to report everything to you, especially not marriage matters, understand?”
Yan Dong stared, mouth agape, his mind a mess, and after a long time, he squeezed out a weakly justified sentence:
“But I don’t want to!”
“Whether you want to or not is not up to you.” Yan Song seemed to have a headache from his antics, pinching the bridge of his nose, coldly or rather cruelly dismissing him, “Get out.”
Yan Dong’s nose tingled, and tears the size of beans rolled down, salty, unbearably salty! He glared at this cold and heartless man, his eyes stinging with sharp pain, suddenly snatching the black lacquered pen from Yan Song’s hand and smashing it on the table, turning and storming out like a stone bullet.
“Bastard.”
Yan Song’s low reprimand came from behind, but Yan Dong, with fire in his chest, didn’t care about fear anymore, shouting without looking back, “You taught me! If you can’t stand it, just beat me to death!”
Yan Song got up and walked out of the study room. Seeing the situation, Chang Chun quickly stepped forward to stop him, “Young Master, calm down!”
In the side hall, Song Fengmian heard the commotion and couldn’t help but walk to the window to take a look. Young Master Yan charged out of the courtyard like a calf, while the usually composed and unflappable Yan Song stood under the corridor, looking helpless.
At this moment, he wasn’t the high-ranking and powerful King of Hell, just an elder brother who couldn’t manage his younger brother.
Men don’t cry easily—what nonsense, Yan Dong cried whenever he wanted since he was a child, not afraid of being laughed at. And he had a problem, once he started crying, he couldn’t stop, like a floodgate opening, overwhelming and unstoppable.
Chang Qingqing didn’t dare and wasn’t in a position to comfort him, jogging along behind. Seeing Yan Dong, who was busy wiping his tears, about to run into a tree, she quickly stepped forward and hugged him around the waist, “You’re going to knock yourself silly!”
Yan Dong stopped in his tracks, glaring at the locust tree blocking his way. The usual evergreen shadow, the vitality in winter, why did it look so unpleasant today?
“Dongdong, why are you here wiping your tears alone?”
A gentle female voice came from the side. Yan Dong quickly wiped his eyes with his sleeve and stepped forward, “Cousin, when did you arrive?”
“I came in the afternoon, first went to pay respects to Aunt and Uncle,” Cui Sutang said, “I’ve been working on a sachet lately, but I can’t seem to get the pattern right, so I came to ask Aunt for guidance.”
“Let me see,” Yan Dong took the square sachet carefully from Cui Sutang’s sleeve pocket, grinning, “Oh, ‘Holding flowers, cherishing the shared stem, breaking the lotus, loving the connected threads’—Cousin and Brother Hou are so in love.”
Cui Sutang’s cheeks flushed slightly, “You little rascal, you know so much now, not like when you embroidered a double swallow sachet for Big Brother.”
“Double swallows, double swallows again, flying together makes people envious,” people often used double swallows to describe couples. Thirteen-year-old Yan Dong didn’t know this, eagerly embroidered a double swallow sachet, and presented it to the birthday star in front of the whole family.
“I didn’t understand back then,” Yan Dong said sheepishly.
“Alright, I won’t tease you.” Cui Sutang used a handkerchief to wipe Yan Dong’s tears, “Did Big Brother scold you?”
The Yan family was extremely indulgent towards Yan Dong. Over the years, besides Yan Song, no one had seriously reprimanded Yan Dong. Cui Sutang thought of Yan Dong’s pitiful look while wiping his tears earlier and almost immediately pointed the finger of suspicion at Yan Song.
Sure enough, Yan Dong mumbled an “um,” sulking, “I don’t want to talk to him anymore.”
This wasn’t new, Cui Sutang just listened and didn’t take it seriously. She took back the sachet Yan Dong returned, carefully tucking it into her sleeve pocket, coaxing, “Alright, we won’t talk to him. How about going back with me to have a lamb hotpot?”
Yesterday, they said they’d have hotpot but didn’t. Yan Dong nodded at the mention, “Then let’s buy some fruit wine on the way, it’ll be warm with the hotpot.”
Cui Sutang suspected Yan Dong wanted to drown his sorrows in alcohol, but thinking it wouldn’t matter if he got drunk at the Hou residence, she didn’t expose him, smiling, “Alright, whatever you say.”
“Then let’s go quickly.” Yan Dong linked arms with Cui Sutang and they left together.
Cui Sutang guessed right, Yan Dong really wanted to drown his sorrows. The first bottle was for the food, chatting and laughing, but the second bottle changed the mood, no talking, no laughing, just huddled at the table drinking.
Hou Yi and Cui Sutang exchanged a glance, “Dong, take it easy, if you get drunk, you’ll get scolded when you go back—”
“Am I afraid of him?” Yan Dong suddenly looked up, drunkenly saying, “I’m not afraid! He doesn’t need to explain to me, and I don’t need him to manage me!”
Such spirit! If it were any other day, Hou Yi would really want to pat his good brother’s hard wings and applaud, but drunken words can’t be taken seriously.
Hou Yi was about to continue comforting the drunkard when, out of the corner of his eye, he noticed Cui Sutang’s strange, slightly tense expression. He immediately sensed something was wrong, instinctively turning his head to look at the door, where Yan Song was standing.
When did he arrive?!
Hou Yi quickly withdrew his gaze, his back cold.
“Ha, you’re still chasing me away, do you think I care about clinging to you? Do you think I can’t live without you? I’m going to run away from home, to Jiangnan, to the northern border!” Yan Dong was immersed in his emotions, completely unaware of Hou Yi’s increasingly twisted expression. The moment after declaring his ambitions, he closed his eyes and “thud” fell onto the table.
Hou Yi and Cui Sutang: “…”
Yan Dong’s alcohol tolerance was neither good nor bad. He could drink two pots of light fruit wine, but emotions were the strongest stimulant. Mixed together, soon his mind was numb, his body was floating, and his whole being started burning from the stomach.
He lay on his arms, body curled up, feeling like he was floating in the air, his butt not grounded, just like his heart. Suddenly, familiar fingertips landed on his head, paused for a moment, then gently threaded through his hair, accompanied by a sigh.