After marrying, Song Xian seldom returned to Marquis Suqing’s household, coming back only once or twice when her mother sent word.
So when Madam You saw Song Xian arrive unannounced, she was startled, quickly setting aside the leisure book in her hands. “Ah Xian, why are you back?”
Crossing the threshold, Song Xian smiled. “What, does Mother not want me home?”
Madam You, though nearly forty, still looked like a woman in her thirties—graceful in figure, fair of face. Yet perhaps because they had not met for some time, Song Xian thought her mother seemed thinner than before, her complexion drained of color.
As she drew closer, Madam You muffled a cough into her handkerchief.
“Mother, are you unwell?” Song Xian asked anxiously.
Madam You tucked the handkerchief into her sleeve, pulled her daughter down to sit, and after studying her for a moment said, “I caught a chill two days ago, nothing serious. But you—why have you suddenly come back?”
Song Xian was unconvinced. How could a mere chill make her mother so gaunt?
“Aunt Qing, Mother isn’t deceiving me, is she?”
Aunt Qing had followed Madam You from Yangzhou to Shengjing and had watched Song Xian grow up.
Her expression was complicated, but at Madam You’s glance, she forced a smile. “Yes, Second Miss, don’t worry. Madam only caught a chill the other night.”
“Truly?”
“Truly, truly—nothing could be truer.” Madam You smiled, patting her daughter’s hand. “Tell me, have you gone yet to Simei Courtyard?”
Simei Courtyard was the residence of the Marquis’s principal wife. By custom, a married daughter returning home should first pay respects to her stepmother.
Song Xian would not forget propriety. “I was just about to go. Only, I brought quite a lot of luggage this time, so I came here with Wan Cui first.”
Madam You’s eyes widened. “You mean to stay tonight?”
“Yes. I’ll stay with Mother for a few days.”
At that, Madam You forgot all about rules and etiquette, determined not to let her daughter leave. “Be honest with me—did you quarrel with Lord Wei? Or has Princess Duanrong been bullying you?”
“Mother, you worry too much. I haven’t quarreled with my husband, and the Princess treats me kindly. I simply missed you and wanted to come back to spend some time with you.”
“Truly?”
Song Xian laughed, echoing her mother’s earlier words back at her. “True—absolutely true.”
Madam You remained doubtful. This child had always been one to report only good news, never bad. Unable to tell whether anything was wrong, her heart grew anxious. “You mustn’t deceive your mother.”
“I’m not. Shall I swear it?”
Song Xian raised her hand, but Madam You quickly pressed it down, scolding gently. “What nonsense, swearing like that! Does Princess Duanrong know you’ve returned?”
“Yes. Before I left, I sent word.” Though the princess disliked her, she would not make trouble over such formalities.
“That’s good. Remember, with mothers‑in‑law you must keep to the rules, or else they’ll seize on any fault—”
“Enough, Mother. I still need to pay my respects to Madam.” Song Xian hurriedly cut her off, lest she be caught in a long lecture.
“Ah, yes. Go quickly then, we’ll talk more when you return.”
Simei Courtyard lay at the center of the Marquis Suqing’s estate, while the Xi Courtyard was in the southwest corner. Between them stood the Luoxia Courtyard, once her eldest sister’s residence.
Song Xian paused before Luoxia Courtyard. After a moment’s thought, she lifted her skirts and stepped inside. Since her sister’s passing, the courtyard had remained empty. Tan Huizhi still sent servants regularly to clean, so everything appeared in order. The swing by the garden wall looked sturdy, a few small flowers bloomed in the beds, and the palace lanterns along the covered walkway had been freshly replaced. Yet, for all its neatness, the place felt lifeless—an empty shell without its mistress.
Wan Cui grew uneasy and spoke up: “Madam, let’s go. The Master is still waiting.”
But Song Xian did not answer. She walked instead to the swing that swayed lightly in the breeze.
Her father had made it for her elder sister. Back then, Song Xian was only four or five years old and loved swinging more than anything, pestering daily to visit her sister’s courtyard. Her mother disliked her running about the estate, but her elder sister would often come to the Xi Courtyard to fetch her, and once they began playing, the whole day would slip away.
In Marquis Suqing’s household, aside from her mother, her closest bond had always been with her elder sister. As she grew older, she naturally played less with swings. Their father hired tutors, and her sister, being more knowledgeable, would finish her own lessons and then teach her.
Song Xian smiled faintly at the memory. At the time, she even thought her sister’s learning surpassed the tutor’s—otherwise, why was it that she could never understand the tutor’s lectures, yet her sister’s few words would make everything clear?
Later, she sometimes accompanied her mother and sister to social gatherings. Song Xian rarely appeared before the noble ladies of Shengjing, and when some learned her identity, they would look down on her. At such times, it was always her sister who stood before her, shielding her regardless of the other’s rank or status. Her sister’s protection was unwavering.
Turning back to the empty courtyard, Song Xian felt her eyes grow red.
What a pity—her sister would never again see the beautiful colors of this world.
Wan Cui called softly from behind. Song Xian withdrew her gaze and murmured, “Let’s go.”
At Simei Courtyard, both Marquis Song Ken and his wife, Tan Huizhi, were present. Song Xian had already sent word ahead before entering.
Song Ken, nearing fifty, was still vigorous, his manner refined and scholarly. Tan Huizhi, by contrast, appeared ordinary, her dignity and wealth shown only through her attire.
Song Xian sighed inwardly for her mother. Tan Huizhi, the legitimate daughter of the Marquis Anbo’s household, was strong‑willed and had never regarded them with respect. If not for her mother’s quiet endurance, their days would have been far harsher.
Her father, through the years, had neither great merit nor fault. He occasionally visited the Xi Courtyard but never truly cared for mother and daughter, always following the household’s strict rules.
Song Xian stepped to the center, bowed deeply, and greeted: “Ah Xian pays respects to Father and Mother.”
At that moment, Song Ken looked every bit the kindly father, speaking gently: “Come, rise. Ah Xian, what brings you back?”
She had told Princess Duanrong that her reason for returning was her mother’s illness. Before, she had worried how to explain herself at Simei Courtyard, but since her mother truly was unwell, the excuse now seemed justified.
Song Xian answered softly, then signaled Wan Cui to present the prepared gifts. “Ah Xian cannot often serve at Father and Mother’s side—such neglect is unfilial. This small token, I hope you will not disdain.”
Tan Huizhi said nothing, merely had the servants take the offerings.
When her elder sister died, Tan Huizhi had vented much of her anger on Song Xian. Rumors spread that mother and daughter had schemed to harm the sister and take her place, and Tan Huizhi had believed them. Yet because of the mourning period, she had not made a public scene. Later, she quietly investigated but found nothing conclusive. The matter was left unresolved.
Still, Song Xian knew Tan Huizhi had never let go of her resentment. After all, it was undeniable that she had married in her sister’s stead.
In the past, Song Xian had not understood how difficult life could be for a woman in her husband’s household. A few times, she had even spoken out against Tan Huizhi on her mother’s behalf. Now, having experienced marriage herself, she realized that swallowing grievances could sometimes buy peace.
Her mother, in this vast Marquis Suqing estate and the endless city of Shengjing, had no one to rely on. As her daughter, Song Xian ought to think more of her. If she yielded a little now, perhaps her mother would suffer less.
Smiling faintly, she addressed Tan Huizhi: “Mother, inside is a hundred‑year wild ginseng I had brought from the southwest. The physician said it is good for head ailments. You may have it decocted at night.”
The servant opened the box, revealing a fine specimen of ginseng. Tan Huizhi’s expression eased, though she still snorted coldly. “I have no use for such things.”
Song Ken frowned, his tone sharp. “At least it is Ah Xian’s thought. Why speak so?”
“Father, it is only ginseng. If it can ease Mother’s headaches, then my effort is not wasted.”
“You are thoughtful,” Song Ken said, letting the matter drop. He turned instead to ask, “Is Yuchuan now serving at the Court of Judicial Review?”
“Yes.”
Hearing that Wei Ling held office, Song Ken’s face lit with pride. “Your elder brother told me—Yuchuan is already renowned among the Imperial Guards. Not only can he handle cases, he even catches thieves.”
“Though the General’s household is powerful, and the Princess watches over them, the greater the power, the greater the need for caution. Husband and wife share honor and disgrace alike. Yuchuan’s nature is straightforward—he may easily offend. Ah Xian, you must counsel him well.”
“Yes.”
“I myself hold only a nominal post now. Your brother works outside, and I cannot aid him. If Yuchuan prospers, they can support each other. The General’s household and ours are bound as kin—such ties are fortune from a past life. Ah Xian, you must bring Yuchuan back often, lest our families grow estranged.”
Song Xian lowered her head and answered again. She knew well: though she had married in her sister’s place, the General’s household owed their family a debt. Yet in truth, her father and grandmother had only wished to preserve such a powerful alliance.
Marquisate Suqing had been won generations ago, but by her father’s time, it was already waning. Fortunately, her brother Song Yu was ambitious, rising steadily and earning the Emperor’s praise more than once. Still, compared to the General’s household, they fell short.
Song Xian’s thoughts drifted far. With her father and grandmother valuing this marriage so highly, seeking divorce would be near impossible—and her mother would suffer for it. No, she must think carefully.
But for now, she wished to end her father’s talk of Wei Ling. She asked instead, “Why do I not see Elder Brother and Sister‑in‑law?”
“Your brother is on duty. Your sister‑in‑law returned to her family yesterday and will be back tomorrow,” Song Ken replied.
Marquis Suqing’s heirs were few. Tan Huizhi had borne one son and one daughter; now, only Song Yu remained. Her mother had only Song Xian. Later, under pressure from the old Madam Song, Song Ken had taken two concubines, who bore two daughters. They were never close to Song Xian.
Thus, in Marquis Suqing’s household, the only male heir remained Song Yu. He and his wife had yet to give the old Madam a great‑grandson. Song Xian had heard from her mother that the family was growing anxious, and the matter of taking a concubine for Song Yu was already under discussion.
Song Xian nodded, then asked, “Is Grandmother still in seclusion at Wanfo Temple? Is her health well?”
“Yes. She has been there half a year now, and her health is naturally good.”
At that, the conversation among the three seemed to falter, and silence fell over the room.
Song Xian was still considering how to take her leave when Song Ken spoke: “In a few days it will be the Princess Royal’s birthday, will it not? This year marks her sixtieth. Perhaps even His Majesty will attend. Ah Xian, you are the Princess Royal’s granddaughter‑in‑law. You must be cautious in word and deed. If anything arises, seek your mother’s guidance.”
The Princess Royal’s grand celebration meant the Marquis Suqing’s household was certain to be invited. That Song Ken raised the matter showed how solemn the occasion would be. He feared that if she made a misstep before the Princess or the Emperor, the entire household would suffer.
Song Xian answered dutifully, “Yes, Ah Xian understands.”
“When will you return today? Will Yuchuan come to fetch you?”
“Mother’s health has not yet recovered. I wish to stay a few more days. My husband and the Princess are aware.”
Song Ken had no objection. “Then remain. Your mother has not seen you for long.”
At these words, Tan Huizhi turned to glance at him. Song Ken’s expression immediately cooled. “Enough. Go back now.”
“Yes.”
Though the man seated above was her own father, he had not asked a single question about her. Speaking with him was even more uncomfortable than speaking with Wei Ling—every word had to be measured, every gesture restrained. There was nothing but formality.
Song Xian did not linger. She bowed, then turned and left.