The Princess Royal’s birthday was approaching. Song Xian stayed at the Marquis Suqing’s estate for only three days. Before leaving, she went as usual to Simei Courtyard to bid farewell, where her sister‑in‑law, Madam Jiang, was attending inside.
Tan Huizhi sipped her tea. After Song Xian finished speaking, she lifted her eyes and asked, “Did the young master of the Wei family come to fetch you?”
Song Xian shook her head.
“You’ve been at your mother’s home for three days, and your husband’s family hasn’t asked after you. What does that look like to outsiders? Where does that leave our family’s face?”
Tan Huizhi finally found an outlet for her displeasure. “You must always remember—you are the daughter of Marquis Suqing. Whatever you do, outsiders will judge the Marquis’s household.”
“From now on, if there’s no pressing matter, don’t come back alone. Otherwise, people will think you’ve been wronged in the General’s Manor and returned here to hide and cry.”
Her words were sharp. Song Xian accepted them quietly; she had no wish to quarrel at such a moment. Better to endure and let it pass.
“Second Sister, you’d best hurry back. The sky looks ready to rain, and once it falls, the road will be hard to travel,” Madam Jiang offered kindly, but seeing Tan Huizhi’s expression, she said no more.
“Mother, then your daughter will take her leave.”
Tan Huizhi waved her hand, lowering her head again to her tea.
Just as Song Xian reached the doorway, she saw Song Ken and Song Yu arriving together with Wei Ling. She froze on the spot.
Song Ken looked delighted. “Ah Xian, perfect timing. Later, you can return with Yuchuan.”
Song Xian turned to Wei Ling, her face full of confusion.
Their eyes met in the air. Wei Ling smiled slowly, then said to the two men, “If not for official duties, I ought to drink freely with Father‑in‑law and Elder Brother.”
“Of course duty comes first. There will be plenty of time for drinking.” The three passed by Song Xian into the room, while Wei Ling lingered behind, naturally taking her hand.
Song Xian felt awkward at first, but when she lifted her eyes and saw Tan Huizhi’s complicated expression inside, she did not pull away.
Moments earlier, Tan Huizhi had scolded Song Xian for her husband’s failure to fetch her. Now, scarcely a moment later, Wei Ling appeared—striking her squarely across the face with his presence.
Entering the main hall, Wei Ling released her hand and bowed. “Greetings, Mother‑in‑law.”
Tan Huizhi’s expression was sour; she only gave a faint nod.
“These past few days, I must thank Mother‑in‑law for caring for Ah Xian. I have prepared a small gift as a token of gratitude.”
Bai Yi stepped forward with the offering. Tan Huizhi’s face darkened further, though Song Ken kept nodding cheerfully. “We’re all family—no need to be so formal. Sit, sit.”
Once seated, Song Yu spoke up: “I still haven’t properly thanked Yuchuan. Without the Court of Judicial Review’s assistance, we would never have captured those enemy spies so smoothly. If blame had fallen from above, the entire Imperial Guard would have been in trouble.”
“It was nothing more than a small effort. Elder Brother needn’t dwell on it.” Wei Ling’s gaze brushed past Song Xian. “This matter also owed much to the young master of Marquis Yongyi’s household. I heard that without him, the spy would have escaped.”
Song Xian was startled, suddenly recalling the incident in Yongxing Alley. So it was Young Master Xiao who had helped Song Yu at the time?
“Yes, Young Master Xiao was injured quite badly, though fortunately, he is recovering.”
Servants brought tea. Song Xian watched Wei Ling lift his cup, only wetting his lips before setting it down. “Even in times of peace, Shengjing and the frontier are riddled with defenses. How this spy slipped in must be investigated thoroughly, Elder Brother.”
Song Yu nodded gravely. “Indeed. The Imperial Guard has already joined hands with Shuntian Prefecture. We are determined to peel back every layer and uncover the spies’ lair.”
“Enough now—Yuchuan rarely comes by, why are you two talking business again?” Song Ken laughed, cutting them off, then turned to Wei Ling. “Is the General and the Princess in good health? Last time I ran into the General at the tavern, I almost didn’t recognize him.”
“My mother and father are both well. Father enjoys a little wine and isn’t too strict about food. Lately, he’s grown a bit rounder.”
“That’s the General’s blessing—defending the nation abroad, while Yuchuan serves the court at home. The General and the Princess need only sit back and enjoy boundless fortune.”
Song Ken’s flattery drew a smile from Wei Ling, who let it pass lightly.
“Ah Xian, have you prepared the birthday gift for the Princess Royal? It’s only a few days away—don’t let anything go wrong,” Song Ken suddenly asked.
Song Xian froze for a moment. When she lifted her head, she saw Wei Ling looking at her, his gaze probing. Just as she was about to answer, he spoke first: “Father‑in‑law needn’t worry. We’ve already prepared the gift for Grandmother.”
“That’s good then.”
*We?* Wei Ling had never mentioned this to her.
The conversation in the room shifted elsewhere. Song Xian turned to look at the man beside her. His gaze was gentle; whenever Song Ken asked, he answered without the slightest impatience.
Since their marriage, Wei Ling had accompanied her home only a handful of times. Each visit was for her grandmother’s birthday or her father’s, and even then, he came and went in haste. Never like today.
For once, the atmosphere in Simei Courtyard was so harmonious that Song Xian could hardly believe it.
As they were leaving, a fine drizzle began outside. A servant brought paper umbrellas. Wei Ling took one, drew Song Xian close, and bid farewell: “Father‑in‑law, Mother‑in‑law, Elder Brother, Sister‑in‑law—Yuchuan will come again when time permits.”
“Good, good, hurry back now.”
Once the two had gone, Song Ken sighed. “Now that Ah Xian and Yuchuan live in harmony as husband and wife, one of my worries is finally laid to rest.”
When Ah Xuan left, what weighed on her most was this younger sister—afraid she would be bullied in the General’s Manor. She had urged him again and again to look after Ah Xian. Now, surely, Ah Xuan’s wish was fulfilled; Ah Xian no longer needed his protection.
Tan Huizhi, who had been silent, gave a cold snort. “I’ve heard people say Princess Duanrong already has plans.”
Madam Jiang instantly turned pale, understanding at once.
Song Ken sighed. “What can be done now? But Ah Xian is, after all, the General’s properly wedded wife. They won’t go too far. In the future, adopting a child under her name would be one solution.”
“You only ever think of that daughter,” Tan Huizhi sneered. “I don’t believe it will be so simple. If something happens, I only hope she’ll have the sense not to drag the Marquis’s household down with her.”
Song Yu, knowing his mother’s temperament best, tried to soothe her. “Mother, Ah Xian is a daughter of the Song family. What talk of dragging us down?”
“I say it would be best to send her back to Yangzhou, take her mother along too—back to where they came from.” Tan Huizhi, muddled and irritable, spoke recklessly.
“What nonsense! Is this how a matriarch should speak?” Song Ken burst out angrily.
“I’m only thinking of the Song family. Don’t forget, Ah Xian has two younger sisters. If her reputation is damaged, how will those girls ever marry?”
Her words left Song Ken speechless. Furious, he turned and left.
In the rain, the two walked side by side as the drizzle fell around them.
His palm was broad and strong, far warmer than the cold raindrops brushing against Song Xian’s face.
Once they were out of sight of the others, Song Xian gently pulled her hand free and asked, “Second Master, why did you come?”
Wei Ling glanced down at his now‑empty palm, his brows faintly furrowing as he replied in an even tone, “Didn’t you see? I came to fetch you.”
He disliked events slipping beyond his control. Song Xian’s unusual silence and three‑day absence had already unsettled him.
Song Xian no longer felt inclined to ask further. “Oh.”
Beneath the paper umbrella, space was tight; they had to stand close to avoid the rain. Her familiar, faint floral scent lingered at his nose, and suddenly, he felt the trip had been worthwhile.
Wei Ling explained, “I had official duties today. By chance, when I went out, I met Father‑in‑law and Elder Brother, so I came along.”
Behind them, Bai Yi was utterly confused. His lord had no official duties today—he had planned from early morning to come find his wife, even ordering gifts prepared. For the past two days, he had asked three times a day whether there was news of her, clearly worried. So why act so indifferent now? Bai Yi shook his head, baffled.
“Mhm, thank you, Second Brother.” Today Wei Ling had indeed preserved her dignity, though only for the sake of family reputation.
Song Xian recalled his mention of the Princess Royal’s birthday gift. Since it was to be presented jointly, she needed to know what it was to avoid mistakes, so she asked.
Wei Ling answered, “A small Buddha statue carved according to Grandmother’s tastes. She will like it.”
Song Xian said no more. She herself had embroidered a *Hundred Longevity* picture last month, but compared to the Buddha statue, her work seemed paltry.
The rain grew heavier, droplets bouncing lightly off the ground, dampening her skirts. She kept her mind fixed on reaching the gate, but suddenly the umbrella‑bearer stopped. Rain poured down on her, and in the next instant, she was pulled beneath the umbrella, her body pressed against his chest. His free hand circled her waist, holding her tightly.
Startled, she looked up, only to see him quickly avert his gaze. His voice was low: “Since I’ve come all this way, let me accompany you to see your mother.”
They stood at a fork in the path: straight ahead lay the Marquis’s gate, westward led to Luoxia Courtyard and Xi Courtyard.
Song Xian hesitated. Pretending affection before her father was one thing—it was only an act. But the two of them could never grow old together. The more her mother rejoiced now, the deeper her disappointment would be later.
While she wavered, Wei Ling had already taken her hand and led her toward Xi Courtyard.
What was wrong with him—had he grown addicted to holding hands? Wasn’t he tired of acting when no one was around?
Song Xian tried again to pull free, but this time he did not let her succeed.
When they reached Luoxia Courtyard, Wei Ling suddenly stopped. Song Xian was puzzled—she remembered that Wei Ling had never visited Marquis Suqing’s estate before. How did he know this was her elder sister’s residence?
Following his gaze, she realized he was staring at the swing swaying in the rain. His grip tightened slightly as he turned to her, lowering his head a little. “This was where Song Xuan used to live, wasn’t it?”
“Yes.” Song Xian understood he was thinking of her eldest sister, so she went along with it. “Would you like to go in and take a look?”
“No. Let’s not keep your mother waiting.”
In that instant, Song Xian caught a glimmer of satisfaction in his eyes, his lips curving—not the half‑smile he had worn earlier in Simei Courtyard, but genuine contentment.
Just one glance, and he was this happy?
His steps grew lighter, and Song Xian followed with small, hurried ones at his side.
Under the gray‑blue sky, their shadows beneath the paper umbrella moved at different rhythms, skimming past the red‑and‑white brick walls, leaving blurred reflections in the puddles.
Song Xian lowered her eyes, watching the water splashes from his shoes stain her white dress. She thought to herself: two people with mismatched strides forced to walk together—if he never learns to slow down, to look back, then no matter how hard she tries, she will never catch up.