Everything was settled.
The next morning, Song Xian was still dazed, unable to believe she was truly free. The crumpled divorce letter lay on the table, the two characters “Wei Ling” standing out starkly.
She pinched her own cheek—it hurt. But the pain was nothing compared to the joy swelling in her heart.
When Wan Cui entered, she found her mistress clutching the quilt on the bed, giggling uncontrollably. Astonished, she asked, “Madam, what has happened?”
Song Xian ignored the chill of the floor, leaped down, and threw her arms around Wan Cui, shouting, “Wan Cui, I’m free!”
“What?”
In an instant, Song Xian grew serious, gripping Wan Cui’s shoulders. “Wan Cui, the hardest part begins now. You must be ready.”
“Ready for what?”
Her first worry was for her mother. She had gone against her wishes and feared her health might suffer, feared she would fret over her. Yet how she longed for her to understand—she was not sad, not wounded, but happy, happy to finally leave.
From this day forward, Wei Ling was no longer her husband; Wei Yujun no longer her sister‑in‑law; Princess Duanrong no longer her mother‑in‑law.
Next was the Marquis Suqing’s household. If her father learned of it, his anger would be fierce. But having taken this step, she was prepared for the worst. At most, he would sever ties. She did not fear it. Apart from her mother, there was nothing left there to hold her.
And finally, the gossip of the world. She had endured it three years ago and was still alive and well. If she went to Yangzhou, what would the rumors of Shengjing matter to her?
With nothing left to fear, she was strong.
It had all happened so suddenly that she had no time to prepare. For now, the most urgent thing was to leave the General’s estate. She could not return to the Marquis’s household, so she would first find a residence outside.
Song Xian sent Wan Cui to fetch Long Tai and explained the matter to him.
“Remember, we need a house we can move into immediately, even if only for a month. The condition doesn’t matter so much, as long as it’s ready to live in.”
Long Tai hurried out at once.
House, shops, carriage, men, silver… speaking of silver, Song Xian asked, “Wan Cui, I told you before to sell off the jewelry from the storeroom. How much is left?”
“Not much, Madam. You had me do that last month. What remains now are only the pieces you can carry with you.”
Song Xian praised her sincerely: “Wan Cui, you make things so easy for me!”
“So, Madam, what exactly has happened to make you so happy?”
Song Xian gestured with her eyes toward the divorce letter lying on the table. Wan Cui gasped aloud, unable to contain her astonishment.
“Keep your voice down, or people will laugh at us!”
The matter did not stay hidden for long. Before noon, Song Ken sent someone to summon her home.
Song Xian prepared herself and first went to Yin’an Hall.
Princess Duanrong, of course, said nothing. But Chen Ruo sighed again and again. “Ah Xian, must you truly do this?”
“Elder Sister‑in‑law, thank you for your care these past three years. I will always remember it.”
“Ah, how did it suddenly come to this? I was only back at my parents’ for a few days, and now you’ve divorced?”
Song Xian thought: it was not sudden. She had planned it long ago. Only through chance and fortune, Heaven’s favor, had she been able to fulfill her wish.
“Elder Sister‑in‑law, it’s not such a serious matter. We’ll still have chances to meet again.”
Not such a serious matter—Chen Ruo hardly knew what to say to her. “And Yuchuan as well. Early this morning, he announced he was going down to Jiangnan. Why suddenly go to Jiangnan? Later, I learned he had actually signed the divorce letter. You two, husband and wife…”
Wei Ling has gone to Jiangnan?
No wonder—no wonder the front courtyard had been so quiet when she left today, and even Bai Yi, who always kept watch by the study door, was nowhere to be seen.
It was all so sudden. Song Xian could not tell whether he had decided on impulse because of the divorce, or whether it had long been arranged.
Though she knew she had no right to ask, she still said, “For what purpose?”
“He wouldn’t tell us much. He only mentioned briefly that he was appointed Inspector of the Three Provinces of Jiangnan.”
Song Xian understood—it had been decided long ago.
“What will you do next? Will you return to Marquis Suqing’s household?”
Song Xian shook her head, turning to Princess Duanrong, who had remained silent. “Your Highness, I may need to trouble you for a few more days. Once I’ve finished packing, I will leave at once.”
The Princess naturally agreed. Song Xian bade farewell to them both and set out for the Marquis’s estate.
Standing before Simei Courtyard, Song Xian hesitated, then turned instead toward the western Xi Courtyard.
There, she discovered something was wrong. Her mother was still asleep. Aunt Qing explained that she had not slept the entire night and had only just fallen asleep at dawn.
“Aunt Qing, what exactly happened?” Last night Wei Ling had not even returned—how could her mother have fallen ill because of that?
Aunt Qing’s eyes were red, her voice choked. “Hadn’t there been no news from Yangzhou for so long? Later we sent a letter, and only last night came the reply. It said… it said the Master has passed away, and not long after, the Madam too.”
“When your mother received the letter yesterday, she coughed up a whole handkerchief of blood. We were terrified. Second Miss, what are we to do?”
Song Xian froze where she stood, murmuring, “How could this be…”
“Has a doctor been called?” Song Xian clutched Aunt Qing’s sleeve. “Mother… Mother, how is she?”
“The doctor came, prescribed medicine. Without it, how could Fourth Madam have slept at all?”
Song Xian rushed into the room. Madam You lay on the bed, her face pale, tear‑stains still visible at the corners of her eyes. Panic seized her. She grasped Madam You’s hand tightly—her mother must not, must never come to harm.
Aunt Qing followed her inside. “Second Miss, why have you come? I hadn’t yet gone to find you.”
How could she even speak of this? Song Xian felt fate was mocking her. If the letter from Yangzhou had arrived earlier, she might have hesitated. But now all these events had collided, leaving no room for choice.
Forcing herself to stay calm, she thought: her mother was in trouble, and the only one she could rely on was her. She could not lose her composure.
After a moment’s reflection, Song Xian asked, “Did Uncle say anything else?”
Aunt Qing hesitated, then finally confessed: “Your uncle said that treating the Master’s illness drained the You family’s savings. He asked your mother to send some silver back.”
Song Xian drew a deep breath, steadying herself against the pain in her chest.
She had believed the You family truly cared for her mother and that, if she returned, she would find happiness again. But now she understood—understood why her mother had tried to stop her from divorcing, why she had forbidden her to take her back to Yangzhou. Because Yangzhou was no longer a home to return to.
A sudden wave of sorrow swept over Song Xian—for her mother’s quiet endurance, and for the uncertain future that lay ahead.
“Aunt Qing, don’t let Mother know why I came today. And for the next few days, don’t let anyone near her—she must rest and recover.” Song Xian looked at Aunt Qing, her face stripped of the excitement and joy she had shown that morning.
“Second Miss, why?”
Song Xian had no intention of hiding it from her. “I have divorced Wei Ling. I came back to speak with Father. So this must never reach Mother’s ears. Even if the Madam comes looking, refuse her.”
Suddenly, a fit of coughing sounded behind her. Song Xian’s back stiffened, her heart sinking into shadow.
Mother had heard.
She dared not turn around; she only heard her call her name. “Ah Xian.”
“Ah Xian, how foolish you are.” Madam You’s voice was laced with coughs, tender yet helpless.
“Mother…” Song Xian could not form any other words.
“I heard it all. No need to hide it. Since you’ve made your decision, I will not oppose you. You are my daughter—if I don’t protect you, who will?”
A tear slid from Song Xian’s eye, falling onto the quilt and vanishing into the fabric.
“Your father must be furious now. When you face him, yield a little. Don’t bring suffering upon yourself, do you understand?”
“Yes.” Song Xian nodded again and again.
“No, it won’t do. I must go with you.” Madam You tried to rise, but Song Xian pressed her down. “Mother, let me go alone. I am not afraid.”
“It is my fault, dragging you into this,” Madam You sighed.
“Mother, how can you blame yourself? I insisted on this path.”
“What will you do next? Will the General’s household still keep you?”
Song Xian hesitated, then said, “Mother, I had planned to take you back to Yangzhou. Do you still wish to return?”
“No, I won’t go back. With your grandparents gone, what would we return for?”
“Then, would you be willing to leave the household with me?”
Madam You gently stroked her daughter’s head. “I’ll follow wherever you lead.”
Only after this did she realize: the more one clings to worries, the more one loses. With her parents gone, she would not lose her daughter too.
Hearing this, Song Xian burst into tears and laughter all at once. “Good. Then we’ll go.”
In Simei Courtyard, several people had already grown impatient. The moment Song Xian stepped inside, Song Ken began berating her. She endured it silently until he had vented his fill.
At the end, only one line lodged in her mind: “Our Song family raised you in vain!”
Song Xian smiled inwardly. As expected.
“Father, I am unfilial. I have shamed the Marquis Suqing’s household and cannot face our ancestors. I ask to leave the family, and from this day forth, we shall have nothing to do with one another.”
The couples present—Song Ken and his wife, Song Yu and his wife—were all stunned. Song Ken slammed the table and rose. “What did you say!”
Song Xian calmly repeated herself.
“Huizhi, did you hear? She says she wants nothing more to do with us!” Song Ken was beside himself, pacing the room.
“Father, this was my decision alone. The General’s household will not blame the Marquis’s estate, nor will it affect the ties between our families. You need not worry.”
“You—” Song Ken began, but Tan Huizhi cut him off. “Ah Xian, have you truly thought this through?”
“Yes. I will leave with Mother. I will never implicate the Marquis’s household.”
“Your mother too?”
Song Ken’s face was full of disbelief. Song Xian met his eyes, speaking clearly: “Yes. When Mother followed you back, there was no concubine’s ceremony, no entry on the Song family register, no record with the authorities. She has always been free.”
Song Ken nearly lost his footing, staggering back until Song Yu caught him.
At last, Tan Huizhi made the decision. “Ah Xian, do not blame our household for being heartless. You still have two younger sisters. If you remain, their marriages may be troubled. Since you have chosen, then leave with your mother—and never return to us again.”
Divorce—*he* and *she* part ways. Through the ages, it has never been shameful. The shame lies only with those who believe it so.
Song Xian understood this truth. But many did not, and she had no strength left to persuade them. This was the best outcome. From now on, she and her mother would live without fear.