At dusk, Yin’an Hall was lively, with Qin Yixian coaxing Princess Duanrong into endless laughter.
When Wei Ling stepped through the door, he paused for a moment. Qin Yixian had already bent slightly in greeting: “Second Cousin.”
Wei Ling returned the courtesy, then asked Princess Duanrong, “Mother, why have you summoned me here?”
“Must there be a reason to call you over?” Princess Duanrong instructed the servants, “Bring in the meal.”
Servants filed in, carrying exquisite dishes.
Seeing him stand motionless, Princess Duanrong feigned annoyance: “What, you’re unwilling even to share a meal with me?”
Qin Yixian quickly interjected, “Aunt, if Cousin still has matters to attend to, don’t delay him. I’ll keep you company.”
“What could he possibly be busy with? It’s just a meal.” Princess Duanrong had already taken Qin Yixian by the hand toward the table.
“Come, taste the General’s household fare—see if it suits your palate.”
Wei Ling followed helplessly.
At the table, Qin Yixian continued to amuse Princess Duanrong, praising her makeup one moment, the General’s cooks the next—finding endless ways to flatter. Only Wei Ling sat with a cold face, eating in silence.
At last, Princess Duanrong could not resist. Pointing to a dish before Wei Ling, she said, “Yuchuan, this ‘Imperial Dragon-Phoenix Meatballs’ is excellent. Yixian can’t reach—serve her one.”
Wei Ling lifted his head, slightly puzzled, but made no move.
The moment grew awkward; Princess Duanrong’s dignity was about to falter. Qin Yixian quickly reached with her chopsticks, took a small bite of a meatball, and praised, “Indeed delicious—Aunt, your taste is impeccable.”
Princess Duanrong shot her son a glare, then turned back with a smile: “If Yixian likes it, eat more.”
“Thank you, Aunt.” Qin Yixian turned to Wei Ling, “Cousin, today Second Sister-in-law showed me around the residence. I forgot to thank her. When you return, please convey my gratitude.”
Wei Ling’s expression softened slightly; he gave a faint nod.
Qin Yixian continued, “I noticed today that Second Sister-in-law seems fond of tending flowers. I have two peony plants gifted by my grandmother. It would be just right to ‘offer flowers to the Buddha.’ Tomorrow I’ll have them sent over.”
Wei Ling frowned at this—how had he never known that Song Xian enjoyed gardening?
Princess Duanrong interjected, “Yixian, the thought is enough. Since they were bestowed by your grandmother, how could you give them away so lightly?”
Qin Yixian said with a smile, “Aunt, fine flowers deserve fine company. If those peonies stay with me, they’ll only be wasted.”
“All right, all right—only our Yixian knows how to behave.” Princess Duanrong laughed heartily. “Yuchuan, did you hear? Tomorrow, send two men over.”
Qin Yixian quickly waved her hand, “No need to trouble Cousin. I already sent word ahead.”
After speaking, she glanced at Wei Ling, who was intent on his meal, and an inexplicable fear rose in her heart. She dared not say more at the table.
The meal wound down. Princess Duanrong set down her chopsticks and said to Wei Ling, “Yixian is staying at Yuqing Lodge. Escort her back.”
“Aunt, that’s not necessary. I ate too much and want to walk a bit to digest.” Qin Yixian dared not—her cousin’s mood was clearly sour tonight, and she had no wish to run into trouble. She left Yin’an Hall as soon as she finished speaking.
The hall fell instantly cold. Mother and son sat in silence, only the crackle of candle flames filling the air.
Wei Ling rose to leave, but Princess Duanrong barked, “Stand where you are!”
She steadied herself and spoke slowly, “Yuchuan, what’s wrong with you? Yixian is your cousin after all. Why treat her so distantly?”
“I should be asking Mother what’s wrong. What was today’s arrangement for? Cousin Yixian is not yet betrothed—what is your intention in doing this?”
“What intention could I have? It was only a meal with Yixian. You’re reading too much into it.”
A meal? With the whole family absent, and only him summoned?
Wei Ling’s gaze sharpened as he said bluntly, “Mother, don’t do unnecessary things. And don’t even think of it.”
Princess Duanrong sighed inwardly. This child—too perceptive. Yet she could not quite let go of her unwillingness.
Princess Duanrong began, “Yuchuan, do you truly dislike it?” She had spoken only half a sentence, but she knew Wei Ling would understand.
Without hesitation, Wei Ling replied, “Mother, I already have a wife. What you’re doing is unfair to Ah Xian, and unfair to Cousin Yixian as well.”
“You think I want this? Look at Ah Xian’s health—whether she can bear you an heir is uncertain. Is that fair to you? Is that fair to the Wei family?” Princess Duanrong struck the table, her chest rising and falling with agitation.
Wei Ling was silent for a moment, then said, “Mother, isn’t it simply that you wish to hold a grandchild? Eldest Brother and Sister-in-law already have Xiuli. Our Wei family is not without descendants.”
Princess Duanrong grew furious, her voice sharp, “Do you think I do this for the Wei family? I do it for you!”
“Your son needs no such concern. From now on, I ask that you refrain from these matters.” Wei Ling showed no fear.
By then, the servants had long since withdrawn. Mother and son stood in tense opposition, neither yielding.
At last, Princess Duanrong sighed, “Your father was right—you truly listen to no one.”
Wei Ling bowed, then turned and left.
When he returned to Liuying Pavilion, Wei Ling paused before the study, then asked Bai Yi, “Has Madam gone to bed?”
Bai Yi froze. How could he know whether Madam slept or not? More importantly, his master had never shown concern for such things before.
Perhaps realizing Bai Yi could not answer, Wei Ling asked instead, “What did Madam do today?”
“This morning, someone from Yin’an Hall summoned Madam over. I heard it was because Miss Yixian had come to the residence. Later, I saw Madam leading Miss Yixian around our courtyard. At one point, Miss Yixian wanted to enter the side chamber next to the study, but Madam happened to speak then, so they went to the rear garden instead. Miss Yixian didn’t stay long, and afterward Madam remained in the rear garden.”
Hearing this, Wei Ling glanced toward the side chamber but thought nothing more of it. In truth, he already knew all of this. Yet for some reason, he had asked again.
On the corridor leading from the study to the rear garden, the palace lanterns swayed dazzlingly. Wei Ling suddenly felt uneasy and stepped inside.
“Are you heading to the rear garden?”
Wei Ling answered evenly, “Yixian had words she asked me to pass along.”
Bai Yi almost said there was no need for him to trouble himself, but swallowed the words at once, following behind with a faint smile.
Since his master had finally taken the initiative, he dared not interfere.
When Wei Ling entered, Song Xian had just finished bathing and was seated before a bronze mirror, with Wan Cui behind her, twisting her hair dry.
Startled by his sudden arrival, Song Xian quickly pulled her half‑open inner robe closed. Only after a moment did she say, “Second Master, what brings you here?”
Wei Ling glanced at Wan Cui. She understood immediately, handed the drying cloth to Song Xian, and withdrew, closing the door behind her.
Song Xian was baffled. Why had he come? Shouldn’t he be at Yin’an Hall, keeping company with Qin Yixian? And he had even dismissed Wan Cui—her hair was still damp. Turning back, she continued drying her hair herself, muttering inwardly.
Wei Ling stood in the outer room, watching her sit upright, head tilted slightly, half‑wet black hair cascading down, unable to hide her delicate brows and cheeks, lips red as if painted.
Suddenly, something stirred in him; blood surged. He quickly averted his eyes and sat down on a chair outside.
“Yixian asked me to thank you for showing her around,” Wei Ling said in a low, slightly awkward voice.
Song Xian’s hair was thick; even Wan Cui found it tiring to wring, let alone herself. She kept working, as if she hadn’t heard him.
Wei Ling thought for a moment, then added, “Since Yixian came today, you must have been troubled.”
Song Xian’s hands paused briefly. So that was why he had come. “The ones troubled were Mother and Sister‑in‑law. I hardly did anything.”
“Did Mother say anything to you today?”
“What does Second Lord mean?”
“If Mother and Yixian said anything, don’t take it to heart.”
Song Xian found drying her hair unbearably difficult—no wonder Wan Cui always took so long with it. For some reason, her strength suddenly failed; the towel slipped to the floor, and she seemed to forget to pick it up.
Then Wei Ling, inexplicably, came forward, picked up the towel, and stood behind her. Imitating her movements, he began to dry her hair, stroke by stroke. But it was clearly his first time doing such a thing. His motions were clumsy, his strength uncontrolled, tugging at her scalp until it hurt in waves.
“Hiss…” Song Xian let out a soft sound. The man behind her immediately noticed: “Did I hurt you?” His movements gentled at once.
“Is this better?” he asked again.
“Yes.” Song Xian’s eyes slowly reddened. Fortunately, the candlelight was dim—he should not see. She endured the pain, forcing back the tears that threatened to spill.
How long had she dreamed of such a scene? A year? Or three?
A husband and wife in harmony, sharing tenderness.
She had never imagined that, because of Qin Yixian, he would go this far.
In the blurred bronze mirror, she watched him carefully, each motion deliberate. The more earnest he was, the colder her heart grew.
“After Grandmother’s birthday, Yixian will leave. You needn’t go to Yuqing Lodge anymore—leave everything to Sister‑in‑law.”
Yixian, Yixian—always Yixian. Did he truly care for her so much?
Song Xian drew a deep breath, smiled at the mirror with her usual gentle grace, and said, “Cousin Yixian rarely visits. How could I not go? Besides, Yuqing Lodge is right beside Liuying Pavilion. I should look after her a little, so you can be at ease.”
Wei Ling paused, silent.
“Moreover, I find Cousin Yixian well‑read and considerate. It’s no wonder Mother likes her—I think she’s quite admirable too. Second Master, you should come home earlier. Since she’s here, we mustn’t neglect courtesy.”
“You… truly think so?” Wei Ling stopped his motions, gazing at her reflection.
“Of course. When Cousin Yixian comes to Liuying Pavilion for a meal, if you’re free, you should join us.” Song Xian smiled sweetly, rose, and took the towel from his hands. “All right, it’s late. You should rest.”
They stood facing each other. Song Xian was half a head shorter, tilting her face up to him, smiling.
Wei Ling’s gaze lingered on her face. He reached out, gently touched the faint scar on her forehead, then his eyes settled on her cherry‑red lips.
Before he could think, he bent down and kissed her, his hands sliding through her hair, encircling her slender waist, drawing her into his embrace. Their breaths mingled, lips pressing and shifting, entwined in closeness.