Everyone exchanged subtle looks and saw the same questions in each other’s eyes. After the meal, Song Yannian gave a slight signal, and the others understood.
Song Hailan cleared his throat. “Song Li, you were hurt badly today. Go to Lao Zhuang and get some ointment to move blood and reduce bruising.”
Song Li happened to be thinking of A-Huang. She answered and stood up to leave.
As soon as she walked away, the five who had been motionless like statues suddenly came alive.
“I understood the beginning,” one said. “If we treat Zhaodi as the real daughter, the plot will follow what Song Li said.”
“We would never let her be a companion student,” Song Yihuan said with a sneer. “Zhaodi was just found again. Her experience and skills are far worse than girls raised as noble daughters from childhood. Would we let her be mocked and looked down on? If she causes trouble and offends some important man, won’t father be implicated?”
Song Haiming let out a small laugh. “But look at how determined she is. If she wants to go, she has to go.”
“People are different,” Yang Yuyao said coldly. “Those prized positions always have people pushing to get in. If she wants to try, let her. It will make our plans easier later.”
She did not say the deeper reason: she still didn’t know Song Yihuan’s true feelings toward the Third Prince. No matter his feelings, she would never allow anyone to hurt her precious daughter — not even the Third Prince.
“But what was that ‘butterfly’ Song Li mentioned later? She sounded desperate, like some flower thief. Could it be what I’m thinking?”
“Although our standards aren’t strict, I don’t want my sister ruined so young,” Song Yihuan said, voicing what everyone wondered.
The three Song men looked at each other, puzzled. “I spent the most time with her, but I never found anything related to a ‘butterfly,’” Song Hailan said after thinking carefully. “Maybe it was a flower thief she met when she was begging.”
Others agreed that might be the case. Their faces grew serious.
“I’ll investigate this ‘butterfly.’ Until I find out, we should wait and watch. Don’t act rashly,” Song Yannian advised.
“Yes!”
“That Zhaodi is shameless — taking whatever she likes, even stealing other people’s names. Father, I don’t care what name she changes to, just don’t let her be called Song Churan.”
Song Yihuan was truly defending the classmate he disliked. Being Zhaodi’s sister or classmate would bring lifelong bad luck!
Song Yannian’s face stayed calm. “You decide what she will be called.”
Song Yihuan smiled slightly. “Call her Song Jiaorou — meaning overly delicate and affected. Look at how she behaves; it fits.”
“Call her Song Jiaqian,” Song Haiming suggested, meaning ‘fake daughter.’
Song Hailan pinched his chin. “I’d call her Song Xuwei — meaning fake and hypocritical.”
“You’re all so literary. If you claim you’re not studious, why do you have such good names? Let’s bring back Teacher Liu!” Song Yihuan teased, annoyed they were stealing naming rights.
“Draw lots! Whoever gets it, gets it!” Song Haiming, as the elder, set a rule.
“Song… Song… Song Mei!” Yang Yuyao tried too. “‘Mei’ sounds like ‘none,’ meaning nothing left.”
Everyone burst into laughter. The mood became lively and cheerful. The Song household had no grandchildren yet, but they got a head start on naming.
Even the usually stern Song Yannian thought of a few good names in his heart.
“Who are you? Why are you standing there?” a voice outside interrupted, startling everyone.
“You little maid, don’t be rude!”
“This is Consort Lin.”
“Bow quickly!”
The cheerful air froze. Yang Yuyao snorted and walked out. “What kind of wretch dares make my daughter bow?”
The two sons and a daughter avoided Song Yannian’s gaze and crowded behind Yang Yuyao. They all backed their mother on this.
Song Yannian broke out in a cold sweat and rushed forward to explain, but no words came — after all, he had caused the whole mess.
“Madam…” he began.
Yang Yuyao pushed his hand away, opened the door with a cold push, and stood on the porch.
Who was this Consort Lin? Yang Yuyao blinked and swallowed the sharp words she had ready.
She recognized the story: the woman had come to the Song house with a five-year-old child looking for the father. Poor father, what an unfair pick-up job this was!
This child was said to be the daughter of Consort Lin and Deputy General Zhou—Zhou Lüchuan — and Song hadn’t touched her. Song Yannian: “!!”
She imagined how the trusted subordinate had betrayed him and yet helped raise the wife and child.
Zhou Lüchuan, out of gratitude for Song’s hard work, had taken the position of general in the northwest to ease Song’s burden. Song Yannian felt both gratitude and disbelief.
Of course, Yang Yuyao continued mentally: at the time she was already three months pregnant. Because of Consort Lin’s behavior, she suffered much. Days later, the five-year-old child would collide with her belly, causing a miscarriage and heavy bleeding. One life could not be saved.
Song Yannian: “!!!”
Happiness that had not yet bloomed was crushed by cold snow. His chest tightened; he held Yang Yuyao’s hand and she stared at her belly in disbelief. There was already a three-month life inside?
Because the plot was messy and unclear, the timing of events might change. For the mother’s safety, Song Yannian planned to make an excuse for a few days off and stay near her. If that little brat dared to run into her, he swore he would make the child pay.
Guilt and regret overwhelmed him. He had misjudged people and nearly harmed his wife and children. Now his younger daughter would have to cover for the family.
“That brat can die for all I care,” he thought. “Father won’t quarrel with mother; even if he did, it wouldn’t matter. Right now the mother keeps a cheerful attitude for the children, but she really doesn’t want to talk to him.”
“Cough, cough,” Song Yannian coughed violently. After a while he calmed and looked coldly at Consort Lin. “Haven’t I told you not to leave your own courtyard? Why did you ignore me?”
Consort Lin fell to her knees with a thud. Her eyes were red, but she held back tears. “General!” she said calmly. “Yan is already five. Even if you do not like him, he is your flesh and blood. Please, General, for the sake of past small favors, send him to the Imperial Academy.”
(Whispers and snide comments ran through the listeners’ minds about the staged bravery and ‘past favors.’)
Song Hailan tried not to laugh; Song Li’s earlier display had been much more convincing. Consort Lin’s red eyes and performance were a bit overdone, losing some dignity and inner strength. From hearing his sisters over the years, he felt he could go into palace intrigue acting.
“The Imperial Academy is too much. The White Crane Academy has a better reputation. Let Song Yan go there,” Song Yannian said offhand.
Consort Lin bit her lip in unwillingness. “General, you have the right to recommend students to the Imperial Academy. Yan is your son. How can you be so indifferent?”
“General! I only beg you for this one thing. If you agree, I would spend every day fasting and praying willingly.”
When she named the child “Yan,” she had hoped that after joining the Song family he would take the family naming character and become Song Haiyan — meaning peace and prosperity. But Song Yannian refused to follow custom; he only let him be called Song Yan. She had suffered slights and been told to be obedient. When their son fell ill, she was told to find the household doctor. Now even his education was ignored. She could not bear it.
In both the Song household and her old Zhou family, Song Yan was her only support. She had to send Song Yan to the Imperial Academy to study under the best teachers and make strong connections. Only then would her coming to the Song family mean something.