Ruan Wenhua’s call came five days later.
At that moment, Song Man was in her dormitory eating a popsicle that Gou Xi had bought for her. When she saw the word “Mother” on her phone screen, a tragic premonition of “fate” rose in her heart.
After hesitating for a few seconds, she answered.
The voice on the other end only said that the car was almost at the school and told her to come down.
Song Man said okay, hastily bit off the rest of the popsicle, and hurried downstairs.
The car was parked outside the school in a secluded spot. As soon as Song Man opened the door, she saw Ruan Wenhua sitting on one side.
“Mother.”
Ruan Wenhua hummed in acknowledgment, her gaze sweeping over Song Man’s face before she frowned.
“Why do you look such a mess.”
Song Man’s mind flashed with Song Junyan’s face, and she made up an excuse: “I’ve been busy with club recruitment these past few days, so I haven’t bothered to tidy myself up.”
Song Man had gotten into Ye University on her own merit.
Back then, she had wanted to choose the Engineering Department’s Civil Engineering and Architecture major, but Ruan Wenhua wouldn’t allow it, saying that the major was mentally taxing, caused hair loss, and that women who studied it would be worked like men. She told Song Man to switch to the Chinese Literature Department instead.
Song Man didn’t refuse, but she did make one request.
She wouldn’t enroll under the Song family identity.
Ruan Wenhua felt that this was Song Man’s own form of rebellion.
Never mind how others clamored for such a status—she had fed and clothed Song Man well all these years, and with such kindness, was Song Man now that her wings had grown strong, thinking she could just fly away without a care?
However, Elder Song clapped his hands in approval, saying she had backbone.
Ruan Wenhua had no choice but to let it go, however dissatisfied she was.
Looking at it now, it wasn’t a bad thing after all—if word got out that a Song family member looked so disheveled, the people in their circle would have a good laugh.
Still, a woman pretties herself for those who appreciate her. If Man’er could go about looking like this, it meant there was no one at school she had feelings for.
Ruan Wenhua thought for a moment, then decided to test the waters just to be safe.
“Let’s go to Haitang Road first and get you cleaned up.”
As she spoke, she looked over and studied Song Man carefully.
“We’re going to Peach Blossom Spring later. I’ve arranged to play cards with a few ladies, and the second young master of the Hua family will be there too. You should get to know him.”
Song Man paused, a flicker of surprise passing through her eyes, but she quickly calmed herself. “I understand.”
Her expression seemed perfectly normal. Had she really been overthinking things?
Ruan Wenhua was silent for a moment, then withdrew her gaze.
“Is your course load heavy this semester?”
“Not too heavy, but I have more major courses than last semester.”
“You mustn’t slack off then. The old master cares most about your studies.”
…
The conversation gradually drifted toward mundane topics. Song Man noticed that Ruan Wenhua’s expression was just as usual, and she quietly breathed a sigh of relief.
Ninety minutes later, Song Man had been transformed and arrived at Peach Blossom Spring.
Peach Blossom Spring only received the powerful and wealthy—it was not open to the public.
In other words, even money couldn’t buy your way through their doors.
But Ruan Wenhua was a regular here.
The moment they got out of the car, a receptionist in a specialized uniform came forward to greet them.
Song Man followed closely behind Ruan Wenhua, turning a few corners before they stopped at a private room.
The receptionist knocked lightly three times.
A rustling sound came from within, followed by a “Come in.”
Only then did the receptionist push the door open.
Song Man looked inside. A folding screen stood before them, and judging by the shadows, there should be three people.
Song Man quickly lowered her eyes, stepped back slightly, and followed Ruan Wenhua around the screen into the inner room.
The room was decorated in a very retro style—a collection of rosewood furniture, with the thick green wool curtains drawn open just a crack, letting in golden sunlight that spread light and shadow evenly across the date-red carpet.
The people inside had all been seated, but upon seeing Ruan Wenhua arrive, each of them rose, and a chorus of charming, exaggerated laughter immediately piled up.
“Madam Song! We’ve been waiting for you!”
“Madam Song, when did you arrive? Why didn’t you tell me? I would have sent my son to pick you both up.”
Ruan Wenhua smiled. “It’s just a few steps away—no need for such a fuss. Come, Man’er, say hello.”
Her hand pointed from left to right in turn. “Mrs. Zhang, Mrs. Hua.”
Anyone who could sit at a card table with Ruan Wenhua was of no low status, and Song Man was the younger generation, so she raised her head and dutifully greeted them.
The two women smiled in response. One of them, a lady in a white dress with green embroidery, pushed the person beside her forward.
“This is my second son, Hua Jiale. He’s a year older than Man’er. You can just call him Brother Jiale.”
This was getting to the point.
With a sense of resigned melancholy, Song Man called out, “Brother Jiale.”
She didn’t bother to look at what the man actually looked like. People from wealthy families were built with money—from their looks to their clothes to their bearing—so there was no reason he’d be lacking.
She only noticed that the man had a pleasant voice. When he called her “Sister Man’er,” his tone was steady and his timbre rich.
But he still fell slightly short of Song Junyan.
Song Junyan’s voice had both the crisp clarity of striking jade against gold and the aloofness of cold streams and deep snow. When his voice dropped low, it carried a different kind of sharpness—like a blade cutting across a battlefield.
At this moment, Song Man had to admit.
Song Junyan was right.
What dazzles you in youth can mislead you for a lifetime.
Having experienced Song Junyan, everyone else seemed lacking in comparison.
Ruan Wenhua kept watching Song Man, and seeing her expression remain flat, she figured Song Man hadn’t taken much of a liking to him.
But there was still plenty of time. With more interaction, feelings might develop.
Love grows over time—everyone went through it that way.
The women exchanged glances, then took their seats around the card table one by one.
Since they were one player short, Ruan Wenhua told Song Man to fill in.
Song Man said, “I don’t know how to play.”
Hua Jiale understood that the adults were deliberately trying to play matchmaker, maneuvering the two of them into a corner together.
He normally disliked the arrangements made by the elders of his household, but Song Man was simply too adorable—gentle and soft-natured, entirely matching everything he could ever hope for in a future wife.
He didn’t mind going along with their wishes.
So Hua Jiale immediately chimed in: “I’ll watch the cards for Man’er.”
He then said to Song Man, “Play as you like—if you lose, it’s on me; if you win, it’s yours.”
The others present wore subtly knowing expressions.
Mrs. Hua’s delight was written all over her face.
Who wouldn’t want to forge a connection with the Song family?
Even if Song Man was an adopted daughter, Song Lianming had no sons of his own, so this adopted daughter was their only child—no different from a biological one.
Before coming, her son had been quite reluctant.
He wasn’t the only son in the family, but being the youngest, he’d been thoroughly spoiled, which had made his temperament somewhat willful—any hint of displeasure could turn into sharp words that cut others like a blade.
Mrs. Hua had thus warned him repeatedly that whether or not he found the girl appealing, he must at least appear warm and cordial on the surface, and must not embarrass the young lady.
Otherwise, not just the Hua family, but all their branches and relatives would suffer the consequences.
Fortunately, her son had taken a liking to her.
If he liked her, then it was all but settled.
A persistent suitor always wears down a maiden’s resistance, after all.
With a series of crisp shuffling sounds, the table was being dealt. Mrs. Hua drew out a tile and teased, “With words like that, how could I not go easy on you!”
She then said to Song Man, “Man’er, don’t feel any pressure—he’s been sulking at me lately, and I’ve been looking for an outlet for my frustration!”
Playing against elders, the younger generation could afford to lose a little or win a little.
A small win kept the peace, counting as pocket money from the elders to their juniors.
If she lost, the money came from Hua Jiale’s pocket, which meant owing Hua Jiale a favor.
That would give the two of them a reason to interact in the future.
Song Man’s mind was in a jumble as she mechanically drew a tile and was about to play it.
“Wait.”
Hua Jiale grabbed the tile from beside her, his movement sudden. The tile was small, and his fingers inevitably brushed against Song Man’s.
Slightly cool, like an ice-cold soda on a summer day, flowing from the throat all the way through the limbs and body, overstimulating her blood and heart.
Hua Jiale’s jaw tightened.
Just as Song Man was about to withdraw her hand, a fragrant breeze swept over.
Ruan Wenhua before them looked up, exclaiming in surprise, “Junyan, Zhiyin? What are you two doing here?”