Su Fuying was studying in her room when a knock came at her door.
“Eldest Miss, Lieutenant Xu has called. He says he has something for you.”
Su Fuying set down her brush, thought for a moment, and replied, “Very well. I shall come down.”
Downstairs, Xu Mang waited at the gate. Presently Su Hanhai returned from his offices.
“Secretary Su,” Xu Mang greeted him with a nod.
Su Hanhai glanced toward the back of the automobile. Not seeing Song Bo within, he gave a curt nod. “Lieutenant Xu—what brings you here?”
“The General has sent me to deliver certain items to Miss Su.”
Su Hanhai could see stacked gift boxes filling the rear compartment. “Leave them inside the house, then. There is no need for you to wait out here.”
“My orders are to place them personally into Miss Su’s hands. I must wait.”
Su Fuying had just stepped out and heard those very words. Xu Mang turned and saluted her—his manner distinctly more respectful than it had been toward her father. “Miss Su.”
Su Fuying nodded and turned to Su Hanhai. “Father.”
Had Song Bo himself been present, Su Hanhai would have remained. But receiving only a junior officer, yet lingering there to observe—struck him as unbecoming, almost beneath his dignity. He walked into the house and stood by the study window, watching the two converse below. He could not hear what was said, but he saw crate after crate of fine gifts carried inside.
“Miss Su,” Xu Mang explained, “these are tokens sent by officials in Northern Capital to you and the General. He arranged for them to be shipped by rail directly here.”
Su Fuying nodded politely. “Is the General well?”
“He is in excellent health and spirits.”
Xu Mang then brought forward two additional gift boxes from the front seat. “And these—the General purchased himself, for you.”
Song Bo had bought her gifts?
Su Fuying accepted them and offered him a soft smile. “Please convey my regards and thanks to the General.”
Once Xu Mang had departed, she returned to her room. The table was already piled high with beautifully wrapped boxes. She paid them no mind, however. Instead she sat upon the bed and slowly untied the ribbons of the two gifts he had chosen personally.
Jewelry? Or perhaps clothing?
She lifted the lid. Resting within lay a finely crafted leather satchel.
A bag? It looked like a student’s schoolbag—spacious, sturdy, and practical enough to carry her books during her examinations. Could that truly have been his meaning?
She opened the second box.
Another bag. This one of simpler, plainer make—yet embroidered upon its front was a little fox. Rather charming, she thought.
She set both satchels side by side upon her bed and rested her chin upon her hand, studying them. Just what, she wondered, was Song Bo thinking, sending her two bags?
After a moment she simply shrugged. Whatever his intent—they were hers now. She would use them however she pleased.
A month passed swiftly. Su Fuying scarcely left the house, devoting herself entirely to her studies. Su Qingwan, by contrast, was constantly out and about, attending gatherings and social engagements. Su Fuying barely saw her. Whenever she did, however, she could read the gathering storm and confusion in her sister’s eyes. Slowly, it seemed, Su Qingwan was beginning to suspect her assumptions had been wrong. Perhaps Su Fuying really had been reborn alongside her.
And yet—Su Fuying remained much as she had been in their past life: quiet, studious, seemingly content to bury herself in books. Anyone else granted a second chance would surely have seized every opportunity to rise and grasp at advantage. Not Su Fuying.
Su Qingwan, meanwhile, had leveraged her status as the Qin heir’s betrothed to gain entry into the foreign concession’s social circles, conversing fluently in English with the expatriate elite. Though they styled themselves refined and claimed noble lineage, most foreigners in the concession still looked upon the Chinese with thinly veiled contempt and condescension. To them, for all her airs, Su Qingwan remained nothing more than an upstart—one who curried favor and chased after influence.
The examination period drew near. Today Su Fuying was to collect her admission ticket. Song Bo had already arranged transport for her. From dawn until dusk, two soldiers—Tong Da and Shi Chang—waited with an automobile within sight of the Su residence, ready to escort her wherever she needed. The family carriage remained in the repair shop; some vital part had supposedly broken, and it had yet to be returned. In fairness, automobile technology in Huaxia was barely a decade old—such delays were not entirely unreasonable.
Su Fuying rode past Su Qingwan, who was jolting along beneath the blazing sun in a rickshaw, beads of perspiration glistening on her forehead. The contrast was stark—one cool and comfortable in her modern automobile, the other sweltering in the heat. Their eyes met. Su Qingwan’s carefully maintained composure threatened to crumble once more.
Su Fuying arrived at the Examination Board offices, where crowds of students had already gathered to collect their admission credentials. Among them were several familiar faces. Tong Da opened the car door for her.
All eyes turned as she stepped out. She had pinned her hair up neatly with a silver hairpin, and wore a crisp white blouse, white skirt, and polished white shoes—fresh, elegant, and unadorned.
Standing nearby, Cao Jiayue watched her and burned with envy. As Su Fuying came away with her ticket, Cao Jiayue called out loudly, her voice thick with sarcasm and resentment.
“You haven’t even married into the family yet—and already you presume to demand the General’s soldiers and automobiles for your own convenience! Those men and vehicles are meant for the front lines! Have you no shame? Do you not fear the ghosts of those who will die in battle coming to claim their due from you?”
Su Fuying walked toward her, stopping barely a step away. She was tall to begin with; in her modest heels she stood nearly five feet seven, looking down slightly even at Cao Jiayue, who was herself considered a tall woman.
Su Fuying spoke calmly and clearly. “Are you suggesting the General lacks judgment?”
A murmur rippled through the onlookers. Even the highest-ranking officials dared not speak ill of Song Bo openly. He was Haishi’s protector, beyond reproach.
“Do not twist my words!” Cao Jiayue blustered, though her face had paled.
Su Fuying made a soft, curious sound and glanced toward Tong Da and Shi Chang standing beside the car. “If that is not what you meant—why declare these men belong to the front line? Are you saying the General is foolish enough to assign vital military assets at my whim?”
She fixed Cao Jiayue with a steady, unflinching gaze. “If our nation truly faced peril, then every soldier—and every one of us—would belong to the front. If you truly cared for the country’s safety, you would not speak such reckless, foolish words. And if ghosts come seeking justice, they will come for those who waste breath complaining and spreading rumors—people like you.”
With that Su Fuying turned and walked away.
She returned home to pack. Her journey would take her away for more than two weeks—examinations in Southern Capital, then Northern Capital, then River Capital, and finally Haishi. Each school’s examinations spanned three days. She would travel while continuing her studies. She chose three simple, practical outfits—sensible, easy to pack, and suited to the road ahead.