Su Fuying studied her reflection in the mirror, turning slightly. “Then I shall take this one.”
Song Bo stood up and gave a calm instruction. “Bring her a suitable pair of shoes.”
Su Fuying lifted the hem of her gown slightly and realised she was still wearing the plain low-heeled leather shoes she had worn all day—hardly a fitting match for such an elegant dress.
The assistant brought two pairs: one red, one black. Su Fuying found neither to her liking.
“Are there other designs?” she asked.
“Certainly, Miss. Right this way.”
She walked to the shoe cabinet and her gaze fell instantly upon a pair of delicate silver stiletto heels.
“Do you have these in my size?”
“Excellent taste, Miss. This style has only just arrived, and we carry a full range of sizes. I shall fetch your size immediately.”
Finding the perfect fit is often a matter of luck—and today, Su Fuying’s luck held. The shoes moulded perfectly to her feet, secure and comfortable with every step. Against the crimson gown they gleamed with striking brilliance; as she walked, it seemed as though lotus blossoms bloomed beneath her feet.
Song Bo had turned his back to wait. At the sound of approaching heels, he looked around. There she stood, robed in red, walking toward him with measured grace. His gaze was filled entirely with that vivid crimson—and he did not notice the faint flush rising to colour his ears.
“Do these suit the dress?” Su Fuying asked.
Song Bo turned his head toward the assistant, his voice carrying a subtle shift in tone. “Wrap up the gown she tried on and all the shoes she has tried.”
Then his gaze returned to Su Fuying’s bare arms, and he spoke again. “Do you carry shawls?”
Su Fuying said nothing. She simply watched the tips of his ears beneath the brim of his cap.
Does Song Bo care for me? she wondered. But why?
Is it simply… a matter of hearts finding one another, against all odds?
When the assistant returned with two fine shawls, they finally left the shop.
Song Bo’s carriage waited just outside. His aide, Yu Sui, stepped forward to open the door—but Song Bo stepped aside.
“The jeweller’s is some distance away. After you.”
He held the carriage door steady with one hand and gently cupped his hand over the top of her head to guide her inside. Yu Sui’s eyes widened in astonishment. The shop assistants gasped in delight, and onlookers who had waited to catch a glimpse of the Commander murmured in disbelief. All had assumed his marriage would be purely political—yet this seemed anything but.
Nearby, a reporter who had heard word of his arrival raised his camera. The flash caught Song Bo’s attention. He glanced toward the reporter, then turned his gaze to Yu Sui. Song Bo then stepped into the carriage and took his seat beside Su Fuying.
They arrived at the jeweller’s shortly after. As she stepped down, Su Fuying noticed Yu Sui was no longer in attendance—but she asked no questions.
The jeweller’s staff had been expecting the Commander’s arrival. They lined up in two rows to greet them.
“Commander Song. Miss Su.”
Su Fuying found herself unexpectedly enjoying the deference. In her past life she had known only humiliation; when fortune finally turned, she had been murdered. Now she found she relished the warmth of being held in regard.
Perhaps there is something wrong with the way I think, she mused. She glanced toward Song Bo walking beside her—and suddenly found herself looking forward to the days ahead as his wife.
Attendants quickly brought out the newly arrived collections, laying them out before the couple.
“These are all our latest designs. Please choose whatever catches your eye, Miss Su—we are happy to assist you in trying anything on.”
Su Fuying was drawn to a pale pink jade bangle, its design delicate and modern. She asked to try it on. It was beautiful to behold—and beauty, she decided, mattered more than perfection of stone.
She selected several more pieces: necklaces, rings, earrings, brooches, and hairpins. When the time came to settle the bill, Song Bo picked up a set of vivid emerald jewellery.
“This set is exquisite,” he said. “It suits you perfectly.”
Su Fuying made no objection. After all, when such beauty was freely given, it would be foolish to refuse. She departed laden with treasures—clad and adorned in splendour for the season ahead.
Back in the carriage, Song Bo turned to her. “What would you like to eat?”
Su Fuying tilted her head and realised she had no answer. In her past life, she had been consumed by studies and then locked away within the Qin household. She had never once wandered the city to discover its finest dining.
“I know little of what is good in this city,” she admitted. “Perhaps Commander Song might choose for us?”
Song Bo had never before found the title “Commander Song” so pleasing to hear.
He brought her to a restaurant specialising in Northern cuisine.
“I dined here once before. The food is excellent. I believe you shall enjoy it.”
Su Fuying took in the restaurant’s interior—rich in the style of the Imperial court, unlike other establishments blending Western and Eastern influences.
Song Bo ordered generously: braised pork knuckle in imperial sauce, fried delicacies from temple markets, Peking duck served with ceremony…
At first he had worried she might find the flavours unfamiliar—but his concern proved unnecessary. She ate with evident delight, savouring each bite with a quiet, contented manner that reminded him of a cat purring beneath a gentle hand. He could almost hear her pleasure.
Only then did Su Fuying notice that he had removed his cap. Strands of dark hair fell softly against his forehead, revealing his features fully—and the more she looked, the more handsome she found him. He watched her, his gaze warm and unhurried.
“Are you satisfied?”
“I am.”
Song Bo seemed to have made a quiet decision. On the journey back to the Su estate, he held his cap in his hands rather than wearing it. They rode in comfortable silence—not awkward, but soft and charged with something unspoken.
Upon arrival, he stepped down and opened the door for her with gentlemanly grace. Then he reached out his hand toward her.
Su Fuying hesitated only a moment before placing her hand in his.
She was glad she did. His military carriage sat high above the ground—awkward enough to descend in a gown, and doubly so in heels. Supported by his steady hand, she stepped down with ease.
They parted with a quiet farewell—and every moment of it was watched from an upper window by Su Qingwan. Her fingers tightened around her glass until her knuckles turned white. She could not understand what had gone wrong. This Song Bo was nothing like the man she remembered from her past life.
She began to wonder whether she had truly returned to the past—or instead awakened in a different world entirely, where names and faces remained the same yet fates had shifted.
But no—the timing of the betrothal remained unchanged, and the grand military assembly had still been scheduled. That much matched. Had her own meddling altered the course of events? Was she still destined to suffer the same ending?
No! she told herself fiercely. She still held the Qin family. She would become the young mistress of the Qin household! Song Bo would fall in battle before long—and she alone would shine brightest of all.
Yu Sui returned to the carriage and took his place in the front seat, turning to report.
“Commander. The reporter took two photographs. The situation has been brought under control.”
Song Bo turned his cap slowly in his hands. “What did he capture?”
Yu Sui handed over the prints. “Here are copies of both.”
Song Bo looked at the first: Su Fuying stepping into the carriage, and himself standing guard beside her, sheltering her from view.