When Madam Jiang heard this, she hurriedly grabbed her daughter’s hand.
“Yibai, don’t say such things carelessly! How can your marriage be decided by your father?”
She understood Song Wenmo too well.
In his eyes, daughters were merely tools to climb the ranks of power. If he were allowed to control her marriage, her second daughter would likely end up just like the eldest.
As for Qinghui Academy—Madam Jiang secretly sighed.
Even the illegitimate sons in the family, though mediocre in talent, had still studied for several years, and even they had only been admitted after large sums of silver were spent.
As for Yibai… she only knew a little reading and writing. How could she possibly pass such a strict academy exam?
Song Nianyun knew her mother was truly worried for her. She gently squeezed Madam Jiang’s hand and pressed her fingers lightly into her palm, signaling reassurance.
Then she looked at Song Wenmo and quietly waited for his decision.
She was certain he would agree.
After all, in everyone’s eyes, Song Yibai was nothing more than an ordinary young lady who had learned a few characters and read a few books like Women’s Precepts and Women’s Training.
Her knowledge was limited—there was no way she could pass Qinghui Academy’s strict examination.
Song Wenmo knew this better than anyone.
Agreeing to this wager brought him only benefits and no harm.
If she failed, she would have to obey his arrangements without complaint, and he would no longer have to deal with her resistance regarding marriage.
To him, it was a guaranteed win.
As expected, after only a brief consideration, Song Wenmo agreed.
He stroked his beard, eyes flashing with calculation, though his tone remained calm:
“Since you insist on trying, I will allow it. In three days, you may sit for the exam. If you fail…”
“I will accept Father’s arrangement for my marriage without complaint.” Song Nianyun replied calmly.
“Good!”
Song Wenmo struck the decision firmly.
“If you pass, I will allow you to study at the academy for three years and cover all expenses. But if after three years you fail to become a scholar, your marriage will still be decided by me.”
“Thank you, Father.”
Song Nianyun bowed deeply.
After Song Wenmo left with his hands behind his back, Madam Jiang anxiously stomped her feet.
“Yibai, you are being foolish! Can’t you see what your father is planning? He is pushing you into a pit of fire!”
Song Nianyun helped her mother sit down.
“Mother, don’t worry. Since I dared to make this bet, I am confident.”
“What confidence do you have?” Madam Jiang’s eyes were red with anxiety. “Even your two half-brothers needed money to get in—how can you…”
“Mother.”
Song Nianyun interrupted her.
“Do you remember when I was bedridden for months?”
At her words, Madam Jiang’s eyes reddened again.
“Besides you visiting me daily, did anyone else come?”
Her voice was soft, but slightly trembling.
“Father only sent medicine twice. The concubines avoided me like the plague… and even the person I once liked never once came to see me.”
Madam Jiang’s heart ached.
How could she forget those days?
Her daughter had wasted away in bed, eyes swollen from crying, so thin she was almost unrecognizable.
“I thought I would not survive that illness,” Song Nianyun continued softly.
“Back then, I realized something. Apart from you, no one can be relied upon.”
“If I don’t stand on my own, I will always be a chess piece for others to move.”
She met her mother’s gaze.
“At that time, I heard rumors that women’s imperial examinations might be reinstated. So I thought—if men cannot be relied upon, if family cannot be relied upon, then I will rely on myself.”
“I secretly asked a maid to bring me books on classics and history, and I studied at night while recovering…”
This was partly truth and partly fabrication.
The original owner had indeed been neglected during her illness, and she had read books out of boredom—but not with such determination.
Now, that “hidden effort” conveniently became the explanation for her sudden transformation.
Madam Jiang finally understood.
So this was why her daughter had changed so much—and why she insisted on breaking off the engagement.
She had truly given up.
She pulled her daughter into her arms, gently patting her back.
“You’ve suffered…”
“If you want to go to the academy, then go. Even if you fail, Mother will not let your father marry you off casually.”
After they finished speaking, it was time for lunch.
After eating, Song Nianyun returned to her room to rest.
And then she dreamed.
She dreamed again of that day.
White jade steps were splattered with dark red blood. Corpses of guards and palace attendants lay scattered across the once-grand hall.
Rough ropes cut into her wrists, burning with pain.
A cold blade pressed tightly against her neck.
In the center of the battlefield stood the young emperor she had devoted her life to—Bei Mingjin.
His golden imperial robe was stained with dirt and blood. His crown was slightly askew, strands of dark hair falling over his forehead.
His face was still beautiful—but his eyes were terrifyingly dark.
He tightly held a brocade box containing the imperial seal.
“Your Majesty! Hand over the jade seal, or we kill the imperial attendant immediately!”
The rebel leader pressed the blade harder against her neck.
Bei Mingjin looked at her.
That gaze was complicated—pain, hesitation, even panic—but deeper still was something cold and calculating.
He did not move.
He did not speak a single word.
At that moment, Song Nianyun felt her entire body turn cold.
She remembered the promises under candlelight.
“I will use the empire as your betrothal gift.”
She remembered his kisses in the moonlit courtyard.
She remembered standing beside him through rebellion, humiliation, and near death.
And now—he chose silence.
Just as despair swallowed her whole, commotion arose behind the rebels.
Another group dragged someone forward.
It was Jiang Lingyue, the younger sister of the war god general Jiang Xiuran, who commanded two hundred thousand Northern troops.