Song Shi tiptoed out of the house without disturbing his parents. In the darkness, he harnessed the carriage, flicked the whip, and hurried toward the city.
The morning breeze carried a chill, making his robe flap noisily. Only a thin line of pale light showed along the horizon. There was no one on the road; only the steady clatter of hooves rang out, especially clear in the quiet dawn.
Song Shi was anxious, and the whip in his hand never stopped.
He had to make it to the morning market. The shops in the city opened early, and he needed to buy everything before noon so he could hurry back to Fang Household. In the afternoon, he still had to return to the Silk Shop in the city and report back for work.
Time was tight, but his mood was excellent.
Whenever he thought of the way Fang Wan would look when she accepted his gifts, he felt as though he had endless energy.
By the time he reached the city, the sky had only just brightened fully. Song Shi left the carriage at the entrance to the street and strode toward the busiest street in town.
He went first to the largest cosmetics shop. The shopkeeper had just removed the door panels and was sweeping when Song Shi entered. He greeted him with a smile. “Good morning, sir. Buying something for your wife?”
The words “your wife” seemed to scald Song Shi. Even the roots of his ears reddened, but he answered firmly, “Yes. I want the best.”
The shopkeeper immediately brought out several small white porcelain boxes and opened them one by one for him. There was peach-blossom rouge from Suzhou, osmanthus-scented hair oil from Hangzhou, and the jade complexion powder currently in fashion in the capital. Song Shi smelled them and examined their quality. In the end, he chose the box of peach-blossom rouge. Its color was delicate without being garish, and it carried a faint floral fragrance.
He paid two taels of silver without blinking.
After leaving the cosmetics shop, he turned into the jewelry shop next door. All kinds of hairpins, earrings, and bracelets were displayed on the counter. Song Shi leaned over it and looked for a long while before finally choosing a silver hairpin. A small pearl was set into its head, round and lustrous. It was understated yet elegant.
He imagined the hairpin in Fang Wan’s glossy black hair, and his heart grew as sweet as if he had drunk honey.
After thinking it over, he also bought two packets of pastries: one of osmanthus cakes and one of mung bean cakes. They were wrapped neatly in oiled paper.
Carrying all those things, Song Shi practically ran back to the carriage. He flicked the whip and hurried anxiously toward the village once more.
By the time he arrived at Fang Household, it was nearly noon.
Fang Wan opened the door.
She was still wearing that plain white beizi, her hair simply arranged, with the same white velvet flower tucked beside her temple. When she saw Song Shi standing at the entrance, his head covered in sweat and his hands laden with gifts, she paused slightly.
“Young Master Song? You… what brings you here?”
Panting, Song Shi held the things out toward her. He could barely get the words out. “I went into the city early this morning and bought you a few things. You… you should keep them.”
Fang Wan lowered her eyes to the pile of gifts. The rouge, silver hairpin, and pastries all showed how much thought had gone into them. She was silent for a moment before looking up at Song Shi. His whole face was flushed, and beads of sweat covered his forehead. His collar was damp all the way around. She could not tell whether that was from rushing along the road or from nervousness.
“Young Master Song, these…” Fang Wan wanted to say that he had spent too much, but the words reached her lips and then retreated.
She could see the eagerness and anticipation in Song Shi’s eyes. He was being so cautious and ingratiating that he seemed like an entirely different person from the one who had come to meet her for the first time. Back then, he had been unwilling from beginning to end, every part of him radiating perfunctory indifference. But now, he was like a little dog wagging its tail with all its might, terrified that she would refuse to accept the gifts.
Fang Wan sighed inwardly and reached out to take them.
“Thank you, Young Master Song.”
It was only a mild, ordinary sentence, yet Song Shi reacted as though he had received the greatest reward in the world. The corners of his mouth stretched all the way to his ears.
“N-no need to thank me! Miss Fang, as long as you like them!” He rubbed his hands together, standing at the entrance. He seemed to want to come in and sit for a while, yet also seemed to feel that doing so would be presumptuous.
Fang Wan shifted to one side. “Come in and have a cup of tea. You’ve traveled such a long way.”
Song Shi looked as though he had just been granted a reprieve and hurried inside.
He sat in the main room for less than a quarter of an hour and drank half a cup of tea, his eyes sneaking glances at Fang Wan the entire time. She sat across from him with her eyes lowered, quiet and composed, neither warm nor cold, like a pool of clear water.
Song Shi wanted to find something to say, but his tongue seemed tied in knots, and he could not get anything out. In the end, Fang Wan was the one who spoke first. “Weren’t you supposed to return to the shop in the city, Young Master Song? Don’t let this delay your important business.”
Only then did Song Shi come back to himself. He hurriedly rose. “Yes, yes, that’s right. I’ll leave now. Miss Fang, you… take good care of yourself. I’ll come back to see you in a few days.”
Fang Wan saw him to the door and gave him a slight curtsy. “Be careful on the road, Young Master Song.”
With just that one sentence, Song Shi felt that he could remain happy for three whole days.
======
When he returned home, Mother Song was feeding the chickens in the courtyard. Seeing Song Shi come in from outside with a look of utter delight, she could not help asking, “Where did you go so early in the morning?”
As he walked toward the house, Song Shi answered casually, “I went into the city and bought Miss Fang a few things.”
Mother Song’s brows drew together, but before she could say anything, Song Shi had already entered the main room.
Old Master Song was sitting in a chair, drinking tea. When he saw his son come in, he asked mildly, “Did you give them to her?”
“I did!” Song Shi dropped into a seat, his face covered in smiles. “Father, don’t worry. Miss Fang accepted them.”
Old Master Song gave a quiet “Mm” and asked no further questions. He had always been a man who knew what he was doing and did not say much.
Song Shi took a drink of water, then said, “Father, I have to return to the shop this afternoon. The shopkeeper only gave me two days off. If I don’t go back now, I’ll be scolded. You and Mother must make proper arrangements for the marriage.”
Old Master Song nodded. “Go on. Your important business comes first. As for the Fang family, I’ll have your mother visit them more often.”
Song Shi acknowledged this and rose to gather his things. As he passed through the courtyard, Mother Song called out to him.
“Shi-ge’er.” Mother Song’s tone was not very pleasant. “Did you go into the city first thing this morning to buy things for that girl from the Fang family?”
“Mm.” Song Shi did not even turn his head.
“You’re not even married yet, and you’re already throwing yourself at her? You gave her a gold bracelet, then fabric, and now you’ve run into the city to buy more things. How much silver do you even earn in a month?”
Song Shi stopped and turned around. The smile on his face faded somewhat. “Mother, I know how to spend my own money.”
“You—” Mother Song was left momentarily speechless.
“Mother.” Song Shi’s tone softened, but his words were unyielding. “Miss Fang is the woman I’m going to marry. It’s only right that I treat her well. Don’t worry about this.”
With that, he went inside to pack his bundle. Then he came out, said goodbye to his father, harnessed the carriage, and left.
Mother Song stood in the courtyard, watching her son’s carriage disappear at the far end of the village road. She sighed and muttered, “They’re not even married yet, and already he doesn’t have room in his eyes for his mother.”
At some point, Old Master Song had come over. With his hands clasped behind his back, he said mildly, “Once a son grows up and marries, of course he’ll side with his wife. Wasn’t it the same when you married me?”
Mother Song’s face flushed at his words. She glared at him, then turned and went into the kitchen.