Last time traveling from the capital to Jiangnan, Song Xilou and the others had taken over a month, stopping and starting along the way. The scenery along the route hadn't changed, and sitting in the swaying carriage, it felt as though the past year had been nothing but an illusion.
Nanny Wu, advanced in years, was dozing against the carriage window. Dongya's lowered voice could not hide her surprise: "I never thought we'd be able to return after a year."
Turning to look out the window, the carriage had already passed through the city gates. Before her eyes stretched familiar, bustling streets, with pastry stalls on both sides wafting waves of sweet fragrance. Ahead stood an old tree of considerable age, and past the next alley entrance up ahead was the Song family home.
Song Xilou, who had kept her eyes closed all along, suddenly opened them: "This day, I've imagined countless times."
"Miss, what did you say?" Dongya hadn't heard clearly, leaning over to casually pull open the small cabinet and take out a plum to satisfy her craving.
Song Xilou didn't answer, only asking: "Has your brother arrived?"
Dongya tossed the plum upward, catching it deftly in her mouth, her brows and eyes scrunching together from the sourness: "He arrived long ago, and the letter you asked to be delivered was sent as well."
Saying this, she lifted the curtain to look outside again. The hawkers' cries had followed them the whole way, and the creaking carriage finally came to a stop in a quiet courtyard.
"I heard the two of you, mistress and maid, chattering away in there—what were you whispering about?"
The carriage stopped, and Song Xilou took Dongya's hand to step down. Yinzhen remained mounted on his horse, not dismounting, only turning the horse's head to look in her direction.
Having sat in the carriage for so long, her neatly arranged hair appeared somewhat disheveled. Song Xilou covered the red marks on her face from sleeping with her hand, mumbling: "Dongya has a brother here who's looking for a position."
"Brother?" Yinzhen naturally had no interest in that, but seeing the flicker of melancholy in Song Xilou's eyes, he remembered—she too had once been from the capital. Returning here must stir up many emotions.
To spare her from sorrow, he promptly changed the subject: "Let me take you inside to have a look, see if you like this courtyard."
Song Xilou clung to his hand, trembling uncomfortably several times. Yinzhen felt the fine sweat of nervousness in her palm, and his heart softened, his grip tightening.
Su Peisheng, following behind, watched Song Xilou with a puzzled gaze—he'd never seen the master care for anyone like this. It seemed the backyard of the Beile Mansion would be quite lively in the days to come.
Before departing, Yinzhen had sent word ahead to have everything prepared. The mansion's maids and servants were all in place, and the carefully selected furniture had been wiped clean several times. Hearing the commotion, the quick-witted Xiao Quanzi was the first to rush out.
"Your servant kowtows to the master. May the master be blessed."
"Your servant kowtows to the young lady. May the young lady be at peace."
Behind him stood over a dozen people, all bowing halfway. Song Xilou seemed somewhat unaccustomed to it, taking the initiative to grasp his hand, holding on tightly.
Yinzhen gave a reassuring squeeze: "It's alright."
"Raise your heads, let the young lady see you all. From now on, she is your mistress." The moment his words fell, Xiao Quanzi led the others in shouting: "We pay our respects to our mistress."
It appeared Yinzhen intended to keep Xiao Quanzi by her side. Song Xilou knew this was his way of placing someone near her, but she pretended not to notice his intention and obediently nodded.
Yinzhen was very pleased with her understanding, reaching out to pat her head: "Stay here for now. I've already sent people to look into your family's situation—I believe we'll have news before long."
Song Xilou nodded. He added: "I must be going now. If anything comes up, just have Xiao Quanzi handle it." He turned to leave after speaking, but hadn't taken more than a few steps before feeling his sleeve being tugged. He turned back in surprise to see the pampered little thing looking at him with a face full of reluctance.
The two had been together for two months now. This sudden parting was hard not just on the pampered little thing, but on himself as well. He tried to hold back, but couldn't.
He stepped forward and pulled her into an embrace, feeling her entire body trembling slightly. He stroked her back, overcome with tenderness: "Be good. I'll find time to come see you."
Setting her down, he saw her still keeping her head lowered. Though reluctant, he mounted his horse, gave a flick of his whip, and rode away.
At the intersection, Su Peisheng behind him remarked: "Master, Miss Song is still standing there."
Yinzhen turned to look—before the quiet little courtyard gate, one figure stood there, not disappearing for a long while.
Back at the courtyard, Song Xilou was looking down at her palm. In that moment when Yinzhen had embraced her, she'd felt a surge of excitement emanating from deep within her hand, one that refused to subside for a long time.
Opening her palm to look, she saw the flower that had always remained closed was now slowly unfurling.
This—was it about to bloom?
Yinzhen had gone with the 14th Prince, but returned alone.
The 14th Prince had vanished that night without a word, returning to the capital on his own. Yinzhen, weary from the journey, went to the main courtyard upon returning to the mansion. Ula Nara, as the primary consort, attended to him as he changed his clothes.
But before he'd even warmed his seat, an imperial edict arrived. Ula Nara's face showed some anxiety—after all, they were husband and wife of many years. Yinzhen took her hand and offered a few words of reassurance: "It's nothing. It must be about the Jiangnan matter."
Kangxi's urgent summons was naturally not merely about the affairs of Jiangnan.
But this time, the disaster relief had been handled so properly that Kangxi was thoroughly pleased. Looking at this ordinarily taciturn Fourth Son, he felt he was a man who truly got things done.
After several words of praise, he asked, "What is your view of Jiang Zhengqi, the Jiangnan Prefect?"
Jiang Zhengqi was one of the Crown Prince's men, so Yinzhen could hardly criticize him openly. He only said vaguely, "Difficult to judge."
"Take a look at this." Kangxi then pulled out a memorial. When Yinzhen took it, he discovered it was from Jiang Zhengqi himself—a self-incriminating memorial in which he confessed everything, even trivial matters, in full detail.
Yet he placed the blame for the failed reconstruction of the underground river embankment squarely on the Crown Prince, adding, "The grain prices that soared overnight were largely the doing of the Crown Prince's men."
"Is what he says here true?" Kangxi tapped the memorial with his finger and asked.
"Your son does not know," Yinzhen replied, though his thoughts turned to the 14th Prince, who had returned to the capital early. There was surely the 8th Prince's hand behind all this. The Crown Prince had stumbled badly in this affair, and on the surface, it would not be easy to smooth over.
He would need to think of a way to steady him. As for Jiang Zhengqi—he had underestimated the man. This single move had thrown all of them into disarray.
Kangxi leaned back in his dragon throne, squinting at him for a long while, until Yinzhen could no longer bear it, then waved his hand: "Go on, then. Your mother has been missing you. Go and see her."
"Yes, your son takes his leave."
Leaving the Qianqing Palace, he arrived at Consort De's palace gates. The one holding the curtain aside was Consort De's senior palace maid, who bowed to Yinzhen and said, "Her Ladyship knew the Beile would come and has been waiting inside."
The moment he stepped into the inner hall, he felt a trace of cool air that dispelled some of the heat he had built up in the Qianqing Palace. Consort De lay languidly on the couch, with a palace maid kneeling at her feet massaging her legs.
"Greetings to Mother." Yinzhen had barely knelt when Consort De called out, "You've been away for months, and you look thinner."
Yinzhen had spent the previous period recuperating at the Song family courtyard—he hadn't lost any weight at all, in fact he'd put some on. Even when Ula Nara had helped him change upon his return, she'd remarked on it. At this thought, he smiled and said, "Your son has indeed lost some weight."
Consort De smiled and ordered refreshments to be brought. Turning his head, Yinzhen noticed half a plate of uneaten watermelon on the table, still giving off wisps of cold air.
"Mother's health is delicate—you should eat less cold food." Consort De was frail and had always strictly avoided chilled foods. She didn't respond to his remark, only glaring at the palace maid beside her for not being more careful.
Yinzhen knew when to stop. He chatted with Consort De about household matters for a while, and when he saw her rub her temples, he tactfully took his leave. As he left, his gaze lingered briefly on the plate of almond pastries.
Consort De asked, "Do you like them? Wait a moment—I'll have someone pack some up for you to take back."
"After all these years, I thought I had already let it go." After leaving, he glanced at the food box in his hand.
He sighed softly and walked out of the palace alone.
After he left, a figure emerged from behind the screen in Consort De's hall and immediately went up to her, acting coquettish: "Mother is the best." The 14th Prince sat on the embroidered stool where Yinzhen had just been sitting, beaming with smiles.
"Your Fourth Brother had a stern face—he seemed to know you were here." Consort De personally handed the 14th Prince a slice of watermelon. "Whatever the matter, you brothers are closest. In a couple of days, you should go visit his residence."
"This isn't something a visit can solve." The 14th Prince took a big bite, and half the watermelon in his hand was gone. Speaking with melon in his mouth, he mumbled, "Don't worry about this, Mother. Your son has his ways."
Consort De looked at her beloved youngest son, her face full of endless tenderness.
Since that day, Yinzhen had not come again. Song Xilou would occasionally stare blankly at the half-bloomed lotus in her palm, uncertain whether this treasure had some connection to Yinzhen.
Why else would her whole body feel so refreshed whenever he held her?
It was like… like in the operas, where a man's Essence Qi is drained away.
"I need to think of a way to test it again." But if a man yearned for a woman, he would come to her on his own; if he didn't, forcing him here would be useless.
"Yinzhen has been out of the residence for over three months now—who knows which warm embrace he's in at this moment." Song Xilou tapped the lotus in her palm, teasing.
But then she tilted her head and smiled: "However, if you don't come by tomorrow, then I'll have no choice but to force you to come."
Meanwhile, in the study on the other side, Yinzhen suddenly let out a tremendous sneeze. His wrist jerked, and the character he was writing—one stroke short of completion—was ruined instantly.
Su Peisheng was startled, thinking his master had fallen ill, and hastily ordered the kitchen to brew several bowls of ginger tea.