FYM - 10

The next day, the Song residence was bustling with activity.

Though the Song family originated from Jinling, they had already established themselves in Chang’an for two generations. Both Song Dan and his brother Song Bo were prominent officials in the court, and the noble families of the Western Capital could not afford to ignore them. The birthday celebration hosted by Lady Wan was merely a pretext; the real purpose was to foster connections with other influential households. The men would discuss matters of state, while the women would attend to their own affairs—each fulfilling their respective roles.

By the morning hour of Chen, the distinguished guests had yet to arrive, but the family’s children first entered Yayan Hall to pay their respects to Lady Wan. She appeared particularly radiant that day, her eyes wider and brighter than usual as she sat smiling on her seat, graciously accepting the greetings of her children. Her favorite remained her unmarried second daughter, Song Shuqian, who presented her with a pair of exquisite gold and jewel-encrusted pipa-shaped earrings. Lady Wan examined them carefully, praising her daughter’s thoughtfulness.

“Mother has no idea how much effort I put into choosing this gift,” Song Shuqian coquettishly leaned against her mother, seeking approval. “I spent days deliberating. Gold filigree with jade butterflies felt too rustic, and plain jade too austere. These are perfect—they suit your complexion beautifully.”

Lady Wan beamed with delight, her affection clearly reserved for her biological children. When it came to Song Mingzhen, Song Shuqing, and Song Shuyan’s gifts—a jade ruyi scepter and a gilded bronze comb, respectively—her reactions were lukewarm at best. After offering a few perfunctory compliments, she dismissed them, urging them not to delay the reception of guests later.

Since men and women could not share the same gathering space, Song Shuyan accompanied Lady Wan and her two sisters to the rear garden. Upon reaching Wei Rui Hall, Lady Wan took Song Shuqian with her to oversee arrangements at the banquet tables, leaving Song Shuyan and Song Shuqing alone in the room, aimlessly waiting.

“The mistress’s favoritism is truly excessive...” Ding Mama, Song Shuqing’s attendant, muttered under her breath, clearly indignant. “She only ever takes her own daughters to mingle with the ladies of other households, completely disregarding the marriage prospects of the others. Miss Three just came of age a few days ago—why is she in such a hurry?”

This was an obvious grievance on behalf of Song Shuqing, who was eight months older than Song Shuqian but still unmarried, making her understandably more anxious about her future.

“Enough of that talk,” Song Shuqing frowned, glaring back at Ding Mama. “Be careful someone doesn’t overhear you and stir up trouble.”

Ding Mama apologized sheepishly and fell silent. Song Shuqing, somewhat embarrassed, turned to Song Shuyan with a forced smile. “Forgive me for this spectacle, little sister—it’s truly unbecoming.”

Though Song Shuyan shared a closer bond with Wu’s household, she had only seen them once a year since leaving the estate at the age of five. Now, it wouldn’t do to appear overly familiar, so she simply replied, “Sister, there’s no need to say such things...”

Song Shuqing glanced at her and sighed. “Speaking of which, Fourth Sister, you’re also approaching the age for marriage discussions—are there any plans from Qiantang regarding your future?”

Her?

She was only fourteen, and it would be another season before she reached the age of fifteen—the traditional time for marriage discussions. However, her grandmother had indeed been concerned about her marital prospects, and her recent insistence on sending her to Chang’an likely stemmed from this consideration.

“...Not yet,” she replied evasively.

“It’s time to start planning,” Song Shuqing sighed again. “At the very least, you should approach Father. Your situation is more complicated than mine—you’re a legitimate daughter after all... and then there’s the matter of the mistress...”

Her words, especially the phrase “after all,” carried a subtle undertone about Song Shuyan’s status. Though she was indeed a legitimate daughter, her mother had long passed away, and she had been raised by her maternal grandparents. How did that differ significantly from being born of a concubine? Lower-status marriages would tarnish the Song family’s reputation, while higher-status ones would inevitably provoke Lady Wan’s disapproval. Either way, it was a difficult position.

While Song Shuqing spoke lightly, Song Shuyan listened with equal detachment. Only Nurse Cui took the matter to heart, thinking how unfortunate her young mistress was—a noble daughter from a prestigious lineage reduced to living under the shadow of a remarried wife. If her mother were still alive, how could she endure such indignities?

Just as Nurse Cui was silently fuming, Shumo hurried in from outside Wei Rui Hall to report that the Marchioness of Jinguo had fallen ill and could not attend the banquet. Thus, only a few male members of the Fang family had arrived at the Song residence and were currently conversing with the master in the front hall. Before Song Shuyan or the others could react, Song Shuqian rushed over from the banquet tables, eagerly asking, “Is Brother Yi here? Has he arrived?”

Lady Wan had always been meticulous in raising her children, perhaps due to her own past experiences as a concubine before ascending to the position of primary wife. Consequently, her son and daughters were all models of propriety and grace. Even Song Shuqian, the youngest and most vivacious, usually maintained the demeanor expected of a legitimate daughter. Seeing her so impatient now, with even her usually arched brows relaxed, was unprecedented and drew Song Shuyan’s attention.

“The servant hasn’t seen the young master,” Shumo replied awkwardly. “Only the eldest branch of the Guogong residence has arrived...”

Song Shuyan observed closely, and as soon as Shumo finished speaking, her third sister’s face visibly fell. She turned back to look for her mother, who seemed equally disappointed but, in the presence of others, refrained from saying anything. Instead, she patted her daughter’s hand and gently encouraged her to return to the banquet tables to greet the guests.

After they left, Song Shuqing, who had remained silent until now, covered her mouth and chuckled softly. Leaning close to Song Shuyan, she whispered, “It seems some people are harder to marry off than others—such high standards and expectations. How can everything go as planned?”

Indeed, her standards were high.

Though Song Shuyan had grown up in Jiangnan, she was well aware of the weight the name “Fang” carried in the Zhou dynasty. Who hadn’t heard of the illustrious Yingchuan Fang family? Their ancestors had played pivotal roles in founding the dynasty, and for generations, they had produced influential figures wielding immense power. They were undoubtedly the foremost noble family of the era. She had also heard of the current heir apparent, Fang Xianting, styled Yi Zhi, who at seventeen had topped the military examinations and later served as a general in the Southern Palace Guard, earning widespread renown.

So Third Sister wanted to marry him...

Though the Song family was prestigious, it still paled in comparison to the Fangs of Yingchuan. A marriage alliance with one of their lesser branches might be possible, but aiming for the heir apparent? That was quite another matter altogether.

Song Shuyan understood this clearly but kept her thoughts hidden, as her late grandfather had taught her—to conceal one’s emotions was key to maintaining peace. Seeing her seemingly bewildered expression, Song Shuqing assumed her younger sister knew little about the Fang family and thus pitied her ignorance. She proceeded to explain in detail the intricacies of the Jinguo residence, expounding at length.

Meanwhile, the banquet for the men in the front hall was even livelier.

The Fang family, wherever they went, were always the center of attention. Even though the Marquis and his heir had not personally attended today, the sons of the eldest branch were surrounded by admirers. Song Mingzhuo, Song Dan’s legitimate eldest son, was particularly attentive, mingling closely with Fang Yun Chong and Fang Yun Hui. Unfortunately, as a scholar-official, he struggled to connect with these martial youths, unlike his half-brother Song Mingzhen, who found common ground with them more easily.

“Where’s Third Brother today?”

Song Mingzhen laughed as he raised his cup, appearing quite familiar with the Fang family.

“You don’t know Third Brother?” Fang Yun Hui, aged seventeen, replied smoothly. “He was dispatched to Hebei Province months ago and only returned to Chang’an a few days ago. Today, he was summoned to the palace by the Crown Prince—he’s always busy.”

Song Mingzhen clicked his tongue, seemingly impressed. Fang Yun Hui glanced at him, then teased with a chuckle, “Are you still hoping Third Brother will teach you spear techniques? The military exams are approaching—are you nervous?”

“Nervous?” Song Mingzhen bristled, his brows furrowing instantly. “What a joke! I, Song Ziqiu, have seen every kind of scene imaginable. This isn’t even my first attempt at the military exams—I fear nothing.”

“And besides, that wasn’t ‘teaching’—just friendly sparring. We both learned something...”

Fang Yun Hui burst out laughing. “You hear that, Brother Ziqiu’s ego is thicker than the city walls! Elder Brother, did you catch what he said? When I recount this to Third Brother, you’ll vouch that I didn’t slander him!”

Fang Yun Chong, aged twenty-seven and already married with children, naturally avoided such banter. Smiling faintly, he reassured Song Mingzhen, “Ziqiu’s skills are already refined. Even Yi Zhi says you’re certain to pass next year—no need to be overly anxious.”

The word “anxious” echoed “nervous,” but Fang Yun Chong’s tone was gentler, characteristic of his considerate nature, unlike his mischievous younger brother. After pondering for a moment, Song Mingzhen chose not to retort, simply replying humbly, “Thank you.”

Beside them, Song Mingzhuo, unable to join the conversation, looked increasingly awkward. His gaze toward Song Mingzhen carried a hint of reproach, perhaps resenting his half-brother’s lack of tact, which reflected poorly on him. Just as tensions simmered, a commotion arose at the entrance. Turning their heads, everyone saw Zhong Ji, the young military advisor from the Zhong family, being ushered into the estate by the Song family’s servants. Gasps filled the air.

...

How audacious of the Song family to invite both the Fangs and the Zhongs together! These two families were currently...

Before anyone could finish the thought, Fang Yun Hui, who had just been chatting jovially, suddenly turned cold, glaring at Zhong Ji, clad in azure brocade, as he entered the estate with an air of nonchalance. Turning to Song Mingzhuo, Fang Yun Hui remarked sharply, “Your household is truly adept at navigating delicate situations—extending invitations to the Fangs and including this gentleman in the same gathering.”

Caught off guard by this unexpected appearance, Song Mingzhuo stammered, attempting to explain, “Fourth Master, please don’t be upset. This... this...”

But Fang Yun Hui paid no heed, letting out a loud snort audible for several zhang around. Beside him, Fang Yun Chong’s expression darkened, though his manners remained impeccable—he refrained from openly showing displeasure.

Meanwhile, Zhong Ji, hearing the derisive snort, turned to glance at them. Around twenty-two or twenty-three years old, he bore the physical traits of his Hu ancestry—more robust and muscular, with a slightly lower nose bridge and faintly greenish eyes—not particularly handsome.

Fang Yun Hui disdainfully averted his gaze, refusing to meet Zhong Ji’s eyes. Unperturbed, Zhong Ji strode forward and addressed Song Dan, who was visibly stunned, with a respectful bow. “Lord Song, my father holds your household in high regard. He intended to bring gifts personally but was unexpectedly summoned to the palace. He entrusted me with a modest present to convey his congratulations. I hope you won’t take offense.”