FYM - 11

“Who on earth sent the invitation to the Zhong family? How could they be so lacking in judgment!”

As night fell and the guests dispersed, Song Shuyan was still resting with her two older sisters in the Wei Rui Hall. While drinking tea, she heard an argument break out outside. Turning her head, she saw that the men who had been entertaining guests in the front courtyard had returned to the inner quarters. Besides her father, Song Dan, and her two brothers, there were also her uncle from the second branch of the family, Song Bo, along with his two sons, Song Mingran and Song Mingshi.

The girls quickly rose to greet them. Since Song Shuyan had only just returned to Chang’an yesterday, the second branch hadn’t yet met her, so her two cousins looked quite surprised. However, Uncle Song Bo wasn’t paying attention to whether a new niece had appeared in the household; he continued pressing his elder brother, Song Dan: “Did you send someone to invite them? What kind of faces did those two Fang brothers make when they left? They nearly came to blows with that young Zhong military advisor!”

The women in the inner quarters were unaware of what had transpired earlier in the main hall. Upon hearing this, they were stunned. From her corner, Song Shuyan quietly observed as her father’s expression grew cold. After sitting down at the head of the room, he quickly drank a cup of tea, shook his head at his younger brother, and then turned to his eldest son, Song Mingzhuo, with a grave face: “Go fetch your mother.”

Song Mingzhuo nervously replied and was about to leave when Lady Wan entered from the back courtyard. A full day of hosting had drained her energy, but being surrounded by the wives of officials had left her feeling radiant, her eyes brighter than usual.

“Second Brother is here too,” she greeted Song Bo with a smile. “Zigao and Ziling, why are you all standing? Sit down.”

But none of the men were in the mood to chat. Song Dan’s expression was especially grim. Lady Wan sensed something was amiss, and her smile faltered slightly as she cautiously asked, “What... what is going on? Why isn’t anyone speaking?”

“Today, Zhong Ji visited our estate,” Song Dan furrowed his brows, not beating around the bush. “Did you order someone to deliver the invitation?”

Zhong Ji?

Song Shuyan concentrated, recalling that she’d heard this name yesterday in the Yayan Hall. At the time, her father’s expression had been somewhat subtle, as if reluctant to discuss it further.

“Yes...” Lady Wan hesitantly admitted, her voice weaker. “I thought, since Zijian and the others had already encountered that young Zhong military advisor outside, not sending an invitation would seem too...”

“Nonsense, Elder Sister-in-Law!”

Before Lady Wan could finish, Song Bo couldn’t help but interrupt, his tone sharp.

“The Fang and Zhong families are already embroiled in fierce political rivalry within the court, their enmity irreconcilable. Our Song family prides itself on being part of the ‘pure faction.’ How could we possibly invite the Zhong family into our home? Today, all the officials were present—what will they think of our Song family now?”

“Reputation.”

This was perhaps the most important thing for the Song family.

Song Shuyan’s grandfather, Song Li, had once served as the Crown Prince’s Chief Advisor. After the Emperor ascended the throne, he was appointed Chancellor of the Hanlin Academy, earning the title “Internal Prime Minister.” In his later years, he retired without fostering disciples or engaging in power struggles, thus earning the Emperor’s praise. A special imperial decree granted him a place in the Imperial Ancestral Temple after his death. By the time her father and uncle’s generation came along, the reputation of the “pure faction” had grown even more illustrious. Though the Zhong family currently wielded immense power, their rise was due to matrimonial connections, making them a nouveau riche clan. There was no way the Song family could associate with them.

“Does Elder Sister-in-Law have any idea how chaotic the main hall was today?” Song Bo, still agitated, continued. “The fourth young master of the Fang family stormed off, and their eldest son would not have stayed for dinner if not for Ziqiu’s intervention. Who knows what rumors will spread tomorrow—it’s entirely possible that the Fang and Song families will become enemies!”

Lady Wan, a mere woman of the inner chambers, understood nothing of these consequences. She thought back to last year when their family had invited the Zhong matriarch to attend the Shangsi Festival. Little did she know that the rivalry between the Fang and Zhong factions had intensified so rapidly that the situation had changed drastically since then.

“This… this…”

She was utterly shocked, unsure of what to do. Her daughter, Song Shuqian, however, had only caught the last part of Uncle Song Bo’s words—”the two families becoming enemies”—and was immediately terrified, blurting out, “What about me and Brother Yi? Will he be angry with me because of this?”

Her words were undeniably abrupt, leaving the elders speechless. Song Shuyan remained silent, only hearing her second sister, Song Shuqing, chuckle softly—a mixture of jealousy and schadenfreude.

Seeing no one respond, Song Shuqian grew even more panicked. Turning to her mother, her tone carried a stronger sense of blame: “Why did you send that wretched invitation to the Zhong family? You’ve unnecessarily angered the Fang family! Why didn’t you ask Father about it yesterday? Now, what should we do?”

Lady Wan, bombarded by her daughter’s questions, was left speechless, beads of sweat forming at her temples. Just as she was flustered and at a loss, a steward hurried in, bowed to Song Dan, and announced, “Master, the Fang heir has arrived and requests an audience in the main hall.”

...The Fang heir?

Fang Xianting?

The Wei Rui Hall erupted into chaos. The men exchanged glances, uncertain whether this noble visitor had come to confront them. Meanwhile, the women felt more surprise—especially Song Shuqian, who had been sulking moments ago but now brightened instantly upon hearing that he had come.

“Is it Brother Yi?”

“He came personally?”

Unfortunately, her father and brothers had no time to indulge these naive little girl thoughts. Song Mingzhuo approached Song Dan and whispered, “Father, what should we do?”

Song Dan’s expression was also deeply troubled. After pondering for a moment, he glanced at his second son and said, “Ziqiu, accompany me to the main hall to receive the guest—Zhongji, take Zigao and Ziling back first.”

Everyone dispersed, and Song Shuyan silently withdrew from the Wei Rui Hall. The winter nights in Chang’an were bitterly cold, and the wind seeping into her collar made her shiver. She intended to return directly to Pingwu Pavilion but was stopped halfway by her second sister, Song Shuqing, who nodded toward the front and whispered in her ear, “Look at your third sister—she’s sneaking off to the Yayan Hall.”

Song Shuyan glanced up and indeed saw Song Shuqian hurrying toward the front courtyard with two maids, her lantern swaying unsteadily, creating an almost poetic scene. Song Shuqing covered her mouth and giggled, saying, “Let’s go together and see the commotion.”

Together?

Though the Zhou dynasty’s customs were relatively open, unmarried women of the inner quarters were still not permitted to meet men. Third Sister, protected by the mistress, might be safe, but the other daughters certainly couldn’t act so recklessly.

“I’d rather not…” Song Shuyan frowned and declined gently. “It’s too improper—we’ll be scolded by Father.”

“What’s there to fear?” Song Shuqing had already pulled her hand forward, her palm much warmer than hers. “We’ll stay behind the screen—no one will notice.”

The Yayan Hall was brightly lit.

Song Shuyan followed her second sister and slipped quietly into the hall. On one side of the entrance screen, they spotted Song Shuqian, who had dismissed her two maids and was peeking through a crack. Gone was any semblance of dignity expected of a noble lady. Hearing movement, she turned abruptly, her face darkening upon seeing them—a mix of embarrassment and disdain.

Disdain?

Could it be that she thought they weren’t worthy of even glimpsing her beloved?

Song Shuyan inwardly scoffed, then found herself bored. She recalled how her maternal grandparents had always worried about failing to properly raise her, fearing she would lose the poise expected of a Song family daughter while living in Qiantang. But in her view, Chang’an held no allure—it was merely a place where dull people chased after dull things.

“Fourth Sister...” Her second sister, however, was thoroughly entertained, pulling her hand and making space for her behind the screen. She whispered softly, “Come here and look...”

She had no intention of looking. First, because she didn’t care, and second, because even if she did, it wouldn’t change anything—it wasn’t hers to claim. She was about to shake her head and decline when suddenly, a voice came from the other side of the screen:

“...Today, Zi Xing behaved improperly at your esteemed residence. I hope you can forgive him, Lord Song.”

A low, cold voice, rendered ethereal by the screen, suddenly reminded her of that bitterly cold, muddy snow night. Amidst the neighing of horses, someone had appeared, lifting the heavy carriage axle for their party of strangers and grabbing the reins of a startled horse with hands stained by mud. Through the window, he had asked, “Is the young lady injured?”

...It was him.

She was momentarily dazed, her heart tightening inexplicably. Though she had just resolved to leave, her feet seemed rooted to the spot. Her second sister tugged at her, urging her to look. By then, she had already sensed some sort of danger—as if glimpsing him now would seal her fate for misfortune. Yet, for some reason, she still bent down. The candlelight from beyond the screen filtered through the narrow gap, illuminating her eyes, and for the first time in her life, she truly saw the man’s face.

The Yingchuan Fang family was renowned throughout the land, and the reputation of the Duke of Jin’s only son was known to all. Back in Jiangnan, she had heard an amusing anecdote: during the winter hunt of the third year of Yuanchang, the Fang heir had hunted a ferocious white-shouldered eagle for the Emperor. His bow was drawn like a full moon, his arrow swift as a meteor. The great poet Liu Shi, then serving in the Hanlin Academy, witnessed the feat and, after three cups of wine at the hunting banquet, wrote two lines in praise of the Fang heir:

“Like frost piercing a jade tower, and snow brewing fragrant winds.”

At the time, she hadn’t fully grasped their brilliance, but now, seeing him through the screen, she realized these lines perfectly captured his essence—cold and aloof like frost and snow, yet magnificent and steep like a jade tower. He had piercing black eyes like a bird of prey, and a flirtatious mole near the outer corner of his right eye that softened his sternness, revealing an indescribable charm.

Zhu’er had once said he was even more handsome than Second Brother... and it seemed to be true.

“Your Highness is too kind. This was not Fourth Master’s fault...”

Her father was conversing with him, his demeanor filled with pure respect. Standing side by side, the Fang heir was much taller than her father, a scholar from Jiangnan. Perhaps all northern men were like this—his bearing as a military official only added to his imposing presence. She was momentarily entranced, her heart tightening inexplicably. Though he was but a fleeting mirage, like spring rivers and flowers under the moon, it felt as though a fateful curtain had descended upon her.

Upon reflection... this was the beginning of their lifelong entanglement.