FYM - 13

Back in the inner quarters of the Song household, the subtle ripples caused by the personal visit of the Duke’s heir had yet to fully subside even days later.

Song Shuqian had always been preoccupied with her beloved Brother Yi. In the years before her coming-of-age, she hadn’t been as desperate, but after turning fifteen, her infatuation grew stronger. Every day, she hoped to marry into the Duke’s household and soon become the noble Duchess. However, desire often brings anxiety. Now, she worried that the heir might not find her worthy, fearing he might have developed feelings for another lady elsewhere. Her heart was in constant turmoil.

“You shouldn’t worry so much and think wild thoughts,” her mother Wan Shi understood her thoughts best and often consoled her this way. “The Fang family of Yingchuan is so prominent; how many families can match them? Among those eligible, only a few remain—those with proper appearance and pleasant character. Your father is currently favored and well-acquainted with the Duke. He will secure you a good marriage.”

In truth, Wan Shi’s ambition to climb the social ladder through the Duke’s household was no less than her daughter’s.

She bore Song Dan two daughters and a son. The eldest, Song Shuying, married years ago to the eldest son of the third branch of Wan Shi’s family, Wan Sheng. Though the Wan family was a renowned household in Jiangnan, it couldn’t compare with the illustrious clans of Chang’an. Shuying’s marriage was partly due to her affection for Wan Sheng and partly to elevate her maternal family. Now living in Yangzhou, she had somewhat disadvantaged herself.

With such an unprofitable marriage for her eldest, Wan Shi hoped more fervently for her second daughter to make a high match. The Fang family of Yingchuan was at its zenith, their status and power enviable. Her Shuqian was the best; why couldn’t she strive to enter that household?

“But...” Song Shuqian still wasn’t reassured. “There are so many noble ladies in Chang’an. The Zhao family’s girl is the Empress’s niece; who knows if they want to strengthen ties with Brother Yi... And we also have our fourth sister. What if Father truly regards her as a legitimate daughter...”

Previously, Song Shuqian paid little attention to Song Shuyan when she returned home. This year, however, she noticed the fourteen-year-old blossoming like early frost-covered plum blossoms—stunningly beautiful. That day in Yayan Hall, she saw Fourth Master Fang gazing at her intently. Though Brother Yi didn’t show special interest, one could never be sure...

“Legitimate daughter?” Wan Shi sneered disdainfully. “She’s just a motherless child. How can she be considered a legitimate daughter? She must share her mother’s thin fortune and short life. She’s not enough to compete with you.”

“But Father...” Song Shuqian remained uneasy.

After all, she was his biological child. Even though her mother had passed away and she had been raised by her maternal grandparents, blood ties were strong. Could Father really neglect her marriage?

“No need to worry about these things. Your father loves you the most...”

Wan Shi waved her hand dismissively, her high cheekbones making her appear particularly shrewd and sharp-tongued.

“As for your fourth sister... If she has to blame anyone, it’s her own misfortune.”

Inside Pingwu Pavilion, tranquility reigned, oblivious to the idle gossip from the main house.

A few days earlier, Song Mingzhen obtained a copy of the Luoshen Fu scroll. Knowing his fourth sister liked it, he personally delivered it to her. Sure enough, Song Shuyan cherished it, treating the copy as if it were the original, carefully examining it for days before starting to trace it. Even incomplete parts didn’t deter her.

“I say you were born under the paperweight and brush washer, always buried in paintings,” Song Mingzhen often teased lightly during his visits. “You never stop painting. What pleasure do you find in it?”

His sister wasn’t afraid of being teased, her delicate fingers holding the goat-hair brush meticulously tracing lines, head bowed as she replied, “Isn’t Second Brother always practicing martial arts? Father disapproves of that too.”

Song Mingzhen pouted, then casually popped a soybean into his mouth. Turning the conversation, he said, “Since you like it so much, why not ask Father to hire a tutor for you? There may not be famous masters in Qiantang, but there are plenty in Chang’an.”

Though he spoke thus, Song Shuyan never intended to stay long in the western capital. Since childhood, she hadn’t made any requests to her father, quietly coming and going each year, behaving more formally than a guest.

“It’s fine,” she lowered her head, carefully observing the folds of Luo Shen’s robes in the painting. “It’s just for fun. Unlike Second Brother preparing for exams, hiring a tutor would only constrain me.”

This was naturally an excuse. Her brother, being straightforward, didn’t detect it, thinking she feared strict teachers. He laughed, “I thought you were diligent, but it turns out you’re just slacking off. Well, slacking off isn’t bad either.”

Song Shuyan smiled brightly at him without a trace of strain. Standing by, Nurse Cui watched, bitterness in her heart. She thought the second young master, being male, failed to notice his sister’s hidden sorrows. Just as she pondered saying something, movement came from outside. It was Xique, a servant girl running in to announce that Mother Wang from the main house had arrived.

Song Shuyan exchanged a glance with her second brother, then set down her brush. Walking out to the main hall, she responded, “Please invite Mother Wang in quickly.”

Her second brother, more laid-back, finished the last salted bean before taking a handkerchief from Zhui’er to wipe his hands, lazily following his sister to the main hall. As soon as they sat down, Mother Wang entered with two maids from the main house. Older than Nurse Cui, her attire surpassed that of small households’ mistresses, wearing two gold hairpins and seemingly newly tailored clothes.

“Good day, Miss Four.”

She smiled and gave a shallow bow.

Song Shuyan greeted her politely and invited her to sit. Mother Wang declined, saying, “No need to sit. I’ve been sent by the mistress to deliver something to Miss Four. I must visit other rooms afterward.”

She signaled the maid beside her to step forward, revealing several beautiful new capes on a lacquer tray covered with silk cloth.

“In a few days, it will be the winter solstice. The mistress says all the young ladies should wear bright new clothes,” Mother Wang continued cheerfully. “The seamstress sent a few capes. Please let Miss Four choose first.”

The winter solstice of Yuanzhang Year Seven fell late, on November 26. Each year around this time, the mistress would make new clothes for the younger generation, but never had she allowed Song Shuyan to choose first. Lowering her eyes, she thought for a moment and said, “I am the youngest in the house. How can I choose first? Please let Mother Wang visit my two elder sisters first. Whatever remains will be fine for me.”

“Miss Four, please don’t reject the mistress’s kindness,” Mother Wang shook her head repeatedly. “This old servant dares not decide. Please let Miss Four choose first.”

Though her tone sounded kind, her attitude was firm. Song Mingzhen frowned, looking ready to flare up. Song Shuyan subtly pulled him back, hesitating before responding, “Then thank you, Mother.”

Mother Wang nodded, signaling the maids to step closer for Miss Four’s inspection. On the lacquer tray lay three capes made of equally beautiful brocade, differing only in patterns. One was a soft pink with early spring white plum blossoms embroidered in three colors, another a cypress green adorned with small round pearls, and the last a plain grayish indigo with no additional embellishments.

Zhui’er immediately favored the light pink one, thinking it matched her mistress’s new blouse from Qiantang perfectly. Moreover, plum blossoms suited her name beautifully and symbolized good fortune. Just as she planned, she heard her mistress say, “I’ll take the indigo one.”

Zhui’er was startled, about to persuade her, but Mother Wang imperceptibly smiled and agreed, “Very well, that one it is.”

Seemingly satisfied, she personally took the cape from the tray and handed it to Nurse Cui, not sparing a glance at Zhui’er’s disgruntled face.

“Thank you for your trouble, Mother Wang.”

Song Shuyan appeared oblivious to these subtle undercurrents, speaking politely and signaling Zhui’er to give a tip. Reluctantly, Zhui’er muttered a response, leading Mother Wang and her entourage out of the hall.

“Do you like this?” As soon as they left, Song Mingzhen stood up, shaking out the newly tailored cape while raising an eyebrow. “I thought girls preferred brighter colors.”

Song Shuyan smiled, still pondering why her stepmother had let her choose first today—was it to display her fairness and maternal love to Father, or to test whether her intentions were skewed and if she would compete with her sisters?

She had long stopped competing… When she was four or five, she once fought with her third sister over a hanging lantern. After Father found out, he scolded her for not respecting seniority and etiquette, confining her to reflect for the entire lunar new year. Children with mothers by their side had the confidence to demand things, but those without had to be more prudent, ideally cultivating a tranquil and detached nature.

Hearing her brother’s question, she smoothly answered, “I like it.” He teased her, saying she hadn’t seen better things, perhaps mistreated by her uncle and aunt in Jiangnan. Only he could say such things; others wouldn’t dare. Finishing his words, he promptly pulled her towards the door, saying he’d take her to the Western Market to pick some quality goods for the new year, refusing to let her live so carelessly anymore.

“Let’s also get you a new screen,” Song Mingzhen grinned, full of spirited ease. “This one is too old. It doesn’t suit someone as particular about writing and painting as you.”