FYM - 42

That night, Song Shuyan could not fall asleep for the longest time.

Cui Mama and Zhui’er had already squeezed into the small cabin and fallen asleep, leaving her alone to toss and turn on the narrow cot. The sound of the river outside the ship was relentless, stirring her heart and making it impossible for her to stop wondering what he might be doing at that very moment.

Was he keeping vigil by his mother’s side in the guest cabin?

Or was he alone in the lower deck, silently staring at the shimmering waves through the narrow window?

She couldn’t decide, and her thoughts grew increasingly chaotic. After the hour of Chou passed, she finally couldn’t bear it any longer. Wrapping herself in her robe, she braved the freezing winter night, her fingers stiff with cold. With great effort, she retrieved the scroll of Spring Mountain that her second brother had secretly slipped to her before she left. Quietly, she moved to the oil lamp and carefully unrolled it. Each stroke of the brushwork on the scroll was vivid and intricate.

Her gaze lingered on the “Nine-Nine Winter Counting Chart” that she had added to the painting. The stark white spaces were still incomplete; they hadn’t seemed so glaring just days ago, but tonight they inexplicably felt jarring. After much deliberation, she painstakingly mixed vermilion ink and began to fill in the petals one by one under the dim light. Against the pale strokes of ink, the vibrant red blossomed like a sudden spark of life amidst overwhelming desolation. Counting from the winter solstice on the twenty-sixth day of the eleventh month, forty-six days had passed. She meticulously painted forty-six petals, and by the time she finished, her mind had calmed slightly. The restless sounds of the river outside seemed to grow quieter as well.

________________________________________

The next morning, Lady Jiang, the former Duchess of the State, finally regained consciousness.

Though still too weak to rise from bed, she insisted on seeing Song Shuyan. She sat beside the bed, tightly holding Song Shuyan’s hand, and spoke earnestly: “Yesterday, we were fortunate to have your help. Otherwise, I don’t know what would have become of us… To think you are the daughter of Lord Song. It seems we owe your family an immense debt of gratitude…”

These were polite words, and Song Shuyan had no intention of taking advantage of the Fang family’s misfortune to claim such a favor. She simply replied that it was nothing more than a small act of kindness and urged Lady Jiang not to dwell on it. She then arranged for breakfast to be brought in, encouraging Lady Jiang to eat something.

Lady Jiang had little appetite, but being from a high-born family, she adhered to propriety. After thanking Song Shuyan herself, she turned to her only son and said, “Remember to properly thank Miss Song, Fourth Young Miss of the Song family. Do not neglect her.”

Fang Xianting had been standing by the bedside all along. Hearing this, he gave a low, solemn “Yes,” his gaze lingering on Song Shuyan for a moment longer. He noticed the faint dark circles under her eyes—perhaps she hadn’t slept well last night either. But she didn’t raise her head to look at him, nor did she nod in acknowledgment according to etiquette. Perhaps she was angry with him, upset over the cold words he had spoken the previous night.

He silently withdrew his gaze, his expression growing even more inscrutable.

________________________________________

By noon, the ship arrived at a town. A hundred li further ahead lay Jiangzhou. Zhui’er came into the small cabin to report to Song Shuyan, saying that Lord Fang had arranged for the ship to dock at a ferry and planned to disembark with Lady Jiang.

Upon hearing this, Song Shuyan’s expression remained unchanged, and she made no effort to correct Zhui’er’s use of the title “Lord Fang.” Only when the ship was about to dock did she emerge from her room. By then, he was already standing at the bow of the ship where they had watched the river together the previous night. His tall figure remained as upright as ever, but his deep eyes had dimmed imperceptibly.

He was likely waiting for her. As soon as she stepped out of her room, he looked up and quickly walked over to her. Their encounters and farewells always seemed to happen in such haste.

“Miss Song,” he addressed her formally, though his gaze held a trace of something different from before—though it was difficult to discern.

“The Fang family will forever remember the kindness of lending a boat in troubled waters. If there is ever a need, we will serve without hesitation or refusal.”

“No refusal?”

Song Shuyan smiled faintly, finding his words hollow. She wondered—if she were to remind him of their past interactions and ask to travel with him henceforth, would he agree? Or would he evade her request with vague, noncommittal words as he had done the night before?

Fortunately, these improper thoughts remained unspoken, confined to her mind. A lady of propriety like her would never voice them and risk creating awkwardness. Still, there was one final gift she wished to give him. She brought out the long box hidden behind her back and presented it to him with both hands.

“What is this?”

He raised an eyebrow in surprise.

“That day, you told me, ‘The morning mist vanishes and reappears; the spring mountains seem near yet distant.’ Life is unpredictable, but as long as hope remains, there is no need to measure the journey,” she replied softly, her delicate features as radiant as plum blossoms against the snow. “I have always remembered your words and believe I will see the spring mountains as you described.”

“…And what of you?”

“Are you showing me the clear skies, only to bind yourself in haste when alone?”

As she finished speaking, she abruptly lifted her head to meet his eyes. Despite always avoiding eye contact during the height of the Fang family’s power in Chang’an, she now gazed at him fearlessly as he teetered on the edge of ruin. Her soft, clear eyes shone brightly, as if washed with snowmelt from a branch, retaining a comforting strength despite witnessing countless hardships.

For a moment, he was speechless—this was the first time he didn’t know how to respond to her. But she seemed to expect no reply. After a slight bow, she turned and walked away before he could react. The ferry was already in sight, and the sounds of the river would soon fade. At this moment of parting, he opened the long box she had given him. Inside was something he had once given her—a painting of a plum tree. Forty petals were painted in vermilion, while the remaining forty-one were left blank, as though waiting for him to add his own strokes.

She…

He closed his eyes, feeling a surge of emotion within. After disembarking, he turned back to look, but the mountains and rivers stretched endlessly, and she was already far away.

________________________________________

Six days later, Song Shuyan and her companions finally arrived safely in Qiantang.

Though the first month had not yet ended, the weather in Jiangnan was already beginning to warm. As soon as she stepped off the ship, Song Shuyan saw the Qiao family’s carriage waiting at the dock. Sun Mama, who served her grandmother, had personally come to greet her. Upon seeing her, Sun Mama joyfully rushed forward to take her hand, exclaiming, “Young Miss, you’ve finally returned! My lady has been waiting anxiously for you!”

Song Shuyan was most concerned about her grandmother. Without pausing to exchange pleasantries with Sun Mama, she hurried into the carriage and asked anxiously about her grandmother’s condition. To her surprise, Sun Mama’s expression was not sorrowful but rather carried a hint of a smile. “Now that you’ve returned, go see for yourself. Your grandmother has prepared a new batch of sweet sesame candy, waiting for you to taste it.”

The Qiao family was a wealthy household in Qiantang, lacking official titles but never short of riches. Their estate was grand and opulent, rivaling even the renowned Song residence in Chang’an. Upon entering the house, Song Shuyan didn’t bother greeting her uncles and aunts but headed straight for her grandmother’s quarters, the Liangjing Hall. No sooner had she stepped inside than she called out urgently, “Grandmother!” When she hurried into the inner chamber and saw her grandmother sitting on the heated brick bed, entertaining her young grandson, tears welled up in her eyes.

“Yingying—”

Her grandmother, Lady Zhou, also saw her and called out affectionately. Yingying was her childhood name, given by her late mother, Lady Qiao. Song Shuyan’s mother had once complained to Song Dan that the name “Shuyan” was too lofty and aloof, preferring the livelier and more endearing “Yingying.” After all, plum blossoms were solitary, but birds in flocks were lively and charming. Unfortunately, her father had never called her by that name, and now only her grandmother still used it, treating her as the apple of her eye.

In an instant, she rushed into her grandmother’s arms. Though she tried to restrain herself, her urgency was evident. The infant nephew in her grandmother’s lap was pushed aside into Sun Mama’s arms. Still unsatisfied, she tugged at her grandmother’s sleeves, inspecting her closely and asking insistently, “How is your health? Why aren’t you resting in bed? Must you tire yourself entertaining Min’er?”

Her tone was sharp, vastly different from the demure fourth young miss of the Song household in Chang’an. The maids in the room laughed, teasing, “Young Miss is jealous of her little nephew!” This made her blush furiously.

“Why should I lie in bed all day?” Lady Zhou gently pinched her granddaughter’s cheek, her eyes full of affection. “I did it all to wait for you. If you had come home and seen me looking frail, you’d have run back to your room to cry.”

This insight into her character was spot-on. Even so, Song Shuyan still felt her eyes prickling with tears. Fortunately, she retained enough composure to examine her grandmother more closely. Only then did she realize that her grandmother’s complexion was much rosier than when she had left for Chang’an in November. Today, she was dressed in fresh clothes, her vitality radiating—an image far removed from the sickly description in her uncle’s letters.

“This…” Song Shuyan blinked her beautiful almond-shaped eyes in confusion. “How can this be…”

The room erupted in laughter again. Sun Mama, ever considerate, cradled Min’er and explained, “My lady is blessed with good fortune and countless blessings from her children and grandchildren. This time, she exaggerated her illness in the letter to bring you back from Chang’an. She feared you might get entangled in the troubles over there…”

Song Shuyan was momentarily stunned. After a moment of reflection, she finally understood the deeper meaning behind her grandmother’s actions.

Her grandmother was no ordinary woman confined to the inner chambers. In her youth, she had accompanied her husband on business ventures across the land, possessing exceptional insight and acumen. This was how she had safeguarded the Qiao family’s vast fortune. Chang’an had been far from peaceful this year, especially with the Jin Diao case at Lishan directly implicating the Song family. Her grandmother must have heard rumors in Jiangnan about the succession struggle and feared the Song family might be dragged into it, facing catastrophic consequences. Thus, she had feigned a serious illness to recall Song Shuyan to Qiantang, unwilling to let her beloved granddaughter suffer from those troubles.

With this realization, Song Shuyan’s gaze toward her grandmother grew more complex. Having witnessed her father and stepmother’s cold indifference, her gratitude and admiration for this elder only deepened. Lady Zhou, seeing the emotions in her granddaughter’s eyes, knew she had figured everything out. With a wave of her hand, the attendants in the room quietly withdrew. She tenderly stroked her granddaughter’s face, her eyes filled with boundless affection.

“I sent you to Chang’an for you to enjoy blessings and to make your father realize his responsibility toward you,” she sighed, her words imbued with wisdom and steadiness accumulated over the years. “But I cannot bear to see my precious child suffer. You haven’t eaten much of their rice, yet you’ve endured so much hardship because of them…”

Song Shuyan’s eyes reddened. She buried herself in her grandmother’s embrace, unable to speak for a long time. Lady Zhou gently patted her shoulder, comforting her more attentively than she did the infant Min’er.

“Stay by my side for a little longer,” Lady Zhou continued softly, her eyes flickering with indiscernible emotions. “The situation over there… may change yet again.”