FYM - 48

The Song family, as a prestigious household, adhered to proper etiquette and would never allow esteemed guests to stay elsewhere. That day, Song Dan and Lady Wan earnestly invited the new Marquis of Yichuan and Lady Jiang to remain at their estate for a few days. Though reluctant to draw too much attention by making a grand entrance into Jinling, Lady Jiang ultimately agreed to their warm invitation.

After the formal introductions in the main hall, everyone dispersed. Fang Xianting accompanied Song Dan to the study, likely to discuss important matters. Meanwhile, Song Shuyan returned to her quarters, only gradually realizing the implications of the Fangs’ visit to Jinling. It was clear that Fang Xianting’s presence here was tied to the new emperor in Chang’an—rumors of his patricide and usurpation were rife. As the foremost noble family in Jiangnan, the Songs held significant sway among the scholarly elite. Perhaps he had come to secure their support, urging her father to publicly back the new emperor and legitimize his rule?

Lost in thought, she sat motionless on her bed for a long while. Her ever-energetic maid, Zhui’er, couldn’t contain herself, pacing excitedly around the room since they’d entered. When Cui Mama finally returned from her errands, Zhui’er eagerly grabbed her hand, exclaiming that Lord Fang and his mother, Lady Jiang, had arrived. They had treated her young mistress with immense kindness—perhaps even a marriage proposal was in the works!

Cui Mama’s eyes widened in shock. But Song Shuyan merely chuckled, shaking her head. “Don’t listen to her nonsense. It’s nothing.”

“How can it be nothing!” Zhui’er stamped her foot, her adorable face flushed with frustration. “It’s true! Lady Jiang even asked if you’re betrothed!”

“It’s just polite small talk,” Song Shuyan sighed, her expression devoid of excitement. “You can’t take it seriously.”

“But she gave you a gift!” Zhui’er was beside herself, rushing to retrieve the sandalwood box Fang Xianting had personally handed over. “Even the legitimate sons and daughters of the main house haven’t received such favor! The Fangs clearly regard you differently!”

Regard her differently?

Song Shuyan smiled faintly. Perhaps because her heart had been stirred by him so many times over the past year, seeing him now left her strangely unmoved. Their encounters had always been fleeting—on the mountain, in the forest, on the river. He came like a whisper, stirring her thoughts, and vanished just as silently, leaving no trace.

—Or so she thought. Yet, as always, his presence left her to deal with complications. Now, her stepmother and third sister’s resentment weighed heavily on her. Once he left Jinling, she dreaded how much more she might suffer.

A flicker of self-mockery crossed her eyes, but she still opened the wooden box. Inside lay a translucent jade bottle—valuable, yes, but clearly not chosen with great care. It was the kind of gift exchanged routinely between noble families: proper, dignified, and impersonal.

She closed the lid, feeling neither joy nor disappointment. She instructed Cui Mama to store it safely, then turned to Zhui’er. “From now on, don’t speak out of turn. While Lady Jiang and Lord Fang are here, try to stay indoors as much as possible. Your stepmother is watching closely—don’t give her any reason to find fault.”

…But she couldn’t avoid leaving her quarters forever.

Her stepmother’s rules were strict, and daily visits to the main house were mandatory. Early the next morning, as she passed through the garden, Zhui’er whispered excitedly in her ear, “Miss, look—Lord Fang is over there…”

…She had already seen him.

He was an undeniably handsome man, impossible to ignore wherever he appeared. By late January, the air in Jiangnan had grown slightly warmer, and the plum blossoms in the garden were in full bloom. White and pink petals swayed against each other, occasionally falling in the chilly breeze, drifting gently onto his black robes. He looked both noble and ethereal.

And yet… it was strange to see him here, in her familiar garden.

She pursed her lips, thinking it best to hurry past without meeting his gaze. But he had already spotted her. Their eyes met, and avoiding him now would seem impolite. Reluctantly, she stopped. Soon, his footsteps drew nearer, the hem of his dark brocade robe entering her line of sight. Despite her resolve, her heart fluttered uncontrollably.

“…Lord Fang.”

She lowered her head in a respectful bow.

He paused, just as he had in the hall the day before, before responding softly, “No need for formalities.”

She straightened, knowing she should say something to fill the awkward silence. But what could she say? A year had passed since they last met—they were practically strangers. Even asking about his well-being felt inappropriate.

“…Didn’t you refuse to call me ‘Marquis’ before?”

He broke the silence first, his voice low, carrying the lingering chill of early spring and the faint fragrance of plum blossoms. It was softer than the night they’d met on the river, devoid of the metallic tang of blood she remembered from her nightmares.

She appreciated his effort to ease the tension, but his words were difficult to respond to. She hadn’t expected him to remember such trivial details from a year ago—or the peculiar emotions they evoked in her now.

“No…” she stammered awkwardly. “…I didn’t know the proper etiquette back then.”

He seemed to smile, though she didn’t look up to confirm. After a moment, he sighed, “A year has passed. It seems we’ve both changed.”

She didn’t understand his meaning. How had she changed in his eyes? Feeling不甘, she replied, “I haven’t improved much. I’ve simply followed your wishes.”

He raised an eyebrow, detecting a hint of reproach in her seemingly neutral words. She didn’t realize she was sulking, her expression still perfectly composed. After a pause, he asked, “My wishes? You mean not letting you call me by my given name, like your second brother does?”

His clarification made her feel foolish. Why had she spoken so impulsively? It was inappropriate, disrespectful even…

Regretting her words, she prepared to apologize, but he spoke first. “It wasn’t that I didn’t want you to call me that… The circumstances were delicate back then. I feared it might implicate you and the Song family.”

They both understood this truth. Song Shuyan had already felt a pang of guilt, but hearing him explain—and almost comfort—her in such a tone made that guilt dissipate. Instead, she was left with a strange mix of emotions.

Was she happy? Or unhappy?

Confused, she remained silent. He glanced at her again, his gaze cool yet warm, hesitating briefly before saying, “Now it’s alright… If you still wish, you may call me as your brother does.”

“Now it’s alright…”

Call him… “Third Brother”?

She blinked, the mere thought of those two words making her cheeks flush. A vivid blush spread across her face and down to her ears. At fifteen, she was like the most delicate blossom on a branch, every gesture tugging at the heartstrings of those who watched.

Zhui’er noticed everything. Lord Fang had been staring intently at her young mistress, his expression soft and unwavering. This was clearly not mere politeness—it was unmistakable affection.

“I…” Song Shuyan’s heart raced, her tongue tied. “I still…”

“Fourth Sister—”

Just then, another voice interrupted. Without turning, she knew it was her third sister, Song Shuqian. Dressed in a bright yellow spring gown, her figure was strikingly elegant, seemingly unbothered by the brisk wind. Her demeanor was lively and charming.

She approached quickly, calling out “Fourth Sister” but keeping her eyes fixed on Fang Xianting. Stopping gracefully, she bowed lightly and asked in a soft voice, “Brother Yi Zhi, what brings you here? Were you sharing some amusing stories with Fourth Sister?”

Though she had heard him called “Brother Yi Zhi” before, hearing it now made Song Shuyan pause. “Brother Yi Zhi” sounded far more intimate than “Third Brother.” She wondered why her third sister could say it so easily, while she…

“There’s nothing amusing,” he replied indifferently, his tone unchanged. “I just happened to meet Fourth Sister. Are you here to accompany her to pay respects to your mother?”

His response left everyone silent.

“Fourth Sister”… “Third Miss”…

Song Shuyan hadn’t expected him to address her so formally. Though not improper, it sent a shiver through her heart. Song Shuqian, on the other hand, felt unmistakably slighted. Beyond the difference in titles, his question carried an odd undertone, as if he had some claim over her fourth sister, implying that her presence required his approval!

This… this…

Her face flushed red, then pale, her mind swirling with indignation. Yet, all she could do was suppress her frustration and murmur, “Yes.” Fang Xianting nodded, seemingly disinterested in staying longer. After bidding them farewell, he turned to leave—but not before casting one last lingering glance at the girl from Qiantang, as if reluctant to part.

This… this was absolutely outrageous!