FYM - 55

When the news reached Song Shuyan, it felt like an unexpected windfall for a pauper—joyous yet bewildering.

Fang Xianting…

Though she had secretly hoped he might speak with her before her departure after their encounter in her second brother’s courtyard, his response exceeded her expectations. Despite his aloof and busy nature, he was willing to personally accompany her… back to her true home.

She could hardly believe it. When Song Mingzhen relayed this to her, she repeatedly asked if it were true. He laughed heartily, replying, “Why would I lie? It was Lord Fang himself who agreed—departure is tomorrow. Lady Jiang will join us.”

Pausing, he added reflectively, “I hadn’t noticed before, but Third Brother has always treated me well. Initially reluctant, he changed his mind after my persuasion. Clearly, he regards me as a close confidant. I must find a way to repay such kindness…”

Zhui’er, initially overjoyed alongside her mistress, found her expression shifting oddly at these words. Realizing that Lord Fang’s actions were clearly aimed at her mistress, not her second master, she refrained from questioning aloud, retreating quietly to prepare for the journey with Cui Mama.

The next morning’s departure was bustling.

In previous years, Song Shuyan’s return to Qiantang went largely unnoticed in the Song household. This year, however, everyone clamored to see her off—not only the women of the inner quarters but also all three brothers: Song Dan, Song Bo, and Song Cheng. Only Song Shuqian was absent, reportedly having cried uncontrollably upon hearing of Lord Fang accompanying her sister to Qiantang. She destroyed everything breakable in her room overnight, making it impossible for her to appear the next morning. Meanwhile, Lady Wan, exhausted from consoling her daughter throughout the night, put on a brave face for appearances, a sight both pitiable and poignant.

Lady Jiang, ever astute in social graces, understood Song Shuqian’s aspirations to marry into the Fang family. However, fate was unpredictable, and forcing such a union rarely bore good fruit. Thus, she politely addressed Lady Wan, “We’ve imposed on your household for too long. If you and Master Song visit Yichuan in the future, please allow me to reciprocate your hospitality.”

Though polite, these words were merely formalities. Lady Wan, overwhelmed by bitterness at missing such a prestigious match, struggled to hold back tears.

Song Dan noticed his wife’s unease, fearing another breach of etiquette before their esteemed guests. He promptly thanked Lady Jiang for her invitation, then turned to his youngest daughter, instructing, “On this trip to Qiantang, ensure you don’t trouble Lady Jiang or Lord Fang. After your cousin’s wedding, remember to return home promptly.”

This latter instruction was unprecedented, suggesting he anticipated changes in her relationship with Fang Xianting and wished to hear about them upon her return. Song Shuyan murmured her assent, momentarily forgetting her usual cynicism amidst her overwhelming joy.

After exchanging pleasantries, departure commenced. Song Shuyan shared a carriage with Lady Jiang, while Fang Xianting and Song Mingzhen rode horses on either side. Exiting Jinling, the bright sunlight and gentle breeze seemed to herald that many… would soon have their wishes fulfilled.

Traveling southeast from Jinling, the journey to Qiantang took two days by carriage—a short duration, yet Song Shuyan remained concerned about Lady Jiang’s comfort. From the moment they boarded, she attentively observed every move, offering tea at the slightest cough and fretting at any sign of discomfort.

Lady Jiang chuckled at her diligence, gently patting her hand. “Am I truly so delicate? I’ve recuperated in Luzhou for over a year; my health has greatly improved.”

Song Shuyan responded awkwardly, adding, “Jiangnan’s hilly terrain makes the ride bumpy… It’s still rather taxing.”

Lady Jiang smiled again, this time with deeper meaning, saying warmly, “It is indeed tiring, but if it leads to a beautiful outcome, the effort is worthwhile.”

These words…

Song Shuyan’s heart stirred, unsure how to respond. Seeing her blush deepen, Lady Jiang laughed even more heartily, deciding to leave further conversation to the younger generation. Song Shuyan, however, was flustered, unable to shake visions of him even while seated comfortably in the carriage. Each hoofbeat outside, separated only by a thin window, stirred her emotions.

She had never experienced such intense palpitations. Love, perhaps, was inherently wondrous, most intoxicating when on the cusp of realization. Unable to resist, she pushed open the window to steal a glance. The handsome man atop his horse exuded an elegant charm, as if within reach.

He quickly noticed her gaze. Meeting her eyes, his profound expression made her palms sweat nervously. She hastily closed the window, only to boldly reopen it moments later. His gaze remained, carrying a subtle warmth through the glass. Though she hadn’t touched alcohol, she felt…

…as though she were drunk.

By nightfall, they reached Huzhou, planning to rest at an inn. During dinner, Fang Xianting was absent. Song Shuyan accompanied Lady Jiang and her second brother, eating slowly, waiting until the meal ended without seeing him.

“No need to wait. He received urgent news from Chang’an and immediately attended to official matters,” Lady Jiang reassured her casually. “He’s always like this—nothing to worry about.”

Her words were light, but the mention of “Chang’an” unsettled Song Shuyan. Aware of the volatile situation in the Western Capital—Prince Qin’s escape likely to Longxi under Zhong’s protection—she feared impending warfare.

Could it be…

…that he would soon return to the Central Plains?

Outwardly composed, Song Shuyan nodded, internally feeling a wave of loss. The day’s joy seemed illusory, dissolving into a dreamlike haze at night. Returning to her room with Zhui’er and Cui Mama, she lingered, unwilling to unpin her hair or change. Her attendants understood she awaited the new marquis’s return and refrained from urging her.

Around midnight, faint sounds came from outside. Her heart quickened, and she swiftly opened the door. There he stood, en route to his quarters, perhaps burdened by troubling news, his eyes shadowed.

“…Third Brother.”

She called softly, mindful of the late hour.

He had already noticed her opening the door, assuming his footsteps disturbed her rest, his expression apologetic as he paused, asking, “…Did I wake you?”

…His tone was gentle.

Her heart trembled. The boundaries she usually upheld cracked slightly, emboldening her reply, “No… I just waited for you to return.”

Her words, though ordinary, carried an indescribable allure, hinting at her attachment, eliciting a fleeting daze from him.

“…Hmm,” his delayed response revealed his inner turmoil. “Some matters required attention, causing delay.”

She nodded slowly, her fair neck appearing especially delicate up close. The faint fragrance emanating from her made him slightly uneasy, though she remained oblivious, softly adding, “I instructed the inn to keep supper warm—have you eaten? Shall I fetch it?”

His heart softened at her thoughtfulness, his gaze gentler. “No need for such trouble—it’s late.”

She acquiesced, seemingly without further words. Yet, he didn’t leave. They stood inside and outside her door, the earlier day’s subtle tension now rising to a disconcerting level.

“Chang’an…” she broke the spell, drawn to the atmosphere but regretting her choice of words. Realizing court secrets couldn’t be discussed, she hastily shook her head, looking flustered. “Never mind… I don’t need to know.”

Her childlike gesture amused him, his eyes twinkling as he asked, “Then what do you wish to know?”

…His tone was enigmatic.

Her response lagged, beautiful eyes lowering, cheeks subtly blushing. She whispered, “I want to know if… you’re leaving soon.”

That sentence stirred his heart.

A touch sorrowful, a touch plaintive, almost like a coy plea. If their future held promise, he wished to hear such tones forever.

“Not yet,” he replied softly, tenderly. “…I must escort you home first.”

Relief washed over her. Gathering courage, she pressed, “Will you leave immediately upon arrival? Won’t you stay a few days? Qiantang’s scenery is exquisite, worth exploring.”

His smile, rare and captivating, ensnared her soul. Teasingly, he countered, “Until when would you have me stay?”

His restrained probing ignited passionate longing. She realized he, a military officer born of a martial lineage, excelled in strategy and retreat. Struggling to maintain composure, she glanced away, stammering, “At least a day or two… Perhaps longer, until February eighth… That day… is my…”

She trailed off, nearly confessing her birthday. Their veiled intimacy hovered precariously close to revelation. Finally, he stepped closer, the slight distance unsettling yet satisfying her deeply.

“Your birthday?”

His whisper grazed her ear, sending shivers through her.

“…I know.”

It felt like a dream—perfect and beautiful. They had never been so close, her cheek nearly brushing his chest. Both acknowledged their hearts were claimed by the other, neither resisting. Everything seemed imminent.

Silence—an indulgence of the heart. They lingered, each aware yet savoring the moment. He stepped back first, his gaze lingering. “Rest now. We depart early tomorrow.”

She obeyed, blushing as she bid him goodnight. Closing the door, his silhouette remained motionless, eventually fading from her doorway.

…When will you embrace me?

Leaning against the door, her heart still trembled with excitement.