FYM - 57

Song Shuyan was naturally reserved and understated, rarely so talkative. Fang Xianting glanced at her from the side, noting how her clear, bright eyes sparkled with joy—returning home clearly delighted her, and her smile was more radiant than ever.

…She was endearing.

Song Shuyan sensed Fang Xianting’s gaze; her thoughts were mostly preoccupied with him, attuned to his every move. Gathering courage, she looked up at him, already feeling a pang of reluctance despite their impending separation. After a moment, she asked, “Though February isn’t as lively as August, there are still large tides around the full moon. If you have time… could you stay until then?”

This was a continuation of last night’s conversation, subtly extending his departure from early February to her birthday, now attempting to stretch it further to mid-month. Her lingering affection was unmistakable, and he understood fully but struggled to respond.

“I…”

Even he found himself at a rare loss for words.

Unaware of the undercurrents, Song Mingzhen assumed they were merely chatting casually. Believing Fang Xianting might be considering how to decline politely, he interjected to ease any awkwardness. “Third Brother has important duties and likely can’t stay that long—no worries, I’ll accompany you. We can return to Qiantang in August.”

The siblings shared a close bond, and Song Mingzhen naturally draped an arm around his sister’s shoulders, inadvertently increasing the distance between her and Fang Xianting. Zhui’er, watching from behind, fumed internally. If Song Mingzhen continued meddling, even if Fang stayed until eternity, their intentions would remain unspoken.

Loyal to her mistress, Zhui’er quickly devised a plan. Spotting an opportunity, she deliberately tripped herself, landing with a resounding thud that startled the trio into turning back. Song Shuyan rushed over, asking anxiously, “What happened? Are you hurt? Did you scrape or bleed?”

Zhui’er feigned pain, her eyes welling with tears, secretly signaling to her mistress. She moaned, “It hurts terribly… I think my leg is broken, I can’t walk…”

Song Shuyan froze momentarily, catching Zhui’er’s subtle gestures but not yet comprehending. Her brother approached, knowing his frail sister couldn’t lift someone her size. He bent down to help Zhui’er up, examining her ankle carefully, his concern devoid of any noble arrogance.

Zhui’er blushed, her heart racing like her mistress’s when mentioning Lord Fang. Unfortunately, Song Mingzhen soon stood, declaring her bones intact but her ankle sprained, rendering her immobile.

“Let’s find a doctor at a clinic,” he sighed, looking at Zhui’er with exasperation. “You clumsy girl… How do you manage to fall on flat ground without a bump?”

Though chiding, his tone was affectionate. Knowing Zhui’er had grown up alongside his sister, he treated her kindly. Previously scheming to coax him into escorting her personally, Zhui’er now realized the shortcut. Song Mingzhen supported her, turning to Song Shuyan and Fang Xianting, “I’ll take her to a clinic. Let’s meet later by the stone bridge ahead.”

By then, Song Shuyan understood Zhui’er’s earlier signals, and Fang Xianting, with his sharp eyes, had noticed her antics too. He gave Zhui’er an approving glance, resolving to reward her later, replying calmly, “Alright, go ahead.”

Prior to this, Song Shuyan and Fang Xianting had only been truly alone twice.

Once when he led her out of the deep woods at Lishan, and once aboard the boat crossing the cold river. The former had been somewhat stern, assuming she’d uncovered some secret, while the latter remained distant due to family matters. Neither encounter was particularly warm.

Now, however, the atmosphere was peacefully harmonious. The bustling street carried a gentle mundane warmth, and walking beside him felt rare and precious. Yet, unsure how to break the silence, she felt slightly uneasy.

“Shall we buy something?”

He suddenly asked, glancing at the shops lining the street. Though Jiangnan lacked the grandeur of the Central Plains, Qiantang’s prosperity meant an array of textiles and trinkets. She didn’t particularly want to shop but, unable to think of anything else to say, nodded agreeably, allowing him to accompany her browsing.

Both were striking figures, especially Fang Xianting, who stood taller than the local men, his jade-crowned hair adding to his noble charm. Many women passing by hid smiles behind fans, admiring him. Shopkeepers, recognizing the distinguished couple, flattered Song Shuyan extravagantly, hoping her delight would prompt generous spending.

One particularly eloquent woman selling hair ornaments spoke so persuasively that Song Shuyan felt obligated to purchase something. Not needing more jewelry, she reluctantly chose a relatively inexpensive red coral hairpin. As she inquired about its price, Fang Xianting asked, “Do you like this?”

Startled, she turned to him. His expression was earnest. Seeing her hesitation, he repeated, “Choose something you like. I’ve brought enough money.”

He was teasing her past frugality in Chang’an when she’d selected the cheapest screen to spare her brother’s purse, eventually borrowing money from him.

Recalling the incident, Song Shuyan smiled, their gazes meeting, reigniting the earlier intimacy. Feeling shy, she lowered her head, saying, “I don’t need more hair ornaments…”

He ignored her refusal, scrutinizing the displayed accessories. Soon, he picked up a pair of intricately carved white jade combs adorned with pearls and mother-of-pearl, exceptionally exquisite.

“Master has excellent taste—”

The shopkeeper eagerly praised.

“These jade combs are top-tier, favored by nobles from both capitals. This young lady’s lustrous black hair suits them perfectly…”

Unaware that Fang hailed from the Central Plains, where few surpassed his prominence outside the imperial family, her praise misfired slightly. However, Song Shuyan paid no heed, captivated by the combs. Combs weren’t ordinary gifts; given by a man to a woman, they signified…

Her face flushed deeply, overwhelmed by the implication of private vows and marital bonds. Torn between joy and fear of misinterpreting customs, he leaned closer, his deep voice dreamlike, “Do you… like these?”

“Like”…

He’d said it twice, genuinely caring about her preference. Beyond her grandmother and brother, no one treated her with such regard, making her feel cherished and decisive.

Her heart melted, perhaps becoming unusually vulnerable. Despite lingering uncertainties, she bravely moved closer.

“Yes,” her voice barely audible, yet clear to him, “…I like them.”

His fingers trembled slightly, betraying his inner turmoil. Perhaps he was never composed around her, his restrained affection satisfying yet evoking more longing.

“…Then these will do.”

He coughed, suppressing the urge to gently place the combs in her hair, instead paying amidst the shopkeeper’s profuse thanks. When handing them over, Song Shuyan yearned to lightly touch his fingers.

Remembering her upbringing, she accepted the gift, pretending to look around to mask her feelings. Spotting a lakeside tavern, she tilted her head, asking, “…Third Brother, shall we have dinner?”

Though only mid-afternoon, Fang Xianting wouldn’t refuse her, accompanying her willingly.

The tavern, though small, offered a picturesque view by the lake. When asked what he wanted, he left the decision to her. Delighted, she ordered several dishes, including a bottle of Qiantang’s specialty, pear blossom wine.

“I wonder if it tastes good…”

She poured a cup, her eyes shimmering softly.

“I heard someone wrote a poem about this wine, ‘Ten thousand coins for Hangzhou wine, a springtime longevity cup in February’… It should be good, right?”

Whether it tasted good was debatable—it wasn’t quite to his liking. Northern men preferred strong liquor, and as a military lineage descendant, light Jiangnan wines seemed watery. Yet her tender gaze intoxicated him, prompting him to reply, “…Very good.”

Pleased, her beautiful eyes curved slightly. After a while, she pushed a dish towards him—her brother was right; she saw herself as the proper host.

“Try this,” she enthused, “it’s called Exquisite Peony Fish, a famous Jiangnan delicacy.”