FYM - 60

After chatting with Lady Jiang for a while, Song Shuyan emerged from the hall around mid-morning, her heart light and her smile radiant. She intended to ask a servant to guide her to Fang Xianting but unexpectedly bumped into her second brother.

Surprised to see his sister, Song Mingzhen approached, asking, “I thought I was seeing things, but it’s really you—why are you here? Looking for me?”

Caught off guard, Song Shuyan blinked, unsure why she couldn’t bring herself to explain her relationship with Fang Xianting, despite knowing there was nothing improper. Awkwardly nodding, she replied, “…Yes.”

To avoid suspicion, she added, “I just visited Lady Jiang and was… planning to find Second Brother…”

Believing her, Song Mingzhen, pleased that his grown sister still clung to him, smiled, “I was also heading to the Qiao residence. Yesterday wasn’t festive enough; today we’ll make up for it…”

As they walked out, he suddenly remembered, “Since you’re here, greet Third Brother to avoid seeming rude.”

Song Shuyan hesitated, fearing exposure, her expression troubled. Misinterpreting her reluctance, her brother reassured, “It’s just a quick greeting, nothing to worry about…”

Seeing her still hesitant, he asked, “Did something happen between you and Third Brother yesterday?”

Conflict?

Song Shuyan blinked, recalling their intimate moment on the island. Coughing to mask her unease, she said, “N-No…”

Her hesitation confirmed Song Mingzhen’s suspicion that she’d been upset. Sighing, he consoled, “Third Brother appears stern but is kind-hearted. He values our friendship and wouldn’t disrespect you—don’t fear, in the future…”

Before finishing, Fang Xianting appeared, having heard she’d left his mother’s quarters. Spotting her with her brother, he approached, calling, “Shuyan…” before she hastily bowed, saying, “…Greetings, Lord Fang.”

This formal address startled Fang Xianting, further convincing Song Mingzhen she was uneasy. Awkwardly, he joked, “You used to call him ‘Third Brother’—why so distant now?”

Regretting her slip, Song Shuyan panicked, seeking Fang Xianting’s help. Recognizing her intent to conceal their relationship, though disapproving, he deflected, asking Song Mingzhen, “Taking your sister out?”

Unaware of the undercurrents his casual “Fourth Sister” stirred, Song Mingzhen replied, “Making up for yesterday…”

Testing, he asked, “…Third Brother joining us?”

Fang Xianting raised an eyebrow, noting Song Shuyan’s clear reluctance, and declined, “No, I have matters to attend to.”

Relieved, Song Shuyan exchanged a glance with Fang Xianting, then told her brother, “Let’s postpone… Zhui’er is injured, and I’m worried about her.”

An excuse, as she wanted to be alone with Fang Xianting. Trusting her, Song Mingzhen sighed, “You two are more like sisters than mistress and maid—spoiled by you. Yesterday at the clinic, Zhui’er seemed displeased with me…”

Unaware of her frequent backward glances or that Fang Xianting would soon visit the Qiao residence after his departure, Song Mingzhen remained thoroughly misled.

Song Shuyan, however, fretted over Fang Xianting’s possible displeasure, anxiously observing his expression outside the Qiao residence. Fang Xianting sighed, glancing at her and the gatekeeper peeking out, asking, “Shall we talk here?”

Realizing the impropriety, she lowered her head, suggesting, “L-Let’s find another place…”

Qiantang’s water town also boasted scenic mountains. Between Shihuan and the Yangtze lay Yuhuang Mountain, lush and serene, a rare beauty. Mid-spring brought visitors to the sunny side, while the shaded areas remained tranquil, less florid due to cooler temperatures but not desolate.

Amidst verdant surroundings, Fang Xianting walked beside her, leading Zhaoying. Suddenly aware they stood amidst what was called “spring mountains,” her heart cleared like emerging from a dark path into light, her expression softening.

“Hiding from your brother makes you this happy?”

Seeing her smile, he casually asked, perhaps intentionally probing. Unsure if he was upset, she cautiously glanced at him, murmuring, “No…”

“I didn’t mean to hide…” she apologized, “I panicked when he suddenly asked…”

Her genuine remorse softened him. Smiling, he asked, “What about the future? Still hiding?”

“Absolutely not,” she quickly replied, “Next time, I’ll clarify with my brother…”

He acknowledged noncommittally, then asked, “Ziqiu thinks you’re afraid of me?”

Afraid?

She pondered, a slight smile forming, looking at him and the docile Zhaoying, replying, “Perhaps a little… Didn’t you want to kill me in Lishan?”

This abrupt memory caught Fang Xianting off guard, reversing their roles—he now felt guilty.

“No such thing…” he coughed, “I didn’t…”

Song Shuyan couldn’t suppress her laughter, her voice like silver bells, endearing and charming. Fang Xianting’s heart melted, feeling helpless against her.

“There were misunderstandings involving my family,” he earnestly explained, his tone sincere, “If I scared you… I apologize.”

How could she blame him?

Back then, they were strangers; saving her life was already commendable. Reflecting now, her fear wasn’t of his severity but the vast distance between them.

Shaking her head, her emotions grew more complex, her gaze and voice tenderly entwined, “It’s nothing… Your horse was scarier.”

Her playful tone prompted Fang Xianting to gently touch her warm cheek, both hearts fluttering, silent passion rising again.

Retracting his hand, surprised by his boldness, he covered his awkwardness, “Actually, he’s quite gentle—want to try riding?”

Zhaoying, seemingly understanding, snorted haughtily at Song Shuyan, then turned away disdainfully. Amused, she lightly huffed, shaking her head, “No, I can’t offend him…”

Pausing, her eyes twinkling mischievously, she teased, “Besides, if we’re talking gentleness, he’s far inferior to the one you personally picked for my third sister at the imperial stables…”

This silenced Fang Xianting momentarily. Initially confused, he eventually recalled the faint memory, marveling at women’s intricate minds, always revisiting past grievances.

“That was out of respect for your elders…”

He sighed, both exasperated and charmed by her teasing, later adding, “Why only remember my faults, not my kindnesses?”

“Kindnesses?”

Inwardly joyful, she feigned discontent, mastering restraint difficult but coquetry simple when genuinely cherished, quickly adopting playful habits.

“What kindnesses?”

Knowing she was pouting, he found her even more endearing, loving her bright eyes, wishing her perpetual happiness.

“In Shangzhou, I lifted your carriage axle,” he shook his head, “Isn’t that a kindness?”

Now it was her turn to be stunned, her beautiful eyes widening in genuine surprise, struggling to speak, “You, how did you…”

Smiling silently, he watched her confusion. After a moment, she asked, “How did you know it was me…”

“I recognized your servant,” he reminded her, his gaze warming, “…and your voice.”

Ah…

How had she forgotten? A renowned martial general since youth, his sight and hearing far surpassed ordinary men. If she recognized him by his voice in Yayan Hall, how could he not recognize her?

A flood of thoughts overwhelmed her. Her one-sided affection had never truly been one-sided. Flustered, she asked, “Then, why…”

“Why never mention it?”

He raised an eyebrow, smiling faintly.

“In remote areas, associating with unfamiliar men, regardless of context, might harm your reputation… Besides, you never mentioned it, seemingly avoiding complications.”

Again, Song Shuyan was speechless, marveling at fate’s intricacies and his thoughtful tenderness. Perhaps truly upright men act thus—pausing to assist strangers, getting their hands dirty, yet never boasting upon subsequent encounters.

Gazing at him, overwhelmed by burgeoning affection, he tightened Zhaoying’s reins, turning back with a warmer smile, coaxing, “Try riding—I’ll accompany you; it’ll be fine.”