FYM - 8

Due to the unexpected incident along the way, Song Shuyan and her entourage arrived at the Western Capital two days later.

That year marked the height of prosperity and stability for Chang’an—and indeed, for the entire Zhou dynasty.

In August, Emperor Hui had just completed his eastern tour. Having lingered for three months by the Luo River due to Consort Zhong’s fondness for the Eastern Capital, he spent lavishly on constructing palaces before eventually returning west. Yet despite the emperor’s absence, the Western Capital showed no signs of decline. A thousand miles of golden ramparts surrounded a land of plenty—truly, it was the foremost imperial city under heaven.

As they approached the towering and solemn Yanxing Gate, servants from the Song family were already waiting quietly at the gate. At first, they hesitated to recognize Song Shuyan’s carriage, only daring to approach after she lifted the curtain and revealed her face, hastily greeting her with a respectful “Miss Fourth, may you be well.” Nurse Cui and Zhui’er stepped down to exchange greetings with them. The leader then addressed her from outside the carriage: “Miss Fourth, please follow us back to the estate. Master and Mistress have long awaited your return.”

Though polite, his words carried little sincerity. Song Shuyan took them as mere formalities and responded softly with a simple “Alright.”

The Song family of Jinling was one of the few illustrious noble houses of its time.

Their ancestors were scholars, and by the time of Song Shuyan’s great-grandfather, many of their descendants had entered officialdom. Her grandfather, Song Li, had served as the governor of Yangzhou before being promoted to the rank of Crown Prince’s Tutor, a third-rank position. The younger generation fared even better: her father, Song Dan, currently held the position of Left Vice Minister of the Ministry of Personnel, a fourth-rank post, while her uncle, Song Bo, served as Vice Minister of Works. Both still had prospects for further promotions. The family had relocated from Jinling to Chang’an long ago, truly earning the title of the foremost influential family in Jiangnan.

The Song estate was a display of opulence, occupying nearly an entire neighborhood. Sitting inside the carriage, Nurse Cui pushed the window open slightly, and through the gap, she spotted several maidservants and attendants of Lady Wan, Song Dan’s second wife, waiting at a side entrance. Her expression darkened immediately. “Wicked creatures, making our young miss enter through the side gate—how foolish has the master become? Has he forgotten that you are his legitimate daughter?”

“Legitimate.”

This dignified and pleasing word had followed Song Shuyan her entire life, but since her mother’s passing, it had lost all meaning. She said nothing, merely patting Nurse Cui’s hand and silently shaking her head.

The carriage came to a gentle stop, and the attendants waiting outside the side gate hurried forward to greet them. Zhui’er, following instructions, meticulously adjusted her mistress’s sleeves and collar to ensure she appeared as poised and proper as possible. Song Shuyan herself smoothed her hair, which had been freshly styled that morning, ensuring not a single strand was out of place before stepping down from the carriage with Chengsong’s assistance.

Outside, the snow had yet to melt, and the biting cold was sharp. Leading the reception was Shumo, Lady Wan’s favored maid. Perhaps confident in her standing with her mistress, she greeted Song Shuyan, the “legitimate” daughter from Qiantang, with less warmth than others might have shown. After offering a perfunctory bow, she said curtly, “Miss Fourth, please follow me inside.”

In a grand noble household like this, servants were numerous, and the estate’s architecture was magnificent.

Song Shuyan’s maternal family, the Qiaos, were wealthy merchants in Qiantang. Her maternal grandfather had amassed considerable wealth through years of tea trading, yet their fortunes paled in comparison to the Song family’s vast riches. From the side gate to the main hall, they passed countless ornate gates, courtyards, and corridors before finally catching sight of Yayan Hall, its carved beams and painted pillars exuding elegance.

The hall was bustling with activity. As Song Shuyan rounded the screen, she heard laughter filling the room. It seemed one of her sisters was playfully cajoling the elders, asking for extra spending money to prepare birthday gifts for their mother.

“You cunning little thing,” Lady Wan’s laughter was warm and indulgent. “You always claim it’s for me, but when have you ever spent the money on anything but yourself? Where is the filial piety?”

Her teasing remark elicited more laughter, and the playful complaints of the youngest daughter amused everyone. Even Song Shuyan’s father, who seemed to be present, feigned sternness, saying, “Always provoking your mother!” Yet every word carried affection, devoid of any real severity.

Silently following Shumo around the screen, Song Shuyan heard an attendant announce, “Miss Fourth has returned.” Instantly, the laughter in the room froze, as if interrupted by an unwelcome guest. She pretended not to notice, lowering her gaze and walking demurely to the front of the hall.

Outside, the snowstorm raged, but inside, the room was warm with ample charcoal fires. Beads of sweat formed in her palms, and as she raised her head, her eyes first fell upon her father. That year, Song Dan had yet to fully assume control of the Song clan, and his demeanor was less sharp than it would become in later years. Renowned in his youth as a paragon of refinement in Jinling, he retained an air of grace even as he neared fifty. Now, he gazed somewhat awkwardly at his daughter, whom he hadn’t seen in a year, his expression tinged with both familiarity and unease.

“Father, Mother,” Song Shuyan bowed respectfully to the elders. “I have returned.”

Her father continued to study her, silent for a long moment. Beside him, Lady Wan chuckled softly and said to Song Dan, “Why don’t you tell Shuyan to rise? She’s traveled for over half a month; surely the child must be exhausted.”

Lady Wan hailed from Jiangnan, her maternal family being one of the most prestigious clans in Yangzhou. When Song Dan’s father, Song Li, served as governor of Yangzhou, he had forged close ties with her family, which eventually led to this marriage. Born into nobility, Lady Wan naturally possessed refined manners and eloquent speech, though she wasn’t particularly beautiful. Her high cheekbones and slightly sunken cheeks, coupled with downturned eyes, gave her an unsettling appearance.

Only then did Song Dan snap out of his reverie. Looking at his daughter standing below, he said, “It’s been a long time since I last saw you… The journey must have been arduous. Come, take a seat quickly.”

Song Shuyan responded with a dutiful “Yes,” and as she turned, her eyes swiftly scanned the room. Spotting an empty seat beside Concubine Wu and her daughter, she walked over to sit down, accompanied by Nurse Cui and Zhui’er.

“Was your journey north smooth?” her father asked, his tone genuinely concerned. “Your uncle mentioned in his letter that a colleague escorted you all the way. Was everything safe?”

Song Shuyan replied that everything had gone well, though the gentleman escorting them had remained in Shangzhou due to unforeseen circumstances. Song Dan nodded and said, “Once we’re settled in Chang’an, invite him to see me.”

This was a gesture of gratitude, both to honor her uncle and to show care for his daughter. Understanding this, she graciously acknowledged it and rose to bow once more.

Waving her back to her seat, Song Dan continued, “How is your grandmother? Is she still in good health?”

In truth, her condition had worsened, especially after the death of Song Shuyan’s maternal grandfather. But Song Shuyan knew her father didn’t truly care about her late mother-in-law’s well-being—he hadn’t visited Qiantang once in all these years.

“The same old ailment—headaches that haven’t improved for years,” she replied calmly. “Winter makes it harder to bear; she suffers greatly.”

Song Dan nodded absently, clearly not taking her words to heart. He mentioned sending some precious medicinal herbs to Jiangnan, and Song Shuyan inclined her body slightly to express her gratitude.

Then silence fell. After a year apart, there was little else to discuss about his daughter. The atmosphere grew subdued; though one more person now sat in the room, the conversation was far sparser than before. Lady Wan observed silently, seemingly pleased, and took the initiative to address Song Shuyan. “Shuyan, it’s been so long since you’ve seen your sisters. Surely you have much to catch up on.”

The eldest branch of the Song family had two sons and four daughters.

Song Shuyan’s mother, Lady Qiao, had been Song Dan’s first wife. After her death during childbirth, Lady Wan, then a favored concubine, was elevated to the position of primary wife. She bore one son and two daughters: the eldest son, Song Mingzhuo; the eldest daughter, Song Shuying; and the third daughter, Song Shuqian. Another concubine, Lady Wu, had also served Song Dan for many years and bore him one son and one daughter: the second son, Song Mingzhen, and the second daughter, Song Shuqing.

Upon entering, Song Shuyan had already taken stock of the room. Neither of her brothers was present, nor was her eldest sister, who had married and moved out years ago. Only her second sister, Song Shuqing, and third sister, Song Shuqian, sat together at the gathering. Rising, she exchanged greetings with them one by one. Song Shuqing was taller, with a round, full face resembling a silver plate, while Song Shuqian, only half a year older than her, was delicate and graceful, unlike her mother’s plain features. Her fine eyebrows were perpetually arched, giving her an air of aloofness.

“Fourth Sister has grown even more beautiful,” Song Shuqing said warmly, taking her hand. Meanwhile, Song Shuqian sat coolly to the side. “Last year, you still looked like a half-grown child. Who would have thought that this year, you’d blossom into such a graceful young lady? You must call Second Brother back to see you—he’s always thinking of you and frequently writes letters to Qiantang!”

Compared to her stepmother and her siblings, Song Shuyan shared a closer relationship with the children of Concubine Wu. Perhaps because she had been raised in her care until the age of five, when she was sent to live with her maternal grandparents, she was more familiar with Song Mingzhen and Song Shuqing. Indeed, Song Mingzhen treated her the best, exchanging dozens of letters with her each year and occasionally sending her novelties from Chang’an.

Song Shuyan’s spirits lifted slightly, and genuine curiosity sparked within her. Allowing her second sister to hold her hand, she asked, “Where are our two brothers? Why aren’t they here?”

No sooner had she spoken than a hearty laugh echoed from outside Yayan Hall. “Ah, so you still have a conscience and haven’t forgotten to ask about your Second Brother.”