Chapter 2

Without further thought, Song Yan stepped forward to pay her respects to the Duke, who was seated below in the main hall.

The Duke was amiable and said to her, “The eldest didn’t return all night, so you were rather put out. But in his position, he is busier than most.”

A warmth spread through Song Yan’s heart, and she quickly replied, “Please don’t worry, Grandfather. Eldest Master bears great responsibilities for the court—I understand.”

He was the first to show her any kindness, and she was grateful for it.

This marriage had been arranged by the Duke himself, who was an old friend of her grandfather’s; for this reason, he would look after her a little more.

Soon, the other elders arrived. Guided by her mother-in-law, Song Yan served tea to each in turn, more than ten cups in all, until she came before Madam Feng.

Previously, she had been engaged to the Fifth Master; the betrothal gifts had already been exchanged and, after more than two years of acquaintance, she had seen Madam Feng several times. Madam Feng had always treated her kindly, considering her as a daughter-in-law. Now, meeting in this new capacity, the situation was inevitably awkward.

But neither of them could reveal their discomfort before others. Song Yan served the tea with proper decorum. Madam Feng took the cup, forced a smile, and offered her an elder’s gift. “This is a token from your aunt; please accept it.”

Madam Feng’s gift was a pair of jade bangles. The other elders gave gold hairpins, beaded bracelets—fine and valuable trinkets, all similar in quality; Madam Feng’s gift was no more ostentatious than the rest.

Afterwards, she met the other brothers of the Duke’s household, but the Fifth Master did not appear.

Earlier, she had heard Madam Feng telling her mother-in-law that the Fifth Master had caught a chill the previous night and had a headache; he was afraid of spreading illness to the gathering, so he would not be joining—after all, he was one of the younger generation.

Everyone naturally agreed it was better for him not to come, advising him to rest well.

When the tea ceremony was over, the elders dispersed, and Song Yan returned to her own courtyard.

She had barely sat down when a maid arrived to announce that Concubine Jiang and Miss Xi had come to pay their respects.

Song Yan knew of them: Wei Qi, her new husband, had a concubine, said to have been a maidservant to his late first wife, and a daughter—these must be they.

The Fifth Master was only a year older than she. When she was betrothed to him, Song Yan had never considered how she would face a concubine and a stepdaughter after entering the household. But now, she had no choice. After all, she had already survived the wedding night and the morning’s encounters with the elders, sleepless through it all, her mind dulled from exhaustion. There was a strange calm within her.

“Let them come in,” she said.

The two entered—a woman in her twenties, bringing with her a girl of eleven or twelve. The woman kept her head respectfully lowered, but the girl fixed her with a bold, appraising stare from the moment she entered, showing little courtesy.

Song Yan said nothing. As she understood it, this daughter was the legitimate child of Wei Qi’s first wife. After her mother’s death, Wei Qi had never remarried, a sign of deep affection. This only daughter was naturally cherished as a treasure. And who was she to criticize? She had no standing to judge them.

At this, the woman said, “Come greet your mother.”

She curtsied to Song Yan. “Your humble servant, Jiang Yunjiao, greets Madam.”

The girl echoed, “Xi’er greets Mother.”

This Concubine Jiang was beautiful, but not with a vulgar prettiness; she held herself with a rounded dignity, her manners and speech impeccable, leaving no room for fault.

As for the young Miss Wei Xi, she certainly had the air of a noble girl. When she greeted her new stepmother, it was done perfunctorily, clearly reluctant—evidently coached by Jiang Yunjiao.

Song Yan bid them rise and presented Miss Xi with a gold necklace.

Miss Xi thanked her without so much as a glance, passing the necklace to Jiang Yunjiao to hold.

That necklace had been chosen with great care by Song Yan’s mother, costing a considerable sum for fear that, upon entering the Duke’s household, their gifts would seem inadequate and invite ridicule. But clearly, the young lady of the house had seen many such trinkets and was unimpressed.

Song Yan had no intention of engaging them in conversation. As Concubine Jiang prepared to leave with Miss Xi, the girl suddenly turned to Song Yan and said, “Mother, I must tell you—yesterday, Fifth Uncle got drunk at the wedding feast and called your name! He frightened Grandmother so much that she hurriedly had him taken away!”

She giggled mischievously after speaking, but Song Yan’s face turned ashen. She stared at the girl, unable to utter a word.

Miss Xi’s face revealed the satisfaction of a plot accomplished. Concubine Jiang quickly intervened, “Xi’er, mind your tongue!” Glancing at Song Yan as she spoke.

Yet there was little concern in Jiang Yunjiao’s expression. After all, she was Wei Qi’s eldest daughter, and as an old resident of the Eastern Court, she had little reason to fear Song Yan—neither her family nor this hasty marriage was of any threat.

Song Yan said nothing, watching as Concubine Jiang led Miss Xi away.

When they had gone, Chunhong was fuming. “That young lady—so grown up, yet she doesn’t know what to say and what not to say?”

Qiu Yue, the elder maid, replied, “Of course she knows. Didn’t you notice? She did it on purpose.”

Song Yan bowed her head in silence.

She had been meant to marry the Fifth Master, Wei Xiu. They had met during the Lantern Festival the year before last, and he had been determined to marry her ever since. Their families discussed and agreed on the engagement, planning to formalize it in the second month of this year and hold the wedding in the eighth.

But on the eve of the formal betrothal, the Duke himself came to the Song household to apologize to her grandfather and offer a new marriage alliance, arranging for her to marry the eldest grandson, Wei Qi.

Just the day before, Wei Xiu had gone out with friends—sons of affluent families—who, learning of his impending marriage, took him to see the sights and ended up at one of the capital’s finest pleasure houses. After drinking, Wei Xiu did not spend the night with any of the courtesans, but ended up sharing a night with one of the young noblemen.

That young nobleman was, in fact, a noblewoman in disguise—the daughter of the current Princess Royal, Lady Funing.

Lady Funing was indeed bold, but Wei Xiu’s actions had compromised her reputation. Thus, the Duke’s household first went to the Princess Royal’s residence to apologize and propose marriage, then went to the Song family to apologize, break the engagement, and offer a new one. After all this turmoil, Song Yan could only marry Wei Qi.

What else could she do? The Duke’s household could not afford to offend the Princess Royal; Wei Xiu had to marry Lady Funing. If Song Yan refused, she would be left with a broken engagement, the laughingstock of the capital, destined either for a poor and hasty match or a life of loneliness.

The marriage was arranged by the Duke for the sake of her grandfather. Wei Qi, as the eldest, was filling in at the last moment, simply because there was no other eligible bachelor in the family—his first wife having died years before.

This marriage required her to exhaust half her life’s strength—for her grandfather’s command, for the family friendship—yet everyone believed she had gained a great advantage by becoming the wife of a cabinet minister.

She sat in her chair, wooden and dazed, thinking of the Fifth Master, her mother-in-law’s indifferent gaze that morning, and the triumphant smile on Miss Xi’s face.

Then the maids brought in porridge and dishes for her breakfast.

She had eaten little since the previous day; even if she felt no hunger, she forced herself to eat, for she was only sorrowful, not yet desperate enough to starve herself to death.

After her meal, exhaustion overwhelmed her. She lay down on the bed, fully clothed, and drifted off.

She had no idea how long she slept, until someone called her name by her ear.

Upon waking, she heard Qiu Yue say, “Madam, please rise. Master Qi has returned.”

Song Yan was startled and rose at once. Fortunately, her hair was still in place; the maids quickly helped her arrange her hairpins and clothes. As soon as they were presentable, footsteps sounded outside. Song Yan hurried forward, and as the man entered, she greeted him respectfully, “Welcome home, Master.”

He was dressed in the crimson robes of a third-rank official, tall and upright, with an imposing presence even at rest. The servants all stood still, silent, not daring to make a sound.

He glanced at her and replied with a low, even “Mm,” then went into the inner chamber.

Song Yan hesitated, wondering if she should assist him. The thought circled in her mind, but in the end, she stood aside, unable to bring herself to act.

Standing there, lost in thought, she noticed the sun slanting westward and asked, “Master, you must be hungry. Shall I have the meal served?”

“Yes, let’s eat,” he answered—his tone, as she had noticed with the elders, was deep, gentle, yet firm. It was not so much a reply as a command, leaving no room for question.

Song Yan bowed her head and instinctively replied, “Yes,” then withdrew to order the meal—realizing, without knowing when it happened, that she felt more awe toward him than she had ever felt for her grandfather.

Soon he emerged in his informal attire and sat at the table. Glancing at Song Yan, who stood by, he asked, “Aren’t you eating?”

She started and answered hurriedly, “Yes, yes…”

She was simply afraid—so fearful she doubted whether she was even allowed to share the table with him.

It was a square table. She took her seat on the side, barely sitting on the edge, her posture perfectly straight.

A maid placed a bowl of rice before her, but instead of eating, she took the serving chopsticks and placed dishes from the far side into his bowl, serving him.

Wei Qi said, “No need, I’ll help myself.”

Song Yan answered respectfully, “Yes.”

He glanced at her.

Since he had spoken, Song Yan began to eat her own meal. The room was silent—no sound at all.

Not only her own maids, Qiu Yue and Chunhong, but also the nursemaids and servants of the household, all stood by in silence. Song Yan realized this was Wei Qi’s rule—he was a man who liked quiet.

Yes, her grandfather also liked quiet, unable to stand noise.

So she became even more careful, sitting upright, not letting her chopsticks touch her bowl.

After the meal, Wei Qi said, “I’ll lie down on the couch for a while.”

Song Yan quickly went to tidy the couch in the side room, removing the cushions and bringing a light blanket.

Once Wei Qi was settled, Song Yan returned to the outer room. Only after a long time, when she guessed he must be asleep, did she let out a long sigh and finally relax, though she kept herself and the maids perfectly quiet for fear of disturbing him.

As night fell, she washed and sat on the bed.

Last night was the wedding night, but he had been summoned to court and the marriage had not been consummated. Tonight…

She looked toward the side chamber, her heart racing, hands clenching and unclenching in nervous anticipation.