Chapter 5

Wei Qi said, "No need, wait a little while longer."

"Yes..." Song Yan withdrew her hand, lowering her head.

The two of them fell silent. The room was so quiet it was unnerving. She wanted to say something to break the oppressive silence, but could think of nothing to say.

At last, his deep and gentle voice sounded above her, "The past two nights I was occupied with court affairs and have neglected you."

Song Yan hurried to reply respectfully, "You bear heavy responsibilities, of course you cannot afford to linger in the rear court."

Silence returned to the room.

She took slow, secret breaths to steady herself.

Then he leaned in, drawing closer to her, and she shut her eyes at once.

He brushed her lips, his kiss steady and measured.

Before marriage, Song Yan had learned a little about such matters—just a few words, but enough to understand the general process.

But now, with the two of them so close, their breathing entangled, it was almost unbearable.

The gentle kiss lasted but a while before he stopped, glanced at her, and reached to untie the sash at her side.

Her anxiety surged even higher. Her heart pounded, and imagining what was to come, she felt mortified and overwhelmed. She gathered her courage and asked, "Could you... extinguish the lights?"

Wei Qi did not answer, but rose and blew out the two candlesticks in the room.

Darkness fell suddenly. For a long time, she could see nothing at all, until her eyes adjusted and, by the glow of the moonlight, she could make out vague outlines of their forms.

She saw him return to the bedside. As he approached, she forced herself to climb onto the bed, moving inward, trying her best to appear obedient and willing.

He came over, laid her down, and kissed her again.

She did not know how much time passed before he began to explore with his hand, causing her to gasp in pain.

He stopped. She tried to calm herself, breathing deeply, but it was so very difficult.

Her husband waited patiently, showing no impatience or urge to hurry her.

She did not know how to prepare herself more quickly, and began to wonder if all the advice her mother had given her was simply wrong.

As her eyes gradually adjusted to the darkness, she realized the moon was full and bright tonight, its light sifting into the room, slowly revealing the silhouette of figures.

She was mortified, dared not look, and squeezed her eyes shut.

Time passed—perhaps a few minutes, perhaps a quarter of an hour, perhaps even longer—pain and discomfort slowly eased, like ink finally beginning to flow from a dry inkstone.

Then he gently lifted her, and in the next moment, tears sprang from her eyes.

She had thought she was prepared, but this was so different from before.

The last time she had felt such pain was at fifteen, slipping on moss-covered stones in her family’s back garden. It had rained, the ground was slick, and she wore only thin summer clothes. She had skinned her knee, crying for half the day. Now, looking back, that was nothing.

That pain was not half so much as this.

He remained patient, sensing her distress even though she said nothing, pausing to wait for her, only continuing once she was ready.

Eventually, she felt much better.

Later still, the drum signaling the second watch sounded outside... So much time had passed.

At last, a final rush, wild and overwhelming, like rocks shattering through the void and waves crashing against the shore.

Only then did she realize why her hair remained pinned; to unbind it would have made such tumultuous movement inconvenient...

As her thoughts wandered wildly and uneasily, everything finally fell quiet.

In the darkness, only the heavy, disordered sounds of their breathing remained.

After a while, she gathered strength, pulled the quilt over herself, while he straightened his clothes, got up, and went to relight the candles.

Light returned to the room. He came back to the bedside, his nightclothes still neat. He looked at her and said, "It hurt, didn’t it?"

Song Yan’s face flushed crimson. She averted her gaze and nodded. He said gently, "I’ll have water brought in."

She said nothing. He got up and went into the outer room. Soon, the night maid brought water to the bath. After they left, Song Yan sat up, clutching the quilt as she hurriedly fastened her clothes.

"I’ll wash you, sir," she offered, about to rise, but Wei Qi said, "No need, I’ll do it myself later. You go and bathe, then rest."

Song Yan did not want to linger on such matters, nor did she dare attempt to wash him herself, so she obeyed and went to bathe. When she returned, he went in.

He took longer than she did, and when he returned, he wore fresh nightclothes, as if he had bathed again... She remembered the sweat on his body.

Clearly, he was a man who liked to keep clean.

Song Yan glanced at herself—she too had sweated, but felt so sore and weary that she had no strength to wash again. She would make do.

They lay down once more, leaving a small lamp outside the bed. The bed was shrouded in a hazy red from the candles and wedding drapes, and the room was so quiet she could hear their breathing.

She lay on the inside, Wei Qi on the outside. At first, both lay on their backs, then he turned on his side, so she did as well, leaving a space between them.

After a while, he must have fallen asleep; she could hear his steady, even breathing, but she could not sleep at all.

This night, delayed for two nights, had finally come.

She was no longer a girl, but truly a woman now, Wei Qi’s wife.

All her girlish dreams, all her hopes for the future, seemed to vanish in this moment. From now on, her fate would hold no surprises—the man beside her was her husband for life, and she would spend her days in his household.

If she were lucky, perhaps she would become pregnant before year’s end. If luck held, she would safely bear his children. After that, she would devote herself to raising them. Perhaps, in time, she would even help him select a concubine, or perhaps not... He did not seem a man with much appetite for women. In any case, that would be for later.

In the end, she too had become an unremarkable, ordinary woman, like so many other girls.

Unknowingly, she stayed awake through half the night, and before she realized it, her eyes grew wet.

But she had accepted this long ago, knew she would not grieve for it. Perhaps it was not sadness, but a sense of emptiness.

A kind of melancholy, as if her life could be seen in its entirety at a glance, as calm and stagnant as dead water.

The next morning, Wei Qi went out, and Song Yan went to greet her mother-in-law.

After paying her respects, she returned to her room and sat in a daze for a while, then napped. By afternoon, Qiu Yue encouraged her to go outside, since the sun was shining.

Song Yan, feeling listless from sitting inside, took the suggestion and went to the garden.

The front of the Marquis’s residence was the main hall and living quarters, divided into east and west courts, with a large rear garden shared by both.

The garden was vast, grand, and open, and with spring in full bloom, many flowers were blossoming.

As Song Yan walked, she heard lively laughter from young girls. Rounding a rockery, she saw Xi swinging on a swing.

The swing was tied between two purple magnolia trees, which were in full bloom. The girl in yellow, with the violet blossoms, was a picture more beautiful than spring itself.

Song Yan could not help but stand and watch. After a while, someone called out, "Hey, are you done yet? I’ve been waiting forever!"

Noticing this, Song Yan saw a boy of about ten not far away. He was clearly speaking to Xi, and it was obvious he wanted a turn on the swing.

Xi snorted lightly and ignored him.

The boy stepped forward, standing before the swing, and said seriously, "Wei Xi, you can’t hog the swing all to yourself. I’ve been waiting for more than half an hour."

"It’s your choice to wait. I was here first, and I’m not done playing yet!" Xi retorted.

The boy, frustrated, stood by, wanting to argue but holding back, his face full of dissatisfaction. Clearly, he felt that regardless of who came first, half an hour was long enough.

Song Yan watched, trying to guess which branch of the family the boy belonged to, but she’d never seen him before.

No adults were present, and the dispute simmered.

After a while, the boy could not hold back and said, "The swing is for everyone. We should take turns."

"Well, you’ll get your turn after I’m finished!" Xi replied.

"You’re being bossy and unreasonable!" the boy protested.

"Me, bossy? I got the swing myself, how is that bossy? If you want to play, come earlier next time!"

"I came earlier last time, but I got off after a short while!"

"I’ll play as long as I like! Last time your father broke curfew, and it was my father who settled it for him. And you, just an illegitimate child, know nothing!" Xi sneered.

The boy’s face flushed bright red. He stammered for a while but could not come up with a retort.

Song Yan was taken aback—she had never expected the legitimate young lady of the Marquis’s household to say such rude things!

Perhaps it was that Wei Qi was a tolerant man, or perhaps that the events of last night had finally made her realize she was truly Wei Qi’s wife, but after a moment’s thought, Song Yan stepped forward and said, "Xi, how can you say such things? Legitimate or illegitimate, all are children of the Marquis’s household. It’s one thing to monopolize the swing, but to say such harsh words to belittle your brother—how is that fitting for the daughter of a noble house?"

Xi burst out laughing. "He’s not my brother, he’s yours! You don’t even know who’s who, and you’re trying to lecture me!"

Song Yan looked at the boy and realized she had mistaken his generation—he was of Wei Qi’s generation, not a child of her own. After a pause, she said, "Whether I know everyone or not, I am now your mother."

Xi scoffed, "Mother? My mother was a Miss Guo, my father’s first wife. You’re not my mother!"

"I am now your father’s wife. That makes me your mother," Song Yan replied.

Xi snorted and turned her head away.

Song Yan continued, "If he is your father’s brother, then he is your elder. All the more reason for you to behave. Come down, let him have a turn on the swing, and apologize for your rude words."

"You’re really taking yourself seriously!" Xi sneered, still seated on the swing.

The standoff lasted a while. Song Yan could hardly pull her down by force, and was considering whether to comfort the boy when Xi glanced behind her, as if someone was approaching. Song Yan turned as well and saw a housekeeper, a matron, approaching.

The woman was dressed neatly, with a silver hairpin in her hair. Seeing Song Yan, she smiled and said, "So it’s the young madam—I could see from afar that there was a fairy-like figure standing here. Only up close did I realize it was you, the new bride. You truly are different from others, even more lovely than the flowers themselves."

She then introduced herself, "I’m from Second Madam’s household, my surname is Hua. I’ve been busy with the wedding in the west court these days, so I haven’t had a chance to pay my respects to the young madam."

Song Yan realized who she was. No wonder she carried herself so well—she was the head stewardess beside the house’s main mistress.

In the east court, her mother-in-law was the senior lady, but because of poor health and limited energy, household affairs were managed by the second madam, Wei Qi’s second aunt. Before her marriage, Song Yan’s family had inquired and learned that the second madam was a capable woman, managing the vast household with order and efficiency, well respected by all.

And this Madam Hua was her right hand, naturally a remarkable woman.

Song Yan said, "So it’s Madam Hua. You’re truly indispensable to Second Aunt. With the wedding in the west court, you must be especially busy. I’m only at leisure because you have no time to rest."

Madam Hua laughed modestly, then turned to the boy, "Ling, you’re a boy—what are you doing fighting over a swing? And you’re an elder too! Didn’t your father buy you a wooden sword the other day? Isn’t that more fun?"

Hearing this, Song Yan guessed the boy must be from the second branch, and recalling what she knew, realized this was likely the second son.

The second madam, though capable, had only a daughter, now more than ten years old. The sons of the second branch were all born of concubines—the eldest was already married, and this boy of about ten was the younger.

The boy hung his head, "I didn’t fight. I’ve been waiting a long time..."

Madam Hua was about to say more when Xi, from the swing, said, "I’m tired. I’m done. Whoever wants to play can play!" She jumped off the swing and, ignoring the others, walked away with a swagger.

For a moment, everyone was a bit uncomfortable. Madam Hua called after her, "Xi, don’t be upset. I’ll get some wedding sweets from your third aunt’s place for you later."

Xi gave no reply. Madam Hua turned to Song Yan, "She’s a spirited little thing, isn’t she?" Then she looked at the boy, "All right, now you can have a turn on the swing."

The boy climbed onto the swing in silence, but after the incident, he seemed dispirited and hardly enjoyed himself.

Madam Hua turned to Song Yan, "I just came to fetch something. I have to get back soon. Please enjoy the garden, young madam. I’ll take my leave now."

"Take care, Madam Hua," Song Yan replied.

As they left the swing, Chunhong whispered to Song Yan, "Madam, today you scolded Miss Xi. Will she go complain to the master?"

Song Yan sighed, "Even if she does, I couldn’t pretend I didn’t see."

Qiuyue, understanding, added, "Yes, madam, you really couldn’t ignore it. Her mother has passed away, and you are her mother now. In future, you’ll have to arrange her marriage, and when she marries, she’ll be known as the Marquis’s daughter, your daughter too. If she’s too willful and gets a bad reputation, and one day you have a daughter yourself, won’t your own daughter’s reputation be affected as well?"