Chapter 12
Song Jiyun softly but sharply said,
“Grandmother, what brings you here so early in the morning? Is there something urgent? In the past, if there was something, you would summon us instead. It seems that ever since Father passed, Grandmother has become quite different from before.”
Madam Zeng’s face turned green from her words.
But being the old fox she was, she suppressed her displeasure, knowing that accomplishing her purpose was the most important thing.
She forced herself to endure her dislike for Song Jiyun and said coldly,
“I’ve arranged a marriage for you. The eight characters have already been exchanged, and the betrothal gifts will arrive this afternoon. For the next few days, stay quietly at home and don’t go wandering about. Once your father’s funeral is done, you’ll leave the house.”
It felt like a thunderbolt exploded over Song Jiyun’s head.
She had expected her family would not give up so easily and might try to exploit them.
She had considered that they might pressure her to hand over the seal, or criticize their family for lacking a son, or that Song Daliang and Song Sanliang might join forces, or even that her grandmother might intervene on their behalf.
But she had never imagined this—they completely ignored the basic decency of waiting until her father was buried before forcing her into marriage.
Was Madam Zeng truly her father’s biological mother?
Had she ever felt even a shred of maternal love for him?
Song Jiyun was furious beyond measure.
She stared at Madam Zeng and enunciated each word clearly, “Don’t even think about it!”
Madam Zeng was enraged. “I’d like to see what you’re capable of, daring to defy your elders!”
“‘Elders’? How dare you call yourself my elder?” Song Jiyun was so angry her chest hurt.
She grabbed Madam Zeng’s arm and dragged her toward the courtyard.
“My father hasn’t even been buried yet, and you’re already arranging a marriage for his daughter! What kind of elder are you? What kind of grandmother does such a thing?”
Madam Zeng, stunned that Song Jiyun dared to lay hands on her, stumbled as she was dragged to the center of the hall.
“This is outrageous!” Madam Zeng struggled to free herself. “How dare you hit me!”
“Hitting you would dirty my hands!” Song Jiyun retorted.
The two nannies who accompanied Madam Zeng finally reacted, rushing forward to surround Song Jiyun, repeatedly calling, “Young Miss!”
Madam Zheng, standing to the side, was spinning in circles with worry.
She knew Song Jiyun had a strong temper, but she hadn’t expected it to be this fiery.
Song Jiyun only tightened her grip on Madam Zeng and shouted at the two nannies, “Who gave you permission to speak here?”
The two nannies hesitated, unsure whether to advance or retreat.
Song Jiyun dragged Madam Zeng a few more steps and said, “You want me to get married? Fine, let’s go talk to my father about it at the mourning hall. Let’s see just how shameless you can be!”
Her voice wavered with emotion.
Why was it that both she and her father were so unlucky? Why were they surrounded by such despicable relatives?
Her father had always been so good to Madam Zeng!
“All these years, my father treated you with respect, providing you with the best food and drink,” she continued.
“Last year, he even hired an opera troupe from Suzhou and Hangzhou for your fiftieth birthday celebration. Were all his acts of filial piety just fed to the dogs? Aren’t you afraid of divine retribution?”
Song Jiyun was truly heartbroken on her father’s behalf.
Perhaps Madam Zeng felt stung, for she raised her hand and was about to slap Song Jiyun’s face. “You insolent brat!”
But Song Jiyun was quick to catch Madam Zeng’s raised hand and, with a forceful shove, pushed her to the ground.
The two nannies rushed to help Madam Zeng.
Song Jiyun’s chest heaved with anger.
“Do you even have the right to speak about respect in front of me? Just because you’ve lived longer than me?”
She raised her voice and ordered Madam Zheng,
“Go open the main gate. Let’s see which shameless people dare to carry their betrothal gifts into a mourning hall.”
Madam Zheng, with tears in her eyes, quickly acknowledged, “Yes,” and hurried out of the hall.
Song Jiyun turned to smile at Madam Zeng.
“Don’t worry. If they dare to bring the gifts, I’ll accept them! And I’ll wear my mourning clothes to the magistrate’s court and beat the drum to demand justice! I’ll let the entire county judge whether there’s any grandmother who, during her son’s mourning period, is busy arranging a granddaughter’s marriage.”
Madam Zeng didn’t dare take the gamble.
But the sharp pain in her elbow made her eyes glint with malice.
She shouted harshly, “Fine! If you want to go to the magistrate’s court, let’s go! I’ll accuse you of being unfilial, defiant, and disrespectful!”
“Then let’s go together!” Song Jiyun grabbed her again.
“Filial piety is the highest virtue. I’m keeping vigil for my father. That alone would earn me a mention in the Book of Filial Piety or the Biographies of Virtuous Women. I might even win an honorary archway for my family. The more people who know, the better!”
Madam Zeng flinched.
Song Jiyun was utterly fearless, willing to risk her reputation.
With Song Sanliang having already offended Registrar Wang, going to court might end up hurting them instead.
The two nannies, quick-witted as they were, stepped forward to support Madam Zeng.
“Let’s go right now!” Song Jiyun pointed toward the door.
Madam Zeng fled in disarray, shouting back, “I won’t stoop to your level! You’ll marry whether you want to or not!”
Song Jiyun stood on the steps and said coldly, “I’ll be waiting!”
The courtyard fell silent.
***
Song Jiyun had not been this angry in years.
Her mind buzzed, and when she finally came to her senses, she found herself, just like in her previous life, pacing back and forth in the dressing room with her head lowered.
But now, the dressing room wasn’t empty—there was a stranger inside.
She leaned against the yellow pearwood chest with bronze-corner carvings that had been moved from her father’s study.
The morality of people truly had no lowest point, only lower.
The members of the Song family were even more shameless than she had imagined.
Marriage was traditionally determined by “parental authority and matchmakers’ words.”
Her mother would certainly not agree to such a marriage, but in their household, the highest authority lay with her grandmother.
With the massive family estate of the Song family hanging there like bait, anything could happen.
Song Jiyun calmly analyzed her current predicament.
Yet, throughout this entire time, a gaze had remained fixed upon her.
She raised her head and saw the man watching her with great interest.
He was sitting with his knees bent, leaning against a large bolster pillow. The book on his lap had been swapped out for a travelogue.
Song Jiyun glared at him and, in a tone filled with double-edged sarcasm, said,
“What’s this? Has the young master given up on picture books and switched to travelogues?”
The man’s long, slender, and pale fingers lightly pressed on the pages.
He replied with a breezy tone, “Travelogues are more interesting than picture books.”
His schadenfreude-filled expression made Song Jiyun want to hit him.
But the man nonchalantly raised an eyebrow, adjusted to a more comfortable position, and resumed reading his travelogue.
Song Jiyun muttered a few curses in her heart and decided to freshen up before heading to see her mother.
She didn’t want her mother to find out and get worried.
Lost in her thoughts, she absentmindedly began untying her mourning belt and removing her mourning clothes.
From behind the silk cabinet came a low shout: “Indecent!”
Song Jiyun snapped out of her daze and realized she had been unbuttoning her beizi (a traditional Chinese jacket).
She glanced down at her gray, narrow-sleeved, ruffled-edge beizi made of crepe fabric.
Not even the color of the garment underneath was visible.
And this was considered “indecent”?
Song Jiyun looked over at the man.
His face was dark as storm clouds.
But what did that have to do with her?
Song Jiyun chuckled twice, removed her beizi, revealing her fair, rounded shoulders and elegant collarbone.
“You—” The man glared at her with fiery eyes.
Song Jiyun bunched up the beizi and threw it at him forcefully. “Travelogues are better than picture books, huh? Hmm?!”
The beizi hit him squarely on the face, and the faint scent of jasmine lingered around his nose.
He quickly turned his face away.
The beizi, as light as a cloud, fell onto his lap.
The jasmine fragrance dispersed like smoke.
“Shameless!” the man said, the red mole on his left ear seemingly dripping with blood.
Song Jiyun sneered, turned on her heel, and briskly walked into the bathroom.
The man, as if sweeping away some filth, brushed the beizi off his lap and let it fall to the ground.
But the softness and lightness of the Hangzhou silk seemed to linger on his fingertips, impossible to shake off.
A shadowy figure leaped down from the roof and, standing outside the silk cabinet, lightly knocked twice.
In a low voice, they called out,
“Master.”
—
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