The old locust tree in the courtyard cast mottled shadows that swayed gently with the breeze.
Occasionally, a few leaves spiraled down, landing silently on the blue brick floor.
The atmosphere was somewhat awkward.
Xia Shuang stood beside Song Ning, one hand steadily supporting his arm while the other was clenched tightly.
Her gaze fell coldly on Qi Chuyao’s face, filled with a chilly indifference.
Qi Chuyao stood opposite them, her eyes wandering everywhere except at Song Ning.
Although Song Ning could not see, he could still sense that coldness.
His expression remained unchanged, a gentle smile still playing on his lips as he tilted his head slightly toward the front.
“Is that you, Chuyao?” he asked, his voice soft and slow. “Long time no see.”
As he spoke, he reached out a hand.
That hand was fair and slender, with well-defined knuckles that glowed faintly under the sunlight.
His fingers probed forward slightly, waiting for someone to take them.
After all, they were about to be married, and they had known each other since childhood.
Although Qi Chuyao had always been cold toward him, Song Ning did not mind.
He treated it as a childish temperament that could be addressed slowly after the wedding.
Qi Chuyao’s gaze fell upon that hand. She followed it upward—past the wrist, the arm, the shoulder, and finally to that face.
The sunlight fell on Song Ning, bathing him in a layer of soft light.
His brow was refined, the bridge of his nose high, and his lips were slightly curved with a faint, indiscernible smile.
Those eyes were white, currently lowered as his eyelashes cast shallow shadows over his eyelids.
Qi Chuyao had to admit that this face was indeed beautiful. It was handsome enough to be worthy of her, even if he was just an ordinary person.
However, the irritability in her heart surged once again.
‘What use is beauty? He is a blind man.’
‘Am I really going to marry a blind person just because of a face? Let a blind man become my, Qi Chuyao’s, husband? To become the future Principal Husband of the Qi Family of Great Qian?’
She imagined her future life—returning home every day to a person who could see nothing. Going out to socialize with a husband who constantly needed someone to support him.
In the dead of night, no matter how good that face looked, he wouldn’t be able to see her; it would be utterly boring.
‘Is her future really going to be spent with this person for the rest of her life?’
And then there was her mother, a Second-Rank Martial Artist, whose lifespan was far longer than that of an ordinary person.
As long as her mother was around, she could forget about ever divorcing Song Ning, let alone finding someone else.
‘Is the first half of her life—even the majority of it—going to be tied to him?’
Thinking of these things, Qi Chuyao’s brow furrowed deeper and deeper as she sank into thought.
Song Ning’s hand remained suspended in the air, and for a long time, no one took it.
Behind him, Song Youyi’s expression had turned extremely unsightly. She stood in the shadows of the corridor, staring coldly at Qi Chuyao, her fingers gripping her sleeves tightly.
She was brewing a way to speak that would be sarcastic enough to sting without completely ruining the harmony.
Xia Ling, standing beside her, did not look surprised at all. She had long expected this.
She had heard more or less what kind of person Qi Chuyao was. Looking at Qi Chuyao’s cold face, a trace of disdain flashed through her eyes, and she let out a soft huff.
Song Ning’s hand was still hanging there. He wasn’t bothered; instead, the corners of his mouth curled up slightly into a half-smile as he spoke.
“Don’t you plan to give me a hand, my future wife?”
His voice carried a hint of teasing, as if he didn’t care about her coldness at all.
“I need to go inside to present the Auspicious Post to my mother-in-law. Wouldn’t it be better if we went in together?”
He was already immune to Qi Chuyao’s attitude. He had practically “watched” her grow up and knew her temperament well.
She had a young girl’s vanity and her heart was set higher than the heavens; he could be patient with her for now.
Moreover, given the current situation—the Emperor had not attended court for a long time, the Beirong were restless in Liaodong, and undercurrents were surging throughout the imperial court while a new ruler had yet to be decided—Song Ning could not allow a momentary fit of pique to ruin the grand affairs of the Qi and Song families.
He would do his best not to damage the harmony between them.
Upon hearing his words, the expression on Qi Chuyao’s face softened slightly.
Looking at that smiling face, the irritability in her heart faded somewhat for some inexplicable reason.
After a moment of hesitation, she took a step forward and was just about to reach out.
A sudden gust of wind swept past from behind her.
A figure quickly bypassed her and steadily caught Song Ning’s arm.
“Young Master Song, long time no see.” The voice was crisp and bright, laced with a smile.
Song Ning was slightly startled, but a smile soon broke across his face.
“Junyue?” he laughed. “It really has been a long time. How have things been at the Capital Camp?”
Qin Junyue stood beside him, her hand firmly supporting his arm. She wore a set of black martial robes today, outlining her tall, powerful physique.
Her jet-black hair was tied high in a ponytail, with a few stray strands falling over her temples.
Her face possessed a heroic handsomeness, with deep-set eyes, a high bridge on her nose, and thin lips pressed slightly together.
Her jawline was sharp, and her figure was full—curvaceous in all the right places. Standing in the sun, she radiated a vigorous vitality.
That was the aura of a High-Rank Martial Artist.
Supporting Song Ning, she tilted her head and shot a look at Qi Chuyao. Her eyes clearly said:
‘It’s fine, Sister Qi, we’re all sisters here.’
‘What you don’t want to do, I’ll help you solve.’
‘We’re sisters, no need to be polite!’
Then she withdrew her gaze and looked at Song Ning with a smile.
“It’s been quite good,” she said softly, her voice much gentler than before. “Thank you for your concern, Young Master Song.”
After a pause, she continued, “The last time Young Master Song lectured me on academics and the art of war, your views were novel and profound. I truly benefited a great deal. I haven’t been able to forget it, and I’ve been pondering over it day and night.”
Unconcealed admiration bubbled in her eyes as she invited him, “If there is an opportunity, please teach me more, Young Master Song. I would love to hear your instructions again.”
Song Ning smiled and waved it off.
“If there’s a chance, I’ll write it down for you,” he said. “Don’t worry.”
He quietly declined the invitation; he couldn’t meet outsiders in private for the time being.
The two talked as they walked toward the house. Qin Junyue supported him, her pace neither too fast nor too slow, matching his rhythm perfectly with great consideration.
The sunlight fell upon them, stretching their shadows long across the ground until they became intertwined.
One wore white, the other black. One bright, the other dark. Song Ning was pure and ethereal, while Qin Junyue was heroic and spirited.
Walking side by side, their appearances and temperaments were surprisingly well-matched, as if they were the couple destined for marriage.
Qi Chuyao stood frozen in place, her extended hand hanging in mid-air before she slowly pulled it back. She watched the two figures from behind and bit her lip.
She suddenly felt a bit uncomfortable.
She couldn’t quite describe the feeling.
It was like something she didn’t want was being picked up by someone else as a treasure, only for her to realize that the item might not be so bad after all.
She frowned and suppressed that bit of discomfort.
‘It’s probably just an illusion.’
Ahead of her, Song Ning suddenly stopped. He tilted his head slightly and called out behind him.
“Chuyao, where are you? Come and accompany me.”
The smile on Qin Junyue’s face stiffened slightly, and her eyes dimmed. That moment of abstraction had almost made her forget her actual position.
Supporting this man, walking by his side, listening to him speak, and watching him smile—for that one instant, she had truly projected herself into a role.
The role of the one who wanted to marry Song Ning.
‘If I were the one standing in this position today… if I were the one welcoming him into my home… if, after today, this person belonged to me…’
‘How wonderful would that be.’
Unfortunately, it wasn’t her. The rightful person was right there.
Qin Junyue lowered her eyes, hiding the trace of disappointment within them. By the time she looked up again, her face had returned to its bright, cheerful smile.
Qi Chuyao gave a soft snort and stepped forward to catch up.
She moved to Song Ning’s other side, hesitated for a moment, and eventually reached out to support his arm.
The moment her fingertips touched him, her heart skipped a beat; his arm wasn’t as thin as she had imagined.
“Let’s go. My mother is waiting for you inside.”