Clothes?
Song Ning huddled under the covers, not daring to move a muscle. His heart was pounding wildly, and his ears were pricked up high.
How could he possibly give his clothes to Song Youyi at a time like this? Why did she have to come at such a coincidental moment? And why did he have to have that dream just now?
“Youyi,” he spoke up, doing his best to keep his voice calm. “My clothes aren’t old yet, and they don’t need washing. They can still be worn for a few more days. I’ll have Xia Ling send them over when I need them.”
His words were tactful, his tone gentle and soft. He even specifically mentioned Xia Ling, implying that she didn’t need to worry about this matter.
Song Youyi did not stop walking.
She sniffed lightly, her lotus steps moving gently as she drew closer, step by step, a faint smile curling at the corner of her lips.
“Brother, I’ve been keeping track of the days,” her voice was soft, carrying a hint of a coquettish tone.
“It’s time to change clothes today. You are now a person of distinguished status, the young master of the Song Family and the son-in-law of the Qi Family. How can you wear old clothes? People would laugh.”
Her steps did not cease. One step, two steps, three steps—she had already reached the bedside.
Song Ning could smell the faint medicinal fragrance on her and could feel her gaze falling upon him.
“No, no, no,” he quickly waved his hand. “I haven’t been going out lately. You don’t need to prepare anything too fancy for me. I’m not changing.”
“In a couple of days, I’ll tidy up myself and send them over to you.”
Song Youyi slightly furrowed her brow, her beautiful eyes glancing at the small box by his bedside.
She recognized that box—it was specifically for storing undergarments.
The lid wasn’t fastened tightly, as if someone had just opened it and hurriedly closed it again.
The corner of her mouth curved upward. Still refusing to stop, she walked over to the bedside with a domineering air and sat down right on the edge of the bed.
“What about Qi Chuyao?” she changed the subject. “I haven’t heard she was coming recently either. Why isn’t she here to keep you company?”
She gave Song Ning no opportunity to continue refusing. With a few words, she steered the conversation elsewhere, as if the previous argument about clothes had never happened.
Song Youyi sat there, composed and graceful, her tone gentle and refined.
Mentioning Qi Chuyao, Song Ning helplessly shook his head and sighed:
“What can I do about it?”
He had no tricks left.
They had lived separately since the second day of their marriage, and up to now, they had barely seen each other.
He didn’t know where Qi Chuyao was off enjoying herself, but she certainly wasn’t by his side.
At times like this, Song Ning would feel regret. If only his eyesight had returned to normal.
Then he wouldn’t be trapped in this small courtyard. He could go out and do more things, make more plans.
If that were the case, he could directly take Xia Ling and Xia Shuang and go with his elder sister to Liaodong to defend against the enemy, or help his mother or his mother-in-law with more tasks.
Any of those would be better than lying in bed here without his pants on.
“She’s not coming,” he mocked himself with a slight tug at the corner of his mouth. “This marriage of mine is practically no different from not having gotten marr—”
Before he could finish his sentence, a soft creak sounded in his ear.
The box was opened.
Song Ning’s mind went completely blank. His body tensed up sharply, nearly springing off the bed.
Song Youyi was very familiar with the layout of Song Ning’s room.
This wasn’t her first time coming to fetch clothes. How could she not know where Song Ning kept them?
Her slender hand pressed the lid and casually lifted open the rosewood box.
What met her eyes was a crumpled pile of old clothes—sleepwear, inner garments, outer robes—hastily stuffed together.
It looked as if someone had hurriedly balled them up, shoved them in, closed the lid, and pretended nothing had happened.
But the scent that wafted out was impossible to hide.
The smell was too strong, so strong it rushed at her the moment she lifted the lid, hitting her face.
Mixed among the scents of soapberries and sandalwood, mingled with the smells of cotton and silk thread, it was intense.
It was a smell she knew all too well.
Those late nights, those early mornings, when she curled up alone under the covers, when she fell asleep with his old clothes under her pillow—this was the exact smell she had breathed in.
The corner of her lips curled into an irrepressible smile.
In a place Song Ning couldn’t see, that smile grew wider and wider, more and more brilliant, like a blooming flower. The corners of her mouth lifted high, even revealing her teeth.
Yet she didn’t make a single sound. Her breathing didn’t even grow heavier. She just smiled quietly, smiling with satisfaction, smiling greedily, smiling like a child who had stolen candy.
Brother’s, mine.
Brother is mine. Qi Chuyao doesn’t want brother, so doesn’t that make him mine?
Staying forever in the Song Mansion, me forever in charge of the Song Mansion, forever taking care of him, forever…
She very naturally gathered all the clothes inside into her arms. This was, after all, only right and proper. She had been doing this for so many years, ever since brother was just a youth.
Taking his clothes, keeping his clothes in her own room, changing and folding them neatly, then sending them back.
This was her matter, her privilege, something that belonged to her alone, something no one could ever take away.
Bang!
A loud crash.
Song Ning slammed his fist on the table. His hand ached and went numb from the impact, but he couldn’t care about that now.
His face flushed crimson, his teeth clenched.
“How… how can you just take my clothes like that!? Is that proper?”
“Put them down!” his voice rose several notches louder.
“Did I agree to you taking them? Don’t you know I’m married now!?”
He didn’t know whether Song Youyi had actually touched or seen the pants he had stuffed inside, so he could only use the rules of this world as a shield.
After all, he was married now. Isn’t it inappropriate for you to take clothes without permission? This reason should hold water anywhere!
He twitched his ears, carefully trying to catch Song Youyi’s movements, wanting to hear how she would react.
And then he heard it.
A very soft sob, delicate, trembling.
The sound of crying echoed in the quiet room, one sob after another, wrenching at the heart.
Song Ning’s hand froze in mid-air.
“Youyi, you…” he reached out a hand, then pulled it back, his expression troubled.
Why is she crying now? It’s just about not letting you take the clothes. Can’t you come another time? Is it worth crying like this?
Song Youyi sat on the edge of the bed, still holding that pile of clothes in her arms. Tears fell like broken strings of pearls, one after another.
“Brother…” her voice was hoarse, choked with sobs. “Now that you’re married, do I no longer even have the right to take care of your clothes for you?”
She sniffled, tears falling even more fiercely.
“Ever since we were little, it’s always been me looking after you,” her voice rose a little, filled with grievance and reproach.
“Now that brother is married, he doesn’t need his little sister’s care anymore.”
The crying was mournful and plaintive, like autumn rain dripping on banana leaves, drop by drop.
“And…” she hiccuped a sob.
“Brother, you’ve never been this harsh with me before! Never!”
Her foot stomped on the floor, producing a dull thud.
“Now brother treats me like an outsider! For the sake of that Qi Chuyao, you start being harsh with me! Is your little sister not important anymore?”
“It’s just getting married, isn’t it? Is getting married more important than your little sister?”