This should be good. She’s finally gone.
Song Ning stood by the bed, rubbing the clothes as he put them on, making sure every button was fastened.
He turned around and touched his back, confirming the fabric lay flat against him—no curled edges, no folds.
Even a blind man had to maintain a proper appearance!
Once everything was in order, Song Ning let out a breath, tilted his head toward the door, and raised his voice:
“Youyi, I’m done.”
The door let out a soft creak, as if pushed open.
Song Youyi lifted her feet lightly, mimicking the sound of stepping into the room from outside.
Her movements were practiced, clearly rehearsed.
“Brother, how is it? Does it fit?” Her voice was sweet, laced with laughter.
Song Ning turned to face her direction, his fingers brushing the collar again, feeling the texture of the fabric slide beneath his fingertips.
He couldn’t help but touch the cuffs.
There, fine patterns were embroidered, and his fingers could feel the slightly raised threads, one flower linked to the next.
“It fits perfectly,” he said with a smile.
“The clothes you pick always fit well. What fabric is this?”
Song Youyi walked up to him, reached out to straighten his collar, her fingers brushing lightly against the side of his neck—casual, yet deliberate.
Her gaze fell on the moon-white robe, her eyes full of satisfaction.
“This is cloud brocade,” she said, a hint of pride in her voice.
“The kind Jiangning Weaving sent as tribute. Barely a few rolls come out in a year. I went through a lot of people to get this one.”
“It’s done with Suzhou embroidery. It took an entire month for someone to embroider this one piece.”
“Brother, feel here.” She took his hand, as if on purpose, and guided it to the front of the robe.
“This is double-sided embroidery. The front has orchids, and the back has orchids too. The stitches are hidden inside; you can’t feel them.”
Song Ning’s fingers paused there, and sure enough, he felt nothing but smoothness. Not a thing.
His brow furrowed slightly.
“There’s no need for such fine fabric,” he said.
“It’s a bit wasteful. This must be a big expense for the mansion, right? I can’t see anyway. Something decent would be fine.”
In life, he always aimed for the “decent” standard—not too bad, not too good.
Too bad, and it was genuinely uncomfortable to use. No point in torturing himself.
Too good, and every bit of improvement came with a price that skyrocketed.
Even as the son-in-law of a Second Grade official, there was no need to be this extravagant.
Song Youyi’s fingers paused on his collar and didn’t move away.
She looked down at his clean, handsome face, at his white eyes that saw nothing, and the smile on her lips deepened.
“As long as it’s worn on you, brother, it’s not a waste.”
When she picked things for her brother, she had to pick the best for him.
She would give him everything good, and that was what made her happy.
What were those fabrics, that embroidery, that silver? Nothing. Compared to her brother, they meant nothing.
She withdrew her hand and stepped back, her gaze sweeping over Song Ning from head to toe, like admiring a perfect piece of work.
“Brother, how about…” She spoke up, testing and hopeful.
“When I come back, I’ll move in here with you.”
Song Ning’s fingers paused.
Song Youyi stepped forward, her voice soft.
“It’d be more convenient for me to take care of you. We could just build another room. It’s not like Qi Chuyao ever comes here anyway.”
Her eyes sparkled, brimming with anticipation.
She watched Song Ning’s face, his expression, his lips, waiting for him to speak.
Outside the window, Xia Ling’s heart skipped a beat as she crouched under the wall.
The Second Young Lady wants to move in? Would she and Xia Shuang have any peace left?
She wanted to leave, but now she didn’t dare to. She gritted her teeth, held her breath, and strained her ears to hear what was happening inside.
Song Ning sat by the table, shook his head, a faint smile on his lips, and waved his hand, his tone gentle:
“Forget it.”
“Better if you don’t come. Isn’t it fine where you’re living now?”
Song Youyi’s beautiful eyes narrowed. Her smile didn’t change, but her voice remained soft, with a hint of coaxing:
“I just want to take care of you, brother. It’d be more convenient too.”
Song Ning shook his head again, still smiling.
“I’m fine here. You should have your own space too.”
“Besides, if you came, Xia Ling and Xia Shuang would definitely feel uncomfortable.”
At those words, Song Youyi’s face completely darkened.
She tried to control her tone, but the complaint still seeped through:
“Brother, what could they be uncomfortable about?”
Song Ning’s fingers paused on the edge of the table.
He tilted his head and “looked” in Song Youyi’s direction:
“Actually, I know.”
“You’re very formidable in the mansion, little sister. Let’s just leave it.”
Though he was blind, he wasn’t deaf.
Over the years, he’d still caught wind of what went on in the mansion.
Song Youyi managed everything in the mansion, big and small.
The servants were more afraid of her than of Mother Song.
Those who made mistakes or tried to cut corners, once they fell into her hands, none of them dared to act up.
Otherwise, Mother wouldn’t have put her in charge of the Song Mansion.
Song Youyi’s heart jolted, her breathing quickening. Her expression shifted briefly before she quickly regained her usual gentle look.
“What’s formidable about me in front of you, brother?” She tried to cover it up.
Damn it, who let him know about this? Who had been gossiping in front of her brother?
She used her usual tactic again, shifting the topic. She sniffled, her voice carrying a hint of grievance:
“Brother, are you really not letting me move in here just because of two maids?”
She stepped forward, moving closer:
“Are you so sure they’re that clean?”
“In this world, who could be more attentive and reliable to you than your own little sister?”
Song Ning fell silent. Before this, he’d had other maids and male attendants, but many were lazy and deceitful.
Some stole things from his room when they thought he couldn’t see, some avoided him because taking care of a blind man was too much trouble, some showed respect on the surface but gossiped about him behind his back, and a few even tried to take advantage of him because he was young.
But he wasn’t really a child. He saw through every one of them—drove away those who needed driving, dealt with those who needed dealing with.
It wasn’t until Xia Ling and Xia Shuang, the sisters, were brought into the Song Mansion that he finally had people he could truly trust.
Song Ning gave two light coughs and still waved his hand.
“Don’t say anymore. Xia Ling and Xia Shuang are like little sisters to me. They’ve treated me well too.”
Outside the window, Xia Ling’s nose tingled.
She wiped the corner of her eye, a surge of emotion swelling in her heart like the sea.
She bit her red lip softly.
Yes, the young master has always been this good.
He even kept the Second Young Lady from moving in, all for her and Xia Shuang.