The night was as dark as ink, pressing down heavily, enveloping the entire Song Mansion in shadow.
The lanterns under the eaves were unlit, no candlelight leaked from the windows, and the entire estate was deathly silent.
Inside the hall, the atmosphere was tense.
Only a few lamps were burning, casting dim light that threw large, distorted shadows of people onto the walls.
Mother Qi and Mother Song sat upright at the head of the hall.
Mother Qi wore a dark purple official robe with a jade belt, her back ramrod straight, hands resting on her knees, her gaze fixed intently on the doorway.
Mother Song was dressed in an ocher everyday gown, her hair bun meticulously neat, her expression softer than Mother Qi’s, but her eyes held the same gravity.
Song Ning sat in the seat just below them, stroking the white cat in his arms.
Behind him stood Xia Ling and Xia Shuang. Xia Ling had her head down, fingers twisting her sleeve, lost in thought.
Xia Shuang held her sword, her gaze level ahead, her face utterly expressionless.
No one spoke in the hall.
Only the occasional crackle of a lamp wick broke the silence, a sharp “pop” sounding out clearly in the stillness.
Footsteps came from afar, growing closer, treading unhurriedly on the blue bricks, carrying a hint of laziness.
Mother Qi lifted her head sharply, leaning forward, her eyes fixed on the door.
Mother Song also looked up as the door was pushed open.
Qi Chuyao walked in, yawning.
She wore a light blue riding outfit, her hair tied in a ponytail, her face flushed from the night wind, looking energetic.
As she walked, she rubbed her eyes and muttered:
“Mother, it’s so late, why are you looking for me everywhere…”
Before she could finish, she sensed something wrong with the atmosphere.
Too quiet.
Her gaze swept the hall. Mother Qi sat at the head, her face ashen; Mother Song sat beside her, her expression stern.
Song Ning sat below, cradling the white cat, his fingers slowly stroking its fur.
Everyone’s eyes were on her, except Song Ning—he couldn’t see, but his head was tilted slightly in her direction, as if listening for her movements.
Qi Chuyao’s mouth snapped shut. Her eyes flickered upward, and a chill crept up her spine.
‘Oh no? Did I stumble into some kind of trap? Did my mother bring people here to judge me?’
Song Ning heard the footsteps and Qi Chuyao’s voice, and a helpless, bitter smile welled up inside him.
This was the first time he’d seen her since she’d left last time.
Every day she ran all over the city, but she never came to see him.
She didn’t even bother to pretend anymore, as if completing the marriage was enough, and she wouldn’t even put on an act.
When Mother Qi saw her wayward daughter, her expression instantly soured.
Her brows knit together, her mouth turned down, and she clenched the edge of the table before slapping it hard.
“Bang!”
The teacup jumped, and the lid rolled off.
Qi Chuyao flinched, shrinking back half a step, her mouth opening and closing as if to say something before she swallowed it.
“All day long, you don’t tend to your duties!” Mother Qi’s voice echoed through the hall, deep and sharp, shaking even the candle flames.
“I told you to report to the Bingma Si, so why haven’t you gone?!”
She pointed a trembling finger at Qi Chuyao, her voice shaking with rage:
“Look at you, day after day. Do you have any sense of decorum? You’re married and still so reckless!”
Qi Chuyao muttered something, her voice small and defiant:
“I told you, I want to go to the Capital Camp, or at least let me serve outside the city.”
“Why should I go to the Bingma Si as a lowly Puzhang? That place is tiring and hard work. My friends are all officers…”
“Bang!”
Another thunderous crash.
Mother Qi slammed her palm on the table, her face iron-gray, her lips pressed into a thin line.
She had indeed only arranged a Puzhang position for her.
That was the lowest rung of the clerks—responsible for night patrols, arresting criminals, and guarding the Government Office—not an official post at all.
But didn’t things have to be taken step by step? Did she expect to be handed an official position right off the bat? Who did she think she was? Did she think the whole world belonged to her family?
Qi Chuyao lowered her head and dared not speak, especially when she caught a glimpse behind her mother—a Red Tassel Spear stood propped up, its tip gleaming coldly.
‘Why did Mother bring her usual weapon? What exactly is she planning tonight?’
Her gaze darted sideways, glancing at Song Ning, who was still stroking the cat, his face expressionless.
Song Ning paused his fingers on the cat’s back, turned his head slightly, and “looked” in Mother Qi’s direction:
“That position is indeed a bit lowly. It’s not entirely unreasonable for Chuyao to think that way.”
“She can start with it first. Wei Yang holds sway over the court, so good posts are scarce. Let Mother-in-law keep an eye out.”
In truth, Wei Yang’s grip on the court didn’t extend this far, but sometimes you had to coax people into working before you could take things step by step.
Mother Qi looked at her beloved son-in-law, and her expression softened slightly.
She waved sharply at Qi Chuyao, signaling her to sit in the empty seat beside Song Ning.
Qi Chuyao moved her lips, wanting to say something, but after glancing at her mother’s face and the spear propped behind her, she swallowed her words.
She walked over obediently and plopped down on the empty seat next to Song Ning, sitting very close to him.
The chairs were connected, and their shoulders nearly touched. She could smell the faint scent of soap from him.
Song Ning heard her sit down and felt the warmth of another person beside him. A playful urge stirred within him.
He leaned toward her, his shoulder brushing against hers, his head nearly touching her face.
Qi Chuyao’s heartbeat quickened as she felt his breath on her cheek—warm, carrying a faint tea fragrance.
Her body stiffened, and she shrank away, but the chair was small, leaving her nowhere to go.
“What are you doing?” she muttered, her voice muffled, tinged with discomfort.
Song Ning smiled.
“Where have you been lately? Why haven’t you come to see me?”
“I’ve missed you, dear wife.”
Even for Qi Chuyao, faced with such a direct question, a rare blush crept onto her cheeks.
Her gaze wavered, she looked down at her shoes, and mumbled awkwardly:
“I… I’ve been busy lately. I have to practice martial arts, and I’m swamped.”
“Don’t ask where I’ve been. Don’t… don’t miss me.”
In truth, she was running around the city having fun.
Either listening to stories, drinking tea, or hitting the taverns, or heading outside the city to hunt with friends.
Today she caught a storytelling session in East City, tomorrow she drank fine tea in West City, and the day after that she went outside the city to shoot a few arrows.
She lived more carefree than anyone, simply forgetting she had a newlywed husband.
Song Ning knew all this well. Xia Ling had whispered it in his ear countless times.
He heard her out, smiled, and didn’t expose her lie.
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