Chapter 182 — The Inquiry

.

Before he set out for the North Zen Temple alley, he had already sent men to dig into Ji Yong's background.

Only because he feared that something irreparable might erupt on Wei Fan's side, he had rushed off to the South Zen Temple alley without waiting for Du Wei, who was in charge of gathering intelligence, to report back.

When he returned to Yizhi Hall, he received the news Du Wei had sent over.

Ever since Ji Yong had come out to travel three years ago and taken the occasion to visit his aunt, the Sixth Madam of the Dou family, née Ji, he had stayed at the Dou household for extended periods time and again. Before sitting for the metropolitan examination, he had even borrowed the Crane's Longevity Hall, the retreat where Dou Yan's grandfather had cultivated his quietude in his later years, to study in, and had grown exceedingly close to Dou Yan.

His heart was instantly thrown into turmoil, and he barely managed to keep his emotions in check.

Ji Yong bore Wei Fan no grudge and had no quarrel with him—why would he frame Wei Fan?

Was Dou Yan involved in this matter or not?

If she knew nothing of it, what was Ji Yong's purpose?

And if she did know... or perhaps she wished to break off the engagement with the Wei family?

Song Yan felt as though a stone were lodged in his chest—heavy, and leaving him unable to breathe.

There were a thousand ways to break off an engagement—why choose this one, slandering another to achieve it?

Song Yan thought of Dou Yan's bright, open laughter, of her face, dignified yet touched with a hint of charm, of her eyes bright as stars and her long brows sweeping toward her temples, and he felt as though he were being fried in a wok of oil.

Dou Yan—did she know about this or not?

That woman, cool and clear as a fresh breeze yet faintly warm beneath it, that woman who seemed to him as resilient and beautiful as a plum blossom blooming in bitter cold—could she truly do such a thing?

The very thought of it cut Song Yan like a knife. Hope, doubt, disappointment, guilt, and a host of other feelings surged up in him, throwing his heart into confusion, until he knew not what to do.

He spent another hour and more racing about his estate in Daxing before his heart gradually calmed. Then he ordered Chen He, "We're going to Zhending!"

Since he was a boy, his eldest maternal uncle had told him: if you suspect a thing, rather than turning it over and over in speculation, wasting your time—go and confirm it, or overturn it, as fast as you can.

Chen He glanced at Xia Lian. He answered "Yes, sir!" in a loud voice, while muttering inwardly that the fellow had guessed right after all—the heir had come to Daxing precisely to use it as a pretext for going to Zhending.

Xia Lian, however, showed not the least trace of smugness. He smiled at Chen He, then turned over, with a somewhat heavy heart, whether he ought to warn Song Yan not to meddle in this affair.

Unfortunately, all the way to Zhending he never found a fitting opportunity to raise the matter with the stern-faced Song Yan—who by then was already standing beside the little river on the back hill of the Dou family's estate.

On the back hill in summer, the trees grew thick and shaded, the river murmured past, and a cool breeze sprang up.

This place was truly beautiful.

Song Yan gazed at the three wild peach trees on the far bank, their branches lush with leaves, and his fretful heart slowly quieted.

He remembered what Dou Yan had said—that standing in the peach tree, one could see the wife of the Lang family village head get drunk and beat her husband; see the father at the head of the village who, in the slack season, worked as a peddler to supplement the family income, and who, every time he came back from his rounds through the villages, would buy a baked cake for his two daughters to enjoy; see the daughter-in-law of the neighboring house, forever scorned by her mother-in-law, yet when life and death hung in the balance, that same mother-in-law ran hither and thither to find a cure for her... But that time, apart from the curling cook-smoke, he had seen nothing at all.

Song Yan tucked the hem of his robe into his belt and climbed the peach tree.

Lang family village and Dou family village lay spread before him like tiny potted landscapes, one after another.

When Dou Yan climbed the back hill, she saw Song Yan standing on a fork of the tree with his back against the trunk, gazing out at the scene at the foot of the hill, just as he had the last time.

What on earth had happened to this fellow now?

Yesterday she had received a letter from Chen Yanzhou, setting down in exhaustive detail everything that had happened these past days.

Two people who in a former life could not bear the sight of each other had come together in this one—apart from a shared goal, she could think of no reason why the two of them should tolerate one another.

Dou Yan could be quite certain that Wang Shuying and Wei Wan had already colluded in villainy; and she could also be certain that with Wang Shuying's participation, the matter of breaking off her engagement would proceed all the more smoothly.

So she was in excellent spirits.

And so she had thought nothing of Song Yan's sudden request to see her.

Lifting her skirts, she crossed the river by the bluestone stepping stones, raised a hand to shield her face from the sunlight, and asked, looking up at Song Yan, "What does the heir see?"

In the past she had called him Young Master Mei; later, Heir; and now, simply the Heir.

She had never truly been afraid of him, had she?

Just as the people of the capital, having seen him kill his own guard and lay the body out in the middle of the courtyard, were more or less trembling with fear in his presence—Dou Yan had never once questioned him about it.

Song Ke raised his brows and laughed. "Climb up and you'll find out!"

In this blazing heat, who has the energy to play along with you!

Dou Yan cursed him inwardly, then smiled and said, "This year I'm wearing a white openwork skirt, and I don't want to get it dirty."

Song Yan was somewhat dumbfounded.

This—could this really serve as a reason to refuse?

He could not help but burst out laughing.

The laughter startled the guards accompanying him, and they all cast glances toward Song Yan and Dou Yan.

Chen He could not help but sigh with feeling.

Whenever the Heir met Fourth Miss Dou, he was always so very happy.

Xia Lian, however, sighed inwardly.

Song Yan jumped down from the tree.

Dou Yan asked him, "How are your injuries?"

"Nothing serious anymore." Song Yan's gaze came to rest on the space between Dou Zhiwei's brows, and he studied her closely, as if he meant to see plainly just what she looked like, yet his expression gradually turned grave. "I came because there is something I wanted to tell you." He paused in thought. Noticing the fine sweat beading on Dou Yan's forehead and reflecting that the woods would be cooler than this spot, he began walking toward the trees and, concisely and to the point, told Dou Yan how Ji Yong had taken Wei Fan to spend the night in the Beichan Temple alley. Of such matters as his roping Wei Fan into a business partnership, he said not a single word; he claimed only that he had occasionally heard Gu Yu mention the man, knew him to be Dou Yan's future husband, and had sensed something amiss, which was why he had hurried over.

Dou Yan was aghast.

How could this be?

She had spent more than half a year laying her plans, and only the final step remained... What was he doing, bursting in like this?

Was it as before—had she barely let a hint show, and he had seen the whole picture at once?

Dou Yan did not know whether to laugh or cry.

She might want to break off the engagement, but she had never meant to harm Wei Fan.

Happiness won at another's expense leaves one forever uneasy.