Chapter 403 — Meeting

In the previous life, because Ji Yong had become the abbot of Longfu Temple, Longfu Temple gained the strength to stand against Puji Temple as an equal.

Dou Yan did not remember when the name of Longfu Temple had first begun to ring loud. By the time she heard of Longfu Temple, a single stick of its incense was already hard to come by.

But in this life, though the temple's incense burned abundantly, its name was not yet notable; those who came to offer incense were wives of small households, and one seldom saw a carriage or sedan chair finely adorned.

Standing at the gate of Longfu Temple, Dou Yan could not help raising her eyes to the temple's mountain gate.

She wondered whether Ji Yong would again be bound to Longfu Temple in this life.

She glanced back at Song Yan.

To avoid drawing notice, Song Yan and she had both changed into plain Hangzhou silk of unpatterned weave; she wore only two silver hairpins, traveled light and with few attendants, bringing only Chen He, the Jingui sisters, and a handful of guards such as Duan Bing.

Incense smoke curled through Longfu Temple, and Song Yan and Dou Yan offered incense in Chengguang Hall.

From time to time the women who had come to burn incense stole glances at them.

Chen Jia smiled bitterly.

He had settled Yigui here precisely because the temple's incense was thriving and the crowds passing in and out would let her pass unnoticed among them; but he had forgotten how striking in appearance Song Yan and Dou Zhiwei were. Even in the plainest of clothes, the ease and nobility that showed in their every gesture could not be hidden.

Had he known, he would have done better to settle Yigui in Puji Temple!

He muttered inwardly, and thinking of Yigui's timid little face, he shot Hu Zi a look, signaling him to go and give Yigui word, lest she see Song Yan and Dou Yan and shrink trembling into a corner like a small animal.

Hu Zi understood and hurried off to the side rooms on the east.

Song Yan and Dou Yan donated their incense money, then went with Chen Jia toward the side rooms.

On a midsummer morning, the air turned sultry the moment the sun rose; the great trees of Longfu Temple, thick as a man's embrace, spread shade over the ground, yet could not hold back the fretfulness in Song Yan's heart.

The night before, he had scarcely slept at all.

He could not put a name to what he felt.

Pity. The girl was the daughter of his father's outside woman, the proof of his father's betrayal of his mother. Such a feeling seemed a little out of place.

Hatred. Had he not known what had befallen the girl, he might have hated her; but when he thought that it was precisely his father's irresponsibility that had brought her to such a pass, he found he could not hate her at all.

Liking. That was even less to be spoken of. He had always honored strength; even for a woman, to have reduced herself to such a state showed a flaw in her own character, and how could he bring himself to like her?

Until the moment he stepped into Longfu Temple, he still had not decided how to deal with the girl.

From childhood to manhood, Song Yan had never been so torn.

He could not help taking Dou Zhiwei's hand.

Dou Yan gripped Song Yan's hand tightly in return.

Her feelings were as tangled as Song Yan's.

As a woman herself, she pitied the girl's plight deeply; but at the thought that the girl might be Song Yan's half sister, her partiality for Song Yan left her unable to feel any greater compassion for the girl.

The two walked unhurriedly into the wing room.

In the heat of the day the lattice windows of the wing room were shut tight, and only a single beam of sunlight came through the skylight tile in the roof, leaving the room very dim.

As they came in, Hu Zi was speaking softly with a woman seated in the armchair at the head of the hall; hearing the stir, he quickly withdrew to one side, and the woman slowly rose.

Though the girl's features could not be made out clearly, her slender figure seemed very frail.

Song Yan was plainly somewhat taken aback. He halted at the doorway and said in a low, grave voice, "You are Wang Yigui?"

The girl said nothing.

Chen Jia grew anxious.

How could the girl be so impervious to reason?

All he had said to her yesterday had been wasted.

The heir of the Yingzhenguo Estate held high rank and great power; a single word from him could let her live or let her die. At the sight of the heir of the Shiguo Estate, her tone must be respectful, her manner gentle; she must on no account put on airs. If only she could please him, she would eat richly and dress richly all her days, and never again need fear being dragged back by Wei Quan or bullied by He Hao.

He could not help coughing softly, and reminded Yigui in a low voice, "The heir of the Shiguo Estate and his lady have come to see you. Why do you not step forward and pay your respects to them?"

But the girl stood there sullenly and did not move.

Chen Jia had no choice but to step up and give the girl a gentle push, whispering, "Kneel, and quickly."

But the girl turned stubborn, head hanging, standing motionless where she was.

Chen Jia had no way out but to push her again.

This time he used a little too much force; the girl stumbled, nearly fell, and staggered forward a few steps before she steadied herself.

The beam of sunlight from the skylight tile fell upon the girl's face.

Those delicate features, that bright and fair face, were shown clear as day to Dou Yan and Song Yan.

Dou Yan felt a pang of sorrow, as though a bright pearl had been sullied with dust.

Song Sui froze, then cried out "Mother!" as his face changed drastically.

There was no one else in the room, which had been quiet all along, so naturally it was heard clearly.

Dou Yan looked at Song Yan in astonishment.

Song Yan also looked back at her.

She saw in his eyes a shock as violent as surging waves.

"What is it?" Dou Yan's mind was in a muddle, wholly at a loss, but she still clutched Song Zhi's arm tightly.

There was no trace of color left in Song Yan's face.

"She... she looks exactly like my mother, as if stamped from the same mold..." he murmured. "Even more so than Cousin Hanzhu..."

How could Li Tiaoniang's daughter resemble Madam Jiang?

Even if she resembled someone, it should have been Song Cen!

And what of Song Han in that household?

Dou Yan's fingertips went cold, her mind a blank.

Chen Jia was struck as if by lightning.

Had it not been said that she was the daughter born out of wedlock to the Duke of England?

How had Madam Jiang been dragged into it?

He only felt his forehead dripping with sweat, and casting a murky glance at Yigui, he pulled Huzi toward the door: "Young Master, whatever you have to ask, just ask Miss Yigui directly. Huzi and I will keep watch outside."

But Yigui seized Chen Jia's sleeve and cried out in a panic, "Didn't you say you knew my uncle? You brought me back to the capital to find my uncle... Were you lying? Where is my uncle? I want to see my uncle!" As she spoke, her eyes reddened and tears began to fall in streams. "I beg you, take me to see my uncle. My uncle will reward you richly..."

If she had said nothing, it might have been better; but having said that, a flame of anger leapt up from Song Zhi's chest.

A young girl who looked like his mother kept insisting on finding that vile, shameless wretch Li Liang to save her, and the veins stood out at his temples.

"What uncle? Does that base-born wretch deserve the name?" His face darkened, and the malevolence between his brows was frightening, as though it would break its cocoon and devour someone. "Chen Jia, go and fetch Li Liang for me! I want to ask him just what this is all about!"

Song Yan gave a cold laugh, chill radiating from him.

Chen Jia could not help but shudder, and dared not look at Song Yan any longer. He bowed his head, said "Yes," and turned to go out.

Yigui clung to Chen Jia's sleeve and would not let go.