Chapter 409 — Denial

On the first day of the sixth month, Jiang Ling helped Dou Yan along to the house where Jiang Yan was staying.

Jiang Yan wore a lake-blue Hangzhou silk over-jacket over a snow-white drawn-thread skirt, her black hair pinned up with a plum-blossom silver hairpin — fresh and plain as a little narcissus, so that Dou Yan looked at her and nodded to himself in approval.

Jiang Ling, though, took a long moment to collect herself, and murmured: "She looks like her — really like her! Exactly like that portrait of Aunt at her coming-of-age. If it weren't broad daylight, I'd have thought Aunt had come back to look in on me."

At that Dou Yan's heart stirred. He said to Jiang Yan: "You are going to meet an elder, after all, and this is too plain. Change into that stone-blue one embroidered with pink plum blossoms — it is more formal. Once the visit is over, you can put this back on in your room."

Stone-blue in this heat?

Jiang Ling was astonished.

But Jiang Yan only answered "Oh" obediently and let the maids help her inside to change.

Dou Yan said to Jiang Ling: "I remember that portrait of Grandmother at home — she is wearing a stone-blue over-jacket embroidered with silver-white plum blossoms."

Jiang Ling understood at once. "So Cousin's wife had this planned from the start!"

"Not at all," Dou Yan said. "Since we tell people that Sister Yan has come home a widow, I looked out some fabric a shade deeper than that dress to suit the part. It happened that I had a bolt of this."

Jiang Ling sighed. "Perhaps this is Heaven's will."

As she spoke, Jiang Yan came out, supported by a maid.

Dou Yan recalled that in the painting Lady Jiang also wore a red-gold peony at her collar, the size of a wine cup. After a moment's thought she found a yellow beryl clasp carved as an osmanthus blossom in her jewel box and fastened it on Jiang Yan, looked her up and down once, and only then did she and Jiang Yan get into the sedan chairs.

All the way there Jiang Yan clutched her handkerchief tightly.

Dou Yan spoke to her softly, in a low, gentle voice.

Little by little Jiang Yan relaxed; but when the chair passed through the main gate of the Ying Estate of the Duke of Zhenguo, her face went tense again.

Dou Yan could only pat her hand lightly and lead her down out of the chair.

Song Yan had ordered the main gate of the Ying Estate thrown open to receive Jiang Yan, and the stewards and nurses of standing in the household stood in ranks inside and outside the hanging-flower gate to welcome her.

Jiang Yan trembled with fright, her eyes darting about like a fawn's, yet she mastered her fear and walked with Dou Yan, head high and chest out, through the hanging-flower gate.

Dou Yan praised her inwardly, and gave her an encouraging look.

Jiang Yan smiled with an effort and followed Dou Yan to the Osmanthus Court.

Today both Song Cen and Song Yan had the day off from court. Song Cen had been cornered in his room by Song Yan first thing in the morning, supposedly to discuss the estate's farm at Daxing; he listened absently, and even when Song Han came to pay his respects, Song Yan's talk was still circling the question of how much revenue that farm brought in each year.

He grew impatient and said: "What is it you actually want to say?"

Song Yan said: "I see that farm lies barely two or three li from the farm His Majesty granted me. Father might as well simply give it to me — no sense in keeping two stewards to manage a mere two thousand-odd mu."

Song Cen stamped his foot in fury.

The farm the emperor had granted Song Yan was a mere fifty mu, while the Ying Estate's farm was two thousand two hundred mu, and had moreover been granted in the reign of Emperor Taizu. Even if the two were to be managed together, it should be Song Yan's farm merged into the Ying Estate's, not the other way round. Song Yan plainly meant to seize his property.

His face darkened. He called out to Song Han: "Tian'en, your brother wants me to hand him the two thousand two hundred mu at Daxing for nothing. What do you say to that?"

Song Han looked blank. "Won't the whole Ying Estate belong to Elder Brother in the end? What's wrong with giving him the farm at Daxing?"

Song Cen nearly toppled over backward with rage.

He had seen fools before, but never a creature as foolish as this.

"By the laws of the court," he snapped, "a title is not divided, but family property may be split equally."

Song Han said "Oh," and then, stupidly: "So Father means to split the farm at Daxing equally between Elder Brother and me?"

Song Cen clutched at his chest and said nothing for a long while.

Song Yan watched coldly from the side, sitting there at his ease and drinking his tea.

Song Han sidled up like a puppy: "Elder Brother, is that tea very good? Let me have a taste too?"

"It is Father's tea," Song Yan said indifferently, and told the maid in attendance to brew a cup for Song Han as well. "If you like it, go ask Father for some."

Song Han happily said "Yes."

Song Cen muttered "Idiot" under his breath and rose to go to his study.

Song Yan pressed him for an answer: "The farm. What do you say? Or shall I simply give the order myself?"

Song Cen wondered privately.

His son was formidable enough, but where money was concerned he had never much cared. What had got into him today? Was he scheming something again?

Uneasy, he sat back down in the hall and said: "As for your farm at Daxing, the emperor said plainly at the time that it was your private property; the Ying Estate's farm belongs to the household jointly. Better not to confuse the two."

Song Yan pressed him relentlessly: "I remember Mother saying that when Grandfather died he divided off part of the household property and gave it to Father as his private portion. So the household property is not untouchable."

A foul breath churned in Song Cen's chest: "I'm not dead yet! Wait till I'm dead, and then you can embezzle the household property — there's no hurry!"

"I don't care for that word, Father," Song Yan said flatly. "How does 'embezzle' come into it, when it is my own family's property? So Father does like to pin labels on people. Last time I was 'unfilial'; this time I am 'embezzling.' So that is the sort of man I am in Father's eyes..."

He and Song Cen had been crossing swords, and Song Han was left to stand by, cooling his heels.

A servant came running in: "Lord Zhenguo, Heir Apparent, Second Master — the madam and the Jiang family's Twelfth Aunt have brought the Jiangs' young cousin to kowtow to you."

Song Cen started. "Which of the Jiang cousins has come to the capital?"

Song Yan said no more than: "You will know when you see her."

Song Cen frowned hard.

Song Han's face, though, had gone rather white.

Song Yan only smiled and said nothing, and went to the door to receive them.

Song Cen could hardly shove Song Yan aside and stalk off.

So he had to sit in the armchair and wait.

Soon Dou Yan and Jiang Ling were at the door, escorting Jiang Yan.

Seeing Jiang Yan look so frail she seemed about to collapse, Song Yan put out a hand to steady her and led her into the hall.

Song Cen, who had been about to drink his tea, was struck dumb at the sight; the cup clattered from his hand to the floor.

"Huisun," he said, staring straight at Jiang Yan, beads of sweat the size of peas starting out on his brow, "you. How did you come here? Aren't you dead?" he muttered, then leapt up and backed away, "The living and the dead are parted. You're a ghost, I'm a man — don't you try anything, mind you don't scatter your soul to the winds..."

Behind him stood the incense table of the central hall. There was nowhere left to retreat, and he crashed into it, sending the tea things and ritual vessels clattering across the floor.

Dou Yan and Song Ke exchanged a glance.

Song Cen and Madam Jiang were husband and wife. Even parted by life and death, was there any need for such terror?

Jiang Yan's lips had gone white.