Chapter 418 — An Explanation

Song Han was helped aside, given a change of clothes, and taken to his study next door.

The study was quiet.

Wuyi was attending Song Yan as he practiced large-character calligraphy.

Song Han lifted his head, and out of the corner of his eye caught the full-length dressing mirror.

In the mirror he was neatly dressed, and apart from a slight pallor and a certain listlessness in his expression, he looked no different from usual.

Only now did he truly understand what "leave no trace" meant.

If he had died just now, would he not have looked exactly like a man who had drowned by accident?

Song Han's whole body went cold, his teeth chattering, yet still he flung himself at Song Yan. "Brother, brother, this wasn't your idea, was it? You only meant to frighten me a little, didn't you?" He burst into tears. "It's not that I didn't want to tell you—I was afraid. I was afraid that once you knew, you would hate Father even more... I was caught in the middle, torn both ways... I didn't do it on purpose... otherwise I never would have told you that Father and Mother had quarreled... There were several times I wanted to tell you, but you were either with Gu Yu or gone to the palace, and I never had the chance... so I could only pray you would find out sooner... I never thought you really would find out... and then I didn't know how to tell you..."

Song Yan seemed not to hear him. He did not even raise his head, letting him pour out his grievance, and finished the last stroke with care. After studying it a while, he set down the brush, took the handkerchief Wuyi handed him and wiped his hands, then looked up and said with a smile, "So you've come! Sit down and let's talk."

It was as though the torture just now had been a dream.

Song Han could not stop trembling.

He had seen Song Yan like this before—politely and distantly making small talk with people he did not care about in the least. But he had never imagined that one day he himself would become one of those people Song Yan did not care about in the least.

Or perhaps he had imagined it.

He had imagined it when Jiang Yan was first brought back.

But when he saw that Song Yan did not pursue the matter, he had deceived himself and simply stopped thinking in that direction.

Song Han stood frozen before the desk.

Lu Ming respectfully seated him in an armchair some distance from Song Ke, his face utterly devoid of the coldness and savagery with which he had interrogated him moments before, like some humble servant.

Hypocrisy!

Utter hypocrisy!

The whole lot of them, a pack of hypocrites!

Song Han stared at his face. It felt as though a fire were burning in his chest, about to burst out.

But he did not dare.

The agony of suffocation still lingered vividly in his senses.

The man before him was outwardly courteous, mild and amiable, yet at heart cold and ruthless, his methods vicious—no longer the brother who had doted on him.

He sat there, his legs gone weak.

Wuyi offered him a cup of hot tea.

He murmured his thanks, and was answered only by a cold, contemptuous curl of Song Yan's lips.

He thought of the old days. What a personage the Second Master of the Yingzhenguo Estate had been! Never mind thanking a servant—if he so much as smiled in satisfaction at those who waited on him, the serving women would be overwhelmed with flattery, feeling it an honor beyond measure. And Song Han had understood this from childhood, proud as a peacock, seldom deigning to thank anyone.

But now, stripped of the identity of Second Master of the Yingzhenguo Estate, he was nothing but a lowly common man.

The sight of him made Song Yan sick to his stomach.

How had he ever been so blinded by grease, to misjudge his father? And to misjudge him as well?

Song Yan sneered. "I never thought our Second Master Song would see the day he bowed his head. Had you known this day would come, why did you do as you did? Even if you are Li Yaoniang's son, you were nothing but an infant in swaddling then—what had the mistakes of your elders to do with you? Not to mention that the blood of the Song family flows in your veins as well; even if Father had brought you in from outside merely to spite Mother, since you have been my brother for over ten years, I would still have treated you as a brother of my own blood. Who would have thought you would not treasure such a bond, and insist on being cast down into the dust before you realized how free and easy, how noble and honorable, the old days were."

His voice was like spring water in a mountain ravine—clear and bright, yet tinged with a certain coldness.

Song Han hung his head. His face flushed red and paled by turns.

If he had told the truth from the start, would Song Yan truly still have treated him as a brother?

He did not believe it for a moment, and yet the fortress walls around his heart loosened ever so slightly, against his will.

Song Yan did not want to speak of it again.

It would only show him once more how foolish he had been!

He cast all the past from his mind and asked Song Han once more, "When Father and Mother quarreled, what did they say?"

Song Han raised his head and looked earnestly at Song Yan. "I really don't know. I know you don't believe me, but I truly don't know—I couldn't very well make something up to fool you, could I?

"In those days Mother was in poor health, always listless, and you were in Liaodong. I was frantic with worry. Apart from tending to Mother's medicine every day, I would read the Lotus Sutra before the Bodhisattva to pray for her blessing.

"Mother was pleased, and praised me in front of Father for being filial and sensible.

"I was proud of myself and wanted to show off before Father, so I insisted on brewing Mother's medicine myself. Mother would not allow it, afraid I would be scalded. But Father said I had grown up and learned to care for others, that it was a good thing, and told Zhujun to accompany me while I brewed the medicine.

"But one day, Xiaobao, the cat Mother kept, kept meowing and circling around me, and I knocked over the medicine bowl.

"Zhujun and the others laughed and comforted me, saying it was no matter, and hurriedly fetched another dose and set it to brew over the stove.

"I was so furious I poured the rest of the medicine down Little Treasure's throat.

"After he drank it, he couldn't get up again.

"I was scared half to death.

"Xingfang said I had recklessly dosed Little Treasure.

"I was afraid Mother would blame me. I thought that since she'd been laid up in bed all these days, she had no time to fuss over Little Treasure and Big Treasure, so I begged Xingfang to help me hide Little Treasure. I meant to go find Fifth Uncle and have him think of a way to get me a cat exactly like Little Treasure.

"Xingfang agreed.

"But I was nervous the whole time, terrified Mother would notice Little Treasure was gone.

"So I went to find Xingfang.

"And I saw Xingfang secretly burying the dregs of the medicine Mother had taken.

"That struck me as strange right then. Even if the dregs were to be buried, it should have been Qingli and Zhujun doing it. Why was Xingfang burying them?

"So every day I secretly grabbed a handful of the dregs from Mother's medicine and sprinkled them into the flowerpot of that dark chrysanthemum in her room.

"Before long, the dark chrysanthemum died.

"I ran to tell Father.

"But Father was with Mother under the side corridor, admiring the chrysanthemums.

"I was afraid of hurting Mother's feelings, so I didn't dare tell her. I thought I'd tell Father quietly later.

"But Mother kept holding my hand and asking whether I was cold, and I was afraid I'd let something slip, so I ran off to help Matron Xie make osmanthus cakes.

"You know the rest.