Chapter 425 — Naming

Jiang Yan was still a little afraid of Song Yan. Seeing him come in, she rose uneasily, murmured "Brother," and retreated to one side.

Song Yan sat down on the brocade stool beside the bed, took Dou Zhiwei's hand, and asked her, "Has the child been troubling you? Are you feeling any better?" Noticing that her hair was somewhat disheveled, he gently tucked a stray lock that had fallen by her cheek back behind her ear.

His eyes and his heart were wholly fixed on Dou Yan. Jiang Yan felt her face burn, and hurriedly rose to take her leave and return to Bishui Pavilion.

Compared with the lively warmth of the main courtyard of Yi Zhi Hall, Bishui Pavilion was silent, and seemed rather bleak.

Jiang Yan gazed at the great red lanterns hanging beneath the eaves, her eyes stinging.

She thought of the man who had welcomed her into his house with pipes and drums.

She had thought she would bear him children and live out her whole life with him in love and harmony.

But he had given her to He Hao.

Those humiliating scenes rose before her mind's eye once more.

She crouched on the ground and began to retch.

Yinghong was badly startled. She dropped down to support her, crying anxiously, "Cousin, what's the matter? Shall I fetch a doctor for you?"

Jiang Yan caught hold of Yinghong at once and said, "I'm fine. I must have taken a chill in the cold wind just now and upset my stomach. A cup of hot tea when I get back will set me right. The household has only just been blessed with a nephew—this is a happy time. There's no reason to disturb my brother and sister-in-law over something of mine and cast a pall on their joy!"

Yinghong found this reasonable, and could not help hesitating.

Jiang Yan had already drawn her arm and risen to her feet. Her face was white as snow, without the least trace of color.

Yinghong's heart was in her throat again.

Jiang Yan had already gone into the inner room.

She must not think of that man anymore!

She was a woman of tainted name, yet her brother had gone to such lengths to bring her back into the household, and had even turned against their father and a brother as close as flesh and blood for fifteen years on her account. Since her brother had instructed the household to address her as "Cousin," she ought to forget all that had gone before, count herself a widow who had lost her husband, and live happily alongside her brother and sister-in-law.

Jiang Yan drew a deep breath and lifted the curtain of the inner room.

※※※※※

Song Han lay prone on the bed, staring at the candlelight that flickered bright and dim by turns, his expression savage and distorted.

He had known since childhood that he was the second son and could never inherit the family estate. His brother's toil and effort were plain for all to see. He had never thought to endure the hardships his brother had endured, nor ever dreamed of contending for the title of heir to the Yingzhen Ducal House. All along, his wish had been to eat and drink under his brother's wings, a carefree and comfortable young gentleman of leisure.

But now even that had become a fond hope.

Song Yan meant to take back the property he had received from their mother.

The Lu family had joined in the clamor too, speaking up for Song Yan.

His father was displeased at heart, but since he was now living with Father in the Xixiang Courtyard, Father was afraid people might think the property registered under his name was being held in trust by Father. If he quarreled with Song Yan over a few thousand taels of silver, word would get about that he was miserly and petty. Song Sui, for his part, had no scruples, and wished he could beat him back into his true form with a single blow. When brave men meet on a narrow road, the bold prevail. Even if Father gritted his teeth and refused to yield for the moment, he would likely be unable to withstand Song Yan's endless schemes, and in the end would still agree to return the property he had inherited from their mother to Song Yan.

Without that income, clinging to Father as he did, how was he to get by?

Song Han felt that though he was now dressed in brocade and fed on fine fare, he would soon be like a beggar—no, worse off than a beggar. A beggar could go out and beg; but he was the second master of the illustrious Yingzhen Ducal House—could he go begging? And when those friends with whom he had been so close in ordinary times discovered he did not have a coin to his name, would they still uphold him and lift him up?

He pounded the bed viciously.

The Dou woman—she had actually borne a son!

If only it had been a daughter!

At least then he could still borrow the majesty of being second only to Song Zhi as heir, puff himself up, and perhaps scrape together some money to tide himself over this crisis.

What was he to do?

Song Yan would never let him off, and Father could not be relied upon. Where did his road lead now?

Song Han felt the night wind blowing on him, piercingly cold.

※※※※※

Dou Ming was in a foul mood as well.

She sat before her dressing table, gazing at the woman in the mirror—still beautiful as a flower, yet made all the more delicate and touching by a few extra traces of gloom between her brows—and her own brows drew tightly together.

Dou Yan had all the luck.

They had been pregnant at nearly the same time; her own child had been lost, while Dou Yan had safely delivered a firstborn son.

If Wei Wan got wind of it, she would surely aim another round of pointed barbs at her in front of her mother-in-law and husband.

But was that her fault?

If her child had been well and sound, she would be a mother now too, wouldn't she?

Her father had only two daughters in all his life. Though he had passed the imperial examination in both rounds, and those relatives and friends said nothing to his face, who behind his back did not call him a lonely old man with no heir? Now Dou Yan had borne a son, bringing honor to Father's face—Father must be overjoyed. Most likely he would bring out the treasures handed down by their forebears to coax his grandson.

Dou Ming's face went white. With a crack, she snapped a tooth off her ivory comb.

"Madam!" The little maid who attended her at close quarters was trembling from head to foot with fright.

Dou Ming flicked her a look of disgust.

Ever since the great quarrel between the Dou and Wei households, the Dous had seldom come to call; when there was business they merely sent a matron with a message, and no longer pressed her to visit. Wei Fan was secretly pleased, thinking he had her cornered at last. Little did he know that she had always had a passion for silks and gold. Her own purse was full, while her husband idled at home with nothing but a thousand shi of salary a year, and so there were always those eager to swear her their loyalty and do her bidding. When Wei Fan sought to use her miscarriage as a pretext—claiming that the maids and matrons about her had not tended her properly—and proposed to replace her whole household with hereditary servants of the Jining Marquis's estate, she at once bought in a batch of maids and matrons of her own, and his calculations came to nothing.

But the people she had bought were, after all, poorly bred, and awkward to put to use. She would still have to have Nanny Zhou find a way to train up a few steady-handed maids.

At this thought she asked the little maid, "Besides saying that the Fourth Young Mistress has borne a son, did the messenger say anything else?"

"Nothing else, madam." The girl's upper teeth chattered against her lower.

It was all her own fault—she had lost a wager to the elder maid who had entered the household before her, and so she had been sent to carry the news to madam.

What family's elder sister, having been delivered of a child, would not invite her younger sister to the third-day washing ceremony?

Madam had plainly been slighted by her own family and her own sister.