Chapter 145 Pride Abounds (Part 7) A thought arose, but he dared not look at her. ...
As soon as the door opened, Xinghui turned around at the sound, put down the tassel in her hand, and walked over from the stone stool: "Miss, are you hungry? What would you like to eat? I'll go to the kitchen to tell you."
"Wait, I need to go out for a bit."
"It's getting dark... Young lady, you always choose to go out at this time. Anyone who didn't know better would think you were up to some kind of murder or robbery..." As she finished speaking, Xing Hui's voice grew weaker.
Zhi Rou laughed in surprise: "Then you can come with me, and we can go out together."
A few swallows flew overhead, and she walked straight outside, saying as she went, "Where is Sister Jingyao?"
“Just now, someone from the front yard called out, saying that someone was looking for her. She left in a hurry after hearing that, and I didn’t have time to ask her anything.”
A casual remark caused Zhi Rou to stop in her tracks, frown and remain silent for a moment, before seemingly casually lifting her leg again without saying anything else.
Xinghui, unsure whether the Fourth Miss truly intended to take her along or was merely joking, inquired from the side, "Miss, where are we going?"
"Going to see a friend."
The carriage traveled along the banks of the Yunliu River and turned into Chunxiao Street.
Zhi Rou got out of the carriage, and Xing Hui followed closely behind. Looking up, she saw the words "Feng Residence" written on the plaque above the door. She then remembered that yesterday, under the eaves, the Fourth Miss had called out to someone from behind, who was none other than "Young Master Feng".
Zhi Rou rarely arrived. When the old servant answered the door and saw her, he was stunned for a moment before leading her into the house and going to the back to announce her arrival.
The sky was stained with ink, and only a few candles burned in the hall. All sounds were silent.
Xinghui looked around at the simple decor and asked curiously, "Miss, who is this Young Master Feng? Did he used to attend our family school?"
"He had left the capital to avoid illness before returning. I can't say for sure what kind of person he is."
"Then you should come and find him..."
Zhi Rou adjusted her sleeves and glanced sideways at the outside of the hall: "I have some questions to ask."
After a short while, the old servant came again and led Zhirou to the library alone.
"Please, young lady. This old servant will take his leave now." After he finished speaking, he turned the lamp handle slightly and handed it to her.
Zhi Rou returned his greeting, watched as the figure disappeared out of the cave, then turned back and climbed the steps.
Inside the pitch-black attic, a sliver of light shone down from the third floor, flickering on and off.
Zhi Rou walked very lightly, carrying a lamp, her steps making a faint creaking sound as she went.
Before long, the two halos of light converged, and Su Du stood by the window, not wearing a crown, his hair only tied up with a plain ribbon.
Zhi Rou placed the lantern at the top of the stairs. Before she even got close, she heard his cold voice: "What is the purpose of bringing people here tonight?"
"Don't worry, no one is following me."
"Doesn't the one in the front hall count?"
Upon hearing this, Zhi Rou raised her eyebrows in displeasure: "She is not anyone's informant."
"What about Jing Yao? Will she think of me as Su Du or Feng Shi?"
Although his voice was emotionless and not at all angry, Zhi Rou's breathing gradually quickened after he asked her three questions in a row. She stopped and asked, "General Su Du, am I your prisoner?"
After saying that, she paused, her arrogance subsiding, and said, "I didn't come here today to talk about these things."
He walked to the low table and sat down, his robes drawn up.
Su Du slowly clenched his fists behind his back and stepped out from under the lamplight.
Having long since left the aristocratic life, he had given up the habit of burning incense, yet a faint fragrance lingered on his sleeves as he approached. Zhi Rou slightly raised her eyes and looked at him for a while.
After he sat down, she asked, "You said that Song Lang was responsible for the curfew during the Dragon Boat Festival. Why?"
Su kept his eyes down, his back straight, and remained silent for a long time.
Zhi Rou couldn't tell if he was ashamed or something else, and she became somewhat impatient with his hesitant reaction.
“No matter what your previous plans were, you have seen that Song Lang has set his sights on the Song family. There is no point in you continuing to hide it from me.”
Besides, his reminder yesterday was because he didn't want her to be caught off guard.
There was only a lone lamp and a lantern around, and Su Du's face was mostly covered by the thick shadows. Recalling this matter, he slowly tightened his grip.
When Shang was still living in Qinyang, Zhi Rou told him that the person chasing her might be Song Lang, and he began to test him.
He had not picked up a pen for a long time. Although his calligraphy was taught by his father, it was not something that could be mastered in a day. Fortunately, he had been wielding weapons for many years and had developed strong hand strength. He also had his childhood notebooks with him, in which his father had once commented. He extracted a few words and kept copying them.
Knowing that Rou's injuries had not yet healed and that she was staying at the inn, he sent someone ahead to return to the capital and deliver the first letter to Song Lang. His men were stationed outside Zizhang Street, and only a short while after the letter was sent out, Song Lang had already ordered someone to investigate.
The next day, the Song family's carriage passed through Jiangxing Street and stopped for a short while.
The third house on the east side was the former residence of the Chang family.
When Su Du heard about this, his suspicions grew even stronger.
At that time, he had already arrived in the capital with Zhi Rou and her party, and then sent a letter to arrange a meeting at the peach grove outside Song Langcheng.
"...Song Lang did not appear. By the Dragon Boat Festival, a commotion had broken out in the capital."
The night outside the window was heavy, shrouded in gloom.
The light and shadow in the room cast the two people's shadows onto the bookshelf.
Now that things have come to this, is he still practicing calligraphy?
After a moment, Zhi Rou's thoughts returned, and she smiled wryly: "You told me to stay put, but you went and stirred up trouble yourself."
He never actually said he was afraid she would alert the enemy.
Su Duping replied in a flat voice, "I don't have that much time to wait."
Where else are you going?
As soon as he finished speaking, his gaze froze, and after a short while, he shook his head.
Aside from his writing implements, there was a plate piled high with peaches on the low table, which must have been the batch he had given to his mother.
Zhi Rou casually picked one, unsheathed her short knife, and lightly sliced the peach flesh a few times, the fragrance wafting between her fingers.
Su watched her knife movements with a relaxed and leisurely air.
After sheathing the knife, she said solemnly, "Song Lang was meritorious in the treason case back then, and now he is targeting me. It is highly likely that the traitor by Father's side is him."
Combined with the replacement of all the post station staff, Zhi Rou continued, "In the sixth year of Shuo De, he held a minor official position, yet he did not seem to be someone with such means and power. Therefore, behind this case, it is not just Song Lang."
Upon hearing the word "father," Su Du's mind was in turmoil.
His gaze intently traced her features, meeting her clear eyes, before hesitantly opening his mouth: "So now you... believe in the path I hold?"
Zhi Rou paused for a moment, then realized something. She unconsciously shifted her knees, sat back a few feet, and then awkwardly stroked a scabbard.
"...Regardless of the truth, he is indeed my father." After a long silence, she finally responded with this word.
Su Du's brows furrowed slightly.
"Does Mother know what you're doing?"
Zhi Rou pursed her lips, raised her eyelashes, and asked, "Does Mother know what you're doing?"
He remained silent.
In the tranquility of the night, nestled in a corner of the attic, surrounded by books, loneliness is inevitable.
Zhi Rou leaned over and pushed open the window. Finding the view cramped, she simply opened both doors, letting the night flood into the building.
Su Duxun turned her head and looked up.
He was gazing at the moon, while Zhirou admired the falling flowers in the courtyard, vaguely recalling the "snow scene" of Jiangnan.
"What are your plans next?" he suddenly asked.
"Aunt He said that the man under my father's command has night blindness and has difficulty seeing in the dark. I request an examination."
"There's no need to go; Song Lang can't see clearly."
Zhi Rou was slightly taken aback: "Really?"
Why would I deceive you?
Su picked up the cold tea from the table and brought it to her lips.
His statement saved Zhi Rou a lot of hard work.
It felt as if a layer had been lifted from her shoulders; Zhi Rou's happiness came suddenly, and she chose to accept it with a smile.
He braced his numb legs, stood up from the cushion, and stomped his feet twice.
The way she occasionally showed herself in front of Su Du made him feel a distinct difference from him.
He lived a simple life, had no particular preferences for food, and his thoughts were simple. Ironically, his sister made him seem even more plain.
“It’s getting late, so I won’t bother Mr. Feng any longer. Please give him my regards. As for the matter of Song Lang,” Zhi Rou glanced at him and said, “can you be honest with me?”
The evening breeze drifted into the room, and the pages of the book rustled softly.
"Okay," he replied softly.
Zhi Rou smiled slightly, took a few steps to the top of the stairs, picked up the lantern, and the flames danced on her dress. She turned to the side, her eyes seemingly holding the stars and moon.
"The peaches you gave to your mother are quite delicious."
Su Du was about to straighten up when he heard her say, "Second Young Master, please wait."
She went downstairs by lamplight.
The pavilion returned to its former tranquility.
Su lowered her eyes to look at the peach pieces on the table that she had divided up but had not touched, and clenched her fingers tightly.
Footsteps sounded softly outside the window. The person inside looked down, then pulled out a peach petal from their sleeve and put it in their mouth.
Three days later.
Wei Yuanzhan had returned to Changfeng Camp, where he spent his days training troops and handling various affairs. As dusk fell, a sudden gust of wind swept into the tent, causing his clothes to flutter loudly.
Lan Ye stepped forward and reported, "Master, Madam has sent someone here again to ask you to return."
Wei Yuanzhan stayed in the camp for two days to avoid his mother's overly meticulous questioning. He threw down his pen, not even raising his eyes, and asked, "How will you answer?"
I said you weren't here.
He smiled, lifting his eyelids: "They're gone."
Lan Ye said, "Yes, but there's no guarantee they won't come again tomorrow."
How could Wei Yuanzhan not know? But when he returned home, his mother's care made him feel suffocated, and he was unwilling to give up his private affairs to others, so he preferred to have a couple of days of peace and quiet.
"What’s wrong with you."
His gaze swept across Lan Ye's face, and he suddenly asked.
These past few days, back in the camp, although I haven't deliberately observed Lan Ye, I can sense that he seems a bit depressed.
Lan Ye was slightly taken aback upon hearing this, then looked at his boots and scratched his head: "No..."
Remembering that Changhuai had once said he liked fine clothes, Wei Yuanzhan suddenly blurted out, "Would you like to go to the market and pick out a few clothes?"
Lan Ye looked up in confusion: "What?"
The two suddenly locked eyes, and all their previous clarity vanished instantly. Wei Yuanzhan clenched his fists, turned his face away, and said, "There's something I need you to do."
This was the most inspiring thing Lan Ye had heard recently.
He took several steps forward, almost touching Wei Yuanzhan's clothes: "What are your orders, Master?"
A torrential rainstorm hit the capital.
The rain was pouring down, pattering against the green tiles on the eaves.
Seven days after the Dragon Boat Festival incident, the assassin who attempted to kill the Crown Prince was captured at the western theater of the city. The Emperor ordered the Embroidered Uniform Guard to thoroughly investigate his associates, and anyone involved in the treasonous plot would be severely punished.
Song Lang sat in his study, illuminated by bright candlelight.
He suddenly felt a light flash before his eyes, something that made his heart pound.
After those two unsigned letters, the other party made no further moves.
Even now, he cannot be entirely certain that the two letters were written by Song Zhirou.
Chang Yu's calligraphy is difficult to write. How did she, a girl not even twenty years old, learn Chang Yu's calligraphy style from?
At that time, he was an unknown scholar from a poor family, relying on his father's teaching at a village school to make a living. Whenever there was odd job available, he would gladly accept it, just to earn money to go north and wait for the imperial examinations.
At first, he thought he was exceptionally talented and that passing the imperial examinations would be a piece of cake. When the results of the spring examinations were announced, he was among them and was very pleased with himself. However, his ranking in the palace examination was quite low, and he was only given a local assistant position.
At that time, the direct descendants of the Song family had regained the emperor's favor. Although their fortunes were slightly inferior to those during the reign of the late emperor, they were still far superior to the Song family of Changxi.
In order to ensure his career advancement, he paid a visit to his direct cousin, Madam Song, Cui Yunhuai, that year.
Given Cui's background, he naturally wouldn't utter any harsh words, but he clearly understood that she was telling him to respect his status.
With the roads to the capital blocked, he had no choice but to go to Yunchuan, where he was somewhat dejected. During his journey, he happened to meet Han Rui, a fellow townsman who was then serving as a commander.
A blocked road is not necessarily a sign of being trapped.
I had assumed that General Chang, who came from a prestigious family, would be like Song Congzhao, but I never expected that he would be so cheerful and straightforward. The longer I spent with him, the more I admired him.
After Song Lang resigned from his official post in Yunchuan, he followed Chang Yu. Because of his many brilliant strategies, he was highly valued by Chang Yu, and the soldiers in the army called him "Young Strategist".
Several years passed like this, but the Battle of Saichuan did not go smoothly.
The army was running out of food and weapons and had not received any reinforcements for a long time. Meanwhile, rumors were being spread in the court that Chang Yu was secretly communicating with Bei Li and had rebellious intentions.
When Song Lang was about to go to the main tent to discuss countermeasures with the general, a nobleman suddenly approached him.
Inside the tent, a candle as thick as an arm was lit, and the flame flickered violently in the strong night wind.
Through the screen, the flickering lamplight cast a chaotic shadow on Song Lang's face, and he hesitated before stepping forward. After a moment, a person dressed in silk robes emerged from behind the screen.
Before they could even see the person's face clearly, they heard a slightly soft voice: "Is Lord Song well?"
The rich aroma of sandalwood wafted to his nose. Song Lang's eyes showed something unusual, but his expression remained calm. He returned the greeting and said, "I dare not accept the title of 'Sir'."
The man sized him up for a moment, and seeing that he was neither humble nor arrogant, he smiled and said, "I won't beat around the bush with Lord Song. I've come here tonight because Her Highness has something she wishes to ask of Lord Song."
As they spoke, a token came into view.
Although the words did not explicitly state it, how many people today can truly be called "Empress"?
Song Lang withdrew his gaze, then cupped his hands and said, "This humble official is terrified. I do not know what Your Majesty's instructions are. This humble official will do his best to carry them out."
The eunuch stood by the desk for a while, and Song Lang followed him, handing him a plain note.
"I have heard that Lord Song often writes on behalf of the general, and the characters he writes are so lifelike that they are almost indistinguishable from the general's."
Song Lang, already puzzled, glanced at the contents of the note with the firelight and his face paled in horror: "Absolutely not!"
Realizing his loss of composure, he quickly composed himself, lowered his eyes again, and spoke with a much colder tone than before, "Please return, Your Excellency. I will pretend that nothing happened tonight."
Seeing his ungratefulness, the old eunuch was not angry. He still smiled as he spoke: "Lord Song came to the capital alone, without any support. It is only natural that his career path is difficult. Having come this far, he must have some sentiments and attachments. It is only human nature to not give them up."
He approached him, his face in the light resembling a glorious puppet. "But I might as well remind Lord Song that the borderlands are not the same as the capital. To put it bluntly, he is just a handy blade in His Majesty's hand, sharp and wieldable, but far less likely to win the Emperor's favor than a civil official."
Song Lang clenched his fists slightly, and the words in his ear were like the faint tongue of a snake.
"For Lord Song, Changyu may be a reliable and dependable tree. But... once this tree falls, it will be too late for Lord Song to pursue his future. I have said all I have to say. Lord Song is a wise man and knows how to make the right choice."
After speaking, he tucked his sleeves and stepped back, not picking up the plain paper on the table. His clothes slid across the table and he left through the tent.
The mountain wind blew straight in through the gaps, and Song Lang felt a chill run down his spine.
"Master, the meal is ready." A soft voice called from outside the study, pulling him back to reality from his past.
Song Lang responded loudly, then sat down, his gaze lingering for a moment on the hidden compartment of the antique shelf.
He was used to keeping records of everything, and he always needed to have something in his possession to protect himself before he could feel at ease.
The following day at noon.
After Wei Yuanzhan finished training, he led his horse back from the riverbank.
Yueying looked radiant. When the soldiers stepped forward to help Wei Yuanzhan take off his horse, it shook its mane, as if it didn't want to be touched.
Wei Yuanzhan smiled, reached out and gently patted it, then turned to the soldier and said, "No need for that, I'll do it."
As he approached the stable, the soldiers saw him pass by and bowed, saying, "Greetings, Commander."
He gave a slight reply, waited until Yueying was settled, and then returned to his tent to change his clothes.
After finishing his morning exercise, with little military business in the camp, he suddenly had the thought of returning to the city.
As she loosened her belt, she unconsciously called out to Lan Ye, but no one answered.
Wei Yuanzhan paused slightly, glanced around, and then remembered that he wouldn't be able to see Lan Ye during the day for two days.
Since he was ordered to inquire about any changes in the Sun family's situation around the seventh year of Shuo De, he had been returning home every evening. It seemed that after Chang Huai left, Lan Ye became even more diligent.
A smile played on his lips as he put on his inner garment, then his outer robe, and as he fastened his belt, those faded thoughts became clear again, and the scene of sleeping with Zhi Rou began to replay in his mind.
That was his bed. After he kissed her, her hand was still on his body, her gaze too bright. He knew she was seriously thinking about something, or maybe not thinking about anything at all, but he inexplicably felt a kind of teasing.
Once the thought crossed his mind, he dared not have any further contact with her. He lay back properly, his eyes fixed on the top of the tent.
The night was quiet, and the person beside him was also quiet for a while. However, not long after, she leaned over and gently touched him, lingering on his palm and forearm.
The sweltering summer wind swept into the tent, scorching Wei Yuanzhan's neck. He snapped out of his reverie, his ears gradually growing hot.
He quickly straightened his clothes and composed himself, then lifted the curtain and went outside.
In the afternoon, Lan Ye returned to camp and reported his findings to Wei Yuanzhan. He then saw Wei Yuanzhan go to the stable, fetch a horse, and gallop out of the camp gate.
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