"I brought so much stuff." He glanced at the various bundles piled on the table and said casually.
"The clothes are all very thick, and I also brought some books. And Dad's medicine." Qingchen was a little embarrassed. He had indeed been thinking about this pile of things. "...Actually, I may not be able to finish reading all these books, but I'll feel more at ease if I bring them."
He nodded. "Let's see what else we need, and I'll have someone go and buy it."
Qingchen shook his head, "I'll only stay for a few days. This is enough. I don't need anything else."
He looked around the room again, then said seriously, "I'm a man, so there might be some things I haven't considered. If you remember anything, just tell me."
Qingchen quickly realized that he was probably referring to women's items, and replied softly, "We really don't need any more."
"Then get ready, I'll take your father to his room, it's next door." With that, he went into the room and reached out to help the old man, who was sitting blankly on a round stool.
"Teacher, be careful. My dad is shy. Let me do it..." Qingchen said, quickly standing up, afraid that his father would lose control of his emotions and hurt someone again.
But as soon as she finished speaking, she noticed that her father had already been helped up by Song Yue and was about to walk towards the door. He was very obedient and did not struggle at all.
Song Yue's movements were also very gentle; she merely held his arm lightly and deliberately slowed her pace to accommodate him. While keeping an eye on Old Shen, he looked up at her and said, "Your father has already chosen me."
Qingchen was speechless, watching the two figures disappear into the distance, a sense of bewilderment creeping into her heart. She hadn't expected her usually timid father to be so compliant. Even with her, he sometimes wouldn't recognize her and would throw a tantrum, refusing to listen to her. Today, in a completely unfamiliar environment, facing someone he'd only met once, he was so calmly allowing himself to be taken away…
Before coming to the Song residence, she was worried that he would lose his composure and spoil the festive atmosphere of the New Year. Now it seems that her father probably knew she was visiting the Grand Secretary's residence, which was very helpful.
Thinking this, Qingchen smiled slightly and began packing her things.
She took out the book and placed it on the desk, arranging it in the order she planned to read it, followed by the paper, inkstone, and brush. As she placed the jade brush given to her by Song Yue on the brush holder, Qingchen glanced at a small scratch on the brush handle and was suddenly reminded of Xu Silin.
On a bitterly cold day, the man stood on the embankment, his expression ambiguous, his deep, dark eyes reflecting only the shimmering water. In a flash, he jumped in, recklessly indulging in his youth, ignoring everything else.
When he conjured the jade pen, he was shivering all over, but his face was full of pride, which would move anyone who saw him.
Today is New Year's Eve, I wonder what he's doing. There are so many people at the Xu residence, it must be very lively. As the eldest son, he's the center of attention, everyone's darling. He's probably immersed in the festive atmosphere right now.
Qingchen finished tidying up the books and hanging her clothes on the clothes rack. Just as she smoothed out the wrinkles, she heard her father's voice from next door.
The voice wasn't very loud, and it was muffled; I couldn't make out what was being said. Then, a moment later, it was Song Yue's voice again.
How can these two people still have a conversation?
Qingchen stopped what she was doing, listened carefully, but couldn't hear anything again. She shook her head speechlessly, thinking that she must be hallucinating, and continued tidying up.
After everything was tidied up, Qingchen walked out of the house to see her father, only to see Song Yue standing under the eaves, one hand gripping a pine branch, his fingertips playing with the snow on it.
He tugged at the branches, causing them to sway gently. Snowflakes fell softly, revealing the green needles beneath. Sunlight fell on the snow, and the snow's reflection shone on his face, making his flawless features glow softly.
Seeing her come out, he turned around and asked, "Are you all ready?"
"Hmm. Teacher is... playing in the snow?" Qingchen asked with a smile. "Isn't it cold?"
He withdrew his hand and rubbed the snow water between his fingertips. "Cold. But cold can make you clear-headed, and when you're clear-headed, your memories will be very vivid."
Qingchen was somewhat puzzled, "What does the teacher need to remember, and what is he afraid of forgetting?"
He didn't answer, but simply asked, "Your father is asleep. Would you like to take a walk? I'll give you a proper tour of my house."
"Okay!" Qingchen nodded. Song Yue then ordered someone to bring two cloaks and put them on her and himself.
She followed him down the corridor, where a winding cobblestone path led to the courtyard, flanked by snow-covered bamboo groves.
As they walked along the path, Qingchen asked, "Even though it's the New Year, Teacher, you must still be very busy, right? When I arrived just now, the person in charge said you were handling government affairs."
"I was looking at the New Year's greetings from all the officials," he said. "I just happened to see yours."
Qingchen was a little embarrassed. As a newly appointed official, this was her first time writing a congratulatory letter. "I didn't write it well, please forgive me, teacher." He was a Grand Secretary and the Minister of Rites. He must have seen and written countless eloquent congratulatory letters. But she had always focused on practical matters and hadn't spent much time finding words and phrases to embellish her congratulatory letters. Compared to others, they were definitely much inferior.
"Not bad. From your perspective, Grand Secretary," he said. "When I had you copy the 'Collection of Yuefu Poems,' it was also to help you improve your literary skills."
Qingchen was slightly taken aback.
He continued, “The late emperor cultivated Taoism and especially loved writing in the style of azure. Your Majesty, in order to inherit the throne, has also learned to write quite a bit since childhood. Although he no longer cultivates Taoism, he still enjoys writing with clouds and mist on paper. Therefore, improving in this area will benefit you.”
Unbeknownst to her, he had been thinking of her all along. He not only taught her knowledge and exposed her to the cruelty of officialdom, but also secretly gave her extra help so that she could please him.
"I will try my best and not let you down."
Song Yue didn't answer. After taking a few steps, he asked again, "Are the colors of the mattress and curtains acceptable?"
Qingchen was still wondering about this. Judging from his aesthetic sense in choosing incense holders and velvet cushions, this wasn't his style at all; it was simply... an overstatement.
“I looked at some picture books,” he added.
...I see. He learns what he doesn't know; truly a meticulous and perfectionist elder.
Just for his spirit, she should encourage him, saying, "The color is beautiful."
He paused for a moment, then suddenly said something completely out of the blue: "I just had a conversation with your father."
"I heard it, but I thought I misheard."
Qingchen, tucking her cloak in with one hand, asked with a mixture of worry and curiosity, "But Father can't speak properly, how can you talk to each other? Did he say something he shouldn't have, something impolite..."
“Nothing was impolite,” he said. “He said his piece, and I said mine. He was listening attentively when I was speaking.”
“Impossible, he can’t understand.” Qingchen said with certainty, then sighed, “He can’t understand anything I say. Sometimes he doesn’t even know who I am. For almost twenty years, he has drunk a lot of bitter medicine and endured a lot of acupuncture, but he has never been lucid for a single day. Before coming to the capital, several doctors who treated him had given up.”
"Really?" He turned to look at her. "Then I asked him something earlier, and he nodded. Does that count?"
Qingchen's eyes widened slightly. "What is it?"
He looked at her, and after a moment of silence, said, "About you."
The wind blew through the bamboo forest, and the snow fell down in a soft rustling sound.
The cobblestone path was a bit slippery, and Qingchen tripped and almost fell.
Song Yue quickly supported her shoulders and pulled her into his arms.
She linked arms with him, leaning against him as she breathed heavily. The scent of his body instantly filled her nostrils, and her toes, which had kicked the pebbles, still hurt a little.
"Are you alright?" He looked down at her, his eyes reflecting the snow, clear and gentle.
"It's alright." Qingchen shook her head and let go of his hand. "Luckily, the teacher was there... and stopped me."
He looked her over and asked, "Your gait seems a bit strange. Does your foot hurt?"
"I just kicked a pebble. It's cold, and I'm still a little chilly. I'll be fine in a bit."
"Let me carry you back."
She paused for a moment, then quickly said, "No, no. It'll be over in a minute. I'm not that delicate, I can walk."
She wouldn't even dare to dream of having a high-ranking official carry her. Besides, she could still walk; she wasn't in that situation at all. And in broad daylight, even though he was in the mansion, it wouldn't be appropriate.
"Are you sure you don't need to?" He asked again, looking down at her delicate black boots.
"Need not……"
Song Yue didn't insist any further, but simply slowed down, letting Qingchen walk at a leisurely pace.
The two walked through the courtyard and into the front hall, where the steward came to find them, saying that the Duke of Dingguo had sent New Year's gifts.
He nodded and instructed, "Prepare a return gift and send it over in the same manner as in previous years."
"Yes." The steward nodded and took out a handkerchief from his pocket. "The person who sent the gift said that the Duke of Dingguo instructed that, as in previous years, this handkerchief must be delivered to you."
Song Yue took the handkerchief, and the person in charge left.
Qingchen glanced at it and saw that the embroidery was of an unknown kind, a delicate pinkish-blue color, and the embroidery was very fine. She asked curiously, "Why would the Duke of Dingguo specifically send a handkerchief to my teacher?"
“It was embroidered by his daughter.”
"Oh—is that the legendary young lady from the Duke of Dingguo's mansion who waited for her teacher for eight years without marrying, and who would rather spend her life with a Buddhist lamp and a Buddhist temple if she couldn't wait for him?"
"Hmm." He folded the handkerchief a couple of times and put it into his sleeve.
Qingchen watched his actions and asked, "You send a handkerchief every year, how does the teacher handle it?"
“I’ve accepted it.” He said, blinking his eyelashes as he looked at her. “I returned it for the first two years, but the Duke of Dingguo sent it back. After being sent and returned twice, I had no choice but to accept it… I’m a junior, and it wouldn’t be right to be too disrespectful to him.”
"Hmm." Qingchen withdrew her gaze from his cuff and nodded.
"I'll take you back to your room to rest for a while, and I'll come back to call you later so we can have New Year's Eve dinner together," he said.
"good."
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