Xue Dongting sat before the brazier resting her chin in her hand, gazing into the blazing hot coals, her mind uneasy. She mulled things over for a long time, but Song Yuming had not yet returned. She was getting anxious and got up and went to the courtyard gates and peeped out. A dog was barking off an on in the pitch-black distance, making the village seem even more quiet.
She held her arms and looked for a long time, but there was no one. She turned back, disappointed. Then she heard footsteps. She turned around to see a dark figure tottering vaguely out there in the darkness. She rejoiced and called out, "Yuming?"
Song Yuming's mind was clouded with suspicions, but when he saw the woman in the doorway he suddenly didn't know what to say. This man who had mustered troops on the battlefield never imagined that one day in a place like this, in a humble home like this one, he would have a wife waiting for him eagerly to come home.
Song Yuming sighed gently and quickened his pace and came forward and took Xue Dongting's icy hand and rebuked her, "What are you doing standing out here like this!"
Xue Dongting hmphed. "You said you'd be back soon, but I waited half the night and you scold me!"
Song Yuming gazed into his wife's seductive eyes. Those eyes, clear as water, were filled with just one thing, wholehearted concern. His hardened heart melted. He took her into his arms and did not ask her anything. The suspicions that had clogged his heart in one fell swoop vanished like a wisp of smoke. At this moment there was just he and she, no jianghu, no imperial court, no hidden grudges.
The imperial palace, in the ceremonial hall. A woman sat up on high decked in resplendent, embroidered finery, but without a single air of bejeweled gaudiness. She sat noble as a celestial consort. In fact she was a consort, the emperor's most beloved Honored Consort Chen.
She held a book and was absorbed in reading it. The reigning Son of Heaven admired her look of concentration.
A young maiden sat next to her, mild-mannered and frail, suffused with an air of bookishness. One look and it was clear she was a well-bred lady.
Honored Consort Chen looked over at the meek girl beside her and asked, "Where's your white cat?"
"When your servant is before Your Grace, she wouldn't dare bring her cat."
Consort Chen smiled. She spoke slowly. "No matter, I quite like that white cat you carry around."
The chancellor's daughter, Yan Xifeng, smiled, her words refined. "If Your Grace is fond of it, your servant will bring him over another time for Your Grace to play with. To put a smile on Your Grace's face would be its great fortune."
Honored Consort Chen set her book aside and reached out and touched the girl's forehead, laughing. "Your tongue, girl, is just as sweet as can be!"
Yan Xifeng smiled. "Your servant is only speaking the truth."
"The other day when Chancellor Yan called on His Majesty, I happened to overhear that His Majesty wants to set Third Prince's marriage."
Yan Xifeng was silent, but the faintest trace of a bashful blush seeped up into her cheeks.
Consort Chen rubbed her temples, fatigue clear on her face.
Yan Xifeng stood and gracefully curtseyed. "Your servant has disturbed Your Grace for some time, your servant will take her leave."
Consort Chen nodded. "Alright. Come again when you have time."
Once Yan Xifeng was out of the hall, a palace maid quietly entered from a side door and silently knelt in the center of the hall.
Consort Chen gently kneaded her forehead and said languidly, "Seems there was a slip up."
Responding Your Grace, thirteen brave men went in the face of the death, but none returned to make a report."
Honored Consort Chen laughed. "I never imagined a little singsong girl could be so difficult to handle. Were your brave men all good-for-nothings?"
The palace maid lowered her head and dared not say a word.
The great hall was so silent one could hear a pin drop. After a while, Consort Chen rose. Her tone was even icier. "Send someone else. I can't believe a lowly singsong girl could demand so much time and energy!"