Chapter 9
Song Ning raised his hand and, going by feel, knocked on Song Youyi's little head once more.
"No talking nonsense at the frontier either," he cautioned her. "Don't go saying bad things about your eldest sister behind her back—show her more respect."
Song Youyi pulled her head back and hugged his arm, grumbling:
"I know, I know."
"Actually, Elder Sister has a very broad heart." The words floated out lightly, as though said in passing.
Yet the expression on her face as she said it was something else entirely—the corner of her mouth curved ever so slightly, something hidden deep within her eyes.
She was only saying it for fun anyway. If she were truly going to marry Elder Sister, she wouldn't be saying any of this.
Song Ning couldn't detect any hidden meaning in it. He simply nodded, feeling that his little sister was becoming more and more sensible.
Xia Ling, standing to the side, watched Song Youyi's expression and understood everything perfectly.
She said nothing, only lowered her head a little and learned to be mute, just like Xia Shuang.
The 3 of them passed through the Decorated Gate and walked out to the front entrance of the Song Family Estate.
A carriage stood quietly at the gate.
It was an exceptionally fine carriage.
The body was crafted from superior nanmu wood, the lacquer glossy and dark, gleaming with a warm luster in the morning light.
The compartment was rather small. Windows carved with floral patterns flanked both sides, yet the curtains were unusually thick—completely blocking any view of the interior, making one wonder whether those seated inside could see any light at all.
The manes of the 2 horses pulling the carriage had been combed perfectly smooth. They stood alertly in place, occasionally snorting.
The Song family's head housekeeper stood beside the carriage—a woman of around 40, dressed in an indigo blue skirt, her features composed, her brows and eyes radiating capable efficiency.
Seeing Song Ning's party emerge, she smiled and stepped forward, bowing:
"Second Miss, everything has been arranged. The carriage has been prepared according to your instructions, the gifts have been loaded onto the rear cart, and the gift list is here—would you like to review it?"
She held out a red card with both hands.
Song Youyi took the card, glanced over it, and said with a faint smile, "You've worked hard."
The housekeeper smiled and stepped aside.
Were this a formal marriage, Song Ning would have been carried in a sedan chair. But this was merely a return letter visit—no need for such formality. It was enough simply not to show his face.
Song Youyi released Song Ning's arm, and in front of others, instantly became a different person.
She stood perfectly straight, a shallow smile resting at the corners of her mouth, her brows and eyes gentle, paired with that slightly pale yet beautiful face—she looked delicately fragile, like something easily broken, every inch the image of a cultured and well-bred young lady.
She exchanged a few words with the housekeeper, then turned to look at Xia Ling and Xia Shuang.
"Today, for the return letter visit, I'll be going with Elder Brother." Her voice was warm and soft. "The 2 of you needn't come along."
"I'll be here to look after him."
Xia Ling opened her mouth, her beautiful eyes blinking, momentarily at a loss for words.
Xia Shuang frowned slightly.
"No," she said, her voice halting, gripping the sword in her arms tightly, her cool pretty face utterly serious.
"You don't know...martial arts. It's not safe."
Song Youyi looked at her, expressionless.
"What martial arts?" Her tone was flat. "I've brought so many people—is that still not enough? This is the Capital, under the Emperor's very feet. We're going to the Minister of War's home."
"Do you think anyone would dare cause trouble?"
Xia Shuang said nothing this time, only shook her head persistently, her blue skirt swaying with the motion, her beautiful eyes stubbornly fixed on Song Youyi.
Song Ning, listening from the side, tugged at Song Youyi's sleeve.
"Just let them come along," he said. "What are you going to look after? I've already grown accustomed to having both of them nearby—there's no harm in bringing them along."
A frail little sister looking after a blind elder brother—somehow it seemed a rather odd arrangement either way.
Hearing her brother say so, the tension in Song Youyi's expression eased, and her voice softened again:
"Whatever Elder Brother says."
She guided Song Ning toward the carriage. Song Ning paused and called back:
"You two, come up."
Song Youyi's footsteps faltered slightly.
She glanced up at the carriage compartment—not very large, exactly as she had instructed.
She had been looking forward to a private world with just her brother. Now 2 more people were squeezing in.
"4 people is too cramped," she reasoned. "I didn't arrange for that much space."
Xia Shuang had already volunteered, turning to Song Ning:
"I'll ride alongside. On horseback."
Since she could protect Song Ning that way, it made no difference to her what she rode in—no need to squeeze into such a small compartment.
After receiving Song Ning's nod of approval, she turned and walked away, her bearing nimble and swift, vanishing from sight in just a few strides.
Xia Ling remained standing in place, hesitated a moment, then climbed into the carriage after all.
The curtain lifted and fell, sealing out the light from outside.
The compartment was considerably darker than outdoors—only the faintest light allowed one to make out another person's face.
The corner of Song Youyi's mouth curved upward ever so slightly. This had been her doing—she had specifically chosen such thick curtains to shut out the light.
Song Ning, of course, could not see any of this. Whether the compartment was bright or dim made no difference to him whatsoever.
Song Youyi helped Song Ning to the seat of honor and settled herself right beside him.
Xia Ling shrank into a corner, making herself as small as possible.
"Elder Brother, your 2 attendants really are well-behaved," Song Youyi remarked, her tone carrying neither warmth nor coldness.
She flicked a glance toward Xia Ling in the corner—a look so flat and cool it sent a chill down Xia Ling's spine.
"What do you mean, well-behaved or not," Song Ning replied with a smile. "I think of them as little sisters. Both of them are my little sisters."
He meant it sincerely.
Xia Ling and Xia Shuang had been at his side since childhood—it was he who had taught them to read and write, and he had put great effort into Xia Shuang's throat condition. He had always regarded them as sisters. The other attendants in the household envied them greatly; the 2 sisters wanted for nothing in terms of clothing, food, and lodging, living alongside Song Ning—almost like half-mistresses of the estate.
Hearing this, Song Youyi's expression immediately fell.
In the place Song Ning could not see, her face went ice-cold, her lips pressed into a tight line, wearing a look that could curdle one's blood. Especially in this dim, shadowed space—it was enough to make one's heart run cold.
Xia Ling stole a single glance, then dared not look again.
She lowered her head, staring at her own feet, wishing she could shrink into the corner and simply disappear.
Xia Shuang, oh Xia Shuang—you might as well have taken me with you on horseback. What on earth am I doing sitting in here?!
The carriage swayed gently and began to roll forward.
Wheels rumbled, copper bells jingled.
Inside the compartment, Song Ning and Song Youyi sat side by side.
Both were dressed in white.
Song Ning wore a moon-white long robe; Song Youyi, a plain white skirt ensemble with a thin white cape draped over it.
The 2 siblings seated together—one refined and elegant, the other fragile and wan—truly looked like immortals who had stepped out of a painting.
Xia Ling huddled in her corner, quietly watching the 2 of them pressed close together.
The scene, for some reason, brought back memories from many years ago.
It had been just like this—a small compartment, a small her shrunken into a corner, watching the Young Master sit alongside that little girl.
Only back then, that little girl would still skewer her with sharp looks.
And now?
Now those looks were no longer mere skewers.
Xia Ling couldn't quite name what they were now. Only that they felt far more frightening.
The curtains blocked out most of the light, letting in only a few thin threads through the gaps—falling across the floorboards, across the seats, across the 2 figures.
Song Ning could not see any of it. He simply sat upright and began to go over matters:
"Were all the gifts properly prepared this time? Even though we are old family friends, we cannot be lax with the proprieties."
Song Youyi sat pressed against his side, and at his words gave a soft hum of acknowledgment.
"All of it. Don't worry, Elder Brother."
As she spoke, she leaned her body slightly toward him.
Closer now.
Song Ning continued his reminders; she responded to each one, her voice gentle and obedient.
But her movements bore no resemblance whatsoever to that obedient voice.
She edged closer, little by little.
Until she was almost touching him.
Then she held her breath.
Her movements were light, slow—as though afraid of startling something.
She tilted her head slightly to the side, bringing her face level with the side of Song Ning's, extremely close—close enough to see the precise arc of his lashes.
Her nose nearly grazed his ear, yet she did not make a single sound. The motion was practiced, as though she had rehearsed it deliberately many times.
Song Ning noticed nothing, still speaking about matters of propriety.
Something stirred in Song Youyi's eyes.
That was not the gaze of a sister looking at her brother.
Xia Ling saw it.
Huddled in her corner, she watched Song Youyi's pale, sickly little face—watched the expression that surfaced in those eyes. Obsessive. Covetous. As though she meant to swallow him whole.
That look sent a chill crawling up her spine.
Then Song Youyi's gaze swept over to her.
Cold. Flat.
She raised her hand and crooked a finger at Xia Ling.
Xia Ling's heart lurched, and she immediately understood.
She was too perceptive—perceptive enough to read this Second Miss's meaning at a single glance.
She dared not hesitate. She crept silently forward.
Song Youyi looked at her, lips moving.
No sound—only the shape of words:
You had better behave yourself.
If I find out you've said a word...
Her gaze drifted downward, settling on Xia Ling's ears.
Block your ears.
The color drained from Xia Ling's face.
She opened her mouth, wanting to say something, but met those eyes and found nothing would come out.
Just then, Song Youyi produced a ribbon from somewhere.
It was a moon-white silk ribbon—thin, soft, the same shade as her clothing.
Xia Ling took the ribbon, her hands trembling slightly.
She dared not refuse. Within the Song Family Estate, the only ones whose word carried more weight than this Second Miss were Song Ning's mother and the First Miss.
She was nothing but a lowly personal attendant—what could she say? So long as the other party did nothing to harm Song Ning, everything else was none of her business; she had neither the standing nor the right to interfere. As was the case now.
Moreover, anyone with eyes could see exactly what the Second Miss of this household had in mind.
Only Song Ning was blind and could not see it.
She wordlessly pressed the ribbon over her eyes. Whiteness swam before her.
Then she turned herself around to face the compartment wall.
Her back to those 2 people.
She dared not turn around.
Song Ning's voice drifted to her ears—muffled and indistinct—still going over something or other.
Then Song Youyi's replies, soft and obedient.
Xia Ling plugged her ears as well.
Yet she still caught fragments of sound, faint and indistinct.
The rustle of fabric.
Very soft. Very faint.
"Keep talking, Elder Brother," Song Youyi's voice carried over, no different from usual. "I'm listening to every word."
Song Ning, suspecting nothing, continued speaking—about proprieties, or perhaps some amusing anecdote or other.
Song Youyi responded as she listened, slowly raising one foot.
Her movements were light, graceful.
First one foot—her embroidered slipper slipped off quietly, revealing the white silk stocking beneath.
She set the slipper aside, then the other.
Both slippers placed neatly side by side, perfectly aligned.
She straightened up, fingers moving to her waist.
A gentle tug at the knot of her sash, and it came undone.
Her outer robe loosened slightly, revealing the moon-white inner robe beneath.
She gathered the outer robe loosely, letting it drape open around her.
Every motion flowed like water—not a sound produced.
She leaned against Song Ning's side, settling her entire body against his, and said softly: "Elder Brother, let me rest like this for a while. You keep talking."
"I'm listening to every word."
Then, one hand moved slowly toward the sash...
"Also—when you see Qi Chuyao, don't give her the cold shoulder. Think of her as an even younger child than yourself."
"I know her temperament. Don't stoop to her level—she'll grow out of it in time."
"Right—Qin Junyue should still be in the Capital, shouldn't she? We'll need to invite her over."
Song Ning continued speaking, wholly unaware.
The compartment was dim, only a few thin threads of light slipping through the gaps in the curtain, falling across Song Youyi's pale face.
A faint, thin flush had risen across that face. Her eyes were hazy and feverish, the corner of her mouth curved into a barely-there arc.
She watched the person before her—so close, yet forever unable to see her.
Yet Song Youyi kept her gaze fixed on him, resting against his side, nestled against him, staring at his lips as they moved without pause, taking in the warmth of his breath.
Song Youyi's own breathing quickened slightly. She reined in every sound, terrified that Song Ning might detect something amiss, while her fingers moved in the smallest, most careful increments.
"Keep talking. I'm listening to every word."
"Elder Brother—my face feels rather warm. Feel it for me—am I running a fever?"