Chapter 11
Chapter 11: Two People Meet
The carriage came to a stop. Light filtered through the gaps in the curtain and fell across Song Youyi's face.
She pressed her lips together and slowly sat upright.
The brief haze from moments ago had faded, replaced by that face of a proper noble lady—pale, sickly, and pitifully delicate.
She looked down at herself. Her clothes were slightly disheveled, her skirt a little creased. She raised her hands and began to straighten herself.
She refastened the part that had come loose, retied her Sash, her movements graceful and unhurried, as though she were sitting before a vanity mirror in her own chambers.
Then came the collar of her Inner Robe. She smoothed it out, ensuring every inch was perfectly in place.
Her outer garment was drawn back into order, the moon-white fabric falling smoothly, concealing everything from before.
Last came the skirt.
She looked down at the small dark patch between her legs, her brow knitting ever so slightly.
Her fingers brushed lightly over the spot, as though trying to smooth it away.
She raised her head and said softly:
"I have a cramp in my leg. Have Xia Ling support me, and call Xia Shuang over to support my brother."
Xia Ling's expression shifted slightly.
She wants to be alone with Second Miss? What is she trying to do?
She looked up and met Song Youyi's gaze directly.
Those eyes were looking straight at her, the corners of her mouth curled in a faint smile, her lower leg still resting motionless on Xia Ling's knee.
"Help me put my shoes on." Song Youyi gave the instruction lightly.
It wasn't truly to make things difficult for her—only to administer a small reminder.
She had a clear read on how her brother treated these 2 maidservants. He treated them practically like younger sisters.
That would never do. In the entire Song Family Estate, she was the only one who could be Song Ning's sister.
Everyone else—in her presence—was not permitted to surpass her place in Song Ning's heart.
Xia Ling silently lowered her head and took hold of the small white-stockinged feet.
The ankles were slender, the feet dainty, the Silk Stockings pristine white.
She bent down, ready to help her put the shoes on.
She knew she amounted to nothing in Song Youyi's eyes.
She was the Second Miss of the Song Family; she herself was only a maidservant.
Not everyone would treat her and her sister the way Song Ning did.
Just then, a hand reached over and knocked Song Youyi firmly on the head.
"Do you need someone to put your shoes on for you?" Song Ning's voice carried a note of exasperation. "Put them on yourself."
Song Youyi clutched the spot that had been struck and pouted:
"Brother! Who exactly is your little sister here?"
She shook his arm back and forth, acting spoiled.
Seeing that Song Ning's expression remained calm and unmoved, she could only purse her lips and take the shoes herself, bending down to put them on.
Xia Ling watched from the side with a swirl of complicated feelings. It seems the cramp isn't so severe after all—surely not so bad as to need support?
The carriage curtain was lifted.
Brightness flooded in, making everyone squint slightly—except Song Ning.
Xia Shuang was already standing outside the carriage, dressed in a green skirt, sword cradled in her arms, her face expressionless.
She extended her hand, steadied Song Ning's arm, and guided him smoothly out of the carriage.
Xia Ling supported Song Youyi and followed behind.
The Qi Family Residence had arrived.
The main gate stood wide open. Several maidservants in green stood at the entrance and, upon seeing the carriage stop, immediately came forward to receive them.
At the head of the group was a housekeeper of around 40, dressed in a deep-brown gown, her face kindly, her eyes and brows carrying a sharp, knowing air.
"Young Master Song!" She stepped forward with a smile, bowing in greeting. "We've finally welcomed the Young Master—the Lady of the house received the Return Letter and has been waiting all day, mentioning you constantly!"
Song Ning steadied himself with Xia Shuang's support and smiled faintly upon hearing this.
"I've troubled Aunt Qi with all her concern."
"And Qi Chuyao? Does she have time today?"
The Housekeeper's smile stiffened slightly.
She instinctively glanced at Xia Shuang standing beside Song Ning—those cold eyes were fixed on her, a sword strapped across her back.
A chill ran down her spine. She hurried to answer with a smile:
"She's home, she's home, waiting right inside for the Young Master!"
Song Ning smiled and acknowledged this, then walked with Xia Shuang's guidance into the estate.
Behind them, Xia Ling and Song Youyi followed slowly.
The 2 of them walked side by side along the covered corridor, the distance between them and Song Ning ahead growing steadily wider.
Sunlight slanted in from beneath the eaves, falling across them both.
One wore a pink skirt; the other wore white.
Xia Ling's pink skirt was a pale, delicate shade—like peach blossoms in the third month of spring—making her appear sweet and charming. Her features were lovely, her beautiful eyes soft and dewy, though now they were cast downward, not daring to look around.
Song Youyi wore an unadorned white two-piece dress layered beneath a thin white Cape, and standing in the sunlight, she looked like a fragile, ailing white lotus.
Her complexion was pale, her lips without much color, yet her eyes were dark and bright as ink.
Standing together—one vivid and full of life, the other sickly and frail—both were beautiful enough to hold one's gaze.
"My brother said he sees you as a little sister." Song Youyi spoke first, her voice soft and laced with a smile. "Are you his sister?"
Xia Ling's footsteps faltered.
She hesitated a moment, then quickly shook her head:
"I'm not—I'm only a maidservant."
Song Youyi gave a soft laugh and covered her mouth to cough twice.
"Don't be so frightened." She patted Xia Ling's hand. "If my brother says you're a little sister, then you're a little sister."
"I'll be counting on you both to take care of my brother going forward."
Xia Ling froze.
She couldn't quite make out what Song Youyi actually meant.
Her instincts told her that Song Youyi didn't truly like the notion of "little sister."
Yet the meaning beneath her words was difficult to read.
"You know which things are to be said and which are not, don't you?" Song Youyi patted the back of her hand, as a reminder.
Xia Ling immediately recalled what she had witnessed inside the carriage just moments ago.
The dim carriage. The Young Master, completely unaware.
Second Miss, her clothes in disarray, leaning in a corner with her skirt in disorder, her pale slender calves exposed.
Xia Ling's throat tightened.
"I…" She opened her mouth, at a loss for words.
"No matter how much my brother may like you and Xia Shuang," Song Youyi's voice remained soft,
"I will always be his sister. In the future, my brother will rely on me and our eldest sister."
She gave Xia Ling's arm a gentle shake and smiled:
"When our mother grows old, it will be Elder Sister managing affairs outside the Song Family Estate, and I managing within."
"I hope you can understand this."
A smile hung on her face—her pallid and pretty features carrying a sickly beauty, appearing harmless, like a pure and lofty white lotus.
Xia Ling kept her head down and said nothing.
This was plain to see. Song Youyi would inevitably manage the inner household in time, and Elder Sister—presently out training at the border—would sooner or later be transferred to the capital to oversee matters at court and beyond.
Song Youyi was now desperately eager to win over the maidservant at her brother's side.
The other one—that expressionless girl who trained with a sword every day—she truly had no idea how to approach.
But if she could win Xia Ling over, there would be far more she could do going forward, especially when it came to her brother who couldn't see anything.
In any setting, in any place—as long as she was well-concealed, her brother would never know where she was.
She could watch her brother without restraint, regardless of what he was doing, no matter what he was doing...
Even bathing. Even...
But Xia Ling still hadn't answered.
Song Youyi smiled, patted her on the back, and without changing her expression:
"There's no rush. Tell me when you've made up your mind."
Her tone was gentle, the way a big sister speaks to a younger one.
Xia Ling's heart was heavy with complicated feelings. She kept her head down and walked quietly ahead.
Up ahead, with Xia Shuang supporting him, Song Ning followed the Housekeeper through gate after gate.
The Housekeeper talked without pause the entire way—praising the Young Master's elegant speech, praising the Young Master's distinguished bearing, praising the Young Master as a worthy future consort for the Qi Family.
Song Ning only responded mildly, occasionally asking about Qi's Mother's recent health.
They arrived before a courtyard. The Housekeeper stopped and turned around, calling out toward the inside:
"First Miss! Young Master Song is here!"
At the entrance of the courtyard, a figure stood waiting.
That figure had been pushed out.
She steadied herself, smoothed her collar, raised her head, and looked toward Song Ning as he slowly approached.
Qi Chuyao.
She was dressed today in a light-blue gown, her hair pinned high, revealing her smooth forehead and a pair of beautiful eyes.
Those eyes were exceptionally fine—the outer corners tilted slightly upward, carrying a trace of sharpness and a touch of arrogance.
She stood there, watching Song Ning walk toward her.
Those white, unseeing eyes. That refined and handsome face. That moon-white long robe.
She turned her mouth down.
"First Miss." The Housekeeper stepped forward warmly. "Young Master Song is here."
Qi Chuyao gave a light nod.
Her gaze settled on Song Ning, moving over him from top to bottom in a single sweep, then shifted away elsewhere.
Her expression was flat, tinged with reluctance, as though it said:
It's not like I wanted to come see you—my mother made me.
Song Ning stopped in front of her, guided to a halt by Xia Shuang.
Unable to see her, he simply turned his head in her direction by instinct.
"Miss Qi." He spoke softly, his tone gentle.
Qi Chuyao looked at him, pressing her lips together.
"Mm." She gave a single acknowledgment through her nose.
Her gaze shifted away again, looking elsewhere.