Chapter 13
Chapter 13: What to Make of This?
Song Ning felt that hand steady him, and he naturally, gently pushed away Qin Junyue's wrist.
The motion was light, without a moment's hesitation.
He turned his body slightly toward Qi Chuyao's side, a faint smile on his face.
After all, this was the woman he was about to marry into the family—it wouldn't do to have two people supporting him at once.
Qi Chuyao had naturally caught all of this.
She kept her expression composed, yet couldn't help feeling a small, secret surge of satisfaction inside.
That satisfaction was inexplicable—she hadn't quite noticed it herself.
Just moments ago she had been full of reluctance, yet now, because of a single wrist pushed away, her mood had lifted for reasons she couldn't name.
Qin Junyue's pushed-away hand paused briefly in the air, then dropped back to her side as if nothing had happened.
No expression crossed her face; that easy, open smile remained as she followed the two of them inside.
She rubbed her fingertips together. Song Ning's warmth lingered there still.
The 3 of them crossed the covered walkway and entered the main hall.
The hall was elegantly furnished—sandalwood tables and chairs arranged in neat order, several landscape paintings hung on the walls, and in the corner, faint incense burned low.
Song Ning drew a red card from his sleeve and felt his way toward Qi Chuyao's direction, extending it to her.
"This is my return letter," he said, his voice gentle. "I thought about it, and decided it was better to deliver it to you in person."
Even though Qi Chuyao had not come herself to deliver the auspicious letter, he still had to do his part properly.
Qi Chuyao looked down at the card in his hand.
A red base with gold lettering, the envelope embossed with intricate patterns that shimmered with festive brightness in the sunlight.
She stared at it for a moment, then finally reached out and accepted it.
"Mm." A muffled sound came from her nose, low and reluctant—a grudging acknowledgment.
Just then, a commotion came from the doorway.
Song Youyi was about to step inside when a servant at the door stopped her.
"Please wait, Young Miss," the servant bowed and said. "The head of the household has instructed that there is a private matter to discuss with Young Master Song. She asks that you and the other young ladies wait in the outer room."
Song Youyi halted, her brow furrowing slightly.
Behind her, Xia Ling and Xia Shuang also stopped.
The two exchanged a glance—neither showing any particular surprise.
It wasn't the first time that Young Master had needed to meet alone with Qi's Mother and Song Ning's Mother.
It was only in moments like these that Young Master needed no one beside him.
"I'm his sister," Song Youyi said, her voice soft and carrying just a hint of grievance. "Can't even I go in?"
The servant's expression grew apologetic, yet they bowed again: "Young Miss, please understand—the head of the household has instructed…"
Song Youyi pressed her lips together and glanced inside once more.
Song Ning had already walked far ahead; only a moon-white silhouette was visible, disappearing at the far end of the corridor in the company of Qi Chuyao and Qin Junyue.
Her gaze lingered on that retreating figure for a moment, then finally drew back.
"Very well," she said quietly, her face resuming that composed, well-bred manner. "Then we shall wait in the outer room."
With that, she turned and walked out, her skirt hem sweeping softly across the floor.
At the doorway, she glanced back once more, her eyes passing over the 2 servants' faces with a faint, almost imperceptible coolness.
Xia Ling followed behind her, taking silent note of it all.
The inner door was slowly shut.
Squeak—the last sliver of light was sealed away.
The room dimmed. The air held a faint sandalwood fragrance, mingled with something solemn and indescribable.
Qi Chuyao was briefly taken aback.
It was the middle of the day—why close the doors? And why were Song Ning's sister and attendants not allowed in?
She was about to ask when a burst of bright laughter rang out from within.
"Hahaha, Song Ning, it's been so long!"
A figure emerged from behind the folding screen.
It was a lean, vigorous woman dressed in everyday clothes—yet the air of long-held authority around her could not be concealed.
Her face was genial, yet her brows and eyes carried a quiet sternness; her gaze was bright, her stride steady, every step carrying the brisk efficiency particular to martial artists.
She bore a 5-part resemblance to Qi Chuyao—especially those slightly upturned eyes—though hers held far more depth.
The Minister of War of the Great Qian Dynasty. Head of the Qi Family.
Hearing her voice, Song Ning immediately bowed toward the direction of the sound—his posture correct and respectful.
"Mother-in-law."
The moment Qi's Mother heard the address, her smile deepened.
Far from finding it premature, she seemed almost to feel he had waited too long to say it. She took a few quick strides forward and swept Song Ning's arm straight out of Qi Chuyao's grasp.
"Come, come, let me have a look at you." She looked him up and down, fussing over him warmly. "Were you tired on the journey? Are you well? How has your mother been lately? She never comes to see me anymore…"
As she spoke, she guided Song Ning further inside, leading him straight to the seat of honor, pressing him down into it right beside herself.
Qi Chuyao followed behind, watching the scene, the corner of her mouth twitching.
She shot Qin Junyue a look—a look that said plainly:
'See? I told you. This is exactly how my mother treats him.'
'As if he's the one she gave birth to, and I'm the one who married in.'
She hadn't even been given the seat of honor beside her own mother—and Song Ning had simply been placed there.
Qin Junyue caught the look and gave a small shrug, returning a reassuring glance.
The 2 of them followed and took their seats in the lower positions.
Qi's Mother waved her hand.
From behind the folding screen, several attending servants withdrew without a sound.
The door was gently pulled shut. Only the 4 of them remained in the room.
Qi Chuyao grew even more confused.
Hadn't today's visit been about the return letter? Why were the servants being dismissed? What was happening?
Qin Junyue sat to the side, expression calm.
Her eyes were slightly lowered, as though she was long accustomed to scenes like this.
After a few exchanges of pleasantries, Qi's Mother's expression gradually grew serious.
"Speaking of which," she began, lowering her voice, "His Majesty has not attended court in quite some time. I have word that she has fallen gravely ill and has been recuperating these past days."
Song Ning's brow furrowed slightly.
"Not a single court session?" he asked. "And edicts? Has there been nothing at all?"
Qi's Mother gave a wry smile and shook her head.
"The people closest to His Majesty are only so many. The affairs of court have been handed over—naturally—to Wei Yang."
Wei Yang.
The grand eunuch who held dominion over the entire court.
By now, the majority of officials in the court were her people. Whether in the capital or in the provinces, officials who failed to curry her favor not only had no hope of advancement—they risked demotion or imprisonment.
In this world, there were 2 kinds of eunuchs.
The first were male eunuchs—as Song Ning had known in his previous life—castrated upon entering the palace to handle minor and household affairs.
The second were female eunuchs like Wei Yang: through a special "castration," they lost certain female characteristics and the ability to bear children in exchange for the chance to enter the palace.
Song Ning nodded, sinking into thought.
He had a fair idea now of what Qi's Mother was worried about.
With the Emperor confined to the inner palace, her health failing—who could say when she might suddenly perish?
The Emperor's sister, the Princess of Trust, was not in the capital; she was somewhere far away.
No one in the court knew the Emperor's true condition.
Wei Yang controlled the inner palace and had so many allies—no one could say what might happen.
The officials who had attached themselves to her might stay silent when things were unfavorable, but the moment she gained the upper hand, they would all come rushing over at once.
Qi Chuyao listened and gradually began to understand.
Yet at the same time, a strange, absurd feeling welled up inside her.
Her mother—the Minister of War of Great Qian, a 2nd rank official—was discussing court affairs with a blind man?
Had Song Ning ever attended court? Did he know how to handle government matters?
Amusing.
She rubbed her chin. Perhaps her mother was just making idle conversation and actually wanted to consult with her as well?
Had she finally grown up in her mother's eyes? Qi Chuyao felt a small surge of excitement.
"For now, find any pretext," Song Ning said, his voice light and measured. "Cite the severe drought in the south, the crisis in the northeast—Mother-in-law, lead the officials of the Ministry of War and do your best to bring the Emperor out in public."
He paused, then added: "If even that fails to produce an appearance, and Wei Yang continues to hold the court in her grip, then we must prepare for other contingencies."
Song Ning clenched his fist.
He had seen situations like this before.
If a eunuch were to seize sole control of the court, one could hardly stand by and watch.
If not He Jin's way, then could one not at least follow Yuan Benyuan's?
"The Emperor has no daughter," Song Ning continued. "I suspect that even if Wei Yang wanted to monopolize power, she could only allow another prince to inherit."
"Those princes who are on close terms with her—especially the younger ones—must be watched carefully."
"As for the Princess of Trust, some other pretext can be found to make contact, but it must not be on the grounds of the Emperor's illness."
Qi's Mother nodded slowly, a glimmer of approval crossing her eyes.
Qi Chuyao thought for a moment, then suddenly spoke:
"Mother, why don't we secretly bring the Princess of Trust to the capital?"
Her eyes were bright with a trace of excitement.
"If that dog eunuch dares to cause trouble, we can have the Princess of Trust step forward directly, behead that dog eunuch—what do you think?"
Even if Wei Yang held the entire court in her grip, before a new ruler, she would ultimately have no recourse.
The corner of Song Ning's mouth twitched slightly.
He said nothing. Not wanting to contradict his own wife, he quietly bowed his head.
Qi's Mother shot her a look and asked, bluntly:
"Is the Emperor dead?"
Qi Chuyao paused, then shook her head. "No."
"Is there an imperial edict? Has the Emperor summoned the Princess of Trust to the capital?"
"No."
"Then do you understand what it means for a princess with a right of succession—without an imperial edict—to secretly enter the capital while the Emperor lies gravely ill?"
Qi Chuyao opened her mouth.
"What if the Emperor recovers completely," Qi's Mother said coldly, "do you know what will happen to our family?"
Qi Chuyao stuck out her tongue and muttered under her breath:
"But isn't the Emperor critically ill? What if…"
"Even if the Emperor is critically ill." Qi's Mother cut her off. "Say your plan actually works—do you know what the first thing the Princess of Trust would do after ascending to power?"
Qi Chuyao thought carefully, and a sudden chill ran down her back.
Even if it succeeded—once the Princess of Trust rose to power, transforming from a princess into the Emperor, how would she regard the Qi Family?
If they dared to secretly bring her to the capital today, what might they dare to do tomorrow?
Song Ning smiled faintly and spoke at the right moment, deftly steering the conversation elsewhere—sparing his wife her dignity.
"It's all right," he said, his voice gentle. "Let us observe for now and prepare for all contingencies. What matters is keeping control of the city defenses and the Forbidden Army."
He turned his face slightly in Qi Chuyao's direction. Those white eyes looked almost as though they could see her.
"Speaking of which—after the wedding, it will be time for my wife to enter the court as an official."
Qi Chuyao froze.
Enter the court as an official?
She blinked, looking toward Song Ning.