Blossom

Song Mo's strikingly handsome face still carried a trace of youthful innocence. Dou Zhao could even see the fine down on his lips. The person before her was far from the tall, agile figure she remembered—one who carried himself with dignified grace.

An image surfaced in her mind of him drinking soup with a spoon.

First, he would purse his lips slightly, then down it in one go.

Even if he disliked it, he never complained.

Right now, he was just a boy.

A thirteen-year-old boy.

Had she been too harsh on him?

Perhaps she should let go of her reservations and treat him like any ordinary young boy? She shouldn't hold him accountable for things he hadn't done. That would be unfair to him!

With this burden lifted, Dou Zhao smiled openly. "I forgive you!" But she wouldn't forget what kind of person he was. "Could you bring Mr. Chen back first? He's getting on in years and can't handle too much travel. Besides, I need him by my side to help manage things."

"Need someone who once served as an adviser to a high-ranking regional official to help manage things?" Her smile was calm and forgiving, tinged with a hint of gentleness, which softened Song Mo's heart. He liked the atmosphere of this conversation and replied with a smile, "This sounds complicated. Why don't you tell me about it? I'm quite good at giving advice."

No, that wouldn't be necessary.

"I've opened a stationery shop," Dou Zhao said, half-truthfully. "Thanks to Mr. Chen's help. But since he left for the Capital, everything's been in chaos here."

"Are you saving up for a dowry?" Song Mo chuckled. "How about I introduce you to a business opportunity? If it goes well, it could be a long-term partnership with favorable payment terms."

Dou Zhao widened her eyes.

Song Mo didn't seem like the helpful type, did he?

Why would he suddenly offer to introduce business to her?

They weren't on such familiar terms, were they?

But clearly, Song Mo thought otherwise.

His smile broadened. "The Shuntian Prefecture School and the Imperial Academy print many current essays and examination papers every year. Coincidentally, a former servant of my family now works as a laborer at the Shuntian Prefecture School. Your shopkeeper can go find him when the time comes."

She wanted to draw a clear line between them, never to cross paths again—not to get further entangled with him.

Amused yet exasperated, Dou Zhao refused outright. "I think I'll pass. It sounds too troublesome. My shop only sells ready-made stationery."

"If you're going to do something, you should aim for the best," Song Mo said in a lecturing tone, leaving no room for argument. He walked straight to the writing desk. "I'll write you a letter. Just take it to him when the time comes." Then he described the man's name and appearance to her.

Dou Zhao had no choice but to thank him. She called Gan Lu in to grind the ink, but Song Mo declined. "No need, I can do it myself."

Fine, suit yourself.

She wasn't in the habit of exerting herself for strangers.

Dou Zhao sat aside, sipping tea.

The sound of ink grinding filled the room.

Neither too heavy nor too light, neither rushed nor sluggish—like a millstone turning effortlessly, smooth and unhurried.

How much strength did that take?

Dou Zhao couldn't help but let out a soft "Hmm?" and glanced over.

Song Mo stood easily before the desk, his hand holding the inkstick fair and delicate. His fingers were long and slender, his wrist rotating gently in circles. The water in the inkstone gradually darkened.

Dou Zhao thought of the way he walked.

Just as casually, yet so naturally.Was it some special martial arts technique as Duan Gongyi had mentioned, or was it the refined manners cultivated since childhood?

The more Dou Zhao observed him, the more she found his demeanor elegant and pleasing to the eye.

Her curiosity grew uncontrollably.

What exactly had happened back then that led him to kill his father and brother?

How could such a pearl-like figure have fallen to become Liao Wang's executioner?

Song Mo's words from his past life—"Not everyone is worthy of being a parent"—echoed persistently in her heart, gradually solidifying into a thorn.

"Take it!" At some point, Song Mo had finished writing the letter. He waved the sealed envelope in front of her and smiled. "What are you worrying about?"

"N-nothing," Dou Zhao quickly composed herself and took the envelope, examining it carefully.

He had written in the Academy Style Calligraphy.

The strokes were dignified and weighty, exuding a sense of solidity.

Dou Zhao brought the envelope closer for a better look.

Indeed, it was dignified and weighty, giving a feeling of reliability.

How could someone's handwriting and their character be so drastically different?

She stared at Song Mo, her mind in turmoil, unsure of what to say.

Song Mo, however, seemed oblivious to her unease. He reclined on the Drunken Old Man Chair in the study, closed his eyes, and rested his hands naturally on his abdomen, rocking the chair with a creaking sound.

On that summer afternoon, the surroundings were silent except for the rustling of wind through the branches and the rhythmic creaking of the chair, creating a peaceful and drowsy atmosphere.

Suddenly, Song Mo's voice broke the silence. "Before I came here, I had just buried my cousin."

Dou Zhao jolted awake.

"My cousin's maiden name was Hanzhu, the posthumous daughter of my second uncle," he continued softly, his eyes still closed, his voice carrying a gentle warmth. "She was three years older than me, the kindest and most gentle soul. Not only was she skilled in needlework, but she was also highly trained in martial arts. All the sisters in the family adored her. She often teased me with a smile, saying, 'Tianci, when you grow up, don’t bully girls just because you’re handsome.'"

Dou Zhao straightened her posture.

She noticed a glimmer of moisture at the corner of Song Mo's eyes.

"Yin Zhi, a clansman from my Maternal Aunt's family, was exceptionally skilled in martial arts and had a bold yet thoughtful personality," his voice now tinged with a hint of sorrow. "They were deeply in love. My grandmother and Maternal Aunt were both happy for them. But since my cousin had lost her father early and was raised by my Maternal Aunt, she didn’t want her to marry into hardship. So, she sent Yin Zhi to Fujian, hoping he could secure an official position and allow my cousin to marry with dignity."

"Before Yin Zhi left, he entrusted me to give my cousin a golden hairpin with twin lotus flowers."

Dou Zhao clutched her collar tightly.

"When my uncle was accused, my mother, fearing my cousin would have no one to rely on, wanted me to marry her.

"My father initially disagreed, but seeing the Jiang Family on the brink of ruin, he reluctantly gave in to my mother’s insistence.

"Six days ago, my third and fifth uncles were escorted to Tielingwei. By the Emperor’s grace, my grandmother was allowed to visit them. That’s when we learned that Yin Zhi had been beaten to death by the Imperial Bodyguard two months prior while trying to protect my uncle. That very night, my cousin used the golden hairpin Yin Zhi had given her to pierce her own throat…"

Dou Zhao’s teeth chattered, and she felt something cold on her face. When she touched it, she realized it was tears.She quickly turned her back, pulling out a handkerchief to wipe her tears, silently grateful that she usually didn’t wear much powder. Otherwise, her face would be a mess.

After finally composing herself, she turned back only to meet a pair of deep, tranquil eyes.

When had Song Mo opened his eyes?

He must also have many thoughts he couldn’t voice!

Dou Zhao sighed and sincerely offered her condolences, then couldn’t help but ask about Madam Mei: “Is the ancestral home in the countryside still habitable? The Jiang Family has many illustrious achievements, but they must also have made enemies. Even if they can return safely, what will they do afterward? They’ll likely need to establish a code of conduct.”

Now that the Jiang Family had been stripped of their noble status, if anyone sought revenge, the household—filled with women and children—would be easy targets.

“I’ve been busy with this very matter for days,” Song Mo said, as if he hadn’t noticed Dou Zhao’s reddened eyes, speaking casually. “The moon wanes when full; water overflows when brimming. My grandmother understood this well. During her decades managing the household, she not only purchased much sacrificial land but also renovated the ancestral home several times. The Jiang Family never shirked any requests from local officials for contributions. After the imperial decree was issued, my grandmother sighed in relief, saying that not only would the family’s daily needs be met, but with some tightening, they could even send silver to Tieling Guard. I, too, worry about revenge, so I sent my most trusted guards to serve the Jiang Family permanently. With their skills, even if bandits attacked, ordinary ones wouldn’t stand a chance.”

But what use were calculations in the face of a thunderous blow?

Dou Zhao couldn’t help but lament Old Mrs. Mei’s fate in her past life, saying, “Bandits are nothing to fear. What’s truly frightening is the Imperial Bodyguard disguised as bandits!”

Song Mo only smiled, his eyes brighter than the sun outside.

Clearly, he had already made arrangements.

Dou Zhao sighed inwardly.

Indeed, she couldn’t treat him like a mere thirteen-year-old boy!

Still, the atmosphere between them grew more harmonious. After exchanging a few more words, Dou Zhao rose to leave: “It’s getting late. I should return home. I won’t see you off when you depart.”

Not daring to take back the “modest gifts,” she had them locked away in the farmstead’s storeroom.

Song Mo said nothing more and escorted her to the gate.

As she boarded the carriage, Dou Zhao grumbled to herself: Whose home is this, mine or yours?

Only upon returning home did she remember—she had forgotten to discuss with Song Mo the date of Mr. Chen’s return.

Just as she was regretting this, Su Lan, who had stayed behind, hurried over to greet her.

“Fourth Miss,” she said, on the verge of tears, “Young Master Ji arrived right after you left. He’s been waiting for you all day, constantly asking where you went. If you hadn’t returned soon, I wouldn’t have been able to hold him off any longer!”

Dou Zhao was stunned. “Why has he come to Zhen Ding? What about Sixth Aunt? Did she return with him?”

“Sixth Madam didn’t come back,” Su Lan puffed her cheeks. “Young Master Ji said the weather was too hot and came to Zhen Ding to escape the heat. After paying respects to Second Madam, he came straight here. He even asked if Crane Longevity Hall was occupied—there’s a pond there, so it’s cooler. He wanted to borrow it for a few days.”

Dou Zhao felt a throbbing pain at her temples.

She asked Su Lan, “When Young Master Ji asked where I went, how did you answer him?”"I could tell from Young Master Ji's manner that he would search for you no matter where you were," Su Lan pouted, her lips puckered so much they could hang an oil bottle. "I had no choice but to tell him you'd gone to the prefecture and mentioned that you'd instructed us you'd return in the afternoon. Only then was he pacified. Right now, he's at Consort Cui's place, explaining Buddhist scriptures to her!"