Blossom

On a mid-autumn noon, the sun was still scorching, and Dou Zhao felt sweat trickling down her back.

She glanced at the still somewhat messy courtyard and smiled. "Everyone, go ahead and have lunch first. We can tidy up in the afternoon."

The Dou family provided three meals a day.

Several old women thanked her cheerfully and followed Gan Lu to the kitchen.

Su Juan fetched water for Dou Zhao to wash her face and hands.

The slightly cool water made Dou Zhao exhale comfortably.

After lunch and a short nap, she stood under the veranda, contemplating how to arrange the courtyard.

Suddenly, Song Mo's voice came from behind. "What are you doing?"

Dou Zhao wasn’t surprised.

If this man could find a way to move in, he certainly knew how to talk to her.

"I want to plant a few flowering trees in the courtyard," Dou Zhao said without looking at him, still surveying the yard. "That way, in winter, it won’t look so bare and desolate."

Song Mo didn’t respond. Instead, he stood at the other end of the veranda, quietly gazing at the courtyard just like her.

The wind rustled through the ginkgo tree, scattering golden leaves across the ground, lending a faint warmth to the approaching winter chill.

"My third uncle passed away…" he said abruptly, his voice measured as if he had carefully chosen his words. "He died in Tieling Guard… My fifth uncle has lived under my eldest uncle’s shadow all these years. He knows every corner of the Eight Great Lanes but can’t even name half the servants in his own household."

Was that why Jiang Meisun had entrusted the Jiang family’s intelligence network in the capital to Song Mo?

"We didn’t dare tell Grandmother," Song Mo continued, his voice as clear as ever but tinged with a rare despondency. "Father asked me to use mourning my third uncle as an excuse to visit Liaodong and seek Liao Wang’s help in looking after my fifth uncle and cousins… But during the Autumn Hunt a few days ago, I only came in second. I lost the position of Deputy Commander of the Emperor’s Golden Guard… The Emperor reprimanded me harshly and even threatened to send me to Fengtai Military Camp… At fifteen, a man is supposed to tie his hair, but the Emperor has never cared for such traditions. Master Yan, fearing the Emperor might actually issue an imperial decree, suggested I stay home in seclusion to reflect—and to gauge the Emperor’s reaction."

"I’ll likely set off for Liaodong in the next couple of days…"

Though Song Mo’s tone was vague, Dou Zhao, having been a noblewoman for over a decade, understood his implications immediately.

The Jiang family was in trouble, yet the Emperor still favored Song Mo. In her past life, however, Song Mo had left the capital in disgrace and ruin.

As Master Yan had said, staying home in seclusion was the wisest choice now. Going to Liaodong wasn’t ideal. What were the Duke of Yingguo and Jiang Shi thinking?

On one side was a brother, but on the other was a son.

Dou Zhao couldn’t help but glance at Song Mo.

He was staring blankly at the ginkgo tree in the courtyard, his face betraying unmistakable sorrow and loneliness.

Yes, sorrow and loneliness.

Just like in her past life, when he had crouched down to speak to their daughter.

Back then, he had held immense power, surrounded by beautiful women and countless guards.

Yet he had still felt alone.

Now, in this life, he was in his prime, favored by the Emperor, and renowned throughout the capital.He still felt the same loneliness.

The somewhat childish youth and the mature, steady man gradually merged into one in Dou Zhao's eyes.

Perhaps no one had ever truly understood him.

Whether in her past life or this one, whether in times of revelry or desolation, he had always been alone!

A pang of inexplicable pain struck Dou Zhao's heart.

She called out loudly, "Song Mo!" and said, "I've planted many chrysanthemums in the backyard. It's blooming season now, and I plan to build a chrysanthemum mountain in the courtyard. Will you lend me a hand?"

"What?" Song Mo was taken aback.

He thought he had misheard.

No one had ever ordered him around so matter-of-factly before.

Yet strangely, he felt a kind of straightforward familiarity.

"I said, help me transplant the chrysanthemums from the backyard into pots," Dou Zhao's voice was clear and melodious, making it impossible not to hear, "Then move the pots to the front yard to build a chrysanthemum mountain."

She repeated it slowly and deliberately.

※※※※※

The large ceramic pots were nothing in Song Mo's hands, but when filled with soil and planted with tall azalea trees in full bloom—without damaging their flowers and leaves—moving them became quite strenuous.

Song Mo couldn't help but ask, "Didn't you say we were transplanting chrysanthemums? Why are we moving azaleas now?"

"If simply arranging chrysanthemums on a conical frame could be called a chrysanthemum mountain, how could Yang Jintai claim to be a master?" Dou Zhao, with a blue cloth draped over her head, squatted in the flowerbed digging up chrysanthemums. She didn't even look up as she spoke leisurely.

Song Mo was left speechless.

One of his guards moved to step forward but was stopped by Chen He.

Chen He glared fiercely at the guard, signaling him not to interfere.

Su Xin, standing silently nearby, kept her eyes downcast, pretending not to see anything.

Meanwhile, the old women working in the flowerbed with Dou Zhao felt sorry for Song Mo. "Oh dear," one exclaimed, "Your delicate skin shows you've never done manual work. Put that down, put it down! We'll move it for you."

"Is a young man like him really less capable than you all?" Dou Zhao glanced up at Song Mo before returning to her digging.

Gritting his teeth, Song Mo followed Dou Zhao's instructions—moving azaleas, then camellias, transplanting chrysanthemums, and finally assembling wooden frames. By the time the sun began to set, he was drenched in sweat.

Yet the raging fury in his heart had completely dissipated.

He stood there, stunned.

Had Dou Zhao known about the unresolved anger in his heart and deliberately used the chrysanthemum mountain as an excuse to make him work it out through physical labor?

Song Mo lowered his gaze.

When he heard the news of his third uncle's death, it felt like a savage beast was rampaging inside him, tearing at his heart and lungs. But he couldn't show the slightest hint of it.

His mother needed his comfort, his father awaited his decisions, his younger brother relied on his guidance, and Master Yan looked to him for resolutions...

Originally, he had just intended to run around the moat as usual, waiting for his anger to subside. But when his horse gradually tired, he realized he had unknowingly ridden all the way to the post road leading to Zhen Ding.

The Capital was already far behind.

Chen He asked him fearfully, "Young Lord, shall we return to the Capital or stay at the next post station?"

He remembered his reply: "We'll stay at the station and return to the Capital tomorrow."But the next morning, with a clear mind, he chose to continue heading south.

Had he already decided in his heart that she was not only intelligent and trustworthy, but also possessed a tolerant and resilient spirit? No matter how unconventional his actions or how shocking his words, she would not be swayed or intimidated by him. Instead, she would interpret and handle things in her own way.

Just like now, standing before her, she neither asked why he had come nor where he was from or where he was going. It was as if he were the drifting white clouds in the sky or the flowing streams in the mountains—coming when it was time to come, leaving when it was time to leave. There was no need to ask anything, and she believed he had his own reasons.

Song Mo turned his gaze toward Dou Zhao.

She was instructing the Old Women on how to arrange the flowers.

The evening glow on the horizon cast a golden sheen over her figure, giving her an almost ethereal radiance.

Only then did he notice her perfect almond-shaped eyes, slightly upturned at the corners, much like the Persian cat his mother used to keep. When she widened her eyes, her delicate lashes curled upward, making her gaze exceptionally bright and clear, yet always carrying a touch of cold, alluring charm.

Song Mo felt an unprecedented sense of peace, tranquility, and reassurance.

Having someone with whom he could speak freely—it was truly wonderful!

He lifted his head and took a deep breath of the clear sky.

The lingering warmth of mid-autumn air swirled around his nose, warming his heart.

※※※※※

Before dawn, Song Mo was already up.

The afternoon’s hard work had not only given him a hearty appetite—he devoured two large bowls of noodles—but also allowed him to sleep soundly through the night without even turning over once.

Like parched seedlings nourished by sweet dew, he felt refreshed and at peace like never before.

He instructed Chen He, "Leave ten taels of silver behind. We’re setting off for the Capital."

Chen He was taken aback. "But you haven’t had breakfast yet!"

"We’ll grab some provisions on the way," Song Mo said calmly. "Liaodong can’t wait any longer."

Chen He respectfully acknowledged the order, instructed the accompanying guards, gave the gatekeeper Old Women ten taels of silver, and the group quietly departed the farmstead.

By the time they left, Dou Zhao was already awake.

In the silence of the early morning, even the slightest sound stood out clearly.

She heard the door open, the horses being led out, the hushed conversation with the Old Women, and the fading clip-clop of hooves... until everything gradually settled back into quiet.

Dou Zhao pulled the blanket over her head, hiding in the darkness, and went back to sleep.

※※※※※

Grandmother stayed in Cui Family Village for three days and returned with a cart full of goods, including several handkerchiefs and sweat towels embroidered by Tuo Niang for Dou Zhao.

Hong Gu said, "She mentioned that she’s been so busy taking care of the children these past few years that her skills have grown rusty. She didn’t dare make anything else. If you find these handkerchiefs and towels useful, keep them. Otherwise, you can give them away as gifts."

Dou Zhao smiled and nodded.

Grandmother asked her, "Did anything happen while I was away?"

"Nothing much," Dou Zhao replied without batting an eye. "Everyone’s just hoping for a good harvest of winter wheat this year. They’re planning to offer sacrifices to the Earth God at the City God Temple on the day of the winter solstice, praying for favorable weather in the second half of the year.""Is that so?" Grandmother said, puzzled. "But Chen San's wife mentioned there was a handsome young man like a New Year painting who stayed at our place a few days ago..."

Dou Zhao replied calmly, "There was indeed someone who stayed overnight, and he even helped me with some work. As for what he looked like, I really didn't pay much attention."

Grandmother didn't pursue the matter further. She went to inspect the fields, stayed at the farmstead for two more days, then returned to the county town with Dou Zhao.