Blossom

Song Mo didn’t know how he made it back.

On his return journey, while passing through Xinglong, he received the news of his mother’s passing.

Six days and five nights—he rode day and night, hastening home without rest.

His guards had all fallen far behind, with only Yu Jian managing to keep up.

The moment he dismounted, his legs gave way beneath him. If not for Yu Jian and the steward on duty at the gate catching him, he might have collapsed right there.

"Young Lord! Young Lord!" Voices choked with sobs filled his ears, carrying both joy at his return and overwhelming relief.

Tears welled in Song Mo’s eyes as he sprinted toward the mourning hall, following the fluttering funeral banners.

"Brother!" Song Han, clad in mourning hemp, threw himself into Song Mo’s arms from where he had been receiving condolences before the coffin. "Why did you take so long?" His voice trembled with fear and accusation.

"It’s my fault!" Song Mo embraced his younger brother, tears spilling from his bloodshot eyes. "It’s all my fault… I came back too late…"

Song Han wailed loudly, "Brother! Brother!"

Holding his brother’s hand, Song Mo led him to kneel before the coffin.

"Mother, I’m home!" With tears streaming down his face, he kowtowed three times.

Someone approached from the side. "Tianci, put on your mourning clothes."

It was the voice of his elder cousin, Song Qin.

Song Yichun had always taken good care of his family. He secured a position as an assistant secretary in the Shanglinyuan’s Forestry Bureau for his elder cousin Song Maochun. A few years later, he managed to oust the bureau’s director and installed Song Maochun in his place. Another cousin, Song Fengchun, served as deputy commissioner of the Chongwen Gate Tax Office, while Song Tongchun held the position of deputy commissioner in the Ministry of War’s Yizi Treasury. Though the director of the Forestry Bureau was at least a proper eighth-rank official, the deputy commissioners of the tax office and treasury were unranked—yet their posts were lucrative. The Forestry Bureau handled annual tributes of fruit, the Chongwen Gate Tax Office collected alcohol taxes from incoming merchants, and the Yizi Treasury, under the Ministry of War, managed padded coats, combat boots, and fur hats for military garrisons. Though their official ranks were low, they were members of the Song clan. Even ministers and vice-ministers treated them with deference, superiors never excluded them from benefits, and they had ancestral lands to fall back on. Their lives were exceedingly comfortable.

Thus, Song Yichun’s authority within the Song family was immense—his word was practically law.

Song Qin was seven years older than Song Mo and had married the previous spring.

Before the wedding, Song Maochun brought his son to see Song Yichun, hoping he could secure a good position for him. Instead, Song Yichun scolded him: "Shortsighted! Jingzhi has already passed the prefectural examination and is on the verge of qualifying as a stipendiary student. He should focus entirely on his studies! If he earns the title of Successful Candidate in the Imperial Examination, I could speak for him before the Emperor—if not securing him a seventh-rank directorship in the Construction Bureau, then at least an eighth-rank post as a garrison registrar! His prospects would far surpass yours! Must he end up like you, stuck as an unranked clerk for life? If Jingzhi has no such luck and fails to pass the examination by thirty, we can still arrange a position for him then." He added, "Our family is small in number—we must stick together. Even if Tianci had three heads and six arms, without the support of blood kin, it would all be for nothing. Don’t settle for petty gains. If the children can climb higher, do everything in your power to help them climb!"

Song Maochun was moved to tears, thanking him profusely.Even Song Qin was deeply grateful, feeling that his second uncle had treated him with utmost sincerity.

Having always regarded Song Mo and Song Han as his own brothers, he now grew even closer to them.

The death of Jiang Shi was a major event for the Song family—like half of a great mansion collapsing. The entire Song family came to help, and Song Qin, in particular, took it upon himself to shoulder the responsibility. During the first seven days of mourning, he hardly slept a wink. Only in the last couple of days had he managed to get some proper rest.

Song Mo stood motionless, his expression blank, as Song Qin helped him into his mourning attire.

Seeing how gaunt and exhausted Song Mo looked, Song Qin couldn’t help but support him. “Go wash your face first. Second Uncle has been in the inner chamber of the main room all this time. You should go see him too.”

Just then, Song Qin’s younger brother, Song Duo, walked in from outside.

He was four years older than Song Mo. Like all second sons, his temperament was lively.

Spotting Song Mo, he called out, “Tianci!” and added, “You should go rest. The departed are gone—you must take care of yourself. There’s still much ahead for you to handle.”

Song Mo hadn’t expected him to say something like “the departed are gone.” If not for the overwhelming grief in his heart, he might have raised an eyebrow in amusement.

Seeing the exhaustion on both his cousins’ faces, he knew they had been working hard these past days. He gripped Song Duo’s shoulder and looked at Song Qin, saying simply, “Thank you.”

“We’re family—no need for such words!” Song Qin replied modestly.

Song Mo nodded.

Song Han tugged at his brother’s sleeve. “Brother, I want to go with you.”

Their mother’s death must have terrified his eight-year-old brother, who still wanted to sleep beside her.

A flicker of sorrow passed through Song Mo’s eyes. But with their father in their mother’s chamber, if Song Han left, there would be no one to receive condolences. Hardening his heart, he whispered to Song Han, “Someone must stay here for Mother. I’ll be back soon.”

Tears welled in Song Han’s eyes as he nodded repeatedly. “You have to come back quickly! Promise you’ll come back quickly!”

“I promise.” Song Mo patted Song Han’s head and was about to return to the Hall of Cultivating Will when he ran into Lü Zheng, his father’s personal attendant.

“Young Lord!” Lü Zheng wiped his tears at the sight of Song Mo. “You’ve finally returned! These past few days, the Duke hasn’t eaten or drunk a thing—we’ve all been worried sick. Hearing of your return, he sent me to bring you to the main chamber.”

Remembering Song Qin’s words, Song Mo didn’t hesitate and immediately followed Lü Zheng to the main chamber.

Song Yichun sat cross-legged on the heated brick bed by the window in the inner chamber. The furnishings remained exactly as they had been during Jiang Shi’s lifetime—even the cosmetics on the dressing table were arranged as she had preferred. An ivory comb inlaid with gold filigree, which she often used, lay casually on the surface.

Song Mo’s eyes reddened, his vision blurring slightly, but then his father’s dry voice reached his ears. “You’re back. How did things go? Your mother was concerned about this matter before she passed.”

“I met with Liao Wang,” Song Mo replied respectfully, bowing to his father before sitting opposite him at his gesture. “Liao Wang had already heard about the Jiang family’s affairs. After Third Uncle’s injuries worsened, it was Liao Wang who helped arrange for a physician—we were wrong to suspect his intentions.”

Song Yichun gave a slight nod and sighed. “If only your mother had heard this news while she was still alive.” Then he added, “Later, go to your mother’s spirit and tell her.”

Song Mo acknowledged the instruction.Song Yichun glanced at his travel-worn son and said, "You haven't eaten yet, have you? I'll have the kitchen prepare something for you. Go freshen up first—your mother always cared so much about appearances. She'd be heartbroken to see you like this!"

Song Mo couldn't hold back his tears, lowering his head as he murmured an assent.

Lü Zheng came to assist him with bathing. Later, a maid announced that the meal had been prepared in the inner chamber of the main room, as instructed by the Duke.

"The Duke must want to speak with you," Lü Zheng said gloomily. "His Grace has been deeply troubled these days."

Hearing this, Song Mo felt even more sorrowful.

On the heated brick bed by the window in the inner chamber, several vegetarian dishes were laid out, along with a large plate of steamed buns and a big bowl of plain noodles.

"Eat quickly," Song Yichun urged, sitting beside his son and watching as he ate swiftly yet with his usual graceful composure.

"Time flies—you've grown up already," he sighed, a trace of melancholy flashing in his eyes. "And I've grown old."

Song Mo remained silent.

He wasn't skilled at offering comfort and couldn't help thinking: If only Tianen were here. Tianen always knew how to cheer people up. Since childhood, wherever Tianen was, the atmosphere was never dull.

He ate quietly.

Song Yichun sat silently, watching his son eat.

The room was so still that only the faint clinking of porcelain could be heard, accentuating the silence.

When Song Mo finished, maids brought water for him to wash his hands and served his usual tea before quietly withdrawing.

Song Yichun gazed at Song Mo with a complicated expression, still saying nothing.

Song Mo waited patiently, calm and composed.

A strange glint flickered in Song Yichun's eyes.

In a grave tone, he asked, "Do you remember Meirui, your mother's chief maid?"

"I do," Song Mo replied, puzzled by his father's sudden mention of his mother's maid but answering frankly nonetheless. "She was Mother's most capable attendant."

"After your mother passed, I planned to release all her servants after the seventh-week mourning period," Song Yichun said, lifting his teacup and lowering his gaze to the floating tea leaves. "But on the fourteenth night of mourning, Meirui suddenly dashed herself against a pillar before your mother's spirit tablet."

Song Mo's expression changed slightly.

"Fortunately, it was evening, and few people were around. Lü Zheng handled it discreetly, so the incident didn't spread," Song Yichun continued. "I detained all the servants from your mother's quarters." His eyes suddenly sharpened as he fixed Song Mo with a piercing stare. "Guess what Lü Zheng discovered?" Without waiting for an answer, his face darkened further. "That maid was four months pregnant—already showing!"

"How could that be?" Song Mo exclaimed, unable to hide his shock.

The child clearly wasn't his father's. Otherwise, given his mother's temperament, she would have made arrangements before her death, and his father wouldn't need to explain it to him now, nor would he be so furious.

Though his mother had been strict with her servants—perhaps influenced by the Jiang Family—she was neither rigid nor harsh. If Meirui had fancied someone, given how much his mother favored her, she could have simply asked for permission. There was no need for such disgraceful behavior.

Whose child was it?If this matter were to spread, Mother's reputation would surely be tarnished.

A cold glint flashed in his eyes, but then Father's voice reached his ears: "Lü Zheng searched her room and found several bolts of cloth from this year's newly tributed Jiangnan weaving, along with a few exquisitely crafted ornaments. Among them was a jade pendant, meticulously carved from fine Hetian jade, adorned with cloud patterns on all sides and a spreading roc in the center..."

Song Mo was stunned.

When he was born, his grandfather had gifted him a jade pendant just like that!

It was said to have been passed down from the ancestors of the Song family.

Song Yichun was already furious: "You disgrace! Look what you've done!" He swung a slap straight at Song Mo!