Blossom

Tao Qizhong looked at the furious Song Yichun, feeling somewhat incredulous. He feared that if things continued this way, Song Yichun might make an even bigger fool of himself.

Good medicine tastes bitter.

Setting aside propriety, he whispered, "Duke, please calm down! Even if the Young Lord harbors any unfilial thoughts, he wouldn’t act on them now, in this manner—the one treating you is an Imperial Physician from the Imperial Hospital, and your medicine is also prescribed by the Imperial Medical Bureau. If anything were to happen, there would be clear evidence. The Young Lord isn’t a child of seven or eight; having served the Emperor for years, he surely knows the protocols of the Imperial Hospital’s prescriptions. He would never do something so self-destructive. You needn’t worry!"

There was one thing he didn’t say, fearing it might worsen Song Yichun’s condition.

Given the Young Lord’s temperament, if he truly wanted to, he could easily provoke the Duke to death. Why would he take such a risk and resort to something as crude as poisoning?

Tao Qizhong’s words gradually soothed Song Yichun’s agitation, but he still couldn’t shake his unease. He instructed Tao Qizhong, "Have someone trustworthy prepare my medicine."

Rome wasn’t built in a day.

Tao Qizhong had long given up hope of reconciliation between Song Yichun and Song Mo. Relieved that Song Yichun was no longer lashing out like a madman, he quickly replied, "I’ll prepare the medicine myself. It’s not like I have much else to do." This way, he wouldn’t have to follow Song Mo around all day, nor would he be mistaken by visitors as a steward sent by Song Yichun to oversee Song Mo’s affairs, constantly being treated like a servant.

Song Yichun felt a pang of bitterness.

Instead of making things difficult for Song Mo, he had only ended up inconveniencing his own man.

He nodded silently and awkwardly retired to bed.

With Tao Qizhong handling the medicine, Dou Zhao was free to relax.

She set up a four-panel screen in the tea room and spent her days there doing needlework. To outsiders, it appeared as though Dou Zhao was still preparing Song Mo’s medicine. Tao Qizhong didn’t correct the misconception, and the two coexisted peacefully—one sewing, the other brewing medicine.

A few days later, when Song Yichun had recovered enough to breathe more easily, he asked Tao Qizhong, "Have the accounts for the Hall of Cultivating Will been settled?"

"They were just finalized yesterday," Tao Qizhong hesitated before adding, "I heard Madam brought over two hundred thousand taels of silver..."

Song Yichun was shocked. "How does the Dou family have so much money?"

Tao Qizhong shook his head. "Even if the Seventh Master of the Dou family has no sons, the eldest and second masters have plenty. They could easily adopt one. There’s no way the Dou family would let Madam bring over so much property..."

Song Yichun’s heart ached again. Gritting his teeth, he said, "We must quickly investigate Chen Bo’s background. I refuse to believe the Dou family would give Dou Shi such a lavish dowry for no reason! Summon Lü Zheng’s wife. I’ll give her five hundred taels to bribe someone close to Dou Shi."

Five hundred taels!

Tao Qizhong was secretly astonished.

Even if he were to retire, he might not receive five hundred taels as travel expenses.

With mixed emotions, Tao Qizhong sent for Lü Zheng’s wife.Lü Zheng's wife flushed crimson: "The maids, wives, and old women around Madam mostly came from Zhen Ding. They stick together and don't interact with our household. Occasionally, there are a few hereditary servants—those Madam took a liking to and the Young Lord arranged to serve her." She didn't dare say those people were loyal to Song Mo, instead adding, "Those people are even more obstinate. After all this time dealing with the Hall of Cultivating Will's staff, I still haven't managed to get close to Madam's personal attendants." As she spoke, she took out a stack of silver notes—originally given to her by Song Yichun—and placed them on the small stool beside her. "To enter and exit the Hanging Flower Gate of the Hall of Cultivating Will, I tipped the gatekeeping old women a total of twenty taels. Treating the courtyard sweepers to drinks cost twenty-one taels. Buying snacks, hair ornaments, and hair oil for a few young maids cost five taels..."

Hearing that Lü Zheng's wife had made no progress, Song Yichun was impatient but, unusually, didn't lose his temper. "Enough, enough! No need to tell me all this. Hand the accounts to Zeng Wu, and you may leave."

Lü Zheng's wife hastily curtsied and withdrew.

Song Yichun turned to Tao Qizhong. "It seems we'll have to trouble you with this matter!"

Tao Qizhong solemnly acknowledged, his mind racing.

Meanwhile, Dou Zhao instructed Song Mo, "Lift your foot. Let me see if these socks fit."

Song Mo, lounging on the kang reading a book, promptly extended his foot to Dou Zhao.

Seated on an embroidered stool by the kang, Dou Zhao took out the socks she had made in the tea room over the past few days for Song Mo to try on.

They fit perfectly.

She hadn't done needlework in years, yet her skills hadn't dulled.

Pleased, Dou Zhao nodded and decided to make a few pairs of spring shoes for Song Mo the next day, then start on his spring robes.

She asked Su Xin to bring the nail scissors and chided Song Mo, "For someone your age, surrounded by pages and maids, you still don't trim your toenails."

Is it that bad?

Song Mo glanced at his toenails.

Dou Zhao had already taken hold of his foot and started clipping.

Song Mo felt something in his heart soften suddenly, like spring water overflowing, stirring an inexplicable ripple that left him deeply moved.

Propping himself up on an elbow, he gazed at Dou Zhao.

Under the lamplight, her long lashes cast fluttering shadows on her eyelids, accentuating her snow-white skin and lotus-red lips.

He knew his Shou Gu was beautiful, but he hadn't realized just how beautiful—like moonlight, gentle and pure, making it impossible to look away.

Dou Zhao playfully tapped Song Mo's foot, her lips curving. "Done. The other foot now."

Snapping out of his reverie, Song Mo quickly removed his sock and offered his other foot.

Dou Zhao carefully finished trimming his toenails, inspected her work with satisfaction, and said, "Now show me your hands."

Obediently, Song Mo extended his hands.

They were fair, smooth, and slender, with distinct joints and jade-like fingers. His nails were rounded, neat, and flawless—exquisite in their perfection.

Dou Zhao couldn't help but smile, lightly smacking his hand. "Such a hypocrite!"

Neglecting his toenails yet keeping his fingernails so impeccably trimmed.

Suddenly, Song Mo reached out and pulled Dou Zhao onto the kang.

Caught off guard, she let out a startled cry as she tumbled into his arms."That was terrifying." Dou Zhao looked at her palm pressed against Song Mo's chest, a small pair of scissors still dangling from her thumb. "What if I had hurt you? You mustn't be so reckless in the future."

Song Mo's eyes sparkled brightly. "I knew you wouldn't hurt me," he said, lowering his head to kiss her lips.

Dou Zhao yielded to his advances, melting into their embrace.

Song Mo's breathing grew increasingly uneven as his hands slipped beneath her robes.

During a brief pause for breath, Dou Zhao reminded him, "You promised me you wouldn't misbehave outside the bedroom again."

That night they'd spent in the study—clothes, scrolls, brushes, and inkstones scattered everywhere—had left the maids too embarrassed to lift their heads while cleaning up.

Song Mo nibbled at her ear. "I promised I wouldn't misbehave outside the bedroom. But if you're the one misbehaving with me, that doesn't count as breaking my promise, does it?"

"What?" Dou Zhao didn't immediately understand.

Song Mo had already taken her earlobe between his lips, teasing it gently with his teeth.

Dou Zhao's mind buzzed as her body went limp like water.

"Song Yantang, you... you..." Could she call him despicable? That accusation would ruin the mood. Could she say he was cunning? Yet even if she steeled her heart, she might not be able to push him away.

A wave of heat surged through her body. Unable to suppress a soft moan, Dou Zhao clung tightly to Song Mo.

The amorous scene made Su Xin and the others blush as they quietly withdrew from the hall.

Outside, the howling wind carried a bone-chilling cold.

Su Lan, hugging her sleeves, whispered carelessly to her sister, "The Young Lord won't be done for quite some time. We might as well go back to our room and sleep, leaving someone here to keep watch. We can return near dawn."

Su Xin flushed with embarrassment and pinched her sister's cheek. "If you keep saying such shameless things, I'll send you back to Zhen Ding!"

Rubbing her cheek, Su Lan muttered defiantly, "I wasn't lying..."

Su Xin quickly covered Su Lan's mouth and glanced around, noticing the other maids lowering their heads in embarrassment. Furious at her sister's indiscretion, she coldly addressed the maids, "You may all retire for the night. Su Lan and I will handle things here."

The maids scattered like startled birds, as if afraid Su Xin might change her mind.

Only then did Su Xin scold her sister in a hushed voice: "We're nearly at the age to leave the household. Madam will select new senior maids from among the current servants. If you keep spouting nonsense—and Madam dotes on you too much to punish you—the other maids will follow your example and ruin the household's discipline." She continued, "You're not a child anymore. Madam and I can protect you for now, but not forever. When you marry, if your loose tongue causes trouble, people won't say you're foolish—they'll say Madam raised maids without virtue, tarnishing her reputation. Remember this: everything you do reflects on Madam's name!"

Su Lan grew frantic, tears welling up. "I—I won't say such things again."

Yet she still didn't understand what she'd done wrong.

Su Xin sighed in frustration, knowing further explanation might be pointless.

She could only hope Su Lan would marry into a tolerant family that could overlook her careless tongue.

※※※※※In the blink of an eye, it was mid-October. The Dou family finally handed over the properties under Dou Zhao's name to her, and Dou Shiheng and Dou Xiuchang were about to return to Zhen Ding.

On the day of their departure, Song Mo personally escorted them to the Chaoyang Gate.

On his way back, he encountered Chen Jia.

"Young Lord!" Chen Jia quickly dismounted and bowed to Song Mo.

Song Mo nodded and walked past him.

Chen Jia, with an ingratiating smile, asked one of Song Mo's attendants, "Where has the Young Lord been?"

There were plenty of people in the Capital eager to curry favor with the Young Lord.

The attendant, somewhat haughty but indifferent, replied, "Madam's uncle and cousin were returning to Zhen Ding. The Young Lord made a special trip to see them off."

Chen Jia let out an "Oh," then turned to discuss with one of his brothers: "I think I should find someone to add to my household as soon as possible. I’m not picky about anything else, but she must be clever and quick-witted, someone who can navigate high society."

"Such a woman isn’t easy to find!" his brother scratched his head and said. "What about a personal maid serving a young lady or madam from a prominent family? Would you take one?"

"Yes," Chen Jia answered without hesitation. "Even better if she’s a senior maid who once served a grand madam."