Blossom

Chen Jia stepped out of the Duke of England's Mansion and couldn't help but glance back at its side gate.

Two gatekeepers were watching him and whispering among themselves.

His expression darkened immediately.

Huzi, who had been waiting outside, rushed over eagerly. "Big Brother, did it work?"

"Let's talk back home," Chen Jia said grimly, quickening his pace as he left the Duke of England's Mansion alley.

Did it work?

If anything, he might have overplayed his hand this time!

With the New Year approaching, the Emperor had suddenly decided to stay at the West Garden for a few days. The Imperial Army was to accompany him in shifts, and the Young Lord of Guang'en Bo had secured this opportunity. But that didn’t mean spending a few days with the Emperor would magically turn His Majesty against the Duke of England's heir, stripping him of favor. Perhaps the Young Lord of the Duke of England's household already had a plan in place. His warning might come off as nothing more than a clownish act—not only ineffective but also making him seem overly ambitious, ruining the good impression he had worked so hard to build with the Young Lord and Madam.

Yet, he had no choice but to try.

After so many days, he still couldn’t think of anything the Duchess of England might need. He couldn’t just stand by and watch the carefully cultivated connection fade away.

So he had no choice but to use the Young Lord’s safety as leverage.

As expected, the Duchess immediately agreed to see him...

He clenched his fists.

If only he had thought it through more carefully.

This had been too reckless.

Thinking of Dou Zhao’s calm, unreadable expression, Chen Jia felt a deep pang of regret.

Dou Zhao left the Small Flower Hall but didn’t return directly to her chambers. Instead, she took a detour and climbed the Lake Tai Rockery behind the hall.

Seated in the pavilion atop the rockery, she gazed toward Cassia Fragrance Courtyard.

The courtyard was a picturesque scene of waterside pavilions and dense foliage. Maids walked along the covered corridors, their red and green skirts occasionally visible through the gaps in the trees—a sight that spoke of the mansion’s profound seclusion.

Dou Zhao sneered.

She leaned in and whispered instructions to Su Xin.

Su Xin looked startled. "Is... this really appropriate?"

"If he dares to make the first move, he shouldn’t blame me for retaliating," Dou Zhao said coldly. "You know very well what he’s done to the Young Lord."

Su Xin bowed in acknowledgment and helped Dou Zhao descend the rockery.

Back in her chambers, Dou Zhao’s expression softened into a gentle smile.

Zhao Zhangru asked, "What did that Chen fellow want with you?"

Aunt, who had been helping Gan Lu unpick old clothes, also set down her work and looked at Dou Zhao expectantly.

Dou Zhao sighed inwardly. "A friend of Chen Jia’s serves in the Five Cities Garrison. He wanted to arrange a meeting with the Young Lord and came to me for help."

Zhao Zhangru scoffed. "So he’s just another one looking to climb the ranks through connections!"

Aunt, however, spoke gently to Dou Zhao. "Matters of the court are complicated. Sometimes, even when someone comes to ask for your help, refusing might offend them, while agreeing could drag you into trouble. Other times, someone who seems like an opponent might stand by your side in a crisis. The Young Lord is a prudent man, and he respects you deeply. It’s best not to meddle in these affairs—just follow his lead in everything."

Dou Zhao nodded repeatedly.

Aunt had always considered Dou Zhao a sensible and dutiful girl, so she didn’t press further. She gathered the unpicked clothes and handed them to Gan Lu. "I’ll take these back to my room to cut later."

Gan Lu blinked in surprise. "Aunt, do you not have scissors? I’ll fetch a pair for you right away."“No!” Aunt stopped Gan Lu with a smile, saying, “These days, it’s best not to use knives or scissors in front of Shou Gu.”

Gan Lu pursed her lips in amusement.

Zhao Zhangru remarked, “There’s such a rule? How come I didn’t know?”

Aunt thought to herself that Dou Zhao was three years younger than her own daughter, yet she had to rely on herself for everything. Meanwhile, her own daughter, born into comfort, remained oblivious to her privilege—lazy and unwilling to learn, only knowing how to make a fuss when trouble arose, never bothering to think. This displeased her, and she scolded, “What do you know besides eating?”

Seeing her mother lose her temper again, Zhao Zhangru quickly hid behind Dou Zhao and protested in a low voice, “Eating is also a skill—that’s what Father says!”

Dou Zhao couldn’t help but laugh.

A young maid announced loudly from behind the curtain, “The Young Lord has returned!”

Aunt shot Zhao Zhangru a stern glare before forcing a smile and rising to her feet.

Due to their familial ties, Song Mo came in to pay his respects to Aunt before withdrawing. It wasn’t until after dinner, when Aunt and Zhao Zhangru had returned to the guest quarters, that he finally went back to the inner chambers.

Dou Zhao immediately asked him, “Where did you have dinner? What did you eat? Did you eat well? What were you doing alone in the outer courtyard? Was it boring?”

As the words left her mouth, her heart clenched.

Ever since she married Song Mo, he had spent every moment after his official duties with her. This was the first time he had merely greeted her before retreating to the outer courtyard.

In noble households, wasn’t it the norm for women to stay in the inner quarters while men remained in the outer courtyard? Only if the man chose to rest in the main chambers at night would the couple see each other.

Back then, Wei Tingyu, even without official duties, was constantly socializing and rarely home. Yet Song Mo, who not only served as Vice Commissioner of the Golden Guard but also supervised the Five Cities Garrison, with countless acquaintances, still made time to accompany her every day…

Dou Zhao couldn’t help but cling to Song Mo’s arm and say, “Aunt and Cousin will be staying with us for a while longer. If you’re bored, invite some friends over or go out and socialize with them. Don’t just stay alone in the outer courtyard with no one to talk to.”

Song Mo, however, chuckled. “Why does that sound like you’re complaining about me being home?”

“Who’s complaining?” Dou Zhao replied, her voice unusually soft. “I’m just worried you’d be lonely.”

Song Mo felt deeply moved.

Gently, he said, “Going out to socialize isn’t all that fun—either drinking at brothels or listening to music, all noisy and chaotic. I’d rather stay at home.”

Dou Zhao thought of the unfamiliar traces of perfume that sometimes clung to Wei Tingyu’s clothes…

It seemed men’s social engagements were all much the same.

If Song Mo were to come home smelling like that…

The thought flashed through her mind, and suddenly, her stomach churned violently. She bent over the washbasin and retched.

“What’s wrong?” Song Mo panicked, holding her close. “Are you unwell? Should I call Aunt over?”

“No need,” Dou Zhao replied, retching a few more times before accepting the handkerchief Su Juan handed her to wipe her mouth. “Morning sickness is normal—Aunt said so.”

“Ah.” Song Mo relaxed slightly, taking the tea Gan Lu offered and personally helping Dou Zhao rinse her mouth. After settling her onto the kang, he smiled. “No wonder filial piety comes first—raising a child is truly no simple matter!”

Dou Zhao pouted playfully. “Only realizing that now? You’d better treat me well!”

The moment the words left her lips, she flushed with embarrassment.How did the conversation turn to this?

She wasn’t some naive seventeen or eighteen-year-old girl who couldn’t distinguish between sincerity and pretense. Did affection have to be expressed through exaggerated displays of concern to be considered genuine?

Yet Song Mo adored the unconscious indulgence she showed in front of him. It was proof that Dou Zhao trusted and relied on him, allowing herself to be unrestrained in his presence.

"Haven’t I been good enough to you?" He feigned a troubled frown. "Then tell me, how should I treat you to be considered good?"

Dou Zhao felt embarrassed and awkwardly changed the subject: "By the way, Chen Jia came to see me today. He said the Emperor plans to stay at the West Garden for a while, and Dong Qi will accompany him with the Golden Guard. Will it be alright for you to stay at home?"

"The Emperor quarreled with the Empress and stormed off, saying he’d stay at the West Garden for a few days. The arrangements aren’t finalized yet—it might not even happen." Song Mo whispered in her ear with a chuckle, "Don’t go spreading this around!"

Dou Zhao was stunned.

Song Mo then breathed warmly against her ear and asked, "Tell me, how should I treat you to be considered good?"

The suggestive tone made her flush crimson.

"Go wash up," she pushed him away, flustered. "Let’s rest early."

Song Mo laughed but took the chance to cling to her, refusing to let go until she explained what "being good to her" meant. No amount of pulling could pry him away.

The servants in the room had long grown accustomed to the dignified and elegant Young Lord turning into a playful, teasing man around Madam. They averted their eyes and quietly withdrew.

Song Mo gradually lost control of himself.

Dou Zhao quickly pressed his hand down, her voice turning hoarse. "You promised not to act recklessly."

Song Mo stiffened before finally pulling his hand back after a long pause.

Dou Zhao retreated to sit by the window.

Song Mo turned his face away, visibly uncomfortable, and murmured, "I’ll go wash up."

Only then did Dou Zhao realize her actions might have seemed like she was avoiding him, as if she found him distasteful.

She tugged at his sleeve, lowering her lashes and speaking in a voice as soft as a mosquito’s hum. "I was afraid I wouldn’t be able to resist… and give in to you…" Her face burned scarlet as she spoke.

Song Mo thought of how she had transformed beneath him—from stiff to pliant, from pliant to melting at the slightest touch… His chest suddenly felt like a pool of spring water, warm and tender, as if it might overflow. Unable to resist, he bent down and embraced Dou Zhao, pressing light kisses along her temples.

Dou Zhao sighed.

Though the sound was faint, Song Mo heard it.

He lifted his head, his gaze clear and steady as he studied her. "What’s wrong?"

Dou Zhao saw her own reflection in his eyes.

Could this be called "you in me, me in you"?

Entranced, she reached out and gently traced the corner of his eye, murmuring, "Don’t go drinking with courtesans anymore…"

Song Mo was taken aback before bursting into laughter. "Alright, I won’t drink with courtesans anymore!"

He pulled her tightly into his arms.

Dou Zhao’s face burned, buried in his chest, too embarrassed to lift her head.

Outside, red lanterns swayed merrily in the wind, casting a warm crimson glow.

Yet in Cassia Fragrance Courtyard, rumors swirled: "Did you hear? The Duke won’t live much longer."

"How can you say such things so carelessly?""I'm not lying to you. The Emperor is going to stay at the West Garden for some time. Originally, he intended to bring the Young Lord along, but since the Duke is ill, the Young Lord has specially requested an imperial decree to stay home and attend to his father's illness."

"That can't be right? The Duke looks perfectly healthy, his face glowing—nothing like someone critically ill!"

"What do you know? It's a final rally before the end! Otherwise, why would the Imperial Physicians prescribe only tonics to nourish his qi and blood?"

"Well... that makes sense. The Imperial Physicians said the Duke caught a chill, but he doesn’t cough or run a fever—it doesn’t look like a chill at all. Could you really be right?"

The speaker lowered their voice even further: "I heard the Hall of Cultivating Will bought a lot of incense candles and white cloth the other day..."