Song Chuyi had lived through two lifetimes. In her previous life at this age, she had also been very fond of these little things. But she had died precisely because of these playthings. In this life, apart from that one sentence she’d mentioned to Lord Song, she had never again felt inclined to play with these things.
Over a dozen kites were retrieved from the storeroom—there were peony flowers, dragonflies, butterflies, and one styled as Chang’e flying to the moon with a string of colorful ribbons trailing behind. The young ladies each selected ones to their liking and discussed going to an open area to fly them.
The Song residence was quite spacious, but the most open space had to be in the West Garden. Song Chuyi worried that Song Jie and Song Yu might be entertaining male guests there at this moment, so she specifically had someone go ask.
These young ladies were all about the age suitable for marriage, so extra care had to be taken regarding such matters.
After confirming that the West Garden wasn’t entertaining guests, she led the young ladies there to fly kites. Cui Huaying hadn’t come because she was preparing for marriage. Huayi clasped Song Chuyi’s hand and wouldn’t let go, smiling as she gestured that she would fly hers the highest.
Being relatives who visited each other’s homes during festivals, Xiang Mingzi and Huayi were quite familiar with one another. Hearing this, she looked at the kite in her hand and laughed: “Everyone else chose flowers and butterflies, but you picked a big centipede. Isn’t that being unconventional? I’ll wait and see if it flies high or not.”
Huayi liked her and wasn’t annoyed by her words. She waved the kite in front of Xiang Mingzi’s eyes, laughing smugly: “What do you know? Just look at my kite’s size and you’ll know I’ll definitely fly it the highest.”
As they were laughing and playing around, they encountered Stewardess Lin approaching with a gold-base tray. Upon seeing them, her face bore some smile: “These are palace flowers bestowed from the palace. Old Madam said to bring them for the young ladies to wear.”
They were various kinds of layered gauze flowers folded from mist-faced gauze as thin as cicada wings—there were blue ones, silver-red, water-red, and crimson ones. Below were silver clips as bases that could be clipped into hair—both convenient and pretty.
Everyone picked their favorites to wear and excitedly headed to the West Garden, only to discover that while there had been no male guests earlier, now a group of people had gathered in the pavilion drinking wine.
Fortunately, they were all familiar young men, and all from families with close ties and frequent contact, so they didn’t need to immediately avoid them. Song Jie hurriedly ran out, his face flushed red: “I didn’t know you were bringing people to play here, so I requested the pavilion from First Aunt to drink wine and entertain. We’ll take them away now.”
Song Chubin had gained quite a bit of sense these past two years. Following First Madam in learning household management, she was no longer as timid as before. Hearing this, she thought for a moment and smiled to comfort her brother: “That’s not necessary. After all, you’re inside the pavilion and we’re in the garden, and there are maids and matrons everywhere.”
Only then did they begin flying kites. Even Xiang Mingzi joined Cui Huayi in struggling with that centipede kite.
Song Chuyi sat in the pavilion watching them fly kites, but her heart was concerned about Ma Yongfu and the others—Han Zhi wasn’t someone who would let things go easily. Having found traces, how could he easily give up? Recently he would probably stick to them like a leech.
With this delay, who knew when Qing Yīng would be able to contact them again.
But if Ma Yongfu and Ma San weren’t following Song Yan, how could she feel at ease? Moreover, Han Zhi’s matter was only half completed. No matter what, she had to first find a way to avoid Han Zhi’s surveillance and contact them.
Thinking this, she sighed again, her heart determined that no matter what, she must resolve Han Zhi as quickly as possible. Now that Song Chuning had revealed her existence to Prince Duan and Han Zhi, she already had a head full of troubles. If Han Zhi exposed her further and it fell into the eyes of someone with ulterior motives, who knew how much trouble it would stir up.
Who knew that before Han Zhi’s trouble was resolved, she encountered Shen Qingrang head-on.
These past two years he had often come to the residence with Lady He, but rarely managed to see Song Chuyi. Coming and going, he had pondered out some differences in his heart—Song Chuyi seemed different from before, as if she didn’t take him seriously at all.
Thinking of this, a smile appeared on his face as he held up an exquisitely crafted eagle kite and asked her: “Why aren’t you flying kites with them?”
Song Chuyi looked outside with a somber face and saw Bilian leaning against a tree trunk cracking melon seeds with a young maid.
Shen Qingrang felt somewhat uneasy. He had never lowered his head before Song Chuyi, and two years ago when news of Song Chuning’s death came, he had even deliberately gone before Song Chuyi to demand an explanation.
But after the momentum passed, he regretted it. He knew his father was right—if the family only relied on the title to live, then two generations later even his own son couldn’t be called Shizi anymore, and they would quickly decline.
Previously when he was young, he only thought about whether he liked someone or not. A young man’s loves and hates were all clear-cut. But now that he’d grown up, he couldn’t only consider love and hate. He also had to think about the future, think about how to shoulder a family, think about how to obtain the greatest benefits.
Song Chuyi was truly the best possible choice.
“About me getting angry at you before—that was my fault.” He struggled to spit out this sentence, believing he had lowered his head before Song Chuyi. He smiled at her like when they were children: “Don’t be angry with me anymore. During the spring hunt I’ll hunt a white fox for you! From now on we’ll be like before—I’ll take you along to play.”
He had always only needed to beckon and Song Chuyi would forgive him and come over. Moreover, this time he’d even added extra care. He thought he would surely succeed.
Song Chuyi stood in the pavilion. The surrounding wind carried flower fragrance pouring in, blowing up the strands of hair hanging before her chest, but not a single ripple stirred in her heart.
She had lived two lifetimes, experienced all the warmth and coldness of human relationships in the world. That bit of hazy expectation and affection for the opposite sex in her heart had been ground clean in the previous life by Shen Qingrang until not even bones remained. Inside she was already a decrepit old woman, yet Shen Qingrang still treated her as that naive young girl from before who was easy to deceive.
She found it amusing in her heart, and naturally truly laughed out loud.
Shen Qingrang couldn’t remember from how long ago he’d last seen her smile. Now Song Chuyi’s features had fully matured, and when she smiled like this it was as if clouds instantly scattered, rain dispersed, and colorful butterflies spread their wings. The two dimples on her face seemed capable of holding wine. He was stunned for a moment before coming to his senses, stepping forward two paces to offer the kite.
But Song Chuyi didn’t take it. The things she’d longed for but couldn’t obtain in her previous life were now being held up and presented before her, yet she no longer wanted to reach out her hand.
“I don’t like kites.” Without even glancing at Shen Qingrang, she quickly turned and descended the pavilion, looking toward Bilian with an expression quite meaningful.