Chengyang Marquis Estate held a hereditary title. Jiang Xingjian should have been the last generation, but when he and his father met with disaster at the border, the current Emperor, unable to bear the Jiang family suffering such a fate, bestowed imperial grace allowing the marquis estate to inherit for one more generation.

However, Chengyang Marquis Estate only had Jiang Xingjian as the legitimate son. Though there were still several concubine-born sons, when Jiang Xingjian and the Marquis died, those concubine-born sons had not yet amounted to anything. Thus the title had been preserved without determining an heir.

Now that Jiang Xingjian had returned, he would likely be able to directly inherit the title and become a new noble of the capital.

Such joyous news should have been reported to the palace with thanks and communicated to the Song family, but the Emperor and the imperial consorts, along with Song Wan’s father and brothers, had all gone to the summer villa. Therefore, this matter of entering the palace was temporarily postponed.

Jiang Xingjian walked into Song Wan’s room and saw her lifting her brush to write. He guessed she was writing letters to Song Lan’an and Song Fu.

He said nothing, examining the room by himself.

By rights, Song Wan should have lived in Lanting’s main courtyard. Probably because she didn’t want to disturb his “relics,” after marrying into the family she had always lived in Longxiang Studio on the east side of the main courtyard. The place was now completely empty and bare—aside from an entire wall of books, there was nothing else. The only thing that showed any hint of personal interest was a row of zodiac wood carvings placed on the windowsill.

Jiang Xingjian raised his eyebrows slightly.

He stepped forward and picked one up to examine. The carving technique was crude, with rough marks still clearly visible. But perhaps because it had often been held and rubbed by someone’s hands, the carved marks had become smooth and lustrous. His heart stirred, and he turned to look at Song Wan. Sure enough, he saw her earlobes tinged slightly red, as if dyed with a layer of crimson.

Jiang Xingjian lowered his eyes. After a moment, he placed the wooden carving back in its original position.

“You actually still kept them.”

Upon hearing this, Song Wan’s cheeks burned even hotter, yet she uttered not a word.

For some reason, seeing her like this, Jiang Xingjian suddenly felt some indescribable, unclear thoughts rising within him. But as a thousand threads of emotion churned in his heart, when the words finally left his mouth, they transformed into only a faint “I didn’t know you would marry over.”

Song Wan seemed somewhat dazed. After quite a while, she lowered her eyes and said, “A husband has the righteousness to remarry; a wife has no text permitting a second marriage. The Jiang and Song families are longtime friends, and our families’ marriage was arranged before you and I were even born. Whether for the Song family’s reputation or a woman’s good name, I had only one path to walk.”

She lifted her head to look at Jiang Xingjian, dropped the line “You shouldn’t not know this,” then continued writing her letter. Jiang Xingjian’s return to the capital was a major matter for both families—she had to write to her father and brothers.

She finished writing in a few strokes, sealed the letter, and handed it to the maid beside her to send out.

Jiang Xingjian remained in the room. The two didn’t know what they could say to each other, and the atmosphere grew cold for a moment.

Fortunately, a fat cat with sleek fur and a large frame came running in through the door. Only upon seeing it did Song Wan finally reveal a smile. That smile was like winter snow melting, making the entire Longxiang Studio seem to brighten.

The big fat cat meowed and meowed, rubbing its fluffy head against Song Wan’s bosom. Song Wan summoned the maids beside her to bring meat broth.

“Eat some more.”

“Meow…”

After eating, the big fat cat directly rolled over, exposing its white belly for Song Wan to stroke. If she rubbed it in a way that wasn’t comfortable, it would protest with a few cries.

Jiang Xingjian was watching with interest when he saw Heng Wu enter, lifting the beaded curtain.

“Young Master, Miss Lin requests an audience.”

Song Wan’s hand stroking the cat paused. Jiang Xingjian walked out with furrowed brows.

Lin Jiayue stood outside the door, looking inside rather curiously. However, two elderly matrons and a ten-year-old girl with her hair in a maid’s bun stood before her, watching her. For the moment, she felt too embarrassed and could only purse her lips and turn her head away.

When Jiang Xingjian came out, he saw her idly pinching her fingers with a rather impatient expression.

“Brother Xingjian.”

Seeing Jiang Xingjian, Lin Jiayue smiled. “The marquis estate is truly luxurious—worthy of nobility indeed. But why does your mother call you Yi’er while you told me your name was Xingjian? It’s not a false name, is it?”

“Jiang Yi is my given name; Xingjian is my courtesy name.”

Seeing her eyes full of smiles, Jiang Xingjian’s tone also softened. “Is there anything you’re not accustomed to? If you find anything inconvenient, I’ll have my grandmother send two more maids to your courtyard.”

“No need. I’m not accustomed to having people serve me closely.”

Seeing he didn’t speak, Lin Jiayue blinked and teased, “I really never imagined your estate would have such a beautiful wife. If I’d known earlier, I wouldn’t have followed you back. After all, I want to be ‘one life, one generation, one pair of people.’ I truly have no interest in interfering in other people’s marriages or being some third party.”

Jiang Xingjian remained silent, as if unsure how to respond.

His reaction made Lin Jiayue somewhat dissatisfied. But she truly liked this man before her with his handsome appearance and extremely refined manners, and for the moment couldn’t bear to speak too harshly.

“Look, I’ll just ask you—do the things you said to me before and the promises you made still count or not?”

Jiang Xingjian nodded. “Naturally.”

At that time, he truly hadn’t known the Song family would fulfill this marriage contract, especially after he discovered the truth about his father’s and his own supposed deaths.

Jiang Xingjian lowered his eyes in contemplation. Lin Jiayue, however, said, “It’s good that you say so. At least my journey of a thousand miles to follow you to the capital wasn’t in vain.”

She looked at Jiang Xingjian, seemingly intimately or perhaps accidentally lightly touching his hand. “Actually, I’m looking for you because I have a small matter.”

“Earlier, a maid from Old Madam Jiang’s side came to deliver clothing and jewelry to me, asking me to attend the banquet with you tonight. But the clothes delivered were all too gaudy—either emerald green or bright red. I really don’t want to wear them. Could you possibly help me find another skirt?”

“I’ll have someone notify the sewing room to make a set for you.”

Lin Jiayue bit her lip. “With only half a day’s time, how could they finish? I see your wife wearing an outfit that’s very plain and simple. Can’t you just ask her to lend me a skirt?”

Jiang Xingjian frowned in displeasure.

His grandmother would never have sent her red clothing. He wasn’t blind to Lin Jiayue’s little schemes.

“Brother Xingjian?”

The young woman pressed her lips together, her face somewhat flushed. Thinking of how she had neither father nor mother and was all alone, Jiang Xingjian softened.

“I understand.”

After speaking, he returned once more to Longxiang Studio.

Song Wan was holding a brightly colored fabric ball in her hand, teasing the cat. Her maid Heng Wu stood before the beaded curtain. Seeing Jiang Xingjian return, she curled her lip disdainfully toward her older sister Heng Zhi.

Heng Zhi glared at her, then walked before Song Wan and carried the fat cat away.

With the cat gone, Song Wan’s expression grew somewhat bland.

Jiang Xingjian said, “Jiayue wishes to borrow an outfit from you. Would that be convenient?”

“Since Miss Lin wishes to borrow something, why doesn’t she speak for herself?”

Song Wan’s wet nurse, Nanny Zhao, stood to the side. Seeing her young mistress’s cold attitude, she hurriedly smiled to smooth things over. “The young master’s return to the estate is a great joyous occasion, but until today, Madam still held the status of a widow. This wardrobe is full of plain mourning clothes—how could those be worn by an honored guest of the estate? If we truly gave them to her, that would be slighting her.”

“If that young lady doesn’t mind, Heng Wu and Heng Zhi have newly made outfits from the estate. Why don’t this old servant fetch them for you to look at?”

Jiang Xingjian looked at Song Wan’s cold expression, feeling inexplicably displeased. “Plain clothes are also acceptable. Having Jiayue wear servants’ clothing would ultimately be improper.”