As Dou Zhao and Song Mo were paying their respects to Song Yichun, Dou Jichang arrived to escort Dou Zhao back home.

Song Yichun, her heart full of unspoken words, hastily gave Dou Zhao and Song Mo a few instructions before sending them on their way.

Fierce winds carried torrents of rain, surging like waves. The covered walkway appeared as if it had been washed clean, and anyone walking on it would find their shoes, socks, and hems instantly soaked through.

Everyone donned straw rain capes and wooden clogs. Dou Zhao seemed taller than usual. Suxin struggled to hold an umbrella over her.

“Let me do it myself!” Dou Zhao said with a smile, reaching for Suxin’s umbrella.

However, a pair of hands, as lustrous as fine jade, extended and took the umbrella before she could.

Dou Zhao looked up in surprise to see Song Mo’s calm face.

“I’ll take care of this,” he said nonchalantly, holding the umbrella and guiding Dou Zhao forward with a hand on her shoulder.

Chen He, who usually held Song Mo’s umbrella, stood bewildered for a moment before hurrying after them.

Dou Zhao’s height barely reached Song Mo’s earlobe. If she leaned slightly, she could rest her head on his shoulder.

In both her lives, Dou Zhao had always been the one holding umbrellas for others. When had anyone ever held one for her?

She walked alongside Song Mo in a daze, only coming to her senses when they reached the carriage.

The coachman had already set out the footstool.

Song Mo hesitated briefly before taking Dou Zhao’s hand. “Quickly, get in. Be careful not to wet your clothes,” he said, moving the umbrella to cover the footstool, intending to personally assist Dou Zhao into the carriage.

Large raindrops fell on Song Mo’s face.

Dou Zhao hurriedly ducked into the carriage.

Chen He ran over, holding a tung oil umbrella high with both hands to shield Song Mo from the wind and rain.

Song Mo handed the umbrella to Wuyi beside him and boarded the carriage.

Suxin and the others lowered their heads in surprise before filing into the carriage behind them.

Witnessing this scene, Dou Jichang’s steps faltered. He was somewhat taken aback. Everyone in the capital knew that the heir of Duke Ying’s household was of noble birth and had a cold, unapproachable demeanor. Yet, he could lower himself to care for Fourth Sister… It seemed that even the coldest of men had a tender side when it came to their wives.

He smiled and jumped into the Dou family carriage.

Raindrops pattered loudly on the carriage roof.

Dou Zhao looked at her dry clothes, feeling deeply moved. She sincerely thanked Song Mo and offered him a handkerchief to wipe the rain from his face.

Song Mo accepted the handkerchief with a smile. It was a plain white silk cloth with a cluster of wild orchids embroidered in one corner, reminding him of Dou Zhao’s flower garden.

He wiped his face. The handkerchief carried a faint fragrance, reminiscent of orchids, or perhaps jasmine. Upon closer inspection, it seemed more like the scent of tuberose, very elegant and refined.

He tucked the handkerchief into his sleeve and lifted the carriage curtain, peering through the glass window. “Would you like to visit Zhending?” he asked.

The streets were nearly empty, with fierce winds and rain lashing at fallen leaves strewn across the ground.

Dou Zhao’s eyes lit up. “Is that possible?”

“If there’s something you want to do, you can always find time for it,” he replied, turning back to her. His eyes shone like stars in the dim light of the carriage.

“You’re right!” Dou Zhao chuckled, then considered seriously for a moment.

It would be wonderful if Song Mo could accompany her to Zhending. Her grandmother could meet him and feel more at ease. However, with Song Mo’s duties in the Imperial Guard, he might not be able to get away easily. This matter would require careful planning.

“I’ll discuss it with Master Yan later,” she said with a smile. “We’ll also need to explain it to the Duke.”

Song Mo nodded, feeling a twinge of sadness. If his mother were still alive, she could have helped Dou Zhao, and returning to Zhending wouldn’t be so difficult for her.

He clenched his fist involuntarily.

Noticing his low spirits, Dou Zhao leaned towards the window as well.

“This autumn rain chills the air with each downpour,” she remarked. “Where are we now?”

In her previous life, although she had lived in the capital for over a decade, she was only familiar with the area around Fugui Fang.

“We’re on Anding Gate Street,” Song Mo replied thoughtfully, then instructed the coachman, “Take Jiangmi Lane to Jing’an Temple Alley.”

The coachman was stunned for a moment before loudly acknowledging the order and turning the carriage into a nearby small lane.

Dou Zhao asked curiously, “Why are we taking Jiangmi Lane? Is it closer to Jing’an Temple Alley?”

She thought it would be good to know the route for future visits to her family.

“It’s about half an hour longer than going via North Imperial Wall Street,” Song Mo explained with a smile. “But the Six Ministries and the Five Military Commissions are that way. You can have a look.”

Dou Zhao felt embarrassed. Song Mo was treating her like a sheltered young lady who had never ventured far from home.

Still, she was pleased that he had thoughtfully considered showing her around.

Dou Jichang, following in the carriage behind them, wore a puzzled expression.

Why had Song Mo and the others changed course to head south? They were getting further away!

He watched as their carriage slowed to a stop, lingering for a moment in front of the Hanlin Academy, Imperial Gardens Office, Imperial Medical Academy, and other government offices before slowly moving on.

He couldn’t help but ask the guard accompanying their carriage, “What are they doing?”

The guard, equally unsure, hurried to inquire and returned to report, “The Young Master is pointing out the locations of the Six Ministries to the Fourth Young Mistress!”

Dou Jichang was taken aback. “What do the Six Ministries have to do with Fourth Sister?”

The guard shook his head, clearly just as perplexed.

Dou Jichang’s servant ventured a guess: “The Fourth Young Mistress hasn’t been in the capital long and rarely goes out. When she does, it’s either to visit a few temples or to browse the silk and jewelry shops on South Street and Drum Tower Avenue. Perhaps the Young Master wants to broaden her horizons!”

Dou Jichang suddenly understood and couldn’t help but laugh. “How thoughtful of him!” To think he would bring his wife to see the Six Ministries – it’s not as if she were a son he needed to encourage to take the imperial examinations.

Fortunately, the heavy rain and wind had kept most people off the streets. Since it was a homecoming visit with no strict time constraints, Dou Jichang didn’t bother to interrupt them. He reclined in the carriage, listening to the rain as they stopped and started, taking an extra half hour to reach Jing’an Temple Alley.

The Dou family relatives had all arrived.

Hearing that Dou Zhao and the others had arrived, Dou Shiying, eager to know how his daughter was faring, ignored Dou Shizu’s attempts to stop him and went to the main gate to welcome them personally.

Song Mo alighted from the carriage, taking the large umbrella from Chen He with one hand to block the wind while using his other hand to assist Dou Zhao down from the carriage. In the process, the hem of his robe was half-soaked.

Dou Shiying, who had hurried over, beamed with joy at the sight. Before Song Mo could steady himself, Dou Shiying stepped forward and took his arm. “Come inside quickly! The rain is too heavy!” he called out loudly to Gaosheng, “Hurry and find some clean clothes for the Fourth Son-in-law to change into.” His enthusiasm was remarkable; even when Song Yichun and Song Mo’s relationship hadn’t soured, he had never shown such outward affection towards Song Mo. This left Song Mo momentarily stunned before he regained his composure and respectfully thanked Dou Shiying: “Thank you, Father-in-law!”

Dou Shiying gazed at Song Mo, who stood before him like a paragon of refinement and virtue. Recalling how he had just sheltered Dou Zhao, Dou Shiying found himself increasingly pleased and approving. As he led Song Mo towards the flower hall, he said with a broad smile, “A son-in-law is like half a son. There’s no need for such formality between us. As long as you and my daughter are happy together, I’m content.”

Remembering Dou Shiying’s tears when Dou Zhao left for her wedding, Song Mo’s heart softened. He respectfully answered “Yes” and entered the main gate with Dou Shiying.

Gaosheng came running with a stack of clothes. “Master, these are the new clothes you had made recently. You haven’t had a chance to wear them yet,” he said, out of breath. “Which one do you think is suitable?”

Dou Shiying selected a purple-red straight-collared robe with brocade patterns and said to Song Mo, “Change into this first. The autumn rain can be harmful; be careful not to catch a cold.”

Looking at the bright and intricate patterns, both Song Mo and Dou Zhao couldn’t help but break into a sweat—the former because he found the garment too ostentatious, yet couldn’t refuse a gift from Dou Shiying; the latter because she hadn’t expected her father to have such a flamboyant piece of clothing made.

As Song Mo went with Gaosheng to change, Dou Zhao couldn’t help but ask, “Are brocade patterns still fashionable in the capital?”

“When were brocade patterns ever considered fashionable?” Dou Shiying retorted.

Dou Zhao was at a loss for words. She could only think to herself: But for someone of your age, isn’t this a bit too flashy?

Just as this thought crossed her mind, she saw Song Mo return with Gaosheng.

The purple-red brocade, woven with gold and silver threads in various floral patterns, was a riot of colors like flowing clouds at sunset. It accentuated Song Mo’s flawlessly fair skin, making him appear like a spot of purity amidst the vibrant hues, exuding an air of untainted nobility and elegance.

Dou Shiying’s eyes lit up. “This robe suits you well,” he said. Without waiting for Song Mo to respond, he started walking forward. “Let’s go to the flower hall for tea—the relatives have all arrived early and are waiting for you!”

Song Mo uncomfortably adjusted his sleeves, but as he took a step, he regained his usual composure and followed Dou Shiying to the flower hall.

Dou Shizu and Dou Shiheng sat in the main hall’s grand chairs, conversing with Wei Tingyu. Dou Wenchang and the others stood nearby, listening respectfully. Ji shi, the fifth madam, and other female relatives sat around a round table in the west hall. Dou Wenchang’s two sons, Dou Jichang’s two sons, and Dou Bochang’s daughter were being attended to by a group of maids and elderly servants, their laughter and playful shouts echoing throughout the flower hall.

As Dou Shiying entered with Song Mo and Dou Zhao, Dou Shizu, and the others stopped their conversation, and the servants hurriedly moved the children aside.

The flower hall suddenly fell silent.

All eyes turned to Song Mo.

Song Mo smiled calmly and followed Dou Shiying to pay his respects to Dou Shizu and Dou Shiheng.

Nearby, Wei Tingyu gazed intently at Dou Zhao, who was dressed elegantly yet not without a touch of brilliance.

Dou Zhao, however, showed no interest in engaging with Wei Tingyu. She kept her eyes lowered and followed behind Song Mo, curtsying to Dou Shizu and Dou Shiheng.

Wei Tingyu rubbed his head, looking embarrassed.

At some point, Dou Ming had approached. She tugged at Wei Tingyu’s sleeve and whispered with a smile, “What is the Marquis looking at?” She glanced at Dou Zhao, who hadn’t even spared them a look, but her gaze lingered on Song Mo.

So this was the heir of Duke Ying’s household? He was unexpectedly… stunning!

Dou Zhao was even a year older than him!

Would he… truly be content with Dou Zhao?

Dou Ming couldn’t hide her surprise and shock as she looked towards Dou Zhao.

Dou Zhao stood quietly behind Song Mo, displaying a composure and reserve that belied her age.

Dou Ming’s gaze flickered as she saw Song Mo bow slightly to her husband, smiling as he addressed him as “Peijin.”

He hadn’t used any honorifics!