The Cui family was somewhat different from what Song Chuyi had imagined. She casually glanced around the room—on the kang, a woolen blanket was spread out, and on the kang table sat a glass screen along with several gilt-edged plates holding delicate pastries. The row of chairs were fitted with cushions made from slightly worn silver-gray squirrel fur, and on the table stood a tall plum vase with freshly fragrant dew-laden plum blossoms.

The floor was covered with a carpet depicting the Eight Immortals crossing the sea. To the right, beside the curio shelf, sat a pot of clivia, and in the very center hung a perfectly seasonal painting of white snow and red plum blossoms. The entire room lacked any trace of gold or silver, yet the accumulated refinement of generations was quietly and effortlessly on display.

The Cui family was an esteemed clan. Song Chuyi had always assumed that at this first meeting, she would inevitably encounter many aunts and female relatives. Just the thick register of names she had memorized in the capital was enough to make anyone dizzy—so many names that even she couldn’t help but frown and feel overwhelmed just trying to keep track.

Yet, to her surprise, it was completely different from what she had expected. Aside from Old Madam Cui, no one else was present. This was truly rather unusual.

Old Madam Cui sent Lianyi and Nanny Xu downstairs to rest, rewarded An’an with a meeting gift, and then dismissed everyone else in the room. She took Song Chuyi’s hand and examined her carefully for a long while.

Song Chuyi was exceptionally beautiful—a beauty unlike any ordinary kind. It hadn’t been obvious when she was younger, but now that she had grown up, her features had become more defined, revealing her uniqueness. She had inherited all the best traits from both Cui Shi and Song Yi. Her fox-like eyes were long and upturned, her long lashes thick like a feather fan, her nose high, and her lips cherry-red, with skin as white as snow and a face as radiant as flowers. In a crowd, she would surely be the most eye-catching.

Even the famous Fan family sisters of those years hadn’t had the same captivating presence that made it impossible to look away. Old Madam Cui felt a mix of joy and concern as she looked at her—delighted by her granddaughter’s beauty, yet worried about what Old Madam Song had mentioned in her letter about the Empress’s intentions. She let out a long, deep sigh, with countless thoughts swirling in her mind. But in the end, not a single word came out, and she slowly closed her eyes.

When people grow old, their strength fades. She had dismissed everyone to have a private conversation with her granddaughter, but after seeing her and shedding a few tears, her head felt heavy, and her thoughts became muddled. She couldn’t remember what she wanted to say, and her temples were throbbing painfully. Her thoughts surged, and the moment Song Chuyi stepped through the curtain, she seemed to see her daughter—at that height, no, perhaps even a little taller than Song Chuyi. Back then, her daughter had already been fifteen, with tears in her eyes as she bowed to her and the old master, taking a step back and saying words of care before leaving.

Yet she, who had urged others to take care of themselves, had left first, leaving behind her white-haired parent to see off the black-haired child.

Old Madam Cui held Song Chuyi’s hand, unwilling to let go. After a long while, she exhaled and managed a faint smile as she looked at her: “Originally, I dismissed everyone to talk to you, but now that I’ve seen you, I feel there’s nothing to say. You don’t know, just now, when you lowered your head, you looked exactly like your mother did back then.”

She pulled Song Chuyi close to sit beside her and asked gently, “Are you tired from the boat ride? I heard you had some trouble on the way.”

Seeming to feel that such small talk might become tiresome, Old Madam Cui quickly stopped herself. She had a heart condition, and seeing Song Chuyi stirred her emotions. At this moment, she could barely hold on, but not wanting to alarm her granddaughter, she pulled her close and suppressed the tightness in her chest, smiling warmly as she said, “Go rest first. You’ll stay in Yanghuang Zhai, the room where your mother lived before she married. I had the furnishings replaced with new ones. See if they suit you, and if not, make sure to tell me.”

She had handled everything personally, rather than leaving it to others. Any woman who could marry into the Cui family was no ordinary person, yet Song Chuyi was surprised. Although she had never met her grandmother in either of her lifetimes, she felt a warmth in her heart at this moment, and she obediently agreed.

Once Doukou led Song Chuyi out, Old Madam Cui leaned back on the soft couch, exhaling a long breath. Mama Shi quickly approached to rub her chest and then hurriedly called Qiluo in to bring the calming tea warming on the stove and serve it to Old Madam Cui. Only then did she sigh deeply, “Old Madam, you should really take better care of your health.”

Old Madam Cui barely seemed to hear her, holding Mama Shi’s hand as the wrinkles on her face softened: “I’m just happy in my heart. Did you see? When Xiaoyi entered just now, she looked so much like Tingting.”

Mama Shi’s eyes grew misty. She had watched Cui Zhanmei grow up and had personally seen her off to the capital, but in the end, she never saw the family’s only precious daughter again. Looking at Old Madam Cui’s head of silver hair, she sighed silently: “I saw it. She really does look just like the young lady.”

Yanghuang Zhai was a two-story courtyard. Next to it, by the water, stood a two-story building, connected by a flying bridge now adorned with colorful lanterns that swayed gently in the breeze.

Song Chuyi was surprised the moment she entered—she had been told that Yanghuang Zhai was where her mother had lived before marriage, but the furnishings were almost identical to those in her rooms at the Earl of Changning’s manor. She tilted her head toward Doukou, puzzled. Doukou, smiling, explained: “Old Madam wasn’t sure of your preferences, so she wrote to the capital and asked the First Madam about your likes.”

Qing Ying and Ziyun thought they had returned to the Guanju Courtyard at the Earl of Changning’s manor. Their eyes widened in disbelief. But upon closer inspection, they noticed subtle differences—the bed was a carved huanghuali wood canopy bed with moon-gate doors, and the three layers of gauze curtains hanging down were so delicate and soft they seemed like a single layer, each shade lighter than the last, layered together in a way that made it impossible to look away. The chessboard by the south window was brand new, and the screen by the door depicted narcissus flowers.

Everyone knew the Cui family’s heritage was deep, but to arrange even a granddaughter’s guest room with such meticulous care—each item selected with great attention to detail…

Song Chuyi couldn’t help but feel touched by Old Madam Cui’s kindness. She allowed Qing Ying and Ziyun to help her with her washing, then slipped into bed and closed her eyes. Even as she lay there, she still felt as if she were floating on water, the sensation of it swaying intensely. When Qing Ying and Ziyun came to wake her, she looked around at the familiar room, and only then did she come back to herself.

Qing Ying bent down to lift the bed curtains for her and softly said, “Miss, Qing Zhuo has sent news.”