“Actually, you don’t need to worry excessively.” Zhou Weizhao walked with his hands behind his back, accompanying Song Chuyi through the covered corridor. The wind rose, sweeping up fallen flowers all over the ground. Late spring rose petals fluttered arrogantly with the wind, falling on their shoulders and heads, accompanied by swaying lanterns, displaying a chaotic yet ineffably beautiful aesthetic.
Song Chuyi didn’t realize this scene could already be captured in a painting. She turned a corner and couldn’t help but sigh softly: “I understand Your Highness’s meaning. With such a large wedding escort party from the Cui family, and officials at all levels looking after them along the way, nothing should happen. But one can’t guard against every possibility. A’Yan is still young after all…”
Song Yan stood still and looked at her, casually brushing the petals from her hair, his eyes containing a hint of amusement: “I remember the first time I met you, you went to the escort agency and ferreted out the people in your family colluding with Prince Duan. You were also still young then.”
“This is different.” Song Chuyi frowned, interrupting him: “How can this be the same? A’Yan is a genuine child.” While she—she had long been a broken soul reassembled once over.
“In my view they’re all the same.” Zhou Weizhao shifted his gaze away. The contours of his profile under the lamplight looked as if carved by knife and axe, everywhere revealing refinement and harmony: “You can’t always shield him under your wings. He’ll have to grow up sooner or later. If in the future you marry or have other unexpected circumstances, can he simply not live his life anymore?”
These words struck right at Song Chuyi’s heart. She didn’t dare gamble with Song Yan’s future prospects, so she tried with all her ability to help pave the road for Song Yan, wanting him to learn things—the more he learned, the better.
“Sixth Miss, your heart is good, but this world doesn’t only have open thoroughfares—there are also countless dangerous shoals and rapids. You can’t possibly walk every path for him first. Last time with Han Zhi’s matter was exactly like this.” Zhou Weizhao pointedly identified Song Chuyi’s indecisiveness: “I think your elder brother’s thinking is very good. He’s already eleven years old. In another three years it will be time for the autumn examinations. ‘Read ten thousand books, travel ten thousand miles’—you can’t only have him do the first part well. No matter how reluctant you are to let go, you must be willing to release him. Otherwise this isn’t for his good—it’s harming him.”
Song Chuyi wasn’t very good at raising children. Her former Ran gege hadn’t lived until she needed to teach him how to conduct himself in the world. In this life she felt she had methods for everything, yet only in teaching Song Yan did she always feel inadequate. At this moment, hearing Zhou Weizhao speak like this, she lowered her head to think for a while, and could only feel that men’s thinking was perhaps always different from women’s.
Zhou Weizhao felt his words might have been somewhat heavy, so he comforted her: “There’s still Cui Second Master and the Cui family’s eldest young master going on the wedding escort. Song Yan also has Qin Chuan and Qin Ying following him. Your elder brother gave him Wangyue, and Cuiting is also capable of handling matters. He won’t come to any harm.”
It would be best if it were so. Indeed she also couldn’t always accompany Song Yan. She should let go and allow Song Yan to walk on his own, to experience the hundred states of human existence in this world. Meeting Zhou Weizhao’s gaze, she nodded: “Thank you, Your Highness, for thinking so thoroughly for him.”
Zhou Weizhao looked at her somewhat hesitant to speak, silent for a moment before saying: “Yesterday Second Young Master Ye came to find me.”
Speaking of which, Song Chuyi hadn’t seen Ye Jingchuan for several days now. She didn’t know if he was deliberately avoiding her—several times at banquets where they originally could have met, there was also no sign of him. Ye Jingkuan said he was injured quite severely this time, so he simply hid away refusing to see people. These past days he’d been leaving early and returning late—they couldn’t even catch sight of his shadow.
Being alone and unfamiliar with Jinzhong, Song Chuyi had even specially asked Cui Second Master to look after him more. Hearing this, Song Chuyi raised her eyes to look at Zhou Weizhao, paused, but didn’t say anything.
Now whatever she said would seem affected and false. Second Young Master Ye was truly very good, but he just wasn’t the person she wanted. She also couldn’t imagine how to make life work if she really married Second Young Master Ye in the future—Ye Jingchuan was really too much like a child, so pure he had almost no scheming at all. Every time Song Chuyi compared herself with him, she felt they weren’t people from the same world.
Zhou Weizhao walked alongside her for a stretch, and seeing she didn’t speak, said softly: “Second Young Master Ye told me his feelings for you are genuine. He originally thought that with your two families’ relationship, this marriage wouldn’t be difficult to arrange…”
Song Chuyi’s head lowered even more, and she became increasingly quiet.
Zhou Weizhao simply stopped and looked at her, sighing deeply: “But I think you’re not someone who could be content based on those four words ‘well-matched in social status.’ If you were truly content with that, you could easily tie Shen Qingrang to your side again. Because with your methods, he would definitely obediently listen to your every word, and dealing with Duke Yingguo’s family would take no effort at all. You just don’t want to repeat the life from your dream, which is why you’re so hesitant.”
Zhou Weizhao’s ability to perceive people’s hearts had always been formidable. His words could always strike right to one’s heart with precision. Song Chuyi stood stock still, looking toward him with a sense of revelation.
“Actually I’m different from both Second Young Master Ye and Shen Qingrang.” Zhou Weizhao saw his own reflection in Song Chuyi’s clear, transparent eyes and couldn’t help but smile faintly: “I’m also not very stupid—I can still guess your thoughts. Why don’t you look at how I am?”
Song Chuyi didn’t react for a moment. Her cat-like eyes widened slightly. When she finally did react, she turned her head to the other side in a somewhat evasive manner. She couldn’t even spare a sentence in reply. Lifting her skirts, she walked extremely fast, and in an instant passed through the moon gate and vanished from sight.
Qing Zhuo behind them simply wanted to jump up and cover Zhou Weizhao’s mouth—where was there anyone who pursued a girl by speaking like this? His own master was truly stupid to the core. What did he mean by “not very stupid” and “different from Second Young Master Ye”? The story books he’d read had not a single young master who expressed his feelings to a girl he admired like this. However, at least the words had finally been spoken. Qing Zhuo scratched his head. Miss Song Six was so clever—she should understand his Highness’s implied meaning, right?
A gentle breeze passed by. The petals on the ground were swept up again, dancing wildly in mid-air. Zhou Weizhao stood still and slowly bloomed into a smile. At last he’d taken the first step and made a beginning. All beginnings are difficult—the road ahead surely wouldn’t be so full of twists and turns.
Song Chuyi, even after entering Cui Huaying’s embroidery tower, still felt as if she were treading on clouds. Each step she took felt unsteady, as if she could fall from the clouds at any moment. She sat beside Cui Huayi and Cui Huaying, who were happily talking about something unknown, and with difficulty gathered her wits to listen to them speak for a while, then used the excuse of changing clothes to turn toward the adjacent room.