Chapter 116 — The Jiang Family

Yes—Zeng Yifen was dead, and the Grand Secretariat stood at the very moment of transition between old and new. The Grand Secretaries were too preoccupied with their own affairs to spare a thought for Jiang Meisun, far away in Fujian.

If anyone bore Jiang Meisun a grudge, now was the perfect moment to strike.

"Can it be that something truly has happened to the Duke of Dingguo?" Fine beads of sweat broke out on Chen Yanzhou's brow as well. "Then—then that child..."

"A deathbed entrusting of an orphan!" Dou Yan said, and let out a long breath.

Only the entrusting of an orphan could explain such secrecy, could explain why Song Yan, heir of the Duke of Yingguo, traveled with so light a retinue, personally escorting the party with a handful of skilled men the whole way.

She worked to slowly calm the turmoil in her heart, and said coolly, "For now, all we can do is pretend we know nothing." Then she raised her head to glance at the roof and murmured, "I hope this rain stops soon—and if it won't stop, then at least let it fall a little lighter."

If they were eager to be on their way, they would set out early.

Chen Yanzhou's expression, however, turned very grim. Looking at Dou Yan with an air of having something difficult to say, he spoke softly: "I'm afraid this is not so simple..."

Dou Yan's brows drew tightly together, and she listened to him intently.

"Did you notice the scholar in blue standing beside the young heir of Song?" Chen Yanzhou said with difficulty. "His surname is Yan, given name Yun, courtesy name Chaoqing. He was once one of the most capable retainers under the Duke of Dingguo. When I left Fujian, I heard that the Duke of Dingguo's sister—the Duchess of Yingguo—had taken a liking to him and wanted him as a tutor for her son. It was only because I recognized him that I guessed the young gentleman was the heir of the Duke of Yingguo, Song Zhi."

Dou Yan understood at once, and said hurriedly, "Did he recognize you?"

"In those days Yan Che was a favorite in the Duke of Dingguo's household, while I was merely one of Zhang Kai's many retainers. But this man is meticulous and has a memory that lets him recall a page at a glance; for that reason he was once put in charge of the documents of the Commander's headquarters," Chen Yanzhou said frankly. "The moment I saw him, I hurried back to my room. I don't know whether he saw me or not."

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Song Yan had not slept either.

No lamp was lit in the room. He stood at the wide-open window, gazing out at the torrential rain. His expression was calm.

A gust of wind swept past; the rain, falling in threads, scattered, and the air filled with the dampness of moisture.

From the darkness a slight, small figure emerged without a sound, halting three chi from Song Yan, and said respectfully, "Young master, mind you don't get wet in the rain. Shall I close the window for you?"

Song Yan paid him no heed, and asked, "Mr. Yan has not returned yet?"

The man was about to answer when he suddenly cocked an ear to listen, then broke into a smile and said, "Young master, Mr. Yan is here."

Song Yan nodded, turned, and seated himself in the armchair beside him.

Yan Che and a somewhat simple-faced man came in drenched through, the water dripping from the hems of their garments pattering onto the blue-brick floor.

"Young master," the two said, saluting Song Yan, who pointed to the armchairs beside him, signaling them to sit and talk.

The slight figure, entirely unhindered by the night, deftly poured each of them a cup of tea, then withdrew silently back into the darkness.

Song Yan asked in an indifferent tone, "Did you find out anything?"

Yan Che and the man who had come with him exchanged a glance, and could not help showing a somewhat bitter smile. "Young master, I fear we are in trouble this time!"

Song Yan looked at the two of them with a serene expression.

The man who had come with Yan Che said, "We ran into one of Zhang Kai's retainers." Then he recounted the whole tale of the grudge between Jiang Meisun and Zhang Kai. "This man's surname is Chen, given name Bo, courtesy name Qushui, sobriquet Yuechuan. He is well versed in documents and statutes, skilled at judging men, and sharp of tongue besides—he has the talent of a Zhang Yi. When Zhang Kai sent troops to attack Watanabe Gojuro, it was this man who came forward and persuaded the Zhejiang grand coordinator, An Daoyuan, to send troops in support. He is now keeping accounts for this household."

"Can you be certain?" For the first time a grave look came over Song Yan's face.

"Certain!" Yan Che said with great assurance. "Xu Qing and I crouched outside his door for nearly half an hour. And he was restless the whole time, constantly sending a servant to ask whether the fourth young lady of the Dou family had woken—as if he had something to say to her. I expect he recognized us too."

Song Yan was silent for a long moment, then said softly, "A guard whose external martial arts have reached the peak of perfection, an accountant who once served as Zhang Kai's retainer, and a dozen or more attendants of no ordinary skill—this fourth young lady of the Dou family is truly no simple matter. Xu Qing," he said with a smile, instructing the man who had come with Yan Che, "keep a close watch on this house. Let no one in or out." Then to Yan Che, "Tomorrow we shall likely have to stay here another day. You had best rest early, sir!"

Yan Che and Xu Qing tensed.

Their movements had already been exposed; the young master's words meant they were to silence them for good.

Xu Qing hesitated. "There are more than twenty of them in all..."

"Then all the more reason for caution." Song Yan was unmoved, his tone light.

The two said no more, answered in unison, and withdrew.

Song Yan, treating the darkness as though it did not exist, passed unhurriedly among the furnishings of the room, lifted the curtain, and entered the warm chamber behind.

In the warm chamber a single bean-sized oil lamp was lit.

The wet nurse, soft of feature, lay curled in her clothes beside the infant; at the sound she sat up at once, alert, and seeing that it was Song Yan, she gave a sigh of relief, called softly "Young master," and made to rise from the bed.

Song Yan gestured for her not to wake the child, then bent and gently stroked the child's dark hair, and said with a smile, "The child is well?" His smile was exceedingly gentle, so peaceful and serene in the lamplight that whoever saw it felt their heart settle at once.

The wet nurse nodded, her smile blooming. "The little young master is very good—he neither cries nor fusses." At this she thought of the child's birth mother, who had hanged herself to keep the secret, and tears welled in her eyes.

"Do not worry," Song Yan consoled her gently. "We will soon be there."

The wet nurse nodded vigorously, her gaze toward him full of trust.

Song Yan walked out of the warm chamber, his bearing tall and straight.

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Sisters, brothers, pink votes, pink votes...

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