Chapter 150 — Awakening

His father had arranged with his uncle and two other elders to open the ancestral hall at chenzheng. Now he was nowhere to be found—if he were only the eldest son of the Duke of Yingguo, then with the clan head's proposal as father, and no objection from the elders, whether he was present or not would make no difference; he could be struck from the Song family register at once. But he was not merely the heir of the Yingzhen Garrison Manor. He also held a hereditary fourth-rank assistant commissioner post. To expel him from the family would mean deposing the heir, which would mean submitting a memorial to obtain the Emperor's permission, then reporting to the Ministry of Personnel—and without some grand and righteous reason, the Emperor would never agree. That was also why his father had proposed opening the ancestral hall the next day.

To leave nothing to chance, his father must have had some matters to prepare in advance.

Now he had been rescued and carried off, and was not present—to say nothing of driving him out of the family, even all the schemes beforehand would probably come to nothing, wouldn't they?

Right now, his father must have a terrible headache.

Song Yan felt a piercing pain.

He could not help closing his eyes.

Silence fell over the room. And with the silence the atmosphere grew more and more oppressive.

It was not until Chen Yanzhou was nearly unable to breathe that Song Yan slowly opened his eyes and said, "How are my injuries?"

He could feel no pain.

Chen Yanzhou hesitated a moment, then said in a low voice, "Your injuries were too frightening, and we dared not call for a physician. Duan Bing used the healing medicine of his sect on you, but... it would still be best to have an imperial physician examine you as soon as possible..."

That medicine must have contained monk's powder!

Song Yan said evenly, "Now is not the time to see an imperial physician. Have Duan the guard give me a few more pills."

"That..."

"I know," Song Yan said. "My wounds are this severe, yet it makes me feel no pain. The drug must be fierce, and it likely has side effects. But it beats losing my life, does it not?" He regarded Chen Yanzhou with perfect composure.

For the first time, Chen Yanzhou looked at Song Yan with admiration in his eyes.

Six days and five nights of unbroken hard riding, beatings that broke bone and tendon, grief for a dead mother, his father's heartlessness—none of it had worn down his resolve. The moment he regained consciousness, he set about understanding his own circumstances.

A will of iron—truly rare!

In a few more years, what fear would there be that he could not hold up a house of his own?

The thought only deepened Chen Yanzhou's puzzlement over the Duke of Yingguo's conduct.

Why would he cast off such an outstanding eldest son?

But the moment the thought surfaced, Chen Yanzhou pressed it down into the depths of his heart. The Yingzhen Garrison Manor was a noble house of a hundred years' standing; its waters ran deep, and the likes of them had no business touching it.

He gave a slight nod.

A flicker of relief passed through Song Yan's eyes.

Quietly he asked Chen Yanzhou, "Can you help me deliver a few letters?"

Chen Yanzhou took some effort to suppress the wild joy in his heart, and said in the same gentle voice as always, "The Fourth Miss said that the heir's instructions are as her own."

In truth, Dou Zhiwei's actual words had been: "If you can rescue Song Yan in time, make haste and have him contact someone he trusts. If he asks you to run an errand or deliver a letter or the like, there is no harm in helping him. But if it is anything else, tell him you are short-handed and powerless to help. Whatever you do, do not get mixed up in it! Saving his life is already the limit of our benevolence—there is no call to throw our own lives away with his."

But he felt that, having decided to help Song Yan, he might as well do it handsomely.

The corners of Song Yan's mouth lifted slightly.

The Fourth Miss...

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Seeing Chen Yanzhou come out of the side room, Duan Bing and Chen Lanxu hurried to meet him and asked in low voices, "How goes it?"

Chen Yanzhou raised the letters in his hand.

Duan Bing grinned broadly.

Chen Lanxu let out a breath of relief as well.

When the sovereign wills a minister's death, the minister must die; when a father wills a son's death, the son must die.

They had gone to such lengths to save Song Yan. If Song Yan still would not carve a way out for himself, that would be too senseless altogether.

Only then did Duan Bing yawn and say wearily, "Which letters am I delivering? Once they're done, I'd like to go get some sleep."

He had come dusty and travel-stained from the capital back to Zhending, barely washed, then pressed on day and night to the capital again; he had long since been worn to the bone.

Chen Yanzhou said hurriedly, "You two go and rest! It is only delivering a few letters, not a fight—Cui Min and I will do. Then he recounted Song Yan's request for the medicine.

Duan Bing was silent for a long moment, then said, "The heir's words have their logic too. A true man would sooner die on his feet than live on his knees." And he went into the side room.

Chen Lanxu and Chen Yanzhou sighed in unison.

Chen Yanzhou went to find Cui Min to arrange the delivery of the letters.

Chen Lanxu thought it over, then followed after him. "Chen Sou, let me go with you! I am not like Uncle Duan, making two round trips from Zhending to the capital within a few days..."

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Sisters, brothers: because of the Qingming Festival I must make a trip home. Today I only managed to write this one chapter in fits and starts, and the update for April 2nd will have to be squeezed in over the next few days.

I have broken my promise, and I am very sorry!

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