Chapter 136 — Enthralled
Purple Streets of Chang'an · Page 1 of 4
The news of Jiang Lansun's death—
In his letter he noted, not without regret, that the Jiang family would have a hard road ahead.
Dou Yan understood what he meant.
A family endures because its elders teach by word and example, passing the flame from one generation to the next.
Jiang Bosun, the youngest son, had stayed in the capital to serve Lady Mei. He had never once gone to war, and never once left the capital. While his elder brothers fought and bled in Fujian, he lived in silks and delicacies in the capital; while they matched wits with the grand secretaries at court, he gave himself over to pleasure and debauchery—otherwise he would never have kept a mistress hidden away outside.
Now Jiang Lansun, seasoned, far-sighted, gravely wounded yet enduring with extraordinary fortitude until he reached Tieling Guard, was dead of illness. And Jiang Bosun, who had never seen a battlefield or the cruelty of war, had lived. What would the Jiang family become under his leadership?
With the succession broken, could the house ever rise again?
Dou Yan did not grieve as Chen Yanzhou did.
In her last life, before absolute power, all such schemes and dispositions had been ground to dust and had availed nothing. In this life, if part of the Jiang family could be saved, if they could withdraw from the killing fields and live out their days as ordinary folk of means, that was not necessarily a bad thing.
She worried only about Song Yan.
She could not fathom what he was thinking, delaying so long in recalling Lu Ming.
She herself played the deaf mute for Chen Sou's sake—but what was his reason?
If it was distrust of her, the Jiang family affair had long since been settled. What about her could still warrant his attention?
At these thoughts, Dou Yan felt a stir of irritation.
Next year she would begin devoting herself wholly to breaking off her betrothal to the Wei family. She had neither the energy nor the time to keep up this contest with Song Yan.
Dou Yan put the letter away and instructed Suxin: "Tell the coachman that we set out for the estate in half an hour."
This year's winter wheat had failed utterly, but the corn had yielded a bumper harvest. The people on the estate had talked it over and sent several elders to consult her grandmother: they would pay no rent on the corn, keeping it for their own food, and the winter wheat sown next season would all go to the Dou family.
Corn, however it was cooked, was coarse and hard to swallow; wheat was another matter—ground into flour, it made excellent steamed buns and noodles.
This was the heartfelt gesture of the estate's tenant farmers.
Her grandmother was deeply moved.
These days were the season for sowing winter wheat, and the old lady decided to go with Dou Chuqi to have a look at the estate.
Her grandmother was in high spirits. She wore a plain fine-cotton jacket of aloeswood brown, square-toed black cloth shoes on her feet, and her hair, threaded with a few silver strands at the temples, was coiled in a neat round bun. She wore not a single ornament, and looked crisp and immaculate.
At the sight of Dou Yan, the old lady's mood rose even higher. She waved a hand: "Come, let us go to the estate!" Then added, "Cooped up every day with nothing but flowers and grass to tend—I'm stifled to death."
Dou Yan smiled in apology, but inwardly she thought: if only I can preserve your life, I am willing to bear the name of an unfilial child.
Chatting and laughing, they made their way toward the second gate, and came face to face with Ji Yong, just returned from outside.
From somewhere or other he had hauled back more than half a cartload of books, and was directing his personal attendants to unload them.
"Aunt Cui, Fourth Sister." As a rule he was modest and courteous, amiable and easy, welcome wherever he went. "And where are you off to?"