Chapter 154 — The Envoy
Purple Streets of Chang'an · Page 1 of 4
Word of the commotion over on Song Cen's side soon reached Song Yan's ears.
"Mr. Tao, is it?" A faint, faintly mocking smile flickered at the corner of Song Yan's mouth. He instructed Xia Lian, "Have these letters delivered."
There were letters for the Third Princess, letters for the Lu family, and letters for Zhang Xuming, the Third Master of the Jingzhen Ducal Estate, and Ma Youming, deputy commander of the Divine Machine Battalion, among others.
Xia Lian answered and withdrew.
Song Han came, accompanied by Libai, to pay his respects to Song Yan.
"Elder Brother, rest well at home and mend your injuries," he said, with great propriety. "I will go keep vigil for Mother."
Song Yan mused a moment. "Three days from now will be Mother's third seventh-day rite, won't it?"
Song Han nodded.
The mourning period was set at seven days, with a sacrifice at each seventh day.
As the eldest son, Song Yan ought to preside over the rites.
If he truly had been beaten so badly that he could not stir, as Father wished—then at Mother's third seventh-day rite, the eldest son absent from the scene—what would the relatives and friends think?
Song Yan gave a cold laugh, then asked Song Han in a gentle voice, "Have you eaten your morning meal?"
"I have," Song Han said obediently. "This morning I had stir-fried vegetables, pickled eggplant, vegetarian buns, and a big bowl of noodles."
That was how he always answered when Jiang-shi asked him.
Hearing this, Song Yan was close to tears.
He sent Libai away and said to Song Han in a low voice, "I wasn't even home when Mother died. Tell me about Mother, will you?" His face wore a look of tender yearning.
Song Han suspected nothing. Wiping the corners of his eyes, he choked out, "Not long after you left, Mother fell ill. At first she was just listless and weak, and then gradually she couldn't get out of bed. Father summoned Yang Xiushan to examine her, but after several doses of his medicine she showed no improvement, so Father switched to Huang Zhongli—and Mother's illness only grew worse. It happened that the Empress's physician came to visit Mother and recommended Ren Chongming. Mother tried Ren Chongming's prescriptions, and still she did not improve. Father decided to switch back to Yang Xiushan..."
Huang Zhongli and Ren Chongming were both great masters famed throughout the realm. One habitually attended the Emperor, the other habitually attended the Empress's household; Huang Zhongli was moreover the chief of the Imperial Medical Academy. If there had been any problem with Yang Xiushan's prescriptions, the two of them could not possibly have failed to notice, nor could Father have made all three imperial physicians write prescriptions according to his will.
In other words, Mother truly had been ill...
Song Yan pondered, then asked Song Han, "When Mother was ill, who tended her at her bedside?"
"I did," Song Han said. "Zhujun and Qingli took turns helping Mother brew her medicine, and I waited on her at the bedside." Here he seemed to recall something amusing, and pursed his lips in a smile. "It turns out Mother was afraid of bitterness, just like me—every time she took her medicine, if she didn't add a great deal of rock sugar..." Then his eyes filled with tears. "Every New Year, Mother would sew new clothes for me with her own hands, and give me gold beans for my New Year's money..."
He burst into loud sobs.
Song Yan's eyes grew moist as well.
He wiped his little brother's tears with a handkerchief. "There now. Tian'en, don't cry! From now on, your elder brother will give you gold beans for New Year's money, and have..." Who could take Mother's place and sew new clothes for Song Han? He himself was not married... And suddenly there surfaced in his mind the look on Dou Yan's face as she crouched in the flower field digging up chrysanthemums.
Generous, natural, unruffled by honor or disgrace... If it were her, how would she comfort his little brother?