Chapter 183 — Bound for the Capital
Purple Streets of Chang'an · Page 1 of 4
Song Yan turned his head and gazed at the wild peach trees on the far bank of the river.
Not every man can stomach a wife who outranks him.
Dou Yan assumed Song Yan simply did not wish to marry a princess. After a moment's thought, she smiled and said, "In the reign of Emperor Taizong, Feng Jian, the Earl of Yongcheng, became the consort of the eldest son of the Prince of Yongping. Not only was he trusted by the emperor and made Right Zongren of the Imperial Clan Court, he also served successively as Grand General of Datong and as a commander of the Five Armies' Commandery, and he put down the Tude Rebellion—the world revered him. In Emperor Renzong's day, Dong Lin, the heir of the Earl of Guang'en, was consort to the Princess Huaisu, yet for drunkenness and loose talk he was stripped of his title of heir, reduced to commoner, and died in a foreign land. A consort's lot need not be a bad one—it all depends on how you conduct yourself." She added, "Nothing in this world is without both benefit and harm, and since every man's circumstances differ, the balances differ too—it is only a question of whether the benefit outweighs the harm, or the harm the benefit."
Song Cen was barely forty and had a good ten or twenty years left in him. With that single word 'filial' pressing down on him, Song Yan would have to spend twice, even three times, the effort he would otherwise need to make Song Cen think twice—such a life was too hard to bear.
Dou Yan reckoned that rather than sleeping with one eye open day in and day out, he might as well marry a princess. Sons of noble houses rarely rose to become powerful ministers who could shake the realm, so better to find a way to live comfortably and at ease.
Song Yan smiled faintly.
The consorts of Taizong's day could lead troops into battle and become grandees with real power in their hands, while the consorts of Renzong's day could only run with hounds and drown in music and women, drinking and dreaming their days away as idle men of gentle breeding. That had much to do with the stability of imperial authority and the throne's unwillingness to see the great houses wield real power—but it had just as much to do with the sons of those houses being pampered from birth, knowing nothing of the fields, and sinking year by year into decay.
Dou Yan had read the histories thoroughly—how could she not understand this?
She only wanted to comfort him, so that, crushed beneath his father's heel, he would not lose so wretchedly.
Dou Yan always treated him like a child, coaxing him or reasoning with him every time they met.
The feeling was strange.
He was the eldest legitimate grandson of the Yingzhen State Duke's household. From the day he could remember, the words that fell on his ears were duty, burden, bringing glory to the family name, never forgetting the ambitions of the ancestors—from his father and his mother alike. Even his eldest maternal uncle believed in his talents, believed that under his hand the Yingzhen State Duke's household could shed the brand of 'powerful minister' and become 'pure officials,' could become a true century-old great house and no longer be tossed about by each change of the throne.
Dou Yan was forever somewhat anxious on his behalf—yet to call such anxiety a lack of faith in his ability would be wrong, for she never once doubted the things he had decided. And yet to call it faith would be wrong as well: she kept up a constant, inexplicable wariness about his affairs, as though at the very next moment he might sink into the mire beyond saving, and there was always a measure of scrutiny in the way she looked at him.
Yet whichever it was, Song Yan found it rather amusing—more than that, he had a vague sense that he often, without realizing it, played upon this disposition of Dou Zhiwei's: saying things he knew would worry her, doing things he knew would worry her... like a childish boy. And enjoying it all the while.