Chapter 183 — Bound for the Capital
Purple Streets of Chang'an · Page 2 of 4
Sometimes he wondered how he had come to be this way—so utterly unlike his usual steady self... and he would put it down to their first meeting having been so shocking, and to Dou Zhiwei being so cool and self-possessed, so rational and confident, that in her presence he had no need to disguise anything, nor to feign anything.
In this moment, as ever, Song Yan followed his own heart and said, "How do you come to know so much about the circumstances of the various princesses? Even Master Yan could find nothing. I told Master Yan that if I am to marry a princess, I must find one of gentle temper—for I intend to take concubines."
Dou Yan burst out laughing. She looked him up and down with a critical eye and teased, "You? If you set your heart on taking concubines, even a princess of fiery temper would hardly be able to stop you. But you had better be careful. The consort of the Princess of Nanping in his younger days whored and wenched among the flowers and willows; in his old age he lay paralyzed in bed, and the Princess of Nanping put all his concubines to death by imperial grant, and dispatched her own trusted matrons to ask him every other hour whether he still dared take concubines..."
Song Yan was mortified. "How do you know so many tales of the imperial house?"
Dou Xin countered, "Do you not read books in your spare time?"
Song Yan burst out laughing again, and the sound rang out clear as springwater dashing among the trees, startling a flock of birds into a chattering, chirping clamor.
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Back from the rear hills, Dou Yan went straight to Chen Yanzhou and told him how Ji Yong had slandered Wei Fan with the tale of a night spent at the South Wind Establishment.
Chen Yanzhou turned pale with fright. "How did Compiler Ji come to know of it? Did the Young Marquis of Song say anything else?"
He was certain he had betrayed not the slightest sign.
"Nothing else," said Dou Yan, her head aching. But she was in Zhending, and Song's words had been brief. Given Ji Yong's manner of doing things, there was no way they could find a flaw in Ji Yong through what Song had said. She had other worries. "With Cousin Ji kicking up such a fuss, a small matter will become a great one, and there is scarcely anyone who can talk him round. Then there is the Young Marquis of Song, who came in person to bring me word—nine chances in ten to repay us for having saved his life before. He even asked whether I wished to break off the engagement, and how could I dare admit it?" Dou Yan smiled bitterly. "Most likely it was the business in the North Zen Temple alley that put him on the scent. If he too starts playing the clever helper, like Cousin Ji, that would be disastrous—the capital is his ground, with every advantage of time, place, and men, and we could never get around him. If he interferes, it will not be a mere romp like Cousin Ji's!" She mused a while and said, "Matters have already gone beyond what we foresaw; let them run on, and there is no telling what may come of it. I am wondering whether we ought to go to the capital again..."
Hearing that Dou Yan meant to go to the capital, Chen Yanzhou objected at once. "No. If the thing comes to light, the Dou elders and the Wei family alike will lay the blame on you, young mistress." Then, ashamed, he said, "It is all my fault for bungling the business!"
"Do not say such a thing, Old Chen," Dou Yan said with a sigh. "Cousin Ji and the Young Marquis of Song together are like a storm that comes once in a century—how many could stand against it? If this marriage to the Wei family did not concern the rest of my life, I would certainly keep well away from it and simply marry and have done." But whenever she thought of those first few years married to Wei Fan, of the tears she had secretly shed, of grievances she had no one to tell, a chill ran through her whole body.
She would never marry Wei Fan.