Chapter 211 — Beating the Grass
Purple Streets of Chang'an · Page 1 of 4
Song Yan sat before the great desk of purple sandalwood inlaid with curling-cloud patterns in his study, gazing out the window at the crabapple blossoms that lay like three feet of accumulated snow, his expression grave.
Once he had calmed down, he carefully turned over Dou Zhiwei's words in his mind.
She had been telling him that they were not fated, hadn't she?
Her words always carried a good deal of sense.
Just six days ago, he had learned that his father had formally proposed marriage on his behalf to the Yan'an Marquis.
The Yan'an Marquis had neither agreed nor refused.
Word reached him that after returning to his residence, the Yan'an Marquis had consulted his eldest son, Wang Yu, who was thoroughly in favor of the match, and the Marquis had consequently been somewhat swayed.
Song Yan pushed the window open.
Beyond it, green bamboo stood crisp and dignified, plum trees gnarled and vigorous, Yunnan flowers lush and alluring; beneath the arbor where passionflower vines twined, Wuyi was boastfully regaling a few footboys with tall tales.
Song Yan's lips curved up despite himself.
He might marry whomever he pleased, but he would not be led by the nose by his father!
The next day, he began to appear before Consort Ning, who had accompanied the Emperor to the summer palace and had always held him in high favor.
Consort Ning was the birth mother of Princess Jingfu.
Princess Jingfu had come of age this spring.
Three days ago—the day before he had taken leave to attend Dou Yan's wedding—he had come out from an imperial audience at the summer palace, and Wang Yuan had said to him with a smile, "Congratulations," adding under his breath, "Her Highness Consort Ning has been singing your praises to the Emperor these past two days."
Recalling the questions the Emperor had just put to him, he understood at once, and smilingly slipped the man a banknote.
Unless he was mistaken, the Yan'an Marquis would send his father an answer within a few days.
And the palace would soon summon his father for questioning as well.
Was he truly not fated to be with Dou Yan?
Song Yan paused briefly beneath the crabapple blossoms, then went to Yan Che's quarters.
There was nothing in this world he had set his mind to that he could not accomplish!
Yan Che brewed Da Hong Pao himself to receive Song Yan; pouring from the purple-clay pot into small purple-clay cups, he smiled and asked, "When does the heir set out?"
Song Yan had only been granted two days' leave.
"I'll set out after lunch," Song Yan said, sipping his tea unhurriedly. "I intend to marry Dou Yan, and there are certain matters I need to entrust to you."
Yan Che was so startled that his hand trembled, and the hot tea from the pot splashed onto his thigh.
With a cry of "Ah!" he leaped up; the hot water had already soaked swiftly through the silk robe onto his trousers. He made haste to strip off the robe, then, mindful that Song Yan sat before him, thought it disrespectful, and so clutching the robe he dashed into the inner chamber, loudly summoning a footboy to attend him. This drew Chen He and the others, who had been posted outside with no notion of what was happening, rushing in, and the room was thrown into confusion.
Song Yan burst out laughing.
All he had done was say he wished to marry Dou Yan, and Yan Che had lost his composure like that. If he truly did marry Dou Yan, how many jaws would drop and hang open for the longest while?
Dou Yan, it seemed, always had this knack for making a lasting impression, for leaving people dazzled.
After a good while, Yan Che emerged from the inner chamber in a change of clothes.
Song Yan asked him, "Well? Is the burn serious? Shall we send for a physician?"