Chapter 242 — Seeing Through
Purple Streets of Chang'an · Page 1 of 4
By now all of Dou Juan's relatives had arrived. Outside there was bustle and clamor, but in the bride's room there were surprisingly few people.
Dou Yan was leisurely finishing her breakfast when Ji Yong came in.
He asked Dou Yan, "Are you really set on marrying Song Yan?"
Dou Yan nodded very seriously and said, "I think he's a decent man!"
Ji Yong was instantly furious. He glared and snapped, "I can't be bothered with you," then flung his sleeves and stalked off.
Dou Yan smiled.
At least Ji Yong hadn't turned on Song Chudun without rhyme or reason.
Of course, she didn't think Song Ji would come to any harm, but she was still glad that Ji Yong could respect her decision.
Zhao Zhangru came running in. "Shouyuan, may I come visit you from now on?" She looked a little melancholy.
Dou Yan remembered how, when they were small, the two of them had crouched together under a tree watching ants.
"Of course!" She put an arm around her cousin's shoulders, her eyes moist, and said, "Didn't you say you wanted to have a good look around the Yingzhen Duke's estate? I've heard people say its back garden was built in imitation of Jiangnan gardens, drawing water from the Taiye Pool to fill a lake—you can row a boat there in summer, skate on it in winter, and fish in spring and autumn. It would be such a shame if you didn't see it with your own eyes!"
Zhao Zhangru laughed. "Trying to fool me again! In spring the fish are no bigger than mung beans—how could anyone fish for them?" Yet tears were already slipping down her cheeks.
Dou Yan's heart ached at once, and she began to cry too.
For a moment the room was filled with the weeping of the two sisters, lending it a little of the air of a bride's departure.
It took them a long while to stop their tears. Then Dou Yan gave Zhao Zhangru two sets of pure-gold hair ornaments that she had never worn.
Zhao Zhangru refused. "You're the one getting married—I ought to be adding to your trousseau, not taking things from you!"
"Didn't you embroider a horse-face skirt for me with your own hands?" Dou Yan insisted on giving them to her. "I want to leave you something to remember me by."
From now on, Dou Yan would be another family's daughter-in-law, eating from another family's bowl and under another family's thumb—how could she do whatever she pleased, the way she had at home?
Thinking this, Zhao Zhangru clutched the red-lacquered gilt box containing the ornaments and began to cry again.
"My little ancestor," said her mother, who had come in to say farewell to Dou Yan, caught between laughter and tears at the sight. "The bride isn't crying, and here you are weeping without end! Those who know would say you can't bear to part with your cousin; those who don't would think you're the one getting married! Stop crying now. Let Sujuan help you wash your face, and go happily help your cousin entertain the guests!"
After the noon meal, the hairdresser, the face-washer, and the woman of good fortune all arrived, and she had no further chance to talk with Dou Yan.
Zhao Zhangru's tears gave way to a smile, and she murmured under her breath, "If only I could be married too."
Her mother hadn't caught it clearly and scolded, "What are you muttering about now?"
"Nothing, nothing." Zhao Zhangru's face flushed faintly.
Dou Yan had heard every word.
Her heart stirred.
She hadn't expected her cousin to want so badly to marry. Could she play matchmaker for her?
Never mind past lives or what came before—she had changed plenty of things since her rebirth, and one more wouldn't matter.