Chapter 452 — Hard to Be the One
Purple Streets of Chang'an · Page 1 of 4
Chen Jia at once found himself in a difficult position.
Knowing Jiang Yan's temperament, she must already have explained herself to Lady Dou. Yet Lady Dou had still hurriedly sent word over—which meant she did not believe a word of it.
If he himself confirmed that he harbored no improper designs on Jiang Yan, would Lady Dou then misconstrue Jiang Yan instead?
Jiang Yan had grown up in the Li household. Though she shared blood with Song Yantang, their bond was thin; the Duke of Ying had refused to acknowledge her, and then the Wei He affair had befallen her. Staying in the Song house as she did, without proper name or standing, was awkward enough to begin with—it rested entirely on Song Yantang's and Lady Dou's protection. If Lady Dou were to misunderstand her, her situation would be worse than merely awkward; one misstep, and she might lose even the barest place to shelter herself.
And yet to let Song Yantang pin this filth on his head without a word... that was more than he could stomach.
He had clawed his way to where he stood today—was he to throw away his prospects over a charge with no basis at all?
Chen Jia paced the room until the third watch drum sounded; only then did he undress and get into bed.
But once in bed, sleep was no closer.
One moment he thought: Shao Wenji is locked in the imperial prison, and Song Yantang must be anxious to know what he has revealed. I could use that as an excuse to call on Song Yantang privately, and mention in passing that I have taken a fancy to some family's daughter and would like him to play the matchmaker for me—and the crisis would dissolve of its own accord. The next moment he thought: if Jiang Yan knew how eagerly I was cutting myself loose from her, would she think me a man who fawned on her while he found her useful and drew away the instant he soured—too worldly, too calculating, a man beneath her contempt?
Truly, both roads led nowhere.
He clearly had a fine way to extricate himself, and yet his heart would not settle—as though he had done something shameful.
No—when he had done shameful things before, he need only recall the cold looks he had met in his days of poverty, and that little unease would pass. This time, though, he truly could not make up his mind.
Chen Jia pulled the quilt over his head. The matter was what it was; even if he thought himself blind tonight, he could not see Song Yantang before morning, and so nothing could be settled until then. Better to wait for tomorrow and decide his course then.
Besides, he had no settled match in view to propose. However clever his plan, it still needed a living, breathing girl to make it work.
He forced his eyes shut.
But when he rose the next day, his trusted man at the Embroidered Uniform Guard's office came running to report: "Lord Shi has gone quietly to the imperial prison!"
"Lord Shi" meant Shi Chuan, commander of the Embroidered Uniform Guard.
The imperial prison fell under the Guard's own office. That Shi Chuan should slip in there without a word gave Chen Jia a violent start. He pulled on his flying-fish robe and rushed to the prison.
But by the time he arrived, Shi Chuan had already gone.
He drew his trusted man aside and asked softly, "Whom did Lord Shi come to see?"
The man lowered his voice: "Shao Wenji."
As far as Chen Jia knew, there was no particular friendship between Shao Wenji and Shi Chuan.
A sense of foreboding crept over him. He ordered his man: "Quick—search Shao Wenji inside and out. Don't spare the gaps between his teeth."