Chapter Thirteen: Husband and Wife

As promised, Song Baiqing gathered a sum of money and handed it to the madam, successfully “reserving” Wen Zhiyan.

The madam took the silver coins and a pendant Song Baiqing offered with a beaming smile. After weighing them thoughtfully, her eyes twinkled as she said, “Young master, this amount only covers our girl for one month.”

“Only… one month?”

“Look at our girl’s face and figure. I’m sure she served you well last night. If I let her take guests, she’d earn much more!”

Wen Zhiyan quickly interjected, “Mother, when I was young, I learned to play the qin. Perhaps I could perform for guests in the main hall and help earn some extra money.”

Song Baiqing stopped her, “It’s not good for you to be so exposed. I can tutor others and make more money that way.”

Thus, the matter was settled. After Song Baiqing left, the madam slapped her thigh with delight, praising Wen Zhiyan repeatedly.

“Oh my, what a treasure we’ve found! The girl’s been here such a short time, and already a client is willing to keep her. Look at that face—she’s bound to be our cash cow at Drunken Wind.”

But then the madam hesitated. “Do you know which family that young master is from? His brocade and silk clothes suggest a wealthy household. Why would he need to earn silver by tutoring?”

Yet for the madam, this was a trivial concern. No matter how the silver was earned, as long as it ended up in her hands, that was enough.

She reminded Wen Zhiyan, “That young master might already have a strict wife at home—a tigress. He may not have much silver on him, but his attire is no ordinary man’s. You must hold onto him tightly and serve him well. Wealth and glory will surely follow.”

With that, the madam affectionately stroked Wen Zhiyan’s delicate face. “When I first found you, your skin was rough. I’ve been nourishing it with rose dew every day. Now you’ve become fair and tender, as if you could drip with moisture. From now on, you shall be called Rose.”

Satisfied, the madam left. Wen Zhiyan overheard her arranging, “Assign Rose a fixed chamber—what are you waiting for? Go quickly!”

In this way, Wen Zhiyan settled down at Drunken Wind.

Song Baiqing’s visits were not frequent, but he came about four or five times a month, paying the madam monthly without fail.

He himself did not know why, but he gradually felt a sense of rightful peace about Wen Zhiyan—perhaps because she was meant to be his wife, the one to be cared for by him.

When the marriage was arranged, Song Baiqing had imagined the life after marrying—where the lady of the house was naturally Wen Zhiyan’s face.

She would sit with him in the study, reading and writing, grinding tea for him—the epitome of harmony and respect.

They would raise children together; he would also take concubines. The legitimate daughter of the Duke of Zhen’guo’s household would surely manage his estate with perfect order.

So, in Wen Zhiyan’s small chamber at Drunken Wind, while Song Baiqing painted for her, he could not help but call out, “Madam…”

Wen Zhiyan was first startled, then blushed. She cautiously studied his expression; the words “master” spun on her tongue before finally reaching Song Baiqing’s ears.

He put down his brush, walked over, and held her hand. “If not for fate’s cruel twists, this ought to be our everyday life.”

Tears welled in Wen Zhiyan’s eyes. “I still can’t believe my father would do such a thing… The Wen family has been loyal for generations. Father would never collude with the enemy.”

“I can’t believe it either… Since childhood, my grandfather told me the Wen family would protect us for generations. We must study well to improve the lives of the people, to honor the soldiers who shed blood on the battlefield.”

Wen Zhiyan’s tears fell freely. “My dream was to serve my country like my father. But being a daughter, I had to settle for the next best thing—guarding the homes of those soldiers…”

“But suddenly, it all vanished—my family, my loved ones…”

Her sobs broke her words apart.

Song Baiqing’s heart ached as he embraced her. “You did nothing wrong. You are innocent…”

“My mother, my sisters—none of them deserved this. I strive to survive just to see my father’s name cleared one day…”

Song Baiqing hesitated, unsure if he should speak. “Zhiyan, that… is very difficult.”

“I know it’s difficult. But as long as I live, there is hope. Besides, aren’t you about to take the imperial examination? If you become the top scholar…”

“If there is even the slightest hope, I will help you find the truth.”

He stroked her hair, smooth and silky as satin, and solemnly pressed a kiss to her forehead.

Wen Zhiyan lifted her head from his embrace, eyes bright with warmth. “I believe in you, Master. You are a gentleman who has never spoken empty words to me.”

Song Baiqing smiled, though the darkness under his eyes could not be hidden. Still, her words fueled him greatly.

“You’ve come these few times with deeper dark circles under your eyes,” Wen Zhiyan observed as she massaged the acupoints on his head. Song Baiqing shook his head, sighing.

“Don’t laugh, but our Song family, known as a century-old scholarly lineage and a prominent household in the capital, has always been austere and upright. Our monthly allowance is far less than that of other noble families.”

“I never needed much for myself—it was enough. But now, with you, with us, I have to find more sources of silver.”

Wen Zhiyan asked, “You’ve always been kind to me, Master. Is tutoring others very tiring?”

“It’s not too bad, but I do meet some who are hopelessly dull, so stupid it leaves me speechless. I’d rather write their essays myself. It’s exhausting.”

Song Baiqing’s gaze held an indescribable tenderness for Wen Zhiyan, which made her both grateful and heartbroken.

“If only I could do something more. I often think of playing the qin behind a veil, or hiding behind a screen, but Mother never agrees.”

Wen Zhiyan sighed. “It seems I can’t help you at all. Instead, you always have to worry about me.”

Song Baiqing kissed her hand. “What nonsense is this? We are one body as husband and wife. When the Wen family suffered… my father forced me to break our engagement. I feel truly guilty.”

“Husband and wife…”

Wen Zhiyan repeated those four words, speaking them with such natural tenderness that they seemed to bloom with gentle affection.

Song Baiqing adored this side of her—somewhat dazed, yet filled with innocent hope that made him unable to part from her.

He lowered his head, cupped her face, and kissed her deeply.