Chapter 183 — Bound for the Capital

Song Yan turned his head and gazed at the wild peach trees on the far bank of the river.

Not every man can stomach a wife who outranks him.

Dou Yan assumed Song Yan simply did not wish to marry a princess. After a moment's thought, she smiled and said, "In the reign of Emperor Taizong, Feng Jian, the Earl of Yongcheng, became the consort of the eldest son of the Prince of Yongping. Not only was he trusted by the emperor and made Right Zongren of the Imperial Clan Court, he also served successively as Grand General of Datong and as a commander of the Five Armies' Commandery, and he put down the Tude Rebellion—the world revered him. In Emperor Renzong's day, Dong Lin, the heir of the Earl of Guang'en, was consort to the Princess Huaisu, yet for drunkenness and loose talk he was stripped of his title of heir, reduced to commoner, and died in a foreign land. A consort's lot need not be a bad one—it all depends on how you conduct yourself." She added, "Nothing in this world is without both benefit and harm, and since every man's circumstances differ, the balances differ too—it is only a question of whether the benefit outweighs the harm, or the harm the benefit."

Song Cen was barely forty and had a good ten or twenty years left in him. With that single word 'filial' pressing down on him, Song Yan would have to spend twice, even three times, the effort he would otherwise need to make Song Cen think twice—such a life was too hard to bear.

Dou Yan reckoned that rather than sleeping with one eye open day in and day out, he might as well marry a princess. Sons of noble houses rarely rose to become powerful ministers who could shake the realm, so better to find a way to live comfortably and at ease.

Song Yan smiled faintly.

The consorts of Taizong's day could lead troops into battle and become grandees with real power in their hands, while the consorts of Renzong's day could only run with hounds and drown in music and women, drinking and dreaming their days away as idle men of gentle breeding. That had much to do with the stability of imperial authority and the throne's unwillingness to see the great houses wield real power—but it had just as much to do with the sons of those houses being pampered from birth, knowing nothing of the fields, and sinking year by year into decay.

Dou Yan had read the histories thoroughly—how could she not understand this?

She only wanted to comfort him, so that, crushed beneath his father's heel, he would not lose so wretchedly.

Dou Yan always treated him like a child, coaxing him or reasoning with him every time they met.

The feeling was strange.

He was the eldest legitimate grandson of the Yingzhen State Duke's household. From the day he could remember, the words that fell on his ears were duty, burden, bringing glory to the family name, never forgetting the ambitions of the ancestors—from his father and his mother alike. Even his eldest maternal uncle believed in his talents, believed that under his hand the Yingzhen State Duke's household could shed the brand of 'powerful minister' and become 'pure officials,' could become a true century-old great house and no longer be tossed about by each change of the throne.

Dou Yan was forever somewhat anxious on his behalf—yet to call such anxiety a lack of faith in his ability would be wrong, for she never once doubted the things he had decided. And yet to call it faith would be wrong as well: she kept up a constant, inexplicable wariness about his affairs, as though at the very next moment he might sink into the mire beyond saving, and there was always a measure of scrutiny in the way she looked at him.

Yet whichever it was, Song Yan found it rather amusing—more than that, he had a vague sense that he often, without realizing it, played upon this disposition of Dou Zhiwei's: saying things he knew would worry her, doing things he knew would worry her... like a childish boy. And enjoying it all the while.

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.