Chapter 323 — Interlude

Dou Yan could not stop laughing.

"Still laughing. Still laughing." Song Yan, both embarrassed and angry, stormed off to the study.

Ganlu, who had been serving them their meal nearby, went pale with fright.

"It is nothing." Dou Yan comforted her a few words, then went straight off to wash up.

Song Yan was still in the study.

Could he really be angry?

Dou Yan wondered, and had Ganlu brew a pot of Maojian tea, which she carried to the study herself.

Song Yan was lounging on the kang by the window reading, and was quite surprised to see Dou Yan come in bearing tea.

Dou Yan sat down at the edge of the kang, handed him the tea, and said with a smile, "Still angry?"

Song Chu froze. Then a flicker of something unreadable crossed his eyes, and he flung open the quilt, saying fiercely, "Get in! Keep me company while I read, and I will forgive you!"

Dou Fan could sense no real malice in Song Zhi at all; rather, he seemed fierce in word but faint at heart.

Suppressing her laughter with difficulty, she changed out of her outer jacket and lay docilely in the crook of his arm, asking him softly, "What book are you reading?"

Song Yan at once wrapped her up tightly, his voice softening of its own accord. "The Great Instructions on Literature and Splendor. So that when the Emperor asks, I will not be wholly ignorant."

Dou Chi propped herself up on one elbow and said, "Cousin Ji seems to have had a hand in composing it."

Song Yan sat up as well, leaned against the head of the kang, flipped to the title page, pointed at Ji Yong's name, and said, "Here it is!"

Dou Yan glanced at it and asked him, "What does it say?"

"Words the Emperor used in years past to reprimand his ministers."

"Ah! There is even such a book."

"Why would there not be," Song Ke said matter-of-factly. "In the imperial study I once even came across a collection of poems written by Emperor Taizong."

From the look on Song Zhi's face, Dou Yan could well guess the quality of that poetry collection.

"I wonder who thought up this idea." Dou Yan leaned against Song Zhi's shoulder. "This flattery is truly loud and resounding."

Song Yan curled his lip. "Liang Jifang."

"No!" Dou Yan was astonished. "Was it not said he was upright and unbending?"

"That depends on whom he is dealing with," Song Yan said, pinching Dou Yan's cheek, soft as a petal about to break. "It only fools a little girl like you!"

"What little girl!" Dou Yan protested coyly. "I am a year older than you."

"Then I will call you elder sister." With that, Song Yan tossed the book aside, gathered Dou Yan in his arms, rolled with her onto the kang, and nibbled at her ear, calling her "elder sister."

"Stop it, quickly!" Dou Yan giggled, pushing at Song Yan. "It tickles..."

Song Yan released her and gently kissed her forehead.

Outside, the cold wind lashed at the window lattice with a whistling clatter; within, passion burned like fire, scorching the heart.

Not until Dou Yan begged Song Yan for mercy: "Ganlu and the others are all outside. Can it wait a little?"

Having thoroughly devoured Dou Yan and won a temporary satisfaction, Song Yan cunningly decided to suppress the blood now seething within him in exchange for even more voluptuous pleasures to come. He gave a "mm" and rolled over to lie at her side.

Dou Yan breathed a sigh of relief.

If Song Yan were to make a fuss now, the whole of Yizhi Hall would know of it before long.

She rose, intending to call Ganlu to bring some water, and her beauty, fairest frost and snow, her exquisite curves, came fully into Song Zhi's view.

Song Yan reached out a long arm and gathered Dou Yan back into the quilt.

"Call them later," Song Zhi said, his hand closing over the heavy fruit of her bosom. "Let us talk a while."

Is this what they call talking?

Dou Yan did not know whether to laugh or cry.

Song Yan was already saying, "What did you do when you were little?"

"Eh!" Dou Yan was startled.

Song Dan said, "When I was small, every winter like this, I would hide in my mother's arms and listen to her tell us stories of Nüwa and Fuxi, with a great brazier set in the middle of the room, and the beans buried in the ashes popping and crackling and bouncing everywhere..."

The scent of their lovemaking still lingered heavily beneath the quilt, but Dou Fan was drawn in by the ease and cheer in Song Yan's voice.

She grew quiet, thinking of her own childhood.

In her former life, she had sat bolt upright, cross-legged on the kang, doing needlework.

In this life she lay lazily beneath the quilt, watching the maids ply their needles with their backs held ramrod straight.

She laughed. "Needlework!"

"Think it over properly, and do not fob me off!" Song Yan bent down to look at Dou Yan and spoke imperiously. "Could you not at least build a snowman, have a snowball fight, or run about in the snow with the maids?"

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Brothers and sisters, here is the draft first; I will catch the bugs later.

o(n_n)o~