Chapter 145 — Bereavement

The Duchess of the Duke of Britain's household, Song Zhi's mother, had died of illness!

.

In the previous life, the great change in Song Zhi had begun with his mother's death.

But in that life, the Jiang family had been exterminated root and branch. Lady Jiang, who had fought desperately to save her mother and brother, was consumed by self-reproach and remorse, brooding until her heart was knotted with grief; she took to her sickbed and lingered there—that was entirely understandable. In this life, however, the women and children of the Jiang family had been spared; the men were exiled. Though Jiang Lansun was dead, and the Jiang family might have lost its chance to rise again and return to court, the line endured. Lady Jiang had held firm when the family's pillars, Jiang Meisun and the warrior Jiang Songsun, had died; afterward she had remained well enough. Now she had become the Jiang family's greatest support. By all reason she should have grown more resilient, not fallen ill and died without warning.

Could there have been signs beforehand?

Only no one had the chance to notice them.

But Song Ke could not possibly have missed them!

Since Lady Jiang had entrusted even so grave a matter as the guardianship of her orphaned son to Song Yan, it was clear how highly she regarded her eldest son. And Song Yan was the sort whose mind missed nothing and whose plans were thorough in every detail—he could not have failed to notice.

If Lady Jiang had shown anything strange, why would Song Yan have come to deliver her thank-you gifts?

And there was more: in the previous life, Song Yan had been impeached by a censor for getting a maidservant with child during his mourning for his mother.

A boy of fourteen, still muddled and ignorant of the world, raised in cosseted luxury—such a lapse was possible. Dou Chi had found the Duke of Britain's reaction to the affair somewhat odd, but with the Duke of Dingguo condemned, the Duke of Britain might well have done such a thing to curry favor with the imperial house. There are no parents who are always in the wrong; whatever faults the Duke of Britain may once have had, during the years Song Yan served as heir apparent he had doted on the boy. And yet in the end Song Yan killed his father and his younger brother—and by such bloody means. That was precisely why Dou Yan held Song Yan in such dread.

Consider: a man who cannot even forgive his own parents' failings—how extreme his nature must be, how narrow his heart!

But in this life, she had come to know Song Yan, and her understanding of him had changed.

A youth who at thirteen could force her to resort to tricks and snatch a child before she could even get him to sit down and talk—even if he had gotten a maidservant with child during mourning, Song Yan commanded the Jiang family's entire information network in the capital. How could he possibly have let matters deteriorate to the point of impeachment by a censor?

Dou Yan had been the wife of a marquis.

In houses of hereditary nobility, the eldest son was valued even more highly than in families of officials.

Official families brought honor to their name through the examinations; the eldest son was not necessarily the one who studied best. But once any son of the house passed the examinations and entered office, he gained a voice in the family—some even founded their own branch and split off from the ancestral line. The rise and fall of a clan often turned on this.

Noble houses were different. There was only one title, and so long as you were the legitimate eldest son of the legitimate line, or the legitimate eldest grandson, you were entitled to inherit—even if you were dull and bloated like Zhang Yuanming, so unappealing that even your own mother disliked you. So long as you did nothing wrong, your parents had no way to strip you of your birthright at will. And if you were capable, you could seek an official post; if not, you could sit on your title, eat and drink and wait for death. You would draw your stipend in any case—only the amount differed.

Thus it was that the legitimate eldest son...

What they bore was not merely children, but the guarantee that the family's glory would continue.

A boy bound up his hair at fifteen. Song Yan was thirteen this year; he was the eldest son, and moreover a heir confirmed by imperial patent.

After Dou Yan gave birth to Wei Wei, Madam Tian, fearing she did not understand such things, had warned her again and again: a boy who came too early to the ways of men and women would spend his essence too soon, to the detriment of his future fertility. Before Wei Wei turned fifteen, the maids in his chambers had best be mature and steady women; on no account should Wei Wei be allowed to be seduced. Indeed, whenever a maid was assigned to Wei Wei's chambers, Madam Tian would summon her and threaten and bribe her by turns: whoever took up with Wei Wei was a vixen, and never mind rising through her child—she would be beaten to death, body and child together, and flung on the potter's field. If she obeyed, then when Wei Wei came of age at fifteen, they would see to her properly.

If even the Jining Marquis's household knew such things, the Yingzhen Duke's household could not be ignorant of them. And Lady Jiang was a sensible woman who placed great hopes in Song Yan; she could not have failed to keep the maids in his chambers in hand... So how had Song Yan come to do such a thing?

She had not thought of it before, and so had not felt it; but now that she thought, there were holes everywhere, doubts everywhere!

Dou Yan was suddenly seized with the panic of one who feels the mountain rain coming and the wind filling the tower, yet stands wholly unprepared.

What exactly had happened then?

Would it all play out again in this life, one by one?

Where was Song Yan now?

Dou Chi hurriedly asked Duan Bing, "Has Young Master Mei returned?"

From habit, they had always called Song Yan "Young Master Mei" when they spoke of him.

She had a vague feeling that, knowing Song Yan, since he had come to take his leave of her when he departed, he would surely send word when he returned.

Sure enough, Duan Bing said, "Young Master Mei has not returned yet. But I hear he has already sent someone with word."

For no reason she could name, Dou Yan's heart gave a lurch, and her nerves drew taut as a bowstring.

"Then how did the Duchess of Britain die?" she asked urgently.

Both Duan Bing and Suxin sensed that something was wrong with Dou Zhiwei. After hearing the news of the Duchess's death, she seemed especially tense, even faintly frightened—rather like how she had reacted the first time she met Song Yan.

Suxin remembered that if she had not been quick-handed and caught the Fourth Young Lady, the girl would have staggered and nearly gone weak at the knees!

Duan Bing, for his part, was puzzled. He had just said plainly enough that the Duchess of Britain had died of illness—so why was the Fourth Young Lady asking how she had died? What other way was there to die?

But since Dou Yan had asked, he had to answer.

He thought it over and told her all he knew: "I don't know the particulars. When I reached Young Master Mei's residence, the front was already a sea of white—all mourners come to pay their respects. I slipped in while I could. Old Chen said that when word of Jiang Lansun's death reached the house, the Duchess was already somewhat unwell. A few days after Young Master Mei left, she fell ill. The imperial physicians came and went, but her illness showed no improvement. The Duke of Zhenguo and the Second Young Master both attended her sickbed, and even the Empress Dowager and the Empress were alarmed; the Empress came in person to inquire after her. But the illness would not yield. It dragged on for over a month, and then she was gone."

Nothing out of the ordinary at all. Yet why did hearing it only make her feel more uneasy?