Chapter 263 — The Lady (Bonus Update, Begging for Pink Votes)

Mingche knew Song Yan was teasing her to make her laugh, and Dou Yan could not help but burst out giggling. She instructed Suxin, "Make a careful note of what the heir said. From now on, count every single word that Princess Ninghuai and the heir exchange—see just how many words Princess Ninghuai has actually spoken to him—so he cannot get away with spinning tales here!" Yet inwardly she was marveling. No wonder the Lady of Xuanning Hou, that friend of hers across the years in her previous life, had said there was no secret to being a good daughter-in-law: it was simply a matter of reporting early and informing late. She had approached Princess Ninghuai in the manner of a daughter-in-law, never expecting to receive such heartfelt, confiding words from her. That, too, counted as an unexpected harvest!

.

The young lady knows full well the heir is only coaxing her, and the two of them are not far from the days of conjugal harmony!

She followed Ganlu inside and helped Dou Yan prepare the clothes and ornaments she would wear entering the palace tomorrow.

Song Yan had originally meant to ask Dou Yan about the matter of the loan-sharking, but seeing several women rummaging through chests and cabinets in the inner chamber, he had to swallow his words and went off alone to the study to practice his calligraphy.

By the time he returned to the room, Dou Yan had everything ready.

Hanging on the clothes rack was a bright red full-sleeved lined jacket; on the mirror stand lay a glittering set of head ornaments inlaid with pearls the size of lotus seeds; on the embroidered stool sat a pair of brand-new dark green Zhangzhou velvet embroidered shoes; and draped over the screen nearby were several inner garments of various colors. Dou Yan was sitting cross-legged on the nanmu bed wrapping red envelopes, and though the room looked somewhat cluttered, it carried a breath of peace that settled him—as though he had already lived with Dou Yan for many years, and no matter how shrewd and capable she was, how neat and orderly, he could still catch glimpses of the muddled, indolent side of her that no one else knew.

This Dou Yan made Song Yan feel she was real, and... close to him.

He washed and dressed hastily, then climbed onto the kang with great contentment.

Dou Yan asked him, "Five taels of silver per red envelope—is that too little?"

Song Yan saw the pile of red envelopes at her elbow and said in surprise, "How do you have so many small-denomination silver notes?"

Dou Yan shot him a glance and said, "Am I not allowed to have my own private savings?"

Song Yan laughed awkwardly and said, "How much silver did you wrap? I'll have Chen He make it up to you tomorrow."

"No need for that." Dou Yan lowered her head and went on wrapping the silver notes. "If a woman couldn't line her own pockets, who would be willing to run the household? Who would take on such thankless work?"

Song Yan could not help but laugh.

He had only just handed the inner courtyard of Yizhi Hall over to Dou Yan to manage.

He had never imagined Dou Yan could talk in such an amusing way.

He lay prone on the kang and talked with Dou Yan. "The yearly expenses are only a few thousand taels—how would you even line your pockets?"

"That is where you don't understand." The man before her had such delicate, handsome features that even his speech had become a pleasing sight, and Dou Yan went on spinning her nonsense with him. "Silver has always been gathered little by little into much. Take hawthorn candy—the kind made in Nanjing tastes better than the kind made in the capital, but it also costs eight coppers more. Take the same blessing cakes: the ones from Fujian are merely a bit larger than those from Shandong, and though they taste much the same, they cost twenty-some coppers more... Are these not silver too?"

Song Yan was aghast. "Surely you would not skim off even those few coppers?"

"Do you take me for a person of such poor character?" Dou Yan gave Song Yan a reproachful look. "How many people have built a fortune of millions by saving up? Especially by pinching silver from one's own mouth—is that not skimming from oneself? Shad come to market in the fourth month, but they are netted and sold in the third, at more than double the fourth-month price. The rice of Liaodong is soft and glutinous, nine hundred coppers a picul; the hsien rice of Jiangnan is firm, seven hundred a picul. When making congee, use two bowls of Liaodong rice and one of hsien rice; when cooking plain rice, use two bowls of hsien rice and one of Liaodong rice—and both the congee and the rice come out delicious... Over a year, that yields five or six hundred taels of silver. Half of it I take to the silver house to deposit, and that earns six percent interest a year; the other half I lend out to the dealers in cotton and tea, and that earns fifteen percent. In two years, that is another one or two thousand taels... How is that not silver?" As she spoke, her expression grew distant, and she thought back to the days when she had first married into the Jining Hou household.

Song Yan's heart ached to hear it.

Dou Yan was a young lady raised in the inner chambers, yet even for a bowl of congee or rice she had to mix two kinds of grain. What sort of life could have driven her to such a method...

He decided he would never ask about the loan-sharking again.

If this could set Dou Yan's heart at ease, if it could make Dou Yan happy, why not?

Among the noble houses of the capital, who did not do this or that to supplement the household expenses? His wife was merely lending money at interest—what was so grave about that?

He slipped on his shoes and came down from the kang, crouching on the footboard of the nanmu bed.

"Shouyuan," Song Yan said gravely, "I will add another five thousand taels a year for you—use it however you like. Will that do?"

He tilted his head up slightly and gazed at Dou Yan, his ink-jade eyes as though soaked through with water, like a clear, still lake reflecting her image.

Dou Yan was startled, and then she understood what was in his heart.

Her eyes grew moist at once.

She had never been afraid of giving, but sometimes, when you give, others take it as a matter of course—and however broad-minded she was, there were times when her heart could not be at peace. All the more so since she was not a broad-minded person.

She, too, had the vanity of wishing to be praised, to be appreciated.

Dou Yan grew a little agitated, and a shyness she had long since lost somewhere welled up in her heart; she actually grew bashful, and half to cover it, half out of concern, she said, "You keep so many people, and you are just at the point of lacking silver. Five thousand taels could support ten highly skilled guards. You had better keep it for your own use. If I lack silver, I will ask you for it."

Song Yan was a clever man, and skilled at reading faces. With all his heart fixed upon Dou Zhiwei, how could he fail to see her feelings? He thought of the swords drawn between them at their first meeting, of her decisive ruthlessness when she saved him, of her calm reason when she accepted his proposal... It suddenly came to him that Dou Yan grew strong in the face of strength—but what of one who faced weakness? His heart pounded like a drum.