Volume One, Chapter 8: Embracing Fate

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At this thought, Song Xianwan’s face involuntarily revealed a hint of embarrassment. A flush of crimson quietly crept up her cheeks as she lowered her head.

The door curtain swayed slightly, accompanied by the familiar clinking of accessories. Song Xianwan immediately knew who was walking ahead.

Other noble sons from prestigious families preferred to keep a low profile, fearing unwanted attention, maintaining a facade of lavish decadence and indulgence.

But Qin Songting was different.

From the very first moment Song Xianwan saw him, he was adorned with various expensive jade ornaments, even possessing ivory that was nearly impossible for the capital’s elite girls to acquire.

He always gave off an aura of radiant jewels and exquisite splendor.

“Unluckily, I’ve run into my cousin again today,” Qin Songting said, resting his hand casually to one side as he strolled in.

After this remark, before Madam Qin could reply, he sat down without waiting.

Song Xianwan lifted her eyes and bowed to both him and Qin Yuanjue. “Eldest cousin, second cousin.”

As her words fell, Madam Qin remarked, “You certainly know how to pick the right moments.”

Her tone was ambiguous, neither clearly pleased nor displeased.

Then, a softer and more gentle male voice followed. “Greetings, Grandmother.”

Song Xianwan’s gaze met Qin Yuanjue’s in midair; both quickly averted their eyes.

Since arriving at the Marquis Yongning’s residence, this was her third encounter with Qin Yuanjue.

The previous two meetings had been across family banquets, preventing her from clearly seeing his appearance.

Today was the closest they had been. No wonder Gu Shuya was so proud.

Qin Yuanjue’s features were gentle and refined, with eyebrows and eyes like a delicate painting. Compared to the sharp and flamboyant Qin Songting, he more closely fit the image of a noble son from an esteemed family.

Moreover, after passing the imperial examination, he was retained at the Hanlin Academy with a future full of promise.

It was said many ministers wished to ally through marriage with the Fifth Branch, but Gu Shuya, with her high standards, had yet to settle on anyone.

“Grandmother, I shall take my leave now,” Song Xianwan said after bowing to Madam Qin.

Madam Qin nodded and waved her hand for Song Xianwan to depart.

The room was left with only Qin Songting and Qin Yuanjue.

“Yuanjue, have a seat,” Madam Qin said.

Upon hearing this, Qin Yuanjue sat down nearby.

Opposite them, Qin Songting had already finished peeling an orange during their conversation.

Despite his careless demeanor, anyone would call him a wayward son. Yet because Qin Songting was handsome, even peeling an orange was a pleasing sight when he did it.

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Madam Qin glanced at Qin Songting before turning her gaze back. “Yuanjue, the matter from a few days ago was due to my lack of foresight.”

“Today, Awan also spoke to Grandmother about it, so let it be,” she added.

A forced melon isn’t sweet, and a forced marriage is never perfect.

Madam Qin wished to find a good match for Song Xianwan, not an enemy.

Since neither party had the intention, she did not want to compel them.

Upon hearing Madam Qin’s words, Qin Yuanjue’s eyes flickered slightly but ultimately said nothing, merely nodding.

He was never one to oppose the family’s decisions.

Compared to the rebellious Qin Songting, Qin Yuanjue was like a mirror reflecting her own image.

Well-read in the classics and impeccably courteous, there was not a single fault to find in his upbringing.

“I will follow Grandmother’s wishes. Cousin Song is also my family. No matter what, I will care for her as I would any other sister,” Qin Yuanjue said gently.

Madam Qin nodded with satisfaction.

After speaking with Qin Yuanjue, he mentioned he had affairs at the Hanlin Academy and rose to leave Jinghe Garden.

When only Madam Qin and Qin Songting remained in the room, the slight reprimanding expression on her face transformed into one of helplessness.

“With the way you are, when I am buried beneath the earth, how will I explain to your father and mother?”

In front of outsiders, Madam Qin never showed a kind face toward Qin Songting.

Yet in private, she was the one who cared for him most dearly.

Orphaned early, Qin Songting had grown up by Madam Qin’s side since he could remember.

No one knew him better than she did.

But at some point, Qin Songting seemed to have changed.

Luxurious, extravagant, ruthless, and heartless—words like “betraying one’s own kin” seemed to follow him.

Madam Qin felt he had changed but also sensed he was playing a game.

No one could fathom his true intentions.

“Grandmother, is that all you wanted to say to me?” Qin Songting asked quietly, holding a teacup with tender green leaves swirling inside.

At this, Madam Qin fixed her gaze on his face. “If not these matters, then what else? Your marriage?”

“Ashu, what exactly do you intend?” she urged gently. “I am old now and cannot withstand more turmoil.”

Madam Qin spoke earnestly, hoping to hear his answer.

After a long silence, Qin Songting lowered his head, took a light sip of tea, placed the cup aside, and stood up.

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“The tea you brewed is fresh, but I do not like it,” he said.

“I prefer the white tea from Suiyun Mountain—sweet and pleasant.”

Having left these words behind, Qin Songting strode away.

Madam Qin wished to ask more, but there was no need to voice it; Qin Songting understood.

Some matters, once set in motion, must rot away silently, never to be shared with anyone.

Watching his retreating figure, Madam Qin felt an inexplicable sorrow shadowing his back.

Stepping out of Jinghe Garden, Qin Songting raised his hand, pulling up the collar of his coat.

Returning to his residence at Liuting Courtyard, he had to cross a covered bridge. The frozen lake beneath was slowly beginning to thaw.

“Miss, are you sure you lost it here?” a voice called from nearby.

“It should be here; I’m certain,” another replied.

The conversation came from not far ahead, where a figure wrapped in a thick cloak kept lifting her foot to peer at the lake’s surface.

Song Xianwan was not strikingly beautiful but possessed a quietly enduring charm.

Such charm that if you stared at her face long enough, you would wonder what deep thoughts lay behind those clear, shallow eyes.

Her hand rested against a pillar as she focused intently on a servant trying to retrieve something from the lakeside.

Footsteps behind her were light. A cold glint flashed in her eyes as a hand reached out.

She swayed slightly backward and forward before grabbing the sleeve of the person.

Through the thick clothing, one could almost hear Qin Songting’s heartbeat.

She fell into his arms, looking up at him.

“Cousin, cousin?” she stammered.

Qin Songting frowned slightly, a trace of displeasure flashing across his face. Before Song Xianwan could react, he tried to push her away.

But she somehow found the strength to grip his sleeve tightly.

Just as he opened his mouth to scold her, a rosy flush spread across her fair face.

“My hairpin got caught on your clothes,” she explained.

At this, Qin Songting lowered his gaze, seeing the tassels of the hairpin tightly entwined with his garment’s accessories.

If he pulled roughly, it might tear her hair.

If this had been anyone else, perhaps they would have handled it delicately. But Qin Songting was the kind to cut through the knot swiftly.

His blade slid from its sheath, its sharp edge grazing Song Xianwan’s scalp as it severed the few tangled strands.

Her eyes widened slightly, then she saw the corner of his lips curl, coldly uttering two words: “No thanks.”