Contentment with modest wealth

Chapter 207 A Considerate Woman

As Yan Song's sedan chair entered the mansion gate, the old lady's maidservant came forward to greet him: "The old master is back? The old lady invites you into her room."

Yan Song hummed in agreement, slowly stepped over the threshold, and walked into the inner courtyard.

All the servants who came in and out stopped to pay their respects. Yan Song kept his eyes straight ahead until he caught a glimpse of a few young maids out of the corner of his eye, at which point he glanced at them.

Another new member has joined the family.

Every year at this time, a new batch of people are rotated in the inner quarters to prevent those who serve from staying in the inner quarters for too long, knowing too much, and causing future trouble.

This year's batch doesn't look as good as in previous years.

Yan Song remembers feeling emotional when he saw newcomers in his earlier years. But in recent years, he has become increasingly indifferent to them.

Of course, he was just looking at it.

He had no concubines, nor did he take any mistresses. He and his wife were childhood sweethearts, and back then, to protect him, she suffered from a condition that rendered her unable to have children again after giving birth to their son. He could not betray her.

But the most fundamental reason is that his only son, whom his wife gave birth to, is truly intelligent and wise. It can be said that his only son deserves most of the credit for his rise from entering the cabinet to becoming the prime minister and governing for so many years.

Except for failing to enter officialdom through the imperial examination, Shu'er was better than me in every other aspect.

He was bold in his thinking and actions, and he was exceptionally good at reading people in the palace. He always had a very accurate grasp of what the person in the palace was thinking.

Yan Song himself is not good enough.

He's still a bit timid. Or, to put it more politely, cautious.

Ever since he misjudged the Emperor's intentions regarding the dispatch of troops to the Northwest, and then Shen Bo's triumphant return, he has become increasingly reluctant to engage in any major undertakings.

Despite this, Shu'er still managed to suggest to him that the river be dredged up, and through this, she managed to win back some of the emperor's favor.

With a son like this, Yan Song wouldn't be foolish enough to take a concubine and have another son, causing trouble in the inner quarters. If he wanted to continue the family line, Shu'er could handle that. Shu'er had taken many concubines and had already given him more than ten grandsons.

Yan Song was very satisfied.

He did not neglect the reputation he deserved or the continuation of his family line.

But he still felt empty inside sometimes.

When I see a beautiful and gentle girl, I still can't take my eyes off her.

He held an unparalleled position in the imperial court; he could be considered a great man of the world.

Sometimes I feel that he should also show off his prowess.

But his wife had grown old eventually.

He stepped across the threshold and immediately saw his wife, her hair completely white, holding a magnifying glass and looking at the account books in front of her.

Her face was directly facing this direction, and the sunlight illuminated her gray, wrinkled face perfectly.

She's already sixty-seven. How can she not age?
In her younger years, Yan Song was striving for his future. What did her face look like without wrinkles? He couldn't quite remember.

He seems to have aged.

Suddenly recalling it, the "hmm" I made when I first entered seemed much more indistinct than before.

Is it his imagination?

He couldn't help but clear his throat again.

Because it was intentional, the voice was inevitably a bit loud, startling the old lady holding the mirror. She looked at the door in surprise and asked, "What's wrong with you?"

Yan Song felt that his voice was still clear enough, so he said, "I caught a bit of a chill and my throat is a little sore."

After listening, the old lady tilted her head and thought for a moment before saying, "Have someone summon Doctor Li to come and take a look." Yan Song paused for a moment, then said, "Doctor Li died last year."

The old lady paused, then looked bewildered: "Is that so?" She then handed him her half-cup of tea: "Then moisten your throat first."

Yan Song watched her slow movements and felt a pang of sadness.

I'm really getting old.

Or perhaps it's not because of age, but because these women, bound by rules, are inherently dull in order to maintain their dignity and authority at all times.

Wei Yun'er is different.

Wei Yun'er is not even fifty years old. Yan Song has taken good care of her since she was young, and she still has fair and tender skin, as smooth as spring water.

"Master, Mr. Feng has come to see you."

Yan Song immediately put down his cup.

The old lady said, "What's the matter that you're chasing after me like this? My daughter-in-law just brought over the storeroom ledgers, and I was just about to show them to you."

Yan Song said, "It's not too late to look back later."

Once outside, Feng Li, with his white beard, lowered his voice and said, "Wei Niangzi sent word, asking when the old master will be going over?"

"Mr. Feng is here to see you," was the code word used by Mr. Wei when he came to see him.

Yan Song simply hummed in agreement, and his subordinates took care of everything.

About 15 minutes later, he arrived at the Wei family's small residence.

As soon as she stepped off the carriage, a pair of smooth, delicate hands took hers: "I have prepared wine and food and have been waiting here for you, sir, for days. But you have not come. Today I could not bear it any longer and sent someone to deliver a message to Mr. Feng. Please do not be angry with me, sir."

Yan Song found the way he addressed him as "Master" pleasing to the ear.

From the time he turned sixty onwards, everyone in the Yan family, out of respect, began to call him "Old Master," which made him feel a generation older. Only Wei Yun'er never changed her address, making him feel that he was still young.

He chuckled softly, "I'm busy with court affairs, why are you waiting for me?"

Madam Wei took his arm and led him into the house. Without answering at first, she brought over the soup bowl that was warming on a small stove, then took a Jun kiln porcelain cup, ladled out a bowl of soup, and said, "Master must have caught a chill on the way here. Please drink this soup to dispel the cold."

Yan Song watched as she deftly served and ladled the soup, her slender, white index fingers dancing. Her face, turned towards the window, was fair and delicate, without a single noticeable wrinkle. Her waist was supple; he still remembered the boneless, soft touch when he pulled her close.

Yan Song's calm heart was finally stirred.

He didn't take the soup, but instead leaned back in the recliner, half-reclined: "What are you waiting for?"

Wei stepped forward and massaged his shoulders: "Yesterday, the Taoist priest at my Baiyun Temple divined that Mingyi and I might encounter some disaster recently. The Taoist priest gave me a way to avert it, which is to choose midnight tonight, combine the blood from our fingertips, add a few strokes to the talisman he gave me, and then burn it between 1 AM and 3 AM. Only in this way can we avoid disaster."

"I don't want to suffer any disaster. I want to serve you, sir, for a few more years. That's why I couldn't wait any longer."

Her hands are so skillful; Yan Song's exhaustion has been relieved by half.

He closed his eyes and chuckled, somewhat sadly: "I've listened to the words of Taoist priests my whole life, but nothing has ever come true."

In the end, only the emperor's edict came true.

“But I don’t want anything to happen to Mingyi either.” Madam Wei’s worried words carried a hint of pitifulness. “That eldest maid who recently returned to the Lu family is no pushover; she’s deliberately going against Mingyi. I’m really worried about her…”

Yan Song opened his eyes: "Didn't they say that girl was rude and ignorant? How did she get the ability to make things difficult for the mistress of the house?"

Wei walked around to the front of him and said, "It's easier to avoid the King of Hell than to deal with his underlings. In any case, sir, please grant my request and stay here tonight, shall we?"

Yan Song looked at her face, then thought of his muddle-headed wife at home, and nodded: "It's not impossible."