It was already past noon by the time Chen Hu and the others were sent off. The sky, which had clouded over earlier, revealed a bit of sun again—the weather was truly unpredictable.
Madam Li had finished preparing the meal and carefully asked when it should be served. Duan Yan instructed that it be brought first to Song Fengsui's room.
At his direction, Madam Li simmered a pot of tofu and fish soup, steamed a bowl of egg custard, and stir-fried two plates of tender vegetable hearts—all prepared light and mild.
The portions of meat and vegetables were not large, but laid out across the table, they still made for quite a spread.
Song Fengsui had eaten his morning meal late, so he wasn't particularly hungry. But since the food had already been brought before him, and the dishes looked rather appetizing, he still sat himself down at the table and picked up his chopsticks.
As for the matter of Chen Hu earlier, he wasn't so childish as to let it ruin his appetite. Such petulant behavior might have been his way back in the capital at sixteen or seventeen, but with his family's decline and his subsequent exile, that side of him had long been worn smooth.
Seeing that Song Fengsui was willing to eat, An Ge'er quickly fetched a spoon and scooped out some egg custard for him, saying apologetically, "I failed to stay by your side earlier—that was this servant's fault."
Song Fengsui accepted the custard, his expression unusually gentle. "How could that be blamed on you?"
This young servant had only arrived the day before, understanding little of anything, yet had already stepped forward to speak up and defend him so staunchly—that was rare indeed.
He couldn't help but ask, "I noticed earlier that you showed no fear even in front of someone like Chen Hu. In fact, you seemed quite composed and resourceful. What did you do before this?"
"This servant previously served at an official's household in the county, but when my master's family was raided, I was sold off again. It happened that Master Gou San took a liking to me here."
Song Fengsui paused slightly at this, reminded of the many servants at his own household during the raid, and wondered where they had scattered to now—whether fortune had seen them placed with kind masters.
He murmured softly, "I see. No wonder you handle yourself so steadily in a crisis."
With that, Song Fengsui brought a spoonful of egg custard to his lips. A faint but distinct fishy taste lingered on his tongue.
He pressed his lips together and swallowed without savoring it, then thought to clear his palate with the fish soup—but that was even more intensely fishy.
Light-tasting meat and fish dishes truly test a cook's skill. Madam Li could produce presentable dishes on the surface, but her technique was hardly refined. Had she been truly skilled, Gou San'er wouldn't have been able to hire her for the kitchen so cheaply.
Song Fengsui inwardly lamented his finicky palate, just as he was about to set down the soup. But the corner of his eye caught a figure entering the room, and having barely touched the soup, he found it awkward to put it down now.
He held his breath and took a sip while under the other's gaze, only then setting the bowl aside.
Duan Yan entered the room and saw that Song Fengsui was eating—good, at least he hadn't refused food in a fit of temper. Duan Yan let out a small sigh of relief.
He didn't disturb him, merely sitting down at one side and pouring himself a glass of water.
Song Fengsui ate a few mouthfuls of vegetables, enough to keep his stomach from aching with hunger, then began to dawdle half-heartedly—poking his chopsticks this way, then that. He reached toward the dishes far more often than he actually brought anything back.
After dragging the meal out to a reasonable duration, he set down his chopsticks as if he were full.
But the moment his chopsticks landed, a gaze fell upon the top of his head.
"Done already?"
Song Fengsui said with a hint of guilt, "I'm full."
Duan Yan knit his brows. "Two mouthfuls of custard the size of a thumb, one sip of fish soup, three bites of greens, four slices of cucumber, and half a small bowl of congee—that's enough for you? Do you have a kitten's stomach?"
Song Fengsui's face flushed with embarrassment. How could anyone be so meticulous? Counting every bite of every dish like that—then all his effort at disguising had been for nothing!
He thought to himself privately that even the stern old nurse who'd watched over his meals as a child hadn't been this strict.
Duan Yan knew full well that this young man was being picky again. At this rate, when would his body ever recover?
He urged gently, "Eat a bit more."
Song Fengsui glanced at the dishes on the table—nothing made him want to pick up his chopsticks again, yet he found it hard to say outright that the food didn't suit his taste.
Perhaps few people in this world were like him—willing to starve rather than eat what they didn't enjoy. During the exile, his stomach and his palate had often been at war, and he could still choose to side with his stomach. But now, with his body in such a state, even as his reason sided with his stomach, his palate could still defeat everything.
"I can't eat any more."
Song Fengsui turned his head slightly aside and made up an excuse: "Seeing that brute of yours turned my stomach."
He hadn't originally intended to report Chen Hu to Duan Yan—how Duan Yan dealt with him was his own business. If Song Fengsui complained, it would seem as though he'd been bullied and needed Duan Yan to avenge him. They were neither kin nor acquaintances; what kind of arrangement was that?
Besides, if he spoke ill of Chen Hu, it might come across as sowing discord.
Did Chen Hu dare to say those things to his face without relying on his old friendship with Duan Yan? He'd been confident that even if Song Fengsui told Duan Yan, Duan Yan wouldn't believe him.
But for now, that pest was his only excuse. Still, he wouldn't say much more—Duan Yan had already seen the man lay hands on him, so his anger was entirely justified.
Sure enough, Duan Yan's brows furrowed at his words.
"That's my fault too," he said. "I should have told An Ge'er and Madam Li beforehand not to let anyone in while I was away. I didn't expect Chen Hu to come barging in and startle you with such a lack of manners."
Then Duan Yan looked at Song Fengsui with a slightly uncertain expression. "And I didn't really discipline him much today. The situation is complicated—if I were to cast him out right now, it would likely cause considerable trouble."
Hearing this, Song Fengsui glanced at Duan Yan.
The man's expression was serious, as though the matter truly was thorny and he wasn't just speaking vaguely to appease both sides. Song Fengsui's brow twitched slightly. Chen Hu was an old acquaintance of Duan Yan's—even if Duan Yan had taken Chen Hu's side and blamed Song Fengsui instead, that would have been ordinary behavior. Why trouble himself to explain all this in detail?
The man's words, clear as day, seemed to take Song Fengsui's side—as though he were worried Song Fengsui would be displeased since the one who'd started trouble hadn't been punished on the spot.
Seeing Song Fengsui merely staring at him without a word, Duan Yan thought the young man truly was upset that Chen Hu, who'd offended him, hadn't been dealt with then and there.
He added, "As for Chen Hu, I'll give you a proper reckoning of it eventually. And as long as you remain here, I promise he won't appear before you again."
Song Fengsui was even more puzzled by Duan Yan. It was he himself who owed Duan Yan a favor now—why would the man care so much about his feelings?
His thoughts in a tangle, he gave a distracted "mm" in response, then added, "Even so, I have no appetite to eat any more."
Duan Yan looked at Song Fengsui, fell silent for a moment, and had no choice but to relent: "Very well then. When you get hungry, just have them bring more food."
Afraid the man might change his mind, Song Fengsui quickly raised his hand to signal An Ge'er to clear the dishes away.
Duan Yan hadn't left yet. He asked Song Fengsui, "In the herbs you requested, is that wild dwarf lotus root indispensable? Could another herb stand in its place?"
As soon as Song Fengsui heard this, he figured they hadn't managed to get the wild Dysosma versipellis. "What's the matter? The pharmacy doesn't have any?"
"There was some originally, but the pharmacy sold off all its stock to a medicinal herb merchant from the county a while back."
Duan Yan said, "I went to every pharmacy in town, and none of them have any in stock right now."
Song Fengsui's brows knit tightly. He knew his herbs well, and he knew that Dysosma versipellis was toxic, which was why most physicians wouldn't use it in their prescriptions. As such, it might be hard to come by in a small place like this.
But the Qian region was full of deep forests and gorges—this was the herb's natural habitat. Even if it wasn't the right season for harvesting, the local pharmacies should have had some in stock. Who would have thought they'd be so unlucky?
But without this herb, how could the treatment work?
Duan Yan saw the look on Song Fengsui's face and knew this was a critical ingredient. He said, "Don't worry. If it's absolutely necessary, I'll go look again. In the villages out in the countryside, the farming households might still have some stashed away here and there."
"That would probably take a great deal of effort..."
Song Fengsui thought of his grandfather's illness. For an elderly man, every extra day of suffering this sickness meant his constitution would weaken further. But he was already relying on someone else's help, and it wouldn't be right to urge Duan Yan to hurry in searching—going door to door in the villages to ask the farming households was, in itself, the most laborious and time-consuming task imaginable.
Seeing the barely concealed urgency on Song Fengsui's face, Duan Yan was about to speak when An Ge'er came back into the room to report: "Master Duan, Master Gou San has returned."
Song Fengsui knew Gou San'er had gone out to the countryside, and a faint light flickered at the edge of his brow.
Duan Yan knew Song Fengsui was anxious about his family, and didn't want him to fret, so he said to An Ge'er, "Go and have him come over here to talk."
An Ge'er was about to leave when Duan Yan called out again: "First have him wash his hands and face properly before coming in."
He was worried that Song Fengsui, being frail and sickly, might be exposed to even the slightest bit of contamination—he didn't want any germs brought into the room.
A moment later, Gou San'er entered the room, clean and proper, to report.
"The Song household is all well. Since Old Master Song came down with the epidemic, the family has been keeping him isolated and cared for according to Young Master Song's instructions. They've been cautious in their care, and so far no one else has been infected."
Having said that, he added with a hint of apology: "It's just that after Young Master Song left home, the family grew anxious and fretful. Madam Sheng has fallen ill from worry."
He didn't mention that the Song family had gone to the small estate they kept in the village to look for Song Fengsui and had gotten into a couple of clashes. The estate had always been managed by Chen Hu, and the men under his command weren't exactly courteous—when Song Fengsui's father went to look for his son, he'd even taken a beating from the estate's hired hands.
Knowing that Song Fengsui would eventually find out about all of this anyway, Gou San'er didn't only tell the good news—but he also didn't bring up the bad. However, those sorts of things weren't the kind of thing to be said right now, in front of Duan Yan and Song Fengsui.
Song Fengsui heard that not everyone in the household had come down with the epidemic and let out a small sigh of relief, but he wasn't entirely willing to take Gou San'er at his word, so he asked, "How do you know all this?"
"I couldn't get into the village, so I bribed a guard to get the news."
Gou San'er knew that words alone wouldn't convince Song Fengsui, so he hurriedly took out a letter that he'd carefully kept tucked in his sleeve, and handed it first to Duan Yan: "This is a letter from the young master's family. The young master will understand at a glance."
Duan Yan passed the letter to Song Fengsui, who took it and quickly unfolded it. He first confirmed that it was indeed his family's handwriting, then scanned the lines swiftly.
The letter wasn't long, but what it said matched Gou San'er's account—for now, no one else in the household had caught the epidemic. Madam Sheng's illness wasn't even mentioned; instead, the words were all about telling him to be careful while out and about. They also said they'd received the grain and supplies, and that the household could hold out for a while, so he needn't worry.
Song Fengsui's brows tightened slightly, then he lifted his gaze to Gou San'er. "Grain?"
Seeing Song Fengsui ask, Gou San'er figured the Song family must have mentioned it in the letter, so he couldn't help but turn his head to look at Duan Yan.
"I was thinking that since the village is sealed off, the farming households in the countryside all have to ration what grain they have. You'd only just been settled at the estate not long ago, and you don't have any fields to speak of, so I figured food would be even more scarce for you. That's why I had Gou San'er send some in."
Duan Yan hadn't told Song Fengsui about this beforehand, afraid it would weigh on his conscience. Now that it could no longer be hidden, he owned up to it.
Song Fengsui clutched the letter in his hand. Food and drink had indeed become a problem at home. He hadn't expected Duan Yan to have taken care of all this as well. He truly couldn't put into words how he felt.
"Thank you."
"It's nothing much. Something I could do with ease."
Duan Yan said, "Now that you've got news of home, you must properly take care of your health. I'll go search for the herb for you elsewhere."
Song Fengsui's nose stung faintly. Whenever he thought of his family, it always touched a sore spot.
He nodded, listening to Duan Yan's words, and temporarily settled his heart to wait for the herb.
