A piece of string stretched across the middle of the carriage, supporting a simple makeshift curtain that Song Jinzhao had specially put up for Song Shixue.
A twelve-year-old girl was already considered a young lady, especially with Song Gaoli also present.
Having her sleep in front of an outsider would surely make her uncomfortable, so Song Jinzhao had deliberately hung a cloth to create a partition in the middle of the carriage.
Seeing the curtain drawn, Song Shixue placed the sleeping Song Anhao from her arms on the inner side, then lay down and closed her eyes.
Well-fed and content, Song Gaoli also felt like sleeping, but the carriage space was limited. The remaining half was fine for him and Song Qiming to sit in.
But if they were to lie down, it would be like pickles in a jar—piled one layer on top of another.
He simply picked up his book, lifted the carriage curtain, and sat down beside Song Dazhuang, reading softly under his breath while reciting from memory.
Song Qiming rubbed his chest, feeling a bit uncomfortable after the meal.
He lifted the window curtain and looked at Song Jinzhao riding alongside the carriage. "Sister, how much longer to Huangyao Town?"
Song Jinzhao glanced up at the sun's position. "We'll definitely arrive before sunset. Can't sit still anymore?"
Song Qiming twisted his neck, his face a picture of misery.
"I feel like my whole body has gone stiff."
"What about Shixue and Anhao?"
Song Qiming: "Asleep."
Song Jinzhao looked through the window and saw the inner curtain was drawn. With Song Gaoli sitting outside on the driver's seat reading and not inside,
she said to Song Qiming, "Come out, I'll teach you to ride."
The weary dullness in Song Qiming's eyes instantly vanished, replaced by a sparkle. He dropped the curtain and turned to exit the carriage.
Song Jinzhao urged her horse closer to the carriage, grabbed Song Qiming's hand, and pulled him from the driver's seat onto the horse's back.
Once on horseback, Song Qiming suddenly felt very high up and instinctively grabbed a handful of the horse's mane.
Song Jinzhao passed the reins to his hand. "Hold the reins tight, straighten your back, look up and keep your eyes forward."
Song Qiming let go of the mane, took the reins firmly, and slowly adjusted to the height.
On the driver's seat, Song Gaoli put down his book and watched Song Qiming with envy.
After a long while, he leaned close to Song Dazhuang's ear and whispered in a low voice, "Father, do you know how to ride a horse?"
Song Dazhuang licked his palate, glanced at the two riding nearby, and answered somewhat sheepishly, "Your father doesn't."
The family didn't even own a horse, so how could he possibly know how to ride?
If it weren't for driving an ox-cart for seven or eight years and learning a bit when transporting goods in the city before, he wouldn't even know how to drive this carriage.
"Oh..." Song Gaoli lowered his head dejectedly, his grip on the book going somewhat slack.
Seeing Song Gaoli's disappointment, Song Dazhuang could do nothing about it.
Song Gaoli was thirteen this year. If Song Jinzhao were a man, he could ask her to teach his son to ride without issue, but she was a young woman.
Didn't he see how Song Qiming, sitting in front of her, deliberately maintained a half-finger's distance? Let alone having Song Gaoli sit in front of Song Jinzhao.
They arrived at Huangyao Town half a shi earlier than expected. They would stay at an inn for the night and set off again early the next morning.
After settling their things and coming downstairs to eat, Song Dazhuang watched as Song Jinzhao ordered three meat dishes in a row and couldn't help secretly squeezing his money pouch under the table.
When it was his turn to order, with Song Gaoli staring intently at him, Song Dazhuang had no choice but to order a braised fish, his son's favorite dish.
Fortunately, his father had given him extra money when he left home. Otherwise, reaching the prefectural city would be one thing, but having no money for the return trip would be a real problem.
"I truly never thought the one to ascend the throne in Shuobei wouldn't be the Second Prince who led the troops against us, but that useless Third Prince."
"This is good. From now on, we won't have to worry anymore."
At the next table, an armed escort wearing a brass token from an escort agency had one foot propped on a long bench, downing the strong liquor from his cup in one gulp.
Song Jinzhao looked up.
It had been four months since the ceasefire between the two countries. She had heard the Shuobei Emperor was clinging to his last breath. Had he died now?
"Wasn't it said the Shuobei Emperor favored the Second Prince the most? Why didn't he pass the throne to him?"
"Heard he died from a severe illness. Shuobei didn't have many princes to begin with, so the Third Prince just got lucky picking up the bargain."
Song Jinzhao stared at the lion's head meatball in her bowl, her mind swirling with thoughts.
He didn't die on the battlefield, but succumbed to a severe illness after returning.
How could the constitution of a martial practitioner be so weak? More likely, he was done in by the Third Prince.
In the middle of the night, just as Song Jinzhao was sleeping soundly, a series of heavy, hurried footsteps came from outside her door.
The door to the neighboring room was pushed open. Song Jinzhao waited quietly for a long while.
Only after confirming the person had settled down did she close her eyes. The sword placed by her pillow was illuminated by moonlight filtering through the window, gleaming with a silvery light.
Early the next morning, a waiter brought up hot water. Song Jinzhao opened her door.
"Miss Song!"
Song Jinzhao turned her head to the right. Qin Yunqian, holding his sword, had just emerged from the room next to hers.
"I saw two retired warhorses in the stables yesterday and thought they looked familiar. I didn't expect it to really be you."
Song Jinzhao stepped aside to let the waiter bring the water in.
"I heard the new Shuobei Emperor has ascended. Are you all returning to the capital?"
Qin Yunqian nodded. "Ascended over a month ago. Never thought Hemingnan would die just like that. I didn't even get a chance to cross blades with him."
Remembering the escort master's words yesterday that the Third Prince was useless, Song Jinzhao asked, "What kind of person is this ascended Third Prince?"
Qin Yunqian shook his head. "I've never met him. Rumors say he's quite a good-for-nothing."
Song Jinzhao gave a slight, wry smile. For a prince to be widely rumored to be a "feiwu" (a useless person) — it was probably a disguise.
Qin Yunqian asked curiously, "What brings you here, Miss Song?"
Song Jinzhao explained, "I'm taking my younger brother to Anyang Prefecture for the prefectural exams. We stopped here to rest last night."
Qin Yunqian raised an eyebrow and clasped his hands in salute. "Then I wish your esteemed brother success on the golden list, topping the exam."
Just as Song Jinzhao closed her door, the door next to hers opened.
A shadow fell on the window; from the voice, it should be Chu Liuyun.
With the commander-in-chief gone, presumably the peace talks had concluded.
The only question was how many years of peace they would bring.
Two days later, they arrived at Haoyue City. That very night, rain began to fall.
Upon waking, Song Jinzhao decided to rest for a day and wait for the rain to stop before continuing.
Song Qiming stayed in his room studying. It was nearly noon when Song Jinzhao finally called him downstairs.
"Waiter, are there any particularly good places to eat in your Haoyue City?" Song Jinzhao inquired of the bustling attendant.
Seeing it was Song Jinzhao asking, the attendant walked to the doorway and pointed to the left. "Go straight ahead to the crossroads, turn right, then turn right again at the next intersection. There's a mutton hotpot place that's especially delicious. No traveling merchant who passes through hasn't tried it."
Following the attendant's directions, they walked for nearly two ke (approx. 30 minutes) before spotting the mentioned mutton hotpot place.
It was right at lunchtime, quite crowded inside, and the noise was overwhelming.
The proprietress, seeing Song Jinzhao's group was quite young and included an infant, seated them at a corner table, which was relatively much quieter.
The thick broth in the clay pot began to boil and bubble. The rich, savory aroma wafted into their nostrils, and just a couple of sniffs were enough to make one's mouth water.
