Volume One, Chapter 14: Losing the Silver Note

Page (1/3)

Sitting in the courtyard, sipping tea and basking in the sunlight, their conversation grew joyful. Song Ci coquettishly linked her arm with his. “Father, how about you stop going out from now on? Stay here in the capital with us, won’t you?”

Song’s father furrowed his brows. “In the capital, there are countless common folk, merchants, and shops, most backed by powerful connections. Our Song family lacks such foundations. Doing business here now may not only fail to bring profit but might also offend others.”

Seeing his daughter’s disappointed gaze, his voice softened. “Little Ci, your father promises you—he’ll work hard to get the business running soon, and then stay here in the capital to keep you company, alright?”

Song Ci buried her face in her father’s chest, and in that moment of bowing her head, she sniffled, wiping away the tears glistening in her eyes.

In her previous life, her father had said these words countless times, but no matter how hard he worked to make money, the Song family was never satisfied. They pressured him to exert even more effort and time running around outside.

Standing in the courtyard through seasons passing by, her father would return only briefly before leaving again. What she saw most was the figure of her father walking away into the distance.

As his departures increased, his posture grew less upright, his back bent from exhaustion. He aged beyond recognition.

But this time, no matter what, she would never let her family tread that old path again.

Sensing Song Ci’s unusual stillness in his arms, Song’s father patted her frail back and smiled. “Little Ci, you care so much for your father, but remember—we are all Song family. Your uncles study and hold official posts; your father’s strength lies in commerce. The more money I earn, the better you and your mother will live.”

Just as the moisture in her eyes began to fade, it returned in full force. Song Ci’s large eyes blurred with mist.

“Father.”

“What is it?”

“Nothing. I just want you to be well, and for our family to be well.”

Song Lao San laughed heartily. “Little Ci speaks rightly; our family will surely be well.”

At that moment, he did not perceive the deeper meaning in her words—this family did not include every member of the Song clan.

He spoke as he carefully pulled a silver hairpin from his pocket, scratching his head awkwardly. “Father’s funds are tight, so I could only buy you this silver pin. I thought, now you’re growing up, other girls love to dress up; my daughter, as beautiful as you are, should do so as well. This hairpin isn’t precious, but when I earn more, I’ll get you better pieces.”

Song Ci took the pin and stroked it tenderly, her gaze resting on the carved begonia flower. A smile formed two shallow dimples. “Father, you still remember—I love begonia flowers most.”

“Of course I remember.”

“Then, Father, what did you buy for Mother?” Though they had been married for over ten years, the couple still blushed around each other. A mischievous gleam flashed in Song Ci’s eyes.

Page (2/3)

Sure enough, Song’s father’s face flushed red, his voice muffled. “Of course… of course I bought something. But your mother has never liked to dress up; I’m not sure if she’ll even like it.”

Not liking to dress up? That woman did not care for beauty.

She vaguely recalled that when she was very young, her mother was lovely, and with a little adornment, she stood out in any crowd.

But as time went on, her mother gradually stopped caring for appearances. She shed the beautiful, delicate clothing of the past, replacing them with the plainest and coarsest garments. The exquisite hairpins became simple and tidy. She transformed into a village woman, her once striking features dulled as if covered by dust.

When she asked her mother why she no longer dressed up, her mother would gently explain that pretty clothes and jewelry were inconvenient for hard work and serving her mother-in-law, so she would no longer wear them.

At the time, she did not understand, but deep down, she felt sad. She liked her mother gentle and beautiful.

Looking back now, wasn’t this a great cruelty imposed upon her mother?

If her mother dressed up, the old matriarch of the Song family would take away her jewelry under various pretexts and scold her for not being a virtuous wife. A married woman with children who dressed fancily every day was surely ill-intentioned, trying to seduce other men.

Amid such scolding, her mother would be humiliated and on the verge of tears, thus she stopped dressing up.

“Father, Mother will like it.” Song Ci lifted her head, her expression earnest.

He paused, then smiled. “Alright, I’ll get it for your mother later.”

That evening, returning inside, Song Ci noticed that the bedding beside the bed, which had been neatly spread, now bore marks of disturbance. She knew what had happened.

She called for Wanxiang. “Go and announce that I’ve lost some silver. Search all the servants’ quarters in the third branch.”

Wanxiang smiled. “Yes, mistress.”

Running outside, she shouted loudly, “Thief! Thief! The young lady has lost something!”

Song Ci narrowed her eyes at Qiao Xianglan, who hurried over, her face showing grievance. “Mother.”

Startled by Wanxiang’s loud voice, Qiao Xianglan was still shaken but relaxed upon seeing her daughter unharmed.

“What happened? What did you lose?”

“Mother, don’t you remember? The silver I was saving to buy medicine to strengthen my body is gone.” Her eyes reddened, filled with helplessness as she looked at Qiao Xianglan.

Page (3/3)

“How could that be? Where did you put it? Did you confuse it with something else?” Qiao Xianglan searched carefully.

Song Ci knew her mother’s temperament—she wouldn’t accept that a servant in the third branch could be a thief so easily. But she had a way to make her believe.

“Mother, don’t look anymore. I’ve already searched everywhere I stashed the silver. It’s not there.”

Qiao Xianglan grew anxious. That silver was for her daughter’s health; losing it would be terrible.

Seeing her mother break into a sweat, Song Ci felt a twinge of guilt but held back comforting words, reminding herself what she was doing was for a better tomorrow.

“The bedding was neatly spread by Wanxiang this morning, but just now when I returned, I saw signs it had been rummaged through. There is no other explanation but that it was stolen.”

Qiao Xianglan’s face turned pale as she clutched her chest. “But in the third branch, apart from Wanxiang, Wanxia, and an old woman in the courtyard, who else could it be?”

“Wanxiang has been by my side all along, so it can’t be her. That leaves only Wanxia and the old Song woman.”

Just as Wanxia arrived in a hurry, she heard this accusation and immediately grew furious.

“Third Miss may eat carelessly, but you cannot speak recklessly! I have served the third branch for years, diligently and without complaint. I have never betrayed my mistress’s trust. How can Third Miss suspect me so?”

Wanxia’s face was full of anger, as if she had been gravely wronged.

“Wanxia, don’t be angry. Little Ci was only guessing…” Qiao Xianglan instinctively tried to calm her, but before she could finish, Song Ci grabbed her arm.

“Sister Wanxia, don’t be upset. I’m only speculating. Now that you say you didn’t take the silver, the third branch is small; a thorough search will reveal the truth.”

Song Ci’s eyes locked on Wanxia’s, and seeing her gaze flicker uneasily, she was certain.

Wanxia pursed her lips, her voice aggrieved. “I have served the third branch all these years. If I have no merits, I have at least endured hardships. For Third Miss to blame me for losing the silver, and to want to search my room—I feel deeply wronged; I cannot swallow this injustice.”