Chapter Thirty-Seven: The Little Drama Queen

Song Ci’s nose began to itch, and she sneezed several times in quick succession, wordlessly brushing aside the maids’ well-intentioned concern.

“Really, it was just a sneeze. There’s no need to bring out the heavy cloak—I’m not cold,” she said, looking at the thick garment with a helpless smile.

For others, it was always, “You’re not cold, but your mother thinks you are.” In her case, it was the maids who found her chilly.

It was nearly May, yet they still brought out a winter cloak for her. No matter how delicate she was, she wasn’t fragile to this extent.

“My lady, there’s a bit of wind. You mustn’t risk catching a chill,” Hongju gently coaxed.

“It’s not that cold, no need for something so thick. Are you worried I’ll get heat rash? My nose is just itchy because I feel someone’s talking about me behind my back,” Song Ci replied, rubbing her nose.

Hongyou draped a light shawl over her shoulders with a smile. “It must be Fourth Master and the Young Master missing you on their journey.”

“Indeed. Judging by the time, they should be arriving soon,” said Nanny Gong, handing Song Ci a cup of tea and glancing at the swinging clock on the table.

Just as Song Ci brought the cup to her lips, a shrill cry echoed from the courtyard, growing nearer.

“Mother, your beloved son has returned late!”

Song Ci’s hand jerked, spilling tea across her lap.

“Speak of the devil, and he appears. Madam, Fourth Master and the Young Master are back,” Nanny Gong announced with delight, hurrying to the doorway, intending to lift the curtain herself. But before she could, someone from outside flung it up in a graceful arc.

“Mother!”

Song Ci’s vision blurred as her legs were suddenly embraced. She looked down to see a tall, youthful boy gazing up at her.

He wore a purple-gold hair crown inlaid with jewels, two locks of hair trailing down from his temples. His attire was a crimson butterfly-patterned jacket with arrow sleeves, layered with a stone-blue eight-cluster brocade robe. At his waist hung a jade belt carved with twin dragons playing with pearls, and two embroidered pouches, threaded with gold and inlaid with pearls, dangled at his side. On his feet were black-soled boots of blue satin, now dusted with mud.

His brows and eyes were perfectly shaped, his long brows sweeping into his temples, lips red and teeth white, his face delicate and tinged with the faintest blush—almost as if dusted with powder.

Could it be you, Baoyu?

Song Ci gazed at this beautiful youth, blinking in surprise.

“Mother, what’s wrong? It’s me, your precious Fourth Son,” Song Zhiyu said, waving a hand before her eyes, a hint of anxiety in his voice.

Something seemed off with his mother.

Another cry of “Mother” brought Song Ci back to reality, the corners of her mouth twitching. This little “Baoyu” was, in fact, one of her own sons.

“Fourth Son…” she drawled.

“It’s me, it’s me! Your beloved child!” Song Zhiyu shuffled forward on his knees, his eyes full of tender affection as he grasped her hand. “Mother, everyone’s been saying you’re ill. Are you alright now? Is anywhere uncomfortable? I told you before I left, don’t worry about me too much. See? I’ve only been gone a short while, and you’ve missed me so much you’ve fallen ill?”

Without waiting for her reply, he leapt up, one hand on his hip, the other pointing accusingly at Nanny Gong and the maids. “How have you all been taking care of my mother? Didn’t I tell you, after I left, to hang my portrait in her room so she could see me every day and not miss me so much? And yet she still fell ill from missing me? What use are you?”

“Forgive us, Fourth Master,” the servants knelt in a flurry.

“Hmph! If my mother weren’t in such good health and didn’t need your care, you’d all be in trouble,” Song Zhiyu huffed, glaring at them. Then he turned back to Song Ci, his face blossoming into a grin. “Mother, now that I’m home, you don’t have to miss me anymore. You’ll see me every day. Even if you want to beat me, I won’t run away.”

Song Ci was speechless.

So you’re quite the actor, she thought. I haven’t said a word.