Chapter 324 — Lingering Echoes

Dou Yan thought it over carefully and said, "No, not really."

Song Yan was somewhat dumbfounded.

Dou Xinrong's voice was gentle as she said softly, "When I was young, I lived with Aunt Cui on the estate. I was the eldest daughter who had lost her mother, and Aunt Cui was a concubine by birth. She feared I would be laughed at by others, so she was especially strict with me in needlework and embroidery..."

Song Yan was deeply puzzled.

The information he had received was that Aunt Cui and Dou Yan lived together—so why did Dou Yan say it was the other way around, that she had followed Aunt Cui to live on the farm estate?

Song Yan thought of those several large chests of account books.

No matter how wealthy the Dou family might be, and even if his father-in-law had no son, the Dou family could not possibly have recorded so many properties under Dou Zhiwei's name.

When Wang Yousheng's daughter entered the household back then, it was probably not as simple as elevating a concubine to the position of wife, was it?

At that time, Dou Yan must have been only two or three years old. Who was taking care of her?

And how had she gotten through all these years?

Song Yan gazed at the faint bitterness seeping through Dou Yan's shallow smile, and felt profound regret in his heart.

He had been too careful of his own reputation in the matter of Dou Zhiwei, so determined to play the modest gentleman that he understood only half of what concerned Dou Zhiwei—and he had spoken wrongly, bringing up painful memories for her...

"Shouyuan," Song Yan said, pressing his face close to Dou Zhiwei's, "we have sewing women in our household. Whatever you want made, just tell them. If their work doesn't suit you, I'll find a few who came out of the palace needlework bureau to work at home. Don't do needlework anymore—it's bad for your eyes." Then, realizing that all Dou Zhiwei's needlework had been done for him, he added, "I have more clothes than I could ever wear. In a few days, once I've handed over my duties, I'll take you to the Western Hills to see the snow."

The duties he referred to meant supervising the men of the Five Wards Military Command in hunting down the thieves from the Yingzhenguo Estate fire.

Tender feelings rippled through Dou Zhiwei's heart like water.

Song Yan was feeling sorry for her, wasn't he?

In her previous life, she had managed everything inside and outside the Jining Marquis's household. Wherever she went, she could never let go of her burdens. The only time she left the capital after her marriage was when Niang had passed away from illness and she went to attend the funeral. Even in the midst of such earth-shattering grief, she still had to bring Yin with her on the journey... And it was then that she met Song Yan.

Such a cold, aloof man, cold to the bone, keeping everyone at a distance—and now he was in her arms, and because he pitied her, he would even say such things as forbidding her to do needlework, a thing no proper wife could neglect.

Dou Chiyou tightened her arms, as if by doing so she could warm Song Yan's coldness.

She had not wanted to marry before. And there was another reason she was ashamed to dwell on.

A woman does not serve two husbands.

But the memories of her previous life still lingered in her mind.

Though she no longer wished to be husband and wife with Wei Fan, she could not deny that she had once been Wei Fan's wife. How could she live with another man without any reservation in her heart?

When she was with Song Yan, she was deeply conflicted.

Reason told her she should forget the past, but emotionally it was hard to control the shame she felt.

Especially when Song Yan showed a particular fascination with her body—that feeling was even stronger.

In her previous life, she had thought nothing of it.

In this life, at this moment, she suddenly felt somewhat glad.

If Song Yan liked it, why should she be affected?

Even if she had been Wei Fan's wife in her previous life, what of it?

In this life, the one who pitied her was Song Yan. The one who doted on her was Song Yan. The one who let her know that she too could be a pearl in someone's palm was Song Yan.

If Song Yan liked it, why shouldn't she enjoy it too?

"Yantang!" Dou Yan bit Song Yan's ear, letting the hot breath between her lips and teeth brush against his neck. "Then it's settled—if it snows, you must take me to the Western Hills to see the snow. You can't go back on your word..."

It was the first time Dou Yan had spoken to him like this.

Charming as a flower spirit.

Song Yan could no longer hold himself back. He turned over and pressed her beneath him, his body's arousal aimed straight at her flower.

On any other day, Dou Yan would eight or nine times out of ten have blushed and pushed him away, saying in shame and anger, "Don't do that." But this time, Dou Chi did not push him away. Instead, she lifted her long, slender legs and wrapped them softly, bonelessly, around him... He immediately felt her wetness and heat... and he also knew that suffocating tightness and density from before...

Just moments ago she had told him to stop fooling around, and in the blink of an eye she had wrapped herself around him.

"Shouyuan!" Though he had no idea why Dou Yan had suddenly changed as if she had become another person, Song Yan would never turn his back on his own good fortune. He plunged into that scorching sea of flowers...

Too forceful.

Dou Yan felt some pain.

But she still opened her arms and accommodated his abandon.

"Shouyuan! Shouyuan!" Song Yan's body was hot, and she could feel his excitement.

Dou Yan liked this Song Yan.

Passionate, unrestrained, without the slightest scruple.

Her body caught fire along with his... She panted and struggled in his arms.

Song Yan was at the very height of his intoxication, but still he propped himself up and asked in a low voice, "What is it? Are you feeling unwell somewhere?"

"No!" Dou Yan breathed softly, then turned over in one movement and pinned the wholly relaxed Song Yan beneath her. "Isn't this what you like?" She smiled down at him, her spring-water eyes brimming with light, straddling him and swaying her slender waist slowly, displaying curves as lovely and exquisite as mountains and rivers...

Song Yan drew a sharp breath.

He felt as though he were dreaming, fallen into a realm of immortals.

"You little temptress!" Impatient, he sat up, gripped her waist, and set to work with vigor.

Only then did Dou Yan learn what it meant to play with fire.

She could not help clutching his shoulders, her face turning somewhat pale.

Song Yan, who had been watching her expression all along, slowed at once and asked her gently, "Uncomfortable?"

Dou Yan gave a soft "mm" and leaned against his shoulder... Her body gradually grew hot again... Song Yan could not resist growing wild once more... Dou Yan's body tensed... and Song Yan had no choice but to slow again... So it went, back and forth several times, and still it was Song Yan attending upon Dou Yan...

Song Yan could not help laughing. "So delicate!"

Dou Yan was both mortified and incensed.

Song Yan hurried to coax her. "I know—you wanted to please me." Then he kissed her, densely and lingeringly.

Dou Yan hid her face against his neck and burst out giggling, then took his earlobe between her lips and asked him bewitchingly, "So are you pleased or not?"

That glimmering, overflowing charm set Song Yan's heart pounding wildly.

Dou Yan at once flung her arms around his neck and, lifting her head, asked him, "Then shall I bear you a daughter?"

A flush of peach-pink upon her snowy breast thus swam into his view.

Dou Yan giggled.

Song Yan came back to himself and, half annoyed and half amused, gave her bottom a smack with a "whack," and in the same motion pressed her beneath him...

Dou Yan closed her eyes, feeling his swelling... and the storm and thunder he raised within her body... The things of the past scattered like wind-blown dust...