Two incense sticks later.
Cuizhu Courtyard.
Yun Feiwan arrived at the front hall and saw Cen Yanran.
Cen Yanran was dressed in a new, peach-pink outfit, looking neat and well-groomed as she stood to the side. Upon hearing movement, she stood respectfully until Yun Feiwan took her seat, only then stepping forward slightly to offer a bow.
"Yanran greets the Madam."
"Look up and let me see you." Yun Feiwan’s tone was level, revealing neither joy nor anger, but Cen Yanran dared not dally.
"Yes."
Cen Yanran complied, lifting her head slowly, though her eyes remained lowered, not daring to meet Yun Feiwan’s gaze.
Yun Feiwan looked at her.
In her past life, she had been so full of prejudice against Cen Yanran that she had never truly looked at her. Now, observing her with an objective, measured eye, she realized Cen Yanran was not a striking beauty or a top-tier stunner. Rather, she was slender, fair-skinned, and possessed a delicate, refined appearance—the type that stirred a man’s protective instincts.
Song Jingcheng was sixteen this year. He had always lived under her wings, and she had protected him well. He never had to worry about a thing; even when she gave him opportunities to gain experience, Yao Yun'er would secretly intervene to ensure he sailed through. It could be said that for the past sixteen years, Song Jingcheng had lived a life of smooth sailing, having faced almost no setbacks.
It was precisely this character that made him most susceptible to pitying a woman like Cen Yanran, who was orphaned and adrift. Before a "clinging vine" like her, he played the hero, persisting even to the point of a falling-out with his family just to pay for her redemption and bring her into the estate to be well-kept.
It was the same nature that led Song Mingjian to dally with Yao Yun'er.
Many men, unable to achieve success elsewhere, sought to find a sense of heroic presence by playing savior to fragile women, attempting to hold up the sky for them—even if they were incapable of actually doing so. Perhaps she wasn't exceptionally beautiful, but she fulfilled his unattainable hero complex, allowing him to mask his failures in other areas. It was less about his addiction or love for the woman and more about his need to soothe and disguise his own incompetence.
In this regard, father and son were two of a kind.
"Get up and sit down. Let’s talk."
"Yes." Cen Yanran rose and sat to the side. She hadn't expected Yun Feiwan to be so reasonable; the terror she had felt initially dissipated somewhat. She had steeled herself to be humiliated, knowing that this Madam had opposed her entry into the estate all along. She knew that a woman from the Grand Tutor’s Residence would never willingly allow her legitimate son to be so intimate with a courtesan. Things had gone far more smoothly than she had anticipated.
Yun Feiwan had fresh tea brought in, took a sip, and spoke:
"Chenger originally wanted to take you as his wife. Are you aware of that?"
Cen Yanran lowered her head. "Yanran is aware."
Yun Feiwan knew full well that this had been Cen Yanran’s idea for Song Jingcheng. Her tone remained unchanged. "However, as the legitimate heir of the Song family, he must inherit the title. It would have been against protocol for him to do so, which is why you were made a noble concubine. Do you feel aggrieved?"
Cen Yanran stood up immediately, answering respectfully:
"Yanran feels no grievance. Given my status, to be able to enter the Song Estate is a blessing I must have spent several lifetimes cultivating. I would not dare to hope for more."
From the very beginning, she had never expected to be the formal wife; she had merely used that claim to maneuver for the position of a noble concubine. She was very satisfied with this result.
Yun Feiwan did not dwell on the matter, waving her hand to signal her to sit.
"Don't be nervous. Remember, once you have entered the Song family, you are a member of this family. Chenger is my only child, and I am happy that he has found a kindred spirit. The Song family line has been thin; I only hope you will help him grow his family soon and encourage him to apply himself in his studies. That would be your greatest contribution."
"Yes, Yanran will remember."
Yun Feiwan thought for a moment before adding:
"I did not originally agree to this union. Given your background, I had no reason to accept you as wife or concubine. But Chenger insisted, so I granted his wish. Seeing you today, I find your manners and etiquette are excellent. You are humble and respectful—it is clear you are a good person. It makes me feel as if my prejudice regarding your status was misplaced. Please, do not take it to heart."
Cen Yanran’s body went slightly rigid. She had not expected Yun Feiwan to say such things. A wave of warmth filled her, and she let go of half her defenses, finally looking up slowly at Yun Feiwan. This one glance left her stunned. The Madam before her was nothing like the woman she had heard of. In her quest to enter the Song Estate, she had inquired about Madam Yun. She believed the Madam to be a strict, intolerant woman with a sharp mind.
Instead, she saw someone kind, approachable, and well-bred. Moreover, she was incredibly beautiful, dressed in a bright orange gown embroidered with peonies that made her look elegant, dignified, and radiant. She looked nothing like Song Jingcheng’s mother; one could easily mistake her for an older sister by a few years.
And she bore no prejudice against her, treating her like a close younger relative. There was no trace of contempt or wariness in her eyes. For a moment, Cen Yanran even felt a pang of regret for the schemes she had used to stir trouble between Song Jingcheng and his parents. A sense of guilt washed over her, and she silently vowed that as long as this Madam didn't make trouble for her, she would do her utmost to be a filial daughter-in-law.
Yun Feiwan didn't know what she was thinking, calmly allowing herself to be observed, and when their eyes met, she gave a smile that made Cen Yanran shyly lower her head.
Yun Feiwan exchanged a few polite words about taking good care of Song Jingcheng before dismissing her. Before she left, Yun Feiwan handed over the gifts she had prepared. When Cen Yanran saw how valuable they were, her eyes grew misty with gratitude, and she accepted them with a thousand thanks.
Having spent years in a house of ill repute, she was well-accustomed to all sorts of people. She was confident she could tell when someone was being insincere. Regardless of anything else, she was certain this Madam held no malice toward her and possessed no prejudice regarding her background.
She thought to herself that, upon returning, she would at least stop provoking the relationship between Song Jingcheng and Madam Yun. Furthermore, the plan she had made before entering the estate—to get on good terms with the First Madam should the hostess prove difficult—was discarded entirely.
In the Cuizhu Courtyard, Yun Feiwan watched Cen Yanran leave.
Nanny Qu spoke up: "Madam, this Concubine Cen seems rather decent."
Yun Feiwan took a sip from her teacup. "She is just a poor soul trying to carve out a path for herself."
"Should we warn her to be careful of the First Madam?"
"That is hardly necessary; it would only expose us. Since she went to such great lengths to enter the Song Estate, she must have prepared herself. Having spent years in a brothel, she is no naive little rabbit."
Reborn, Yun Feiwan had no saintly illusions. In truth, she and Cen Yanran were merely passing acquaintances with a common interest. Even if she were to help her, it would only be based on ensuring her own absolute safety. Cen Yanran had her own path to walk, just as she had hers. Only if Cen Yanran proved capable would she lend her a hand when possible. Her experience from a second life taught her one thing: before having pity on others, it is best to have pity on oneself.