"No, I just sneezed. You didn’t have to bring out the big cloak; I’m not cold." She looked at the thick cloak, amused yet exasperated.
For others, there’s a kind of cold where your mom thinks you’re cold. Here, it’s the maids who think you’re cold.
It’s almost May, and they’ve brought out a cloak for her. As weak as she might be, she wasn’t this weak.
"Madam, there’s a bit of wind. You shouldn’t get too chilly," Hong Ju advised.
"Even with wind, it shouldn’t be this thick. Are you worried your Madam won’t get a rash? I just feel like someone is talking about me behind my back, making my nose itch," Song Ci rubbed her nose.
Hong You took out a light shawl and draped it over her shoulders, smiling, "It must be Fourth Master and Young Master thinking of you all the way."
"Exactly, look at the time; they should be here soon." Nanny Gong handed tea to Song Ci, glancing at the pendulum clock on the table.
Song Ci took the tea, just about to take a sip, when she heard a sharp shout coming closer from the courtyard.
"Mother, your precious son is late."
Song Ci’s hand shook, spilling the tea.
"Talk about Cao Cao, and Cao Cao appears. Madam, Fourth Master, and the others are back." Nanny Gong happily walked to the door, intending to lift the curtain herself, but someone from outside forcibly flung it open in a graceful arc.
Song Ci’s old eyes blurred as her legs were hugged by someone. Looking down, a big boy was gazing up at her.
He wore a purple gold crown inlaid with gems for his hair, with two strands hanging down his temples. He was dressed in a crimson arrow-sleeved robe with butterfly embroidery, over which he wore a stone-blue eight-ensemble jacket with floral patterns. Around his waist was a double-dragon jade belt, from which hung two multicolored pouches with gold-inlaid pearls. His legs donned cyan satin boots with black soles, though the boots were a bit muddy.
His eyebrows were picturesque, with long brows reaching his temples, lips red and teeth white. His face seemed powdered, pallid with a hint of pink.
Song Ci looked at the handsome young man, blinking her eyes.
"Mother, what’s wrong? It’s me, your precious Fourth Son." Song Zhiyu waved his hand in front of her eyes, feeling a bit anxious inside.
His old mother seemed a bit out of sorts.
Another cry of "Mother" made Song Ci’s mouth twitch slightly, snapping her back to reality. This little ’Baoyu’ was indeed one of her sons.
"Fourth Son..." She elongated the sound of the last word.
"It’s me, it’s me, it’s really me, your precious son," Song Zhiyu took a kneeling step forward, with a look of affection, holding her hand and said, "Mother, they all said you were sick. Are you alright now? Is there anywhere uncomfortable? Before I left, I said you shouldn’t worry too much about me. See? I had only been gone for a short while, and you missed me to the point of falling ill?"
Before Song Ci could speak, he jumped up, one hand on his hip, the other pointing at Nanny Gong and Hong You: "How were you taking care of Madam? Didn’t I say, once I leave, you should hang my portrait in mother’s room so she can see me every day and not miss me too much? Yet, after all this, mother has missed me to the point of illness? What’s the use of you all?"
"Fourth Master, have mercy," everyone kneeled.
"Hmph, it’s just because my mother is doing well and can’t do without your service, otherwise you’d be in trouble," Song Zhiyu glared at them, letting out a heavy snort, then turned to Song Ci with a smile like a blooming chrysanthemum, "Mother, now that Fourth Son is back, you won’t have to miss me so much anymore. Fourth Son will be here every day for you to see, and even if you beat me, I won’t run away."
So, you’re the real drama king here. She hadn’t said a word.