Song Ci walked out of Madam Wei’s room, just in ti to see Wang Qiuman glaring angrily at Wei Wenyan and the beautiful woman beside her, as if in confrontation.
It’s said that this beautiful woman is Madam Wei’s niece, promised to her son as a noble concubine, which is why Wei Wenyan, as the daughter of a concubine, is so favored.
Song Ci felt a bit disgusted, what she hated most was making nieces and nephews the concubines to their own sons, it easily caused trouble.
Look at this, the seeds old Wei sowed that day may very well be the fruit of today’s problems.
She didn’t believe it, the mansion of the Minister of Public Works was not like a mouse hole where people could scurry around; for Wei Cheng to have reached Wei Wenyan, there must have been those who opened doors for him.
That Madam Wei couldn’t be unrelated to this.
Wei Wenyan and the beautiful woman Tong Shi saw Song Ci and gracefully stepped forward to salute.
Song Ci glanced over them indifferently, only waving to Wang Qiuman: "Little Man’er, co here."
Completely ignoring the two.
Tong Shi and Wei Wenyan’s expressions changed, a little awkward and embarrassed, but they dared not utter a word.
Who was she? The mother of the current Pri Minister Song, ranked higher than the matriarch of their own family, and a close friend of the Empress Dowager, how could they afford to offend her?
Wang Qiuman didn’t expect Song Ci to call her, she walked up, and Song Ci pulled her aside, noticing the dark circles under her eyes, rembering what Madam Wei had said about her sleeplessly caring for her day and night, it really was hard on her.
"You are a girl, having filial piety is good, but you must also take care of your own health, don’t exhaust yourself," Song Ci said with compassion.
Wang Qiuman replied, "Madam, I understand the importance."
"Hmm." Song Ci brushed her hair behind her ear and said, "You also don’t need to get angry with others, it’s unnecessary, there’s sothing you should know."
Wang Qiuman looked at her.
"A blessing in disguise."
Wang Qiuman smiled, "Madam, I’m not resentful, just distressed for Grandmother. Thanks to Fourth Master, I avoided a disaster, here, I thank you, and please thank him for ."
With that, Wang Qiuman solemnly saluted.
Song Ci received it.
Looking at the girl’s frail figure and her bright, clear eyes as always, Song Ci felt greatly comforted.
She walked a little farther with Wang Qiuman in hand, and thoughtfully asked, "Little Man’er, what are your criteria for selecting a husband?"
Wang Qiuman was a bit dazed, then shook her head and said, "Madam, for now, I just want to take care of Grandmother, I’m not in a hurry for marriage, I’ll consider it when she’s fully recovered."
"It’s okay to speak, if the person is from an ordinary poor family without social status, are you willing?"
Wang Qiuman thought for a mont and said, "As long as the person is of good character, I don’t mind his background, after all, I’m just an orphan."
"That’s good, just wait, and I will find a good husband for you," Song Ci blinked.
Wang Qiuman thought she was just feeling sorry for her, didn’t mind it, and obediently saluted.
This scene fell into the distant sight of Wei Wenyan and her mother, filled with jealousy and gritting teeth.
Song Ci was escorted out of the mansion by Madam Wei, and before leaving, she looked deeply at Madam Wei and said, "An old family mber is like a treasure, one must not anger them. If sothing happens to them, this big family won’t have peace."
Madam Wei’s smiling face stiffened.
Song Ci changed the subject: "Nanny Gong, has Assistant Minister Ding of the Ministry of Rites resud his post after his period of mourning?"
Nanny Gong: "It seems he resud early in the month, I heard he went to Honglu Temple."
Song Ci sighed: "Such a person with bad fortune."
Madam Wei felt as if her face had been slapped; wasn’t she being warned that if they drove soone to death, their family’s master would also enter mourning?
What if, like Assistant Minister Ding, he couldn’t resu his post? Then...
Madam Wei was frightened to the point her back was drenched.
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