Chapter Twenty-Three: The Matriarch's Awakening

Once word spread that Song Ci had awakened peacefully, a flurry of greetings and invitation cards poured into the Prime Minister’s residence, piling up on Madam Song’s desk. Without hesitation, she went directly to consult Song Ci.

Faced with Madam Song’s request, Song Ci feigned weakness, waving her hand as if exhausted. “Decline them all. My health is so poor that even speaking leaves me breathless. If I were to receive all those visitors, wouldn’t that hasten my demise?”

“Mother…” Madam Song’s voice caught in her throat, reproachfully saying, “You’ll live to a hundred, I’m sure.”

Song Ci thought to herself, with this body, making it to seventy would already be a blessing.

“They probably don’t truly wish to visit me,” she continued. “It’s only the prestige of the Prime Minister’s residence that draws them here. They’ll come bearing heavy gifts. With the eldest just promoted to Right Prime Minister, if we receive so many visitors so openly, those censors who delight in finding faults might seize the opportunity to accuse him in court, claiming I am using my illness to amass wealth. Wouldn’t that bring disaster upon him?”

Madam Song stiffened at this, surprised by her mother-in-law’s acuity.

Wasn’t she just a simple country woman with little experience?

Song Ci kept an eye on her daughter-in-law’s expression as she spoke, recalling the melodramatic palace dramas she’d watched—wasn’t this how the intrigues worked?

When she saw Madam Song’s face grow solemn, she knew she had struck the right note, and went on, “The Prime Minister’s residence is enjoying its moment in the sun—it’s best we keep a low profile. The more prominent we are, the more we must remain calm and discreet. I heard from Granny Gong that your birthday falls in May?”

Madam Song nodded. “And Mother’s suggestion is?”

“Make your birthday a lively affair, invite a few close friends to celebrate. By then, my health should be restored, and I can socialize with the ladies at leisure. What do you think?” Song Ci offered tentatively.

It was exactly what Song Zhiyuan had intended. Even if he hadn’t, with Song Ci’s status, Madam Song dared not disobey. Besides, it matched her husband’s wishes.

Madam Song smiled immediately. “I would not dare go against Mother’s words. In fact, the Prime Minister had planned the same. You and he truly share one heart—a perfect accord.”

Ah, the art of conversation. Flattery, delivered so skillfully, could easily lift her up.

“Let it be settled, then. You take care of the arrangements. In these days, you needn’t bother with morning and evening greetings. As long as I can eat and drink, that’s enough. Entertaining you is tiring enough. Go on now.” Song Ci rubbed her temples, feigning fatigue.

Seeing this, Madam Song could only instruct Granny Gong and the others to attend to her well, then withdrew.

Only after she left did Song Ci let out a long sigh.

It was no joke—even just facing the Song household, she had to be extra careful not to slip up in her act. To entertain outsiders would be all the more risky.

The most pressing task was to recover her health and become familiar with her position and those around her, so she could navigate this unfamiliar ancient life with ease.

With Madam Song dispatched and the younger generations excused from their daily greetings, Song Ci began her regimen of recuperation. She rose promptly each day, ate on schedule, exercised, and strolled in the garden every morning and evening, working up a sweat before bathing. The servants of Spring Radiance Hall were greatly surprised, but Song Ci explained that she was once healthy thanks to her work, and now that she did nothing, illness had taken hold—so she needed to stay active.

Thus, the residents of Spring Radiance Hall grew accustomed to the matron’s new habit of exercising.

So passed most of April, and Song Ci’s health gradually improved; her complexion became rosy and she gained some weight. Naturally, she now had the energy to examine the gifts sent by the noble ladies of the palace.