My Stepmother is Soft and Charming
Chapter 19: Seventh brother Shang
This meal was the first they had shared as a newly wedded couple in three years. Still, it was a quiet affair, with little conversation, accompanied only by the soft clinking of chopsticks as they each ate from their own bowls. Du Jingyi, who was usually warm and talkative during meals with Danruo, found herself subdued today by her husband’s silence. After eating only a modest portion of rice and meat, she quietly set her chopsticks down.
Shang Ji, noticing how little she had eaten, assumed her restraint was due to his presence. He quickly finished his last few bites, set down his own chopsticks, and spoke to Du Jingyi.
“I’ve just returned from Cezhou and have military reports to go through these days, so I’ll remain in the study unless necessary. You should eat and sleep without restraint.”
He paused before adding, “We’ll return to your maternal home tomorrow. Is setting off at dawn acceptable for you?”
Dawn! For Du Jingyi—who cherished her sleep more than her life—that was remarkably early. Yet the thought of visiting her family filled her with such joy that she was willing to sacrifice her sleep for it. So with a smile, she replied,
“As you wish, my lord.”
Shang Ji gave a slight nod at her agreement, then instructed Aunt Dou to arrange the carriage and horses for the next morning before rising to leave the main hall. A moment later, he turned back and added,
“The madam likely hasn’t eaten enough. Please have the kitchen prepare some of her favorite dishes and send them to her again.”
“Yes, this old servant will see to it,” Aunt Dou replied respectfully but her heart was swelling with satisfaction at the general’s unexpected show of care for his young wife. At nearly thirty and still without an heir, it was a troubling matter for a military commander. Aunt Dou, too, hoped for the general and the young madam to finally consummate their marriage so that a young master could be born soon. However, she understood that neither the general nor the madam could be rushed in this regard. It was better to let nature take its course. Even so, she was eager to support anything that could nurture their bond as husband and wife.
Not long after their conversation ended, Butler He approached. He first bowed respectfully to Shang Ji before speaking.
“General, the Seventh Young Master is here and wishes to see you.”
Shang Qilang?
He was Madam Wei’s cherished son. Even at his young age, he was already serving as a civil official. Shang Ji recalled that, by the time he left the capital, Shang Qilang had already become a disciple of the esteemed Scholar Ming. [Read More Here]
Under such a renowned teacher, earning the title of Jinshi seemed only a matter of time—guaranteeing him a promising future that filled Madam Wei with immense pride.
But why would he suddenly come seeking him here, in the Xititang Courtyard—a place Madam Wei consistently avoided?
After a brief silence, Shang Ji gave a quiet instruction,
“Let him wait in the flower hall. I will be there shortly.”
“This servant will comply, General.”
The flower hall of Xititang Courtyard had long been devoid of guests. Its last use had been over a year ago, when members of the extended family forced their way in, hoping to elicit some filial pity from Du Jingyi. However, they quickly discovered she was not one to be easily manipulated.
Since the third and fifth branches of the family had gained nothing from Xititang, they rarely came again. If they had something to say, they sent their servants instead, rendering the flower hall all but obsolete. Yet, despite its rare use, the hall remained impeccably maintained.
Shang Qilang had just taken a sip of the fragrant tea offered by the attentive servants. Before he could fully savor its aroma, Shang Ji stepped into the hall.
He carried with him the aura of a man forged in fire—a commanding presence shaped by years on the battlefield, a figure to whom all bowed instinctively. One glance at him was enough to leave most people awestruck.
In comparison, Shang Qilang appeared more refined, even delicate. His life path was that of a scholar and official, far removed from the swords and halberds that filled Shang Ji’s world. Perhaps it was the years spent immersed in books, but his entire demeanor radiated a calm, elegant grace.
At just sixteen, his features had not yet fully matured, but a closer look revealed a quiet depth in his gaze—a serene composure and innate dignity rarely seen in someone so young.
Yet in Shang Ji’s eyes, the impression he held of Shang Qilang was still that of the youth he had seen years ago. Seeing him now—so changed, so mature—a subtle shift passed across Shang Ji’s usually stoic face. The joy of seeing his younger brother all grown up softened the look in his eyes and slightly lifted the corners of his mouth.
If anyone in the entire family had genuinely looked forward to his return other than his own family , it was probably Shang Qilang. Despite their differing allegiances, his relationship with this younger brother had remained relatively amicable over the years.
The moment Shang Ji entered the hall, Shang Qilang called out excitedly,
“Sixth Brother!”
“Hmmm.”
Still that was the only response Shang Ji gave.
Shang Qilang had always yearned to grow closer to his heroic elder brother, but such cold replies often left him sighing in regret. The considerable age gap between them, coupled with their vastly different upbringings, had left little common ground—few shared hobbies, fewer shared memories. His sigh, however, went unnoticed by Shang Ji, who remained unmoved.
“Why are you here?”
In that single sentence, the gulf between closeness and distance was made painfully clear. Shang Ji still had countless military reports waiting on his desk—he had no time for idle chatter with him.
Helplessly, Shang Qilang gave a bitter smile and began,
“Today marks your return home, Sixth brother —a day that should be joyous. Unfortunately, unrest in the household marred the occasion. So, as your younger brother, I came specially to deliver a gift I prepared earlier, as to celebrate your safe return.”
[Read More Here]
As he spoke, he extended a brocade box that had been resting on the Eight Immortals’ table quietly. Its craftsmanship was exquisite, though its contents remained a mystery at first glance.
Shang Ji remained seated, showing no intention of receiving it. Instead, Luo Yuan—standing by his side—stepped forward, accepted the box, and gave a polite nod toward Shang Qilang. Throughout the exchange, Shang Ji didn’t move, nor did he make any effort to open the box.
Watching this, Shang Qilang felt a twinge of sadness.
"Six Brother , why don’t you open it and take a look?”
Inside was a rare and unique copy of The Art of War, thought to be lost for many years. Shang Qilang had gone to great lengths to find it, hoping that this gift would bring a spark of joy to his elder brother’s face. But it seemed… he didn’t even care to look.
Upon hearing the request, Shang Ji remained impassive. He simply asked,
“What is it?”
“It’s a one-of-a-kind edition of The Art of War. I searched high and low for it. As I thought Sixth Brother would definitely like it.”
“Well, thank you very much for your hard work.”
The words were polite, but the tone was flat—as indifferent as thanking someone for pouring a cup of tea.
Shang Qilang felt a deep wave of disappointment rise within him, but he reminded himself—this was how Shang Ji had always been since childhood. There was no point in expecting more.
Adjusting his emotions, he forced a light smile.
[Read More Here]
“We’re family, Sixth brother . There’s really no need to be so formal with me.”
But Shang Ji gave no further response. If anything, the chill in his demeanor deepened, as if silently urging his guest to leave. Shang Qilang was far from pleased. Finally, he clenched his teeth and broke the suffocating silence, his tone laced with a fragile mixture of helplessness and quiet longing.
“Sixth Brother, I know we weren’t born of the same mother… but I often visited Madam Gu while she was alive. And you and I—we share the same father. There’s really no need for you to treat me so coldly… We are still brothers, after all?
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