Song Zhiyuan was a man of his word. He accompanied Song Ci through a midday meal, the very picture of a loving mother and filial son. After the meal, he walked with her in the courtyard to aid digestion and kept her company in idle conversation.
Song Ci said, "You have a filial heart, that your mother understands. You needn't spend too much time keeping company with this old crone. You have your own affairs to see to."
Song Zhiyuan personally supported her by the arm and said, "How much time does it take to share a meal with you and walk off the food? Surely Mother isn't disdaining her son?"
"How could I? I'm pleased in my heart and don't have enough of it." Song Ci pressed her lips in a smile and patted the hand he had placed on her arm with her right hand, saying, "Don't worry too much. Your mother hasn't thought of leaving yet."
Song Zhiyuan's throat tightened. He said helplessly, "Mother, what are you saying."
