Watching the servant before him and hearing his words, Qin Shi’san-lang’s faint smile gradually faded.
“Finally waited for a personal message, only to find it’s a parting,” he said, shaking his head and waving his hand.
The servant bowed and withdrew.
Qin Shi’san-lang turned and walked toward a courtyard behind him.
So, she’s really leaving.
Just like Zhou Liu-lang—it had never seemed possible that he would leave, yet in the blink of an eye, that young man who once rode, shot arrows, bantered, and roughhoused with him was now thousands of miles away.
Qin Shi’san-lang stopped, lifted his head to gaze at the sky for a moment, then abruptly turned and strode back.
“Hey—hey, young master, young master—!”
The servant called out twice, watching helplessly as Qin Shi’san-lang mounted his own horse and galloped off.
Scratching his head, the servant glanced toward the stable gate.
The young master’s horse is still there—should he take it and ride after him?
But remembering the strict tutor, the servant hunched his shoulders, hugged his arms, and scurried away.
When Qin Shi’san-lang arrived at Cheng Jiao-niang’s gate, a carriage stood parked outside, and the main door was open.
It was the Zhou family’s carriage.
Qin Shi’san-lang halted.
Footsteps sounded behind him.
“Young Master Zhou?”
Someone called out hesitantly.
Young Master Zhou?
Qin Shi’san-lang turned and saw an elderly servant bowing respectfully.
“I serve the Wang family—the betrothed of Lady Cheng,” the man said with a polite smile.
Qin Shi’san-lang gave an absent “Oh,” as if about to speak, then seemed to think better of it and turned away without a word.
Such young masters, who barely acknowledged servants, were common enough. The old servant paid it no mind and was about to step aside when this “Young Master Zhou” suddenly turned back.
“Where is your master?” Qin Shi’san-lang asked.
“He went to purchase some specialties of the capital,” the old servant replied promptly, still smiling. “He sent me ahead to ask Lady Cheng if there’s anything specific she’d like, so he might bring it as well. Young Master, you—”
Qin Shi’san-lang nodded, then turned away again before the man could finish.
The old servant swallowed the rest of his words and frowned slightly.
This young master seemed displeased with him, yet appeared to be forcing himself to make conversation.
Was this the attitude of a relative who disapproved of the marriage but had no choice but to acknowledge the new familial ties?
As if confirming his speculation, the young master, who had just turned away, looked back again.
“Where are you staying?” he asked. “Before you leave, I’d like to host a farewell drink for your master.”
After all, this family might soon become her in-laws…
Now this was how relatives ought to behave. The old servant smiled and bowed respectfully.
“Many thanks, young master, many thanks,” he said, promptly providing the name of their inn.
As they were speaking, a man’s sobbing suddenly came from inside the house, startling them both.
Sobbing? Had they misheard?
The old servant couldn’t help but peer inside. Through the wide-open gate, he could see a man sitting on the veranda, weeping…
Just as he was about to take a closer look, the young master of the Zhou family beside him cleared his throat pointedly.
Snapping back to attention, the old servant hastily retreated a few steps—only to notice that this “Young Master Zhou” made no move to withdraw. Instead, he took a few steps forward.
“Jiao Jiao, I know I was wrong,” Master Zhou choked out behind his sleeve.
“Spare our lives, please.”
“Fine,” Cheng Jiao-niang replied. “Do me one favor, and this matter ends here.”
Master Zhou was overjoyed.
This easily?
The thought had barely crossed his mind when another wave of dread struck him.
Easily? The last time, her words had sounded simple too—and look how that turned out.
“I’ll be returning to Jiang-zhou with the Wang family,” Cheng Jiao-niang said. “As for the three shops in the capital, I trust you’ll look after them for me, Master Zhou.”
So that’s it!
“Jiao Jiao, those are your shops—I wouldn’t dare interfere! I swear to heaven!” Master Zhou immediately raised his hand skyward and vowed.
Why did those words sound so… off?
But never mind that now.
“So, Uncle, are you refusing to help me?” Cheng Jiao-niang asked with a smile.
Refuse to help?
Wasn’t that tantamount to courting death?
“Of course not! Of course I will!” Master Zhou bobbed his head frantically. “I swear to heaven!”
A maid stifled a giggle.
“Well then, Master Zhou, do you or do you not agree?” she teased.
Beads of sweat rolled down Master Zhou’s face, making his already swollen features even more wretched.
“Uncle,” Cheng Jiao-niang said calmly, “whether you acknowledge it or not, whether I acknowledge it or not, the world will always consider these three businesses yours—the Zhou family’s. Naturally, the profits remain mine, while the open hostility and hidden daggers will be yours to bear.”
This was an undeniable truth. Master Zhou gave a bitter smile, recalling how it had been when Cheng Jiao-niang first rose to fame as a divine doctor.
The praise and flattery had all been hers, with the Zhou family merely reaping some scraps by association. But the moment this woman crossed someone, the ridicule, curses, and suspicions all came crashing down upon the Zhous.
What could be done? Such was the nature of family. Such was the nature of kinship.
“This is your fate—the Zhou family’s fate. Whether you will it or not, from the moment I was born, it was destined to be so,” Cheng Jiao-niang declared.
Yes… all of this is fate. Master Zhou lowered his head and murmured his assent.
“So, Uncle,” Cheng Jiao-niang asked, “since this is fate, do you wish for good fortune or ill?”
Who wouldn’t want good fortune?
“Good fortune,” Master Zhou replied in a low voice.
“What?” Cheng Jiao-niang tilted her head slightly.
The meaning behind that gesture was not lost on Master Zhou.
“Good fortune!” he shouted, raising his voice.
“Good,” Cheng Jiao-niang nodded. “Then I’ll entrust the shops to your care, Uncle.”
What?
Master Zhou froze.
“If I fare poorly, you gain nothing. If I prosper, you might share in it,” she said. “Given that, Uncle, do you understand what you must do now?”
For a moment, Master Zhou stood dumbfounded.
So their fates were bound together—shared glory, shared disgrace…
No, no. Given this girl’s temperament, ‘shared disgrace’ is a joke!
Glory, perhaps, might be shared. But disgrace? Did anyone truly believe she would suffer alongside them? Heh… Who’d be fool enough to test that theory?
In other words, her words could also be interpreted as: If I fall, I’ll drag you down with me. But treat me well, and I might—just might—show you some mercy in return…
“Jiao Jiao, I understand.” Master Zhou nodded solemnly, though his swollen face made even his most serious expression appear comical.
Cheng Jiao-niang bowed gracefully.
“Thank you, Uncle.” She smiled as she spoke.
Truly worthy of being called the Diamond Bodhisattva. Even if she were to kill someone with her own hands, she’d probably maintain perfect etiquette.
Master Zhou hastily returned the bow.
“So you’re truly returning?” he said. “I’ll arrange an escort for you immediately.”
Cheng Jiao-niang nodded.
“…And will you be taking some of our people with you…?” Master Zhou ventured tentatively.
Cheng Jiao-niang nodded again, offering a slight smile of thanks.
Master Zhou was so overjoyed he nearly danced on the spot—Cheng Jiao-niang, who had always kept to herself, was actually going to accept Zhou family attendants!
What did this mean?
It meant she considered them her own people now!
“I’ll go select the candidates right away!” he exclaimed happily, rising to his feet before quickly adding, “I’ll bring them for your approval once chosen.”
“No need. Anyone will do,” Cheng Jiao-niang said. “Don’t trouble yourself.”
Use them if they’re useful… discard them if not.
Like those maids who’d been cast out back in the Cheng household.
Just servants—in her eyes, they weren’t even worthy of being remembered by name.
Master Zhou nodded.
“Understood,” he said, rising to leave—only to turn back after a few steps, hesitating nervously. “Jiao Jiao, about… about your aunt’s and my illness… What medicine should we take?”
The maid stared in astonishment before covering her mouth to stifle a laugh.
Cheng Jiao-niang raised her hand and flicked her fingers dismissively at him.
“Same as before,” she said. “You’re cured.”
Watching Master Zhou stride out, Qin Shi’san-lang took a few steps back.
“You’re cured… you’re cured…”
Muttering to himself with his head lowered, Master Zhou nearly walked right past Qin Shi’san-lang without noticing him.
“Master Zhou,” Qin Shi’san-lang said, offering a slight bow.
Master Zhou gave an absent “Oh” and nodded.
The old servant, who had hurried over just in time to hear this, looked astonished.
This swollen-faced man was Master Zhou?
Then again, a man who could beat his attendants to the point of bruising must have some martial skill—fitting for a military family like the Zhous.
“Master Zhou,” the servant hastily bowed as well.
Master Zhou glanced at him, then back at Qin Shi’san-lang.
…Qin family’s?
“From the Wang family,” Qin Shi’san-lang replied.
Wang family?
Master Zhou immediately turned to leave without another word.
“Master Zhou! Master Zhou!” The old servant hurried after him. “My young master was just coming to pay you a visit—”
“What for?” Master Zhou snapped irritably.
Mid-sentence, he remembered that Cheng Jiao-niang herself had agreed to this marriage alliance—meaning the Wang heir must have won her favor…
“…Is it about the return to Jiang-zhou?” he suddenly pivoted, his face breaking into an amiable smile.
The old servant was baffled by this abrupt shift in demeanor.
“Yes,” he answered after a dazed pause.
“Excellent! No need to worry. I’ll handle all the arrangements myself. You’ll have a safe and smooth journey,” Master Zhou said, beaming.
The servant was even more bewildered.
“No need to call on me. Just prepare for your departure,” Master Zhou added with a dismissive wave as he hastily boarded his carriage.
The old servant called after him a few times, but the carriage had already sped away.
“In such a hurry… as if rushing to save a life,” he muttered under his breath, shaking his head.
Or perhaps he’s just overjoyed to finally rid himself of this Lady Cheng…
This girl…
When he turned back, the Zhou family’s young master who had been standing at the gate earlier had already gone inside. The servant moved to follow, but Jin Ge’er blocked his path.
“My mistress has a guest. State your business.”
The old servant stated his purpose and waited as the young attendant went inside to relay the message. Before long, the attendant returned.
“My lady says there’s no need to buy anything for her. Young Master Wang may do as he pleases,” Jin Ge’er announced.
The servant wanted to say more, but it was clear from the response that he wasn’t to be invited in. With a resigned bow, he took his leave.
Who could have imagined things would go so smoothly? And to have even met Master Zhou in person…
Zhou…
Wait a moment.
Halfway down the street, the old servant suddenly halted and turned back to stare at the Cheng residence.
That attendant just said his lady was receiving a guest?
If it were her cousin, why call him a “guest”?
Unless… he wasn’t her cousin at all?
Only then did it strike him—when that young man had greeted Master Zhou earlier, their exchange hadn’t seemed like that of father and son. The youth had offered only a half-bow… and at his age, a half-bow could only mean his status surpassed Master Zhou’s…
A son’s status could never surpass his father’s. And if he wasn’t the son—then who was he?
Higher than the Zhou family, a handsome young man, permitted entry into this young lady’s home—no, not just permitted entry, but even sharing lantern-viewing with her during the Mid-Autumn Festival!
They must be exceptionally close…
Young Master… could it be that someone is truly trying to steal your betrothed right from under your nose?
The thought sent a shiver down the old servant’s spine—before he nearly laughed at his own absurdity.
Impossible! That fool?
Qin Shi’san-lang picked up the tea that the maid had pushed toward him and took a small sip.
“So you’re really leaving?” he asked.
“Yes,” Cheng Jiao-niang replied.
Qin Shi’san-lang took another sip of tea.
“There’s still time. Let me prepare a farewell banquet for you,” he said, raising an eyebrow with a pleased expression. “We’ve already been to river banquet. This time, we’ll go somewhere even more interesting.”
“Sounds good,” Cheng Jiao-niang said with a faint smile.
“You’re too picky when it comes to tastes,” Qin Shi’san-lang frowned, seriously pondering. “I’ll have to think carefully about where to take you.”
He then asked if she liked this or that kind of food, and other similar questions.
Cheng Jiao-niang answered each one with a smile.
Qin Shi’san-lang suddenly fell silent, his gaze fixed on the girl before him.
“Don’t marry Wang Shi’qi. My… my mother will find a better match for you,” he said.
Cheng Jiao-niang looked at him, smiled faintly, and pushed a small box toward him.
“Freshly made pastries,” she said.
Qin Shi’san-lang straightened his posture.
“Cheng Jiao-niang,” he said solemnly, “the Wang family isn’t worthy. You shouldn’t lower yourself for them.”
Cheng Jiao-niang met his eyes with that same quiet smile.
“I’m not lowering myself,” she replied.
“If there’s a better family, why settle for this one?” he pressed.
“Young Master Qin,” Cheng Jiao-niang chuckled, picking up a pastry herself, “what makes a family ‘better’?”
“Lineage. Character,” he answered without hesitation.
Cheng Jiao-niang raised her sleeve to cover her mouth as she ate a pastry, her eyes smiling at him over the fabric.
Half her face hidden by the wide sleeve, only those eyes remained visible—uniquely captivating.
Qin Shi’san-lang lowered his head, picked up a pastry himself, and turned away to eat slowly.
A quiet stillness settled over the room.
“Young Master Qin, I appreciate your concern,” Cheng Jiao-niang said. “But in truth, it makes no difference.”
No difference?
Were even the most respectable families no better than the Wangs? Were upstanding young men no different from that good-for-nothing Wang Shi’qi?
How could they possibly be the same?
“What if it were me?” Qin Shi’san-lang asked.
Outside the door, the maids exchanged a glance—this was the second time this young master had asked such a question…
Cheng Jiao-niang looked at him and smiled.
“If you had known my conditions back then, would you still have asked me to treat your leg?” she countered.
Qin Shi’san-lang froze at the question, his fingers tightening reflexively around the teacup.
A moment passed—long as an age, brief as a breath.
“It seems I’ve fallen back into my old habit of false pretenses,” he said with a rueful laugh. “Forgive my foolishness.”
The maids exchanged another glance, smiling faintly. Yes, they seemed to agree, when it comes down to it, people will always put themselves first.
“So let’s not dwell on melancholy what-ifs. The world has no room for ‘if only’—what is, is. Why torment yourself with pointless questions? It only leads to awkwardness,” Cheng Jiao-niang said with a faint smile. “I have matters to attend to after this departure. Trifles like these aren’t worth mentioning, nor do I wish to be distracted by them. I appreciate your kindness, Young Master Qin.”
She lifted her water bowl.
“Water in place of wine.”
Qin Shi’san-lang watched her, forcing a smile as he nodded and raised his teacup.
“Tea in place of wine,” he said. “It seems we’ll never share that drink after all.”
“When we meet again, we’ll certainly drink,” Cheng Jiao-niang replied.
“Will we meet again?” Qin Shi’san-lang asked with a wry laugh.
“Or not. Either is fine.” She smiled lightly.
Qin Shi’san-lang threw his head back and laughed, then drained his cup in one swift motion.
