Within a few days, the Marquis again got pricked by something on one of the chairs in the residence and was heading out again. By rights, this had nothing to do with her. But he sent Ding Zhang over to tell Qian Jiaoniang to have the servants pack her belongings well, prepare for a long trip. Qian Jiaoniang sneered coldly and ignored it.
Qingya thought about it for a while, then suddenly clapped her hands while reading. “The Marquis is probably planning to take you to the capital, Yong’an. It won’t be long before the imperial family celebrates their longevity festival. This year they must have summoned the Marquis to go up.”
Qian Jiaoniang frowned. “Then I’m even less likely to go.”
At dinner, Xing Muzheng came over to eat. The three of them ate together. Afterward, Xing Pingchun and Li Ding were to rest briefly before practicing martial arts for another hour. Xing Pingchun was busy from dawn to dusk—studying nonstop. As soon as he hit the bed, he was out cold. Sometimes, when Qian Jiaoniang went to check on him, he hadn’t even taken off his shoes before sleeping sprawled out like a starfish. Fortunately, with Li Ding around, the two boys joked and played together, so Xing Pingchun didn’t complain anymore. Just then, the two of them ran out to play again.
With Xing Pingchun gone, Xing Muzheng didn’t leave. Qian Jiaoniang acted as if she didn’t see him at all, tidied up a bit, fed the dog, and returned to her room to work.
Qingya had already drawn out the embroidery pattern she wanted for her new outfit and specified she wanted it stitched on su yue silk. Qian Jiaoniang had never heard of that fabric before. Qingya somehow came up with a bolt of pale moon-colored silk, and the moment Qian Jiaoniang touched it, she could tell it was a fine material—much smoother than regular silk. Afraid she might mess it up having never worked with it before, she decided to use a scrap to first try embroidering a sachet.
Qingya was leaning over the table, focused on cutting the fabric. When Qian Jiaoniang came in, she only glanced at her and then continued snipping away. Qian Jiaoniang said nothing more, picked up her embroidery hoop, and thought about what design to stitch.
Xing Muzheng came in as well.
As soon as he entered, both Qian Jiaoniang and Qingya lifted their heads and looked at him strangely. Xing Muzheng acted completely natural, walked over to the rocking chair Qian Jiaoniang had moved over from the west wing, and sat down. He leaned back, hands behind his head, gently rocking back and forth, looking very much at ease.
The sisters’ expressions grew even stranger. Qingya called out, “Marquis,” and Xing Muzheng responded with a simple “Mm.” Qingya looked toward Qian Jiaoniang, who shook her head at her, signaling her to just ignore him. So Qingya resumed working, but the gaze locked on her from the side made her feel like her whole body had grown thorns. She couldn’t sit still.
Xing Muzheng found it bizarre—how could a maid be so tactless? Her master had entered, and yet she still hadn’t taken the hint to leave.
Qian Jiaoniang paused her work, frowning as she glanced back and forth between Xing Muzheng and Qingya.
The atmosphere grew increasingly strange. Qingya couldn’t continue cutting and looked at Qian Jiaoniang again. This time, Qian Jiaoniang gave her a signal, and Qingya slowly got up and walked out.
At least Xing Muzheng didn’t follow her out. He remained slowly rocking in the chair, eyes half closed, now staring directly at Qian Jiaoniang. The elegant curve of her swan-like neck glowed under the candlelight, and Xing Muzheng was entranced, unable to look away.
Shanzha came in carrying a bowl of tea and a bowl of sweet soup. She handed the tea to Xing Muzheng. He returned to his senses and said a couple of things to her. Qian Jiaoniang didn’t catch it clearly—something about goji berries, perhaps he wanted his tea brewed with them. So she guessed.
Shanzha placed the health-nourishing sweet soup made by the kitchen in front of Qian Jiaoniang and then left. Shortly after, she came back, this time carrying an oil lamp. Qian Jiaoniang tilted her head, raised an eyebrow.
Shanzha brought the lamp over and set it on the table. Smiling, she said, “Madam, the Marquis said to replace it with this one.”
Why change the lamp for no reason? Same lamp cover, same oil—what difference could it make? Qian Jiaoniang asked, “Why change the lamp?”
Shanzha glanced at Xing Muzheng, who seemed to be resting with eyes closed. She wasn’t sure herself, so she answered honestly, “This one uses goji berry oil.”
Goji berries pressed into oil to burn in a lamp? What—was he so rich he had silver piled to the ceiling? Qian Jiaoniang swallowed the retort.
Shanzha curtsied and left. Qian Jiaoniang glanced over at Xing Muzheng and met his gaze. She quickly looked away, only to be caught by something that stung her eyes. She narrowed her eyes and looked closely—turned out there was a pendant around Xing Muzheng’s neck. Between two gold beads hung what looked like a long fang. Probably a wild animal’s tooth.
This was the first time Qian Jiaoniang had seen someone thread a tooth between gold beads, as if afraid others wouldn’t notice he was wearing something.
Xing Muzheng’s hand moved to stroke the fang, following her line of sight. Qian Jiaoniang snapped out of it and ignored him, bowing her head to resume her stitching.
In the quiet room, only the sounds of her pulling thread and the creaking of the rocking chair could be heard. Xing Muzheng didn’t do anything else—just sat there, seemingly deep in thought, or perhaps spacing out. Qian Jiaoniang, in a daze, was reminded of the time when he had been poisoned by the Gu—sitting there blankly while she embroidered. Except now, she didn’t have to worry about him suddenly going mad and hitting people.
Xing Pingchun came back from martial arts practice and bid his mother goodnight. Seeing Xing Muzheng there startled him a bit. In his little head, it felt very strange for both parents to be in the same room.
“Wash up and go to bed. You have to get up early tomorrow,” Qian Jiaoniang waved her hand. “And don’t roughhouse with Ding’er anymore.”
Xing Pingchun responded, then bid Xing Muzheng goodnight as well before heading out. But even as he left, he looked back twice.
Qian Jiaoniang put away her needle and thread. Seeing Xing Muzheng still sitting there like some great lord, she deliberately yawned and stood up. Xing Muzheng pretended not to notice, showing no signs of leaving.
He couldn’t possibly plan to sleep here, could he? Qian Jiaoniang scraped her nails against her fingertips, just about to speak and send him away when Xing Muzheng slowly opened his mouth.
“…Have you packed your things?”
Qian Jiaoniang said, “I’m not going anywhere. Why would I pack?”
“Didn’t Ding Zhang tell you?”
“I did say I’d go, but my body is frail and can’t withstand the travel.” Qian Jiaoniang sighed and gently touched her face. “Ah, the body of a noble lady, the fate of a servant.”
Her ability to speak nonsense with a straight face seemed to have grown stronger. What kind of frail person rides a horse and even urges it faster?
Xing Muzheng sat up straighter, fingers interlocked before his chest, and looked Qian Jiaoniang directly in the eye. “For this imperial birthday celebration, I plan to take the opportunity to ask His Majesty to rescind the decree. If that fails, I will have no choice but to let you go. You… truly won’t go with me?”
Qian Jiaoniang’s hand paused over her embroidery basket. She turned her head and glanced sideways at Xing Muzheng. He really intended to ask the emperor to take back his decree? Even though she wasn’t well-read, she knew that an imperial edict, once issued, could not be revoked. Even if he was a marquis, he couldn’t override the emperor. Could the emperor be persuaded to take back his word for such a trivial matter? That was near impossible.
The road to the capital was long and arduous. With a round trip, it would likely be two months before he returned. She couldn’t wait that long—and besides, Yuzhou was his territory. What if something happened in the meantime…?
Qian Jiaoniang’s eyes flicked as she changed her tune with a smile. “Then again, someone like me has never been to Yong’an City. If I get to go just once in this life, at least it won’t have been lived in vain.”
Xing Muzheng gave a knowing smile, as though he had expected this answer. He stood from his chair and gave her a long, meaningful look. “Very well. We leave the day after tomorrow. Bring warm clothes—Yong’an is colder.”
With that, he left, but stopped again at the screen as if something came to mind. He turned back and added, “Oh, right. Remember to bring that maid of yours, Qingya.”
***
The next day, while packing together, Qingya remarked, “Well, isn’t this great? I’ve never seen anyone get the imperial family to rescind an edict. That’s something incredible. I’m guessing even the marquis won’t be able to do it.”
Qian Jiaoniang spread a cotton-padded coat on the bed and carefully smoothed it out. “It’s just… Xing Muzheng looked like he was confident…” Would he fight a battle he had no certainty of winning? Qian Jiaoniang thought back to his expression yesterday and couldn’t shake off a lingering unease. Where had he gone later? And how did he end up poisoned by a snake? Was it somehow connected to this plan to petition the emperor?
Qingya said, “Don’t worry too much. I can’t speak for anything else, but as for this matter—I’m sure it won’t work. You just go, and once you get good news, come back quickly. I’ll go look for a house in the meantime.”
Qian Jiaoniang paused mid-fold, glanced at Qingya, and was about to speak when Hongjuan came in, saying Ding Zhang had asked to see her.
Qian Jiaoniang shelved her words and went out with Qingya. In the main hall, they saw that behind Ding Zhang were seven or eight large trunks, filling the entire space. Seeing her arrive, Ding Zhang smiled and greeted her politely, then directed the servants to open the boxes. Everyone peered inside—and were stunned. All of them were filled with brand-new winter clothes.
There was a dark bluish-gray jacket with beaded trim, a light yellow silk skirt, a pea-green lined vest edged with gold, a bright red robe with a front placket, a purple-pink cross-collared blouse embroidered with peonies… it dazzled the eyes.
Ding Zhang held up a moon-white cloak trimmed in white fox fur and presented it like a treasure. “Madam, this is a white fox fur cloak. The marquis specially had it made into a cloak for you. Feel it—it’s soft and warm.”
Qian Jiaoniang neither touched it nor took it. She pointed at the pile of clothes and asked, “Who are these for?”
Ding Zhang laughed, “Madam, surely you jest. These are all made by the marquis for you.”
“When were they made?”
“Before the marquis left last time, he asked me to gather the best tailors and seamstresses in Yuzhou to make them. He said to make twenty of each to start. Some of the more intricate ones are still being finished. And this box here—these are for the young master. The marquis had three sets made for himself, and also packed a few older ones. He said everything should be handed to Madam for safekeeping.”
He had ordered clothes before leaving? That meant he had already planned to go to Yong’an…
A thought flashed across Qian Jiaoniang’s mind. She spoke distractedly, “I don’t know how to pack. And I don’t want these new clothes.”
Qingya said, “They’re already made. Would be a waste not to wear them—better to keep them.”
She took the cloak from Ding Zhang’s hands and touched the soft fur, then turned to Qian Jiaoniang with delight, “Look at this fur—it’s white fox belly fur, the softest kind. Just a small handful from each fox. Isn’t it soft?”
She brushed the edge against Qian Jiaoniang’s cheek. It felt softer than cotton, a sensation that lifted her mood.
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