“Yes, yes! Miss Qingya is right. The marquis had all these specially made for Madam. With this design and this fabric, who else would dare to wear them but you? If you won’t wear them, they’ll just be stored away in the warehouse—such a waste!”
Qingya said quietly, “Yongan is colder than here. I was just worrying whether your two old coats could withstand it. No need to punish your body over stubbornness. Besides, if something happens, it’s good to have spares. You’ve taken care of the marquis for so long—he hasn’t given you a single coin. Just treat these as payment.”
Qian Jiaoniang said no more. Ding Zhang, seeing her relent, rushed off with his people before she could change her mind.
Qingya fondly stroked the fox fur cloak again, then summoned Dongsheng, Shanzha, Hongjuan, and Suier—four maidservants—to take out the new clothes one by one. She explained which ones were suitable for wearing outside, which were for home, which to pair with gold, which with jade, what colors complemented each other, and which ones must not be worn together.
Of the four maids, only Suier had come from the palace. She had once served Consort Li, but when Consort Li lost favor to Noble Consort Liu and was thrown into the Cold Palace, her maids were all dismissed.
Consort Li had loved beauty, and Suier had secretly learned many of her tastes. She had thought she could shine after being chosen to serve Madam—but hadn’t expected Qingya to be so skilled. Her taste and eye even seemed sharper than Consort Li’s.
Qingya was busy giving instructions on one end while still finding time to speak to Qian Jiaoniang on the other. “These clothes won’t look right without gold crowns or flowered hairpins to match. If you’re going to wear them, don’t complain about the trouble—it’ll save you from being laughed at.”
Qian Jiaoniang brewed tea for the girls and smiled. “What would I wear these for? There’s no reason.” After a pause, she looked at Qingya and asked, “You’re not coming with me?”
Qingya patted the dormouse-shaped pillow. “I’m not going, it’s too cold.”
Qian Jiaoniang poured a cup of hot tea, stood up, and handed it to her. “When the Marquis left last night, he especially reminded me to bring you along.”
Qingya froze with her hand halfway to receive the tea, her delicate face instantly drained of color. “The Marquis… specifically said to bring me?”
Qian Jiaoniang passed the tea to Hongjuan beside her instead and pulled Qingya inside. Even once they were indoors, Qingya still seemed out of sorts.
Qian Jiaoniang sat her down. “What’s wrong? If you don’t want to go, I can figure something out. You don’t need to be nervous.”
Qingya came back to her senses, lowering her head to fiddle with the ornament tied at her waist. After a while, she still said nothing, only muttered that she was tired and wanted to rest in her room.
Seeing she didn’t want to talk, Qian Jiaoniang didn’t press her and let her go. But she herself sat there thinking for a long time.
That evening, Xing Muzheng came again. At that time, Qian Jiaoniang had been pulled away by Pingchun to see a turtle crawling around in the garden.
Xing Muzheng ordered the servants to set up a small stove to keep the dishes warm and told them to fetch the Madam and Young Master for dinner.
Qingya lifted the curtain and stepped out, her eyes slightly red. When she saw Xing Muzheng, she paused, then stepped forward and curtsied.
Xing Muzheng lowered his gaze and glanced at her, responding coolly.
Qingya raised her head and said bitterly, “Marquis, is this grand Marquis household truly too small to hold a single woman like me?”
Xing Muzheng replied, “If your heart is sincere toward Jiaoniang, you’ll have your place here.”
Qingya froze. “If that’s the case, then why did you instruct Madam to bring me to Yongan?”
Xing Muzheng slightly furrowed his brows. “It’s Jiaoniang’s first time returning to Yongan. Among the nobles and royals, there will be many social occasions she must attend. With you by her side, it will ease her burden.”
Qingya’s eyes widened slightly. She hadn’t expected that reason at all. So… in Xing Muzheng’s eyes, she really was just someone insignificant.
Understanding that, she slowly exhaled and looked him in the eye. “Has my lord never considered divorcing the Madam?”
Xing Muzheng shot her a cold glance. “If you intend to sow discord, then stay in Yongan.”
“I only wish for the Marquis and Madam to be happily married for a hundred years,” Qingya said with a smile. She, too, had learned to go with the wind.
Xing Muzheng said, “Then speak more words of harmony in front of the Madam. Otherwise, there’s no need for you to stay.”
Qingya stiffened—so he had something on her now! “Of… of course,” she said stiffly.
“While you’re in Yongan, be more discreet. Don’t let others find out,” Xing Muzheng said. “That person is both righteous and wicked, with a cunning mind. I’d rather not make an enemy of him.”
Qingya was stunned. The person he mentioned—was it the same one she was thinking of? But that man had the gentlest temperament. How could it be…
“Ha ha ha—”
Before the figures arrived, the laughter did. A woman’s hearty laugh mingled with a child’s bright giggles—clearly, the mother and son had returned.
Qingya stepped back. The courtyard door creaked open, and sure enough, Qian Jiaoniang and Pingchun walked in hand-in-hand, still smiling.
Qian Jiaoniang looked up and saw Xing Muzheng and Qingya standing at a proper distance inside the main hall.
Qingya turned to greet her. When Qian Jiaoniang took a closer look, she noticed Qingya’s eyes were red.
Pingchun saw Xing Muzheng and rushed over to pay his respects.
Qian Jiaoniang asked Qingya in a low voice, “You were speaking with the Marquis just now?”
“Mm, just a small matter,” Qingya replied vaguely, not daring to meet her eyes.
Qian Jiaoniang looked thoughtful as she walked into the hall. Xing Muzheng’s expression remained calm.
After dinner, when the maids cleared the table, Qingya led some servants to take inventory.
Pingchun saw boxes being carried out one by one and was confused. Qian Jiaoniang told him his father was taking him to the capital for fun.
As a child, Pingchun got so excited he almost jumped three feet high, dashing around the room in glee.
Qian Jiaoniang couldn’t help admiring his energy. After a full day of study and training, he still had the strength to run wild at night.
“Has Chou’er’s luggage been packed?” Xing Muzheng asked.
Pingchun’s things had been packed personally by Qian Jiaoniang. She replied offhandedly, “All packed. A child’s things only take up one trunk—eight sets of clothes, old and new, three pairs of shoes, one pair of cotton shoes and two boots, and two hats. Just need to remind him to bring his pillow tomorrow.”
“And mine? Has my luggage been packed?” That last question clearly revealed Xing Muzheng’s true intent.
Qian Jiaoniang played along and called for Hongjuan. “The Marquis wants to know if his things are packed?”
Hongjuan folded her hands and bowed, just about to reply, when Xing Muzheng waved her off.
What was the point of hearing such trivial matters from a maid?
“Why not ask now, my lord?” Qian Jiaoniang asked innocently.
Xing Muzheng gave a cold snort. He was annoyed—this woman had taken great care in preparing for the child but had left his own things to the maids.
Pingchun ran back, still grinning like a fool. He threw himself onto Qian Jiaoniang’s lap and excitedly asked if Li Ding was coming with him.
Xing Muzheng, displeased by the boy’s clinginess, barked at him to stand up. Pingchun immediately stood at attention like a little soldier called by name.
“Ask him yourself,” Xing Muzheng said. “His family will be arriving in Yuzhou in a few days. If he wants to wait for them, he can stay.”
Pingchun responded and ran out.
Qingya finished checking the inventory and came over to inform Qian Jiaoniang.
At the same time, she glanced at Xing Muzheng, then pursed her lips and turned to Qian Jiaoniang. “Ma—Madam, I haven’t packed my clothes yet. I’ll head back to do that now.”
Qian Jiaoniang gave her a look, then nodded.
Qingya gave a shallow curtsey and left. Xing Muzheng raised a brow, watching her retreating figure thoughtfully.
Qian Jiaoniang glanced at Xing Muzheng, fell silent for a moment, then suddenly said, “Marquis, may I tell you a story?”
Xing Muzheng turned his gaze back. “What story?” It was rare for her to want to share one, so he straightened up, showing he was all ears.
Qian Jiaoniang said, “Once upon a time, there was a rabbit. It ate the grass next to its own burrow—and then it died. That rabbit’s burrow was right beside a tiger’s den. The tiger came out, saw the rabbit, and ate it—and then it died too.”
“……”
The room stayed quiet for quite a while. Xing Muzheng waited for her to continue, but Qian Jiaoniang just stared at him.
What kind of ghost story was that? What rabbit died, and then the tiger died too?
Qian Jiaoniang asked, “Marquis, what do you think of this story?”
How was he supposed to praise such a story against his conscience… Xing Muzheng furrowed his brows. Suddenly, a sharp look flashed through his eyes as he understood.
Rabbits don’t eat the grass by their own burrow.
So this woman actually thought he had his eye on Qingya? Or was this a warning not to lay a hand on her maid? Fine then. She wouldn’t even pack his things and was ready to threaten him over a maid. Xing Muzheng felt that if he didn’t die from poison, he’d be driven to death by anger from this woman one day.
Annoyed at her misunderstanding, Xing Muzheng deliberately said the opposite of what she wanted to hear. “I think the story makes sense. People die for wealth, birds die for food—if it’s within reach, then take it.”
As expected, Qian Jiaoniang’s expression changed upon hearing that. Did this b*stard have a fetish for collecting talented women? Anyone with a bit of literary flair, he wanted to possess. Qian Jiaoniang said, “Our Qingya has been married before.”
“So what?” What did that have to do with him?
Seeing he was being unreasonable, she added, “Let me be blunt. I will never allow Qingya to be a concubine. Marquis, you’d best go find another beauty.”
So in her eyes, he was just some lecher? Xing Muzheng sneered, “Since you won’t let your maid warm the bed, then the master will just have to come in person.”
Qian Jiaoniang exclaimed, “Marquis, since when have you ever had to lower yourself like that? That can’t be!”
If this was considered lowering himself, he’d gladly accept this great ‘injustice.’ Xing Muzheng’s dark eyes shifted, his gaze roaming over her. Heaven knew how much he wanted to spend every night tangled with her, sharing the deepest intimacy. Last night, he had fought the urge countless times to pull her close and kiss her lips, but in the end, he had forcefully restrained himself. He never realized he could desire a woman so much. Other women were within easy reach, yet he wanted only her.
“Whether it’s a grievance or not, I decide that,” Xing Muzheng said. “But judging from your tone, are you worried I’d be the one suffering?”
Qian Jiaoniang finally understood what it meant to hoist a rock only to drop it on her own foot. But this man had no shame—could he not tell for himself who’d be suffering? “Anyway, Qingya is out of the question. I’m going to check what else needs packing.”
She turned and fled as soon as she finished. Xing Muzheng sat there, his face turning dark. Did she avoid him like a plague because she truly thought so little of him?
Xing Muzheng seriously began to reflect. He hadn’t slept with Jiaoniang many times—was it possible that he failed to satisfy her each time, and that’s why she now disdained him? He frowned. He was never overly enthusiastic about bedroom matters. He had always practiced self-restraint, and this instinctive pleasure always made him uncomfortable afterward. In the army, the young soldiers always boasted about how they could make women swoon and cling to them. He had never taken it seriously—until now. Could this really be the key to making Jiaoniang unable to leave him?
