The louchuan didn’t stop at all as it followed the great river downstream. Before dinner, Qian Jiaoniang felt weak all over. When she returned to her cabin, sure enough—her period had come.
When she gave birth to Chou’er, she had injured her vitality. During her postpartum confinement, only her mother-in-law was there. Though her mother-in-law wasn’t unkind, their household was just a pair of widows and orphans, and she had to do everything on her own. Qian Jiaoniang couldn’t rest at ease even lying in bed. After just a few days, she got up and resumed lifting and carrying things, which left her with chronic health issues. Most of the time it didn’t show, but once her period came, it was like half her life had drained away—two days where even slight movement felt like her waist would break, and even lying down seemed to tug painfully at her intestines.
And perhaps because she’d caught too much wind that day, her head felt even more muddled, her mouth tasteless and even bitter. She didn’t want to eat anything.
Qingya wanted to call the traveling physician, Dr. Bai, to take a look, but Qian Jiaoniang knew it was nothing serious. Curling up and holding her stomach, she lay on her side and refused, saying she just needed to rest. She waved Qingya off, telling her to go eat and not to bother with her.
Qingya had no choice but to come out and told Suier to inform Xing Muzheng and his son, who were waiting for Qian Jiaoniang to join them for dinner. As soon as Xing Pingchun heard his mother was unwell, he jumped up and ran down to her.
Xing Muzheng asked if the doctor had taken her pulse. Suier replied, “Madam said it’s nothing serious, just some fatigue. She’ll be fine after resting a bit.”
Xing Muzheng frowned. “Go get the doctor.” If Jiaoniang wasn’t faking an illness, and couldn’t even get out of bed, she must be in real pain. How could he just let it be?
Suier quickly obeyed and left.
Xing Pingchun ran down and happened to meet Qingya, who didn’t let him into Qian Jiaoniang’s room. “Your mother’s monthly old illness is acting up. She wants to sleep—we shouldn’t disturb her.”
Xing Pingchun didn’t know what this “old illness” was, only that every month there were a couple of days when his mother wasn’t well and would stay lying down if she could help it. “Then I’ll come when she wakes up.”
Qingya sent him off and called Hongjuan to find a bed warmer. She also told Dongsheng to fetch some sweet soup from the kitchen. As she spoke, Suier returned with Dr. Bai.
Seeing that Xing Muzheng had personally asked for the doctor, Qingya said no more and stepped aside to let her in.
Dr. Bai took Qian Jiaoniang’s pulse carefully—it was indeed due to her period, along with some wind chill. Qian Jiaoniang was in too much pain to speak much. Dr. Bai wrote out a prescription and told Suier to brew the medicine.
As Dr. Bai bent down to exit the room, a shadow loomed at the doorway. She looked up and saw Xing Muzheng standing there without her noticing. He looked inside past her but didn’t enter. Then he looked at her and turned to stride away. Understanding his meaning, Dr. Bai followed him to the bow of the ship.
By now, it was dark. Only two glass lanterns hung on the masts at the ship’s head. Dr. Bai couldn’t make out his expression clearly and only heard him ask mildly, “How is Madam?”
Dr. Bai answered, “Marquis, please don’t worry. Madam is just having her monthly cycle—nothing serious.”
“…What did you say?” Xing Muzheng had joined the army young and had little interaction with women. He didn’t understand her euphemism.
“She’s menstruating,” Dr. Bai quickly rephrased.
Xing Muzheng fell silent for a moment. “Does it make women suffer?”
Dr. Bai smiled, “Not necessarily, Marquis. Menstruation is a natural part of a woman’s life. Some women are healthy and feel nothing at all. Others, however, suffer pain as intense as childbirth. Madam has lingering issues from childbirth, which makes it very painful for her. It’s not a condition that can be cured quickly—it must be managed slowly over time.”
No wonder there were a few days every month when she moved stiffly and rarely appeared before him. “Why wait until later?”
Dr. Bai replied, “We only have basic herbs on the ship. To treat Madam properly, we’ll need two rare medicinal ingredients that we can’t get until we disembark. I heard we won’t reach Juzhou for another two or three days. Besides, this condition can’t be rushed—it takes time…”
“Write down the missing ingredients and give them to Ah Da. He’ll take care of it,” Xing Muzheng ordered.
“…Yes, sir.” Dr. Bai was slightly surprised, thinking the Marquis was simply impatient. It was late, and even if they docked, there was a curfew—any purchasing would have to wait until morning. Still, she dared not speak more and left to do as instructed.
Qingya tucked the bed warmer under Qian Jiaoniang’s covers and touched her hand—it was ice-cold. Looking at her face, even in sleep her brows were furrowed, as if she was deeply restless. Qingya touched her forehead—it was slightly feverish.
The one-eyed dog was pawing at the bedside, craning its neck to look up. Qingya turned her head, saw this, and smiled softly. “You know your mistress is sick too, do you? Such loyalty. I don’t know who could be so cruel as to hurt you like that.” As she spoke, she reached out to pick it up. This time, the dog didn’t dodge. Its body was stiff, but it allowed her to carry it.
Qingya placed it on a chair and moved it beside Qian Jiaoniang’s bed. “Then stay and watch over your mistress.”
Seeing Qian Jiaoniang, the dog seemed to understand she wasn’t feeling well. It whimpered softly and obediently lay down by the bedside, paws neatly tucked under itself.
Qingya sighed quietly, washed her hands, and left to eat. She told Dongsheng to stay inside the room and watch until she returned. The kitchen had saved her a meal. Qingya hurriedly ate a few bites—only about half a bowl—and then returned.
She found Dongsheng standing outside the door, looking uncertain. Frowning, she went up and asked, “Didn’t I tell you to stay inside?”
Dongsheng quickly replied, “The Marquis came and told me to go out.”
Qingya was surprised. “The Marquis is inside?”
“Yes, Miss. He came right after you left.”
Qingya pressed her lips together, then turned away. “All right. You keep watch out here, and be alert if they call from inside.”
“Don’t worry, Miss.”
Inside the cabin, it was utterly quiet. The one-eyed dog had been chased off the chair by Xing Muzheng. It crouched low to the ground, tense and tightly coiled, staring at him. Clearly terrified, yet unwilling to back down in case this intruder harmed Qian Jiaoniang.
Xing Muzheng paid the dog no mind. From the moment he entered, his eyes had been fixed on Qian Jiaoniang.
Below, the river flowed turbulently, carrying the great ship steadily forward with rhythmic swaying. The water rocked gently—ideal for dreams. Xing Muzheng stood at the bedside, his solemn gaze sweeping over her tightly furrowed brows, her pale lips, and her bloodless cheeks. She was tightly wrapped in a quilt, a white fox-fur cloak laid atop it, and yet her face still seemed to burrow further into the blankets.
Xing Muzheng frowned. Was she cold?
“Ai… ai…” Qian Jiaoniang turned her head, burying her face fully into the pillow, muffled cries of pain escaping from within.
His usually composed black eyes showed a flash of panic. If Jiaoniang was moaning aloud, it must really hurt. Xing Muzheng braced one hand on the pillow by her head, leaning down to see her face more clearly. His other hand hovered awkwardly in the air—he wanted to pat her, but feared he’d only make things worse.
Qian Jiaoniang was half-asleep, unaware of anyone in the room. Her soft whimpers were just a way to ease the discomfort slightly. But to Xing Muzheng, every sound was a needle to the heart.
Through a slitted eye, she vaguely saw the narrow wooden cabin beyond the shadowy figure. She murmured faintly, “Mama… it hurts… pat me…”
She hurt too. Mama shouldn’t only pat little brother.
She felt like she was lying back in that small house. That autumn day, she had taken her younger brother out to play. He disobeyed and fell into a pond. She jumped in after him, and both ended up sick that night. Her mother, angry she hadn’t watched him properly and worried she’d pass her sickness to him, made her sleep in the haystack. Her brother whimpered through the night, and Mama sat by his side, softly soothing him, gently patting him over and over. Qian Jiaoniang had curled up in the straw, biting her lip, not daring to make a sound, watching her mother comfort her brother with teary eyes…
It hurt. It hurt so much.
Tears welled in Qian Jiaoniang’s eyes. She curled her legs and back inward, balling herself up. It’s okay. She could get through this alone.
Then—suddenly—her back was touched. Once. Twice. Lightly, slowly. Over and over again. Someone was soothing her. Was it Mama? Had Mama eventually soothed her too? Qian Jiaoniang’s tense body slowly relaxed. The mist in her eyes faded.
So this is what it felt like to be comforted? No wonder Chou’er always acted spoiled—being comforted felt so nice.
“Thud!”
A sudden, all-too-familiar sound of an arrow embedding in wood snapped Xing Muzheng to attention. Yet his hand still continued gently patting Qian Jiaoniang.
“Assassins! Everyone on alert!” Li Qingquan shouted from outside.
“Woof! Woof woof!” Even the one-eyed dog barked furiously, sensing danger.
“Silence, beast!” Xing Muzheng barked, frowning.
Footsteps rushed across the deck in an orderly stampede. Xing Muzheng heard more “thud-thud” sounds—arrows continued to rain down on the ship. Someone screamed. The louchuan rocked slightly, and Xing Muzheng pressed closer to Qian Jiaoniang’s back to stabilize her.
“Commander!” Ah Da shouted from another part of the ship, his voice muffled through the planks. “Commander, someone is shooting from the mountain! The arrows are all different lengths, but there’s a lot of them!”
Just as Ah Da finished speaking, mocking laughter and provocations echoed from the mountain, and the arrow rain intensified. Ah Da cursed under his breath, “His d*mn grandmother—daring to provoke Lord Tai Sui himself!” Then he turned and lowered his voice, “Commander, it must be the mountain bandits occupying the ridge!”
Xing Muzheng let out a cold laugh. “Just a rabble of riffraff. Where are we now?”
“Should be Wuling.”
Xing Muzheng said, “We don’t have time to engage today. Pass my order—extinguish all ship lights, full alert, and row with full force to leave this area. If they fire flaming arrows, send three ships ashore to kill them.”
“Yes, sir!”
“And where is Chou’er? Have Wang Yong look after him. Tell the women to stay inside.”
“Yes. Don’t worry, Commander—Wang Yong is with Chou’er.”
Ah Da rushed off. Xing Muzheng lowered his head and met a pair of clear, bright eyes. He lifted the hand that had been covering her ears and gently felt her forehead. “Don’t be afraid. I’m here.” Then he stood up and blew out the lamp in the room. Almost instantly, all the lights on the louchuan went out. It was a moonless night, and the ship disappeared into the darkness.
The shouts from the mountain grew more frenzied, as if ready to charge down at any moment. Another wave of arrows came, but fewer struck the ship.
Xing Muzheng, moving in the dark, returned to the bedside, and once more gently patted Qian Jiaoniang’s back. “Sleep. It’s fine.”
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