Qian Jiaoniang did end up taking Dingxi Marquis out of the courtyard. Li Qingquan had already cleared away all the servants and guards. The corridors were completely empty, and only birdsong could be heard in the quiet.
Jiaoniang didn’t know where to go—she had never even walked around the marquisate herself. She only knew it was large and easy to get lost in. So she simply led Xing Muzheng forward at random, strolling as they pleased.
The Marquis was dull and slow—every few steps he’d plop down on the ground, or sometimes just start crawling. Qian Jiaoniang had no choice but to grab his arm and pull him along. As long as someone was holding onto him, he wouldn’t sit or crawl—but now he started leaning on Jiaoniang instead, as if he had no bones. Before long, he had slumped completely onto her back, demanding to be carried.
Although Qian Jiaoniang was taller than most women, Xing Muzheng—though thin—was still nearly twice her size. From behind, Qingya saw her walking while carrying him and thought it looked like a bear clinging to her back, with only her head visible—the rest completely swallowed up.
“Let go—do you have no bones?!” Qian Jiaoniang nearly toppled over. She steadied herself in a fluster and turned to glare at Xing Muzheng, whose head was resting on her shoulder. Just as she turned, she unexpectedly locked eyes with a pair of deep, bottomless black eyes. Jiaoniang froze. The Marquis sniffed her hard with his nose, and she snapped out of her daze, slapped a hand over his face, and shoved him away in disgust. “Get off! You’re so heavy, my bones are about to break!”
The Marquis let out a drawn-out “ahhh” and bit her hand—but not hard, more like he was playing. But Wang Yong had felt his real bite before—the flesh of his palm had nearly been torn off by the Marquis.
He quickly stepped forward to support Xing Muzheng. “Better let this subordinate help the Commander walk.”
Qian Jiaoniang looked down to straighten her wrinkled hem and smoothed her hair. “Hold him steady. Don’t let him drop to the ground again.”
Dingxi Marquis giggled foolishly and let Wang Yong support him for a few steps. Then, suddenly shaking off Wang Yong’s hand, he lunged forward and threw himself at Qian Jiaoniang. Caught off guard, she was knocked into the wall, crying out as her shoulder hit it. She cursed him roughly, while the Marquis just kept grinning stupidly.
The two of them stumbled forward in this awkward, tugging manner until, finally, Jiaoniang grasped his hand and led him forward. Only then did the Marquis settle down and obediently walk with her.
Following behind, Qingya fanned herself and muttered with a smirk, “Just like she’s walking her half-wit son.”
Qian Jiaoniang led Xing Muzheng all the way to his courtyard. His was situated at the very center of the Marquis’s residence—the proper main house and central courtyard. One corridor ahead led directly to the front hall. Qian Jiaoniang thought for a moment and told Ah Da to go ahead and check. If there were any maids cleaning, they should be sent out through the back gate.
Qingya asked, “Everyone’s already here. What are you going in for?”
“Just to take a look. Maybe once the Marquis sees his own room, he’ll remember something.” Qian Jiaoniang nudged Dingxi Marquis, who was trying to lean into her again.
Ah Da quickly returned, rubbing his bald head. “Madam, there’s a maid in the Commander’s room. Her name is Xiangyue—she’s the girl General Yuan gifted to the Commander back then. She’s served him for several years… When she heard the Commander was here, she cried and begged to see him.”
General Yuan—that must be the old general who once promoted Xing Muzheng. Xiangyue… That name sounded familiar.
“These days, that Xiangyue has been coming to our courtyard begging to see the Marquis, but the gate guards wouldn’t let her in. She’s likely his bedmaid,” Qingya said softly, covering her mouth with her fan, whispering into Qian Jiaoniang’s ear.
Realization dawned on Qian Jiaoniang. She let go of Xing Muzheng’s hand. “Then let her see him.”
Xiangyue was kneeling in the main hall, her pale face streaked with tears, pitiful like a weeping pear blossom. Qian Jiaoniang looked her over—sure enough, she was a beauty who evoked sympathy at first glance. But before Xiangyue could even bow to her, she saw Xing Muzheng behind and scrambled up to rush over.
“Master, Master! Do you remember me? I’m Xiangyue!”
Xing Muzheng frowned. This girl had no manners at all—she hadn’t even saluted Jiaoniang and dared to throw herself at him? Had he been too lax with the servants before?
“The Marquis is tired. Help him sit down for a while,” Qian Jiaoniang said calmly, not at all bothered by Xiangyue’s lack of decorum.
Xiangyue clung tightly to Xing Muzheng, choking back tears, and nodded repeatedly.
Qian Jiaoniang glanced around. She brushed her hand over the carved chair beside her—there wasn’t a speck of dust. It was clear the maid cleaned daily. But besides the fresh furniture, there was nothing else in the room—no decorations, no personal touches. It wasn’t hard to imagine the Marquis had had an episode here.
The east wing had always been the main bedroom. Qian Jiaoniang glanced at Xiangyue, whose eyes were locked solely on Xing Muzheng, then silently lifted the curtain and stepped inside.
Through a small side chamber and around a folding screen painted with a landscape, she entered Xing Muzheng’s bedroom. Ironically, though she was his wife, this was her first time stepping into his room.
Jiaoniang looked around the unfamiliar bedroom. It was even more bare than the main hall—just a large zitan wood canopy bed with six pillars, hung with plain, slightly worn curtains.
Inside lay an old green bamboo quilt and a jade pillow. On the carved zitan desk was an incense burner, next to a zitan-backed official’s chair. In the corner stood a crane-shaped palace lantern, and beside it, a clothes rack. Other than that, nothing. It was as if the room’s occupant could leave at any moment without leaving a trace.
“Doesn’t seem like the room of a marquis with boundless wealth,” Qian Jiaoniang muttered to herself.
She walked to the bed and lifted the jade pillow—nothing beneath. She pulled at the bedding, practically turning the whole bed inside out. It was clean to the point where not even a needle could be found. She shook the jade pillow again, looked into the holes on either side—empty. Tossing the pillow aside, she leaned down, resting on her hands to look under the bed. Before she could make out anything, a sudden burst of footsteps behind her—and a weight dropped on her back. She nearly collapsed onto the floor.
“I’m going to be crushed to death by you—Marquis!” Qian Jiaoniang struggled to brace herself against the bed frame, gritting her teeth. “Where the h*ll is everyone? Waiting until he kills me before showing up?!”
Ah Da and Wang Yong rushed forward to pull the Marquis off. The Marquis let out a series of “ah ah” cries.
Xing Muzheng looked at his now-upturned bed. She was looking for something?
“Jiaoniang, what are you looking for?” Qingya asked, standing beside the screen.
“Just poking around,” Qian Jiaoniang said vaguely. After checking thoroughly under the bed, she climbed to her feet and clapped her hands clean. “Weren’t you all supposed to be keeping the Marquis outside for some rest?”
“We can’t exactly control the Marquis. He shoved Xiangyue aside and ran in.”
Before Qingya even finished speaking, Xiangyue rushed in behind her, kneeling before Qian Jiaoniang with swollen, peach-like eyes. “Madam, I beg you—please let me return to your courtyard and care for the Master!”
This girl had no sense of boundaries. Was she coming to stir up trouble? Xing Muzheng clearly didn’t want Jiaoniang to say yes.
Qian Jiaoniang helped Xiangyue up, gently wiped away her tears, and sighed. “Miss Xiangyue, please stop crying. Look at your eyes—they’re practically peaches now. The Marquis isn’t well right now. I can’t allow others too close to him, and that’s for everyone’s sake. Don’t worry—once he recovers, I’ll return your Marquis to you immediately.”
Your Marquis? Xing Muzheng’s expression stiffened. He’d married Xiangyue in a formal ceremony?
Xiangyue sobbed softly and looked at Jiaoniang with tear-filled eyes. “Miss Feng… she never lets me—never lets me see the Master!”
“She’s just looking out for your good,” Qian Jiaoniang said as she wiped Xiangyue’s tears.
“Let me ask you—who cleans this room?”
Xiangyue slowly stopped crying. “I… I do.”
“No one else has come in?”
“The Master doesn’t like others entering. Only I ever come to clean.” Xiangyue lifted her chin proudly as she said it.
Qian Jiaoniang nodded, glanced around once more, and then walked over to the desk to open the lid of the incense burner. She stirred the ashes with her finger. “What kind of incense does the Marquis like?”
“He doesn’t like incense. I only burn mugwort to ward off mosquitoes.”
Qian Jiaoniang lowered her head and sniffed lightly. A faint, bitter scent of mugwort lingered. She replaced the lid and glanced at the seemingly indifferent Dingxi Marquis.
Then she said to Xiangyue, “Let’s accompany the Marquis to the study for a walk.”
Xing Muzheng’s inner study was just to the right of his courtyard—out the door and across a small path. It was also the very place where he first lost control. Everything that had been destroyed in the study that day had already been cleared out. When Jiaoniang had visited half a year ago, she remembered there were still some trinkets on the Eight Treasures Shelf, and a couple of calligraphy paintings and swords hung on the wall. Now, all of them were gone.
Where had his swords gone? Xing Muzheng stared at the bare wall.
“Where are the Marquis’s swords?” Qian Jiaoniang asked.
Xiangyue quickly responded, “Steward Zhou was afraid the Marquis might use the swords to hurt someone, so he had this servant put them away. I’ll go fetch them right away—”
“No need, no need, just keep them stored properly, take good care of them.” Jiaoniang waved her hand. She looked over at Xing Muzheng, who seemed completely unaware that he had returned to his own study. He showed no interest and plopped down onto the floor. Ah Da hurried to help him up onto the couch against the wall, and the Marquis laid down on it, closing his eyes.
It was obvious Xing Muzheng had spent more time in the study than in his bedroom—even a couch had been prepared here.
Qian Jiaoniang picked up a book resting on the couch and glanced at the title. She couldn’t recognize a single word. “What’s this book?” she waved Qingya over.
“It’s Wei Zhi Bing Fa,” Xiangyue answered before Qingya could. “A newly acquired military manual—His Lordship treats it like a treasure.”
Qian Jiaoniang looked at Xiangyue in surprise. “You can read?”
“I can…”
“Where did you learn?”
Xiangyue bit her lip. “This servant was once the courtesan of Juxian Pavilion…”
Jiaoniang understood. Even a mere bedmaid was more skilled than her—literate, cultured, and graceful. She let out a self-deprecating laugh and tossed the book to Qingya. “Take it, you can read it to the Marquis later.”
Qian Jiaoniang looked up at the shelves packed with books, her fingertips sliding across each spine. She examined every level carefully, even reached underneath the shelves and came up with a hand full of dust. She casually brushed it off and moved to the desk. Ink, brushes, paper, and inkstone were all in place—it seemed the mess hadn’t reached here. On the desk, there was a piece of wild cursive calligraphy, not yet mounted. Both Jiaoniang and Qingya’s attention was drawn to it.
“That’s the Master’s brushwork,” Xiangyue said, her voice beginning to choke as she glanced at the reclining Xing Muzheng. “His Lordship’s calligraphy is renowned.”
Jiaoniang picked it up to look. To her, it was nothing but chicken scratch. Qingya, however, let out an admiring sigh. “Excellent work.”
“What does it say?” Jiaoniang asked.
“I have no idea.” Qingya shrugged.
“Then why are you praising it?”
“His brushstrokes are strong and flowing, like clouds and water—of course it’s good. But how am I supposed to read wild cursive?”
It was probably just something he scribbled when bored.
Jiaoniang gave a cold snort and pressed the paper back under the paperweight. “It’s just calligraphy—what’s so great about it?”
Qingya grinned wide. “Go home and take a look at your chicken-scratch handwriting—then compare.”
Jiaoniang curled her lips but didn’t dare say more. Her eyes and hands stayed busy, continuing to wander over the desk. Xiangyue, watching her every move, couldn’t help but ask, “Madam, are you… looking for something?”
“I’m just having a look. I’ve never been inside the General’s study—curious, that’s all.” Jiaoniang replied as she bent down.
Smooth talker. Xing Muzheng let out a quiet laugh—she was probably looking for clues from when he lost his mind.
There were a few drawers beneath the desk. Jiaoniang opened them one by one and, in the bottom drawer, she found a wooden box. It was slightly larger than the Marquis’s broad palm, perfectly smooth on all sides. Jiaoniang turned it over, but couldn’t find any place to open it. Only the front surface was inlaid with crisscrossed little wooden tiles—when she touched them, they seemed movable.
“A puzzle box,” Qingya said plainly.
“That’s right—a real puzzle box,” Xiangyue added, casting a glance at Qingya, surprised by her knowledge. “This box was given to the Master along with me by General Yuan. It’s said the box is crafted by heavenly hands—only by manipulating the pieces in the correct sequence can it be opened. Ordinary people can’t solve it.”
Jiaoniang gave the box a shake. Something heavy rattled inside. She fiddled with the wooden pieces, but nothing moved after a few attempts.
“How about we smash it open?” Jiaoniang said, already eager to break something.
“No, absolutely not!” Xiangyue exclaimed. “There are mechanisms inside—forcing it open could be fatal!”
Qingya added, “That thing may not look like much, but it’s priceless. Let’s take it easy. No need for bao tian tian wu.”
Jiaoniang looked confused. “Destroy what treasure?”
“Bao-tian-tian-wu,” Qingya repeated word by word, tapping her finger on Jiaoniang’s forehead. “It means ruining something precious.”
“Oh. Right. Then we’ll take it back and study it carefully, so we don’t bao-tian-tian—”
“Who’s there?!” Wang Yong’s loud shout interrupted, and before anyone could react, he’d already charged out the door.
A shadow flashed past the window—everyone was startled. Qian Jiaoniang shoved the puzzle box into Qingya’s arms. “Ah Da, you stay here and guard the Marquis!” Before she finished speaking, she was already running toward the screen.
Qingya shouted after her, panicked, “Jiaoniang! Don’t go—it’s dangerous!”
What was she doing running out?! Xing Muzheng wanted to follow, but the ghost-thing didn’t move an inch. D*mn it!
He screamed, jumped up, and started biting and hitting Ah Da. Ah Da, distracted by what was happening outside, didn’t notice in time and took a punch to the eye. He had to dodge quickly to avoid getting bitten.
He really was a useless burden now—more harm than help. Xing Muzheng suppressed his fury. The ghost-thing finally calmed down and plopped down onto the ground with a thud.
Qian Jiaoniang ran outside and saw Wang Yong had leapt into the pagoda tree in the courtyard and from there onto the wall. He stood on the wall, scanning in all directions with a stern expression, as if looking for someone.
“Was there someone? Where are they?” Jiaoniang asked anxiously. Even as she questioned him, she kept glancing around herself, but the courtyard was empty—only the rustling of leaves kicked down by Wang Yong could be heard.
“I didn’t see clearly,” Wang Yong replied, still scanning. All three paths were empty. He frowned. “I’ll go after them!”
He was about to leap off the wall when Qian Jiaoniang called out, “Wait—no need!”
Wang Yong had no choice but to jump back down into the courtyard.
Jiaoniang asked, “When you ran out, did you see anyone?”
“I didn’t see anyone. That thief ran too fast!” Wang Yong said.
“Are you sure it was someone? Could’ve been a cat or a bird or something,” Qian Jiaoniang pressed.
Wang Yong shook his head firmly. “No, it was a person. I’m certain someone was outside eavesdropping just now.”
Qian Jiaoniang nodded thoughtfully, paused in silence for a moment, then suddenly smiled.
Wang Yong was puzzled. “Madam?” He hadn’t caught the intruder—why was the Madam smiling?
Qian Jiaoniang patted Wang Yong’s shoulder, flashing her white teeth. “Well done, Wang Yong. Very well done.”
“But this subordinate didn’t catch anyone…”
“No, this is good enough for now,” Qian Jiaoniang said meaningfully.
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