“He’s fine.” Xing Muzheng frowned. Why did this woman always act like she didn’t trust him? Was Chou’er going to get hurt just because he was with him?
Madam Song was being helped over weakly by her maidservants. Seeing Xing Muzheng frowning, she gasped quietly and began to stammer, “L-Lord Marquis… y-you…” She repeated “you” several times but couldn’t get the words of concern out. She was terrified, nearly on the verge of tears. She had thought Marquis Xing was a heroic figure, but never expected him to be so cold-blooded. She couldn’t help secretly worrying about her husband, fearing he didn’t know his sworn brother’s true nature.
Xing Muzheng noticed the fear in Madam Song’s face and knew she must have been frightened by his killing. Then he recalled—this was also the first time Qian Jiaoniang had truly seen him kill someone.
He looked back toward her, but Qian Jiaoniang only asked, “Where is Chou’er now?”
“Chou’er… is sleeping.” Xing Muzheng hesitated.
“Sleeping?” Qian Jiaoniang was even more confused. They had just been eating—how did he suddenly fall asleep? “Where?”
Xing Muzheng signaled to Ah Da, who gave him a strange look, nodded, and ran off. Not long after, Wang Yong arrived with Ah Da, carrying a small child in his arms.
So that’s why Wang Yong was missing—he’d been with Chou’er the whole time. When they reached her, Qian Jiaoniang saw that Xing Pingchun really was fast asleep in Wang Yong’s arms, mouth slightly open, snoring softly, looking like even the sky falling wouldn’t disturb him.
“How is he already asleep?” Had he gotten tired from playing on the boat earlier? Suspicious, Qian Jiaoniang moved to take him, but Wang Yong quickly said, “Madam, I’ll carry him. He’s heavy when he’s sleeping.”
Qian Jiaoniang felt more and more that something was off. She leaned over, cupped Xing Pingchun’s face, and patted him gently, trying to wake him. But he only smacked his lips a couple of times—he didn’t wake up.
“Why are you patting him when he’s sleeping?” Xing Muzheng asked.
Qian Jiaoniang narrowed her eyes and patted Xing Pingchun’s cheek again. He still didn’t wake—just let out a little burp. And then she caught a whiff of alcohol.
“Chou’er drank alcohol?” She looked up sharply.
Xing Muzheng’s body visibly stiffened. He hadn’t thought much of it at the time, thinking it wouldn’t hurt to let the boy taste a little. But Xing Pingchun’s alcohol tolerance turned out to be abysmal—half a cup and he was out. Afraid Qian Jiaoniang would blame him, Xing Muzheng had claimed the boy was just asleep. But now the truth had come out.
Xing Muzheng covertly kicked Wang Yong. Wang Yong winced and immediately understood. But he looked miserable—he had already been scolded by the madam once. If it happened again, he wasn’t sure he’d survive it. So Wang Yong turned around and kicked Ah Da instead. Ah Da had no one to kick and had to brace himself and say, “Madam, it was this subordinate who didn’t know better. I gave Chou’er a little alcohol, not expecting him to get drunk.”
Xing Muzheng nodded, “Mm.”
Qian Jiaoniang: “……”
Everyone else in the hall: “……”
In full view of the public, even if it was subtle, the chain of secret kicks was impossible to miss. If not for the earlier intimidation, someone might’ve laughed out loud. That terrifying god of slaughter just now… now had to make his subordinates take the blame? Was this… fear of the wife?
“Just drunk?”
“Just drunk! Don’t worry, Madam, Chou’er has great drunk behavior—once he’s out, he just sleeps like a kitten. Doesn’t make a fuss at all!” Ah Da said.
As soon as he finished, Qian Jiaoniang shot him a glare. Ah Da shrank his neck and, when he looked up again, met with two icy stares from Xing Muzheng.
“He just can’t hold his liquor. Not like me,” Xing Muzheng added stiffly.
If it weren’t his boss, Ah Da really wanted to glare back.
Qian Jiaoniang said coldly, “If a child had Your Lordship’s tolerance, he’d be the reincarnation of the alcohol god. I’ll take Chou’er back to Lord Zhen’s residence now. I won’t interfere with Your Lordship’s important matters.”
Xing Muzheng saw that Qian Jiaoniang looked displeased and said no more. He ordered the carriage to be prepared and told Wang Yong and Ah Da to take a group of men to escort her, Xing Pingchun, and Madam Song back to the Zhen residence. Qian Jiaoniang rested Xing Pingchun’s head on her lap; the child was sound asleep. With a sigh, she pinched his cheek gently and covered him with a cloak.
There was a knock on the window frame. Qian Jiaoniang lifted the curtain—outside, Xing Muzheng was bent at the waist, glancing sideways at her, his dark eyes fixed on her deeply.
“What orders does the Marquis have now?” Qian Jiaoniang asked coldly. Did he not see how young Chou’er was? Yet he let him drink—and even get drunk!
Seeing that she still held a grudge, Xing Muzheng cleared his throat. After a moment of silence, he finally asked, “Just now, were you afraid?” Afraid of seeing him kill?
Qian Jiaoniang paused before realizing what he meant. She looked at him and answered slowly, “Afraid…”
Xing Muzheng’s face darkened—so she was afraid, after all?
“But does that mean you’ll let me go?” Qian Jiaoniang finished her sentence slowly.
His expression grew even darker. Xing Muzheng muttered, “No.”
Qian Jiaoniang hesitated, then asked again, “If I weren’t afraid, would you let me go then?”
“Still no.” This woman—no matter what she says—it always comes back to leaving.
Feeling tricked, Qian Jiaoniang snapped, “Then what’s the point of asking?” She flung down the curtain.
Given the cold shoulder, Xing Muzheng waved for the carriage to move on. But as he turned away, the corners of his lips curled up—she wasn’t truly afraid.
