The carriage slowly pulled away. Qian Jiaoniang looked back through the rear window. Black smoke still billowed upward, though it had begun to die down.
Qingya’s face was pale—she had found a place to throw up earlier. Now she sat beside Qian Jiaoniang, anxious, watching the blaze. “I wonder who the mastermind is. To assassinate the Marquis, they went so far as to set a huge fire. How many innocent lives were caught up in it?”
“Exactly. If they had guts, they’d come for Xing Muzheng directly. What hero hurts common folk? Scum like that is worse than animals.” Qian Jiaoniang hated those who endangered innocents for their own selfish gain.
It was said the fire wasn’t fully extinguished until two hours later. That night, Madam Song came to bid Qian Jiaoniang good night and mentioned that Zhen Hao had come back briefly to change clothes before leaving again in a rush.
Hearing that the fire had been put out, Qian Jiaoniang finally breathed a sigh of relief.
“Our Master said he went to find the Marquis. He’ll likely return late, so please don’t wait up.”
Qian Jiaoniang had no intention of waiting. She was busy embroidering a gown for Qingya. Since Yanluo and Yuluo were now officially accepted as concubines by Xing Muzheng, they remained in the residence to attend to Qian Jiaoniang. It was only now that Qingya learned the twins had been taken in as official concubines. Her gaze toward them shifted multiple times before she gave a mocking smile and shook her head.
Naturally, Qian Jiaoniang didn’t let them serve her. Instead, she asked Madam Song to arrange a room for the twins and sent them away.
Qingya glanced at Qian Jiaoniang. “Are you alright?”
Qian Jiaoniang looked puzzled. “Why wouldn’t I be?”
Qingya gave a soft laugh and sighed, “I really envy your ability to let things go so easily.”
Later, unable to stay awake, Qingya went to bed. Qian Jiaoniang sat in a chair, spacing out for a while as if replaying the day’s events. Then, she snapped out of it and resumed embroidering. She had come up with a new stitch and, under the oil lamp, embroidered with intense focus—so much so that she didn’t notice the night deepening into the third watch.
A deep, displeased voice suddenly broke the silence: “Why are you still awake at this hour?”
Startled, Qian Jiaoniang jerked her hand—she had been so engrossed she didn’t notice someone had entered. The needle pricked her fingertip. “Ouch!”
Blood beaded up from the pad of her finger. She quickly pulled her hand back, afraid it would stain the silk.
Before she could react, the man who had silently entered rushed forward in one step. Grabbing her hand, Xing Muzheng examined the wound. Though he was no stranger to blood, seeing it on her finger made his heart jolt. Without thinking, he took her finger into his mouth.
His warm tongue passed over her fingertip, and Qian Jiaoniang’s face turned crimson. Her entire hand tingled. She tried to pull away, but he gripped her wrist tightly.
“Did I scare you?” Xing Muzheng murmured after a long moment, letting go and rubbing her finger gently with his calloused thumb. Seeing no more blood, Qian Jiaoniang yanked her hand back and wiped it fiercely with a handkerchief.
“It’s the middle of the night—why are you in someone else’s room instead of sleeping?” she asked warily. Clearly, he had just come in from outside—his clothes were changed, but he still carried the chill of the night.
“Zhen Hao only prepared one room for us,” Xing Muzheng said.
“Oh my, how careless of your sworn brother. This must be disturbing your rest, my lord,” Qian Jiaoniang replied sarcastically, quickly tidying her embroidery tools and heading for the door.
Xing Muzheng grabbed her wrist. “Zhen Hao saw me come in already.” Couldn’t she give him a little dignity?
His tone was uncharacteristically soft, almost aggrieved. Qian Jiaoniang stared at him for a moment, then pulled her hand back and nodded. “I understand.”
She set down her embroidery basket.
Xing Muzheng felt a surge of joy—had his pitiful act worked?
But then Qian Jiaoniang walked to the table, dipped her fingers in the cold tea, and drew tear streaks on her face. Picking up the basket, she ran out while covering her face.
And just like that, rumors spread among the night watch servants: The Marchioness must have angered the Marquis—he returned in a fury and threw her out. When the Marchioness left, she was weeping pitifully.
Soon, the nighttime servants were buzzing with fresh gossip hot off the press.
The “furious” Marquis: “…”
Was it still too late to get angry?
Xing Muzheng kicked over a chair.
Just then, Zhen Hao returned to his room, only to hear that the Marquis had gotten into a fight with his wife and kicked her out. Scratching his head, he thought for a moment and told Madam Song to send Lianxiang to Xing Muzheng’s quarters.
Lianxiang was a concubine Zhen Hao had bought last time during a night out drinking with the young masters. She was the best among his women at pleasing men. Zhen Hao figured if Xing Muzheng liked her, he’d gift her to him.
But before long, Lianxiang was sent back too.
