Xing Muzheng gave Zhen Hao a scolding the next day for the whole affair.
Zhen Hao felt very wronged. “Wasn’t I only sending my beloved concubine over because I saw you needed her, Brother?” Of course he cherished Lianxiang, but she could never be as important as his sworn brother. Besides, a concubine wasn’t a wife—wasn’t gifting concubines a perfectly normal thing?
Xing Muzheng gave him a sharp smack on the head. “Blockhead. You’ll regret it one day.”
Zhen Hao was struck and felt utterly aggrieved. He had no idea why his sworn brother would curse him out of the blue. But after saying that, Xing Muzheng could no longer be bothered to deal with him.
Still brooding over the imperial edict that had been issued, Zhen Hao sidled over and cautiously asked about it. Xing Muzheng replied indifferently, “You needn’t concern yourself with this. Just remember: Madam Qian is my only wife. If anything ever happens to me, you all must protect her and Chou’er at all costs.”
The birthday tribute procession changed to a land route, continuing toward Yongan. But in addition to the original members of the Marquis’s retinue, a dozen more carts and people joined. Of the two assassins interrogated the night before, the male died under harsh torture. The female tried to die but failed. Unable to bear the pain, she confessed.
They were part of a team of seven assassins from Jianghu, a group who would kill anyone for the right price—anyone except the emperor. Someone had put a price on Xing Muzheng’s head, so they staged a fire as a diversion and attempted to assassinate him. When Zhen Hao asked who was behind it, the female assassin hesitated before naming the Black Chrysanthemum Sect.
This sect was a middling force in the Jianghu, using the black chrysanthemum as their symbol. They were supposedly focused on martial training and cultivating the self, never having had much to do with the imperial court. So why would they suddenly try to kill Xing Muzheng?
Zhen Hao couldn’t make sense of it. Just to be safe, he added another team of guards to follow Xing Muzheng for protection. Along with them came several trunks of clothing Zhen Hao had prepared, the two concubines Yanluo and Yuluo he gifted, and several personal slaves and favored courtesans sent by Local Commander Liu and others—making the traveling party even larger.
Xing Muzheng frowned deeply. Zhen Hao pleaded with him, insisting that until they knew what was going on, he should at least take precautions for safety. If not for himself, then at least for the safety of his wife. Only then did Xing Muzheng reluctantly agree—but he ordered all the gifted slaves and courtesans to be sent ahead by boat back to Yuzhou, leaving only Yanluo and Yuluo to accompany him to the capital.
It was clear to everyone that Xing Muzheng treated the “Two Luos” differently. And they did not disappoint. They could cook fine meals in the wild, sing and play music in harmony, dance gracefully—and were breathtaking beauties to boot. What man wouldn’t want to hide such a pair of lovelies in his golden chambers?
The Two Luos had come from Minghu Brothel, often hearing scholars and poets compose verses. They had collected many new songs—several written just for the two of them. Yet, none of those songs interested Xing Muzheng. The one he did ask them to perform repeatedly was “Wild World”, a lesser-known piece the Two Luos would sometimes perform.
Yanluo once explained that the piece had originally been composed by a destitute man while drunk; its title was Asking the Heavens. When Xing Muzheng asked the man’s name, the sisters both shook their heads—they didn’t know.
Qian Jiaoniang also loved this song, feeling its boldness pierced the skies. It seemed to express a challenge to the very heavens. Every time she heard it, she was entranced—and sometimes even hummed it softly in the carriage.
One time while resting by a riverbank, Wang Yong made a remark to Xing Muzheng: “Master, those two girls sing beautifully. The lyrics and melody are great too—none of that soft and weak stuff that puts you to sleep.”
After Yanluo finished playing, Xing Muzheng looked toward the distant, undulating mountain peaks. “The song is good—but those two are barely passable.”
Wang Yong was surprised. “Yanluo played so well and Master still isn’t satisfied? Then what kind of fairy could possibly meet your standards?”
Xing Muzheng replied, “There’s someone who can sing it better.”
On the other side, Qingya was saying the same to Qian Jiaoniang: “The Two Luos’ version of that song—still lacks something.”
Qian Jiaoniang laughed. “Maybe because it was written by a man for himself to sing.” The song was filled with heroic spirit. For a woman to perform it that well was already impressive.
Qingya said, “I know a woman who can sing it better.”
“Who?” Qian Jiaoniang asked curiously.
Qingya smiled and was about to answer when Wang Yong came over, took Yuluo’s zither, and brought it before Xing Muzheng.
Xing Muzheng sat cross-legged on the ground, placing the zither on his lap.
Qingya immediately sat upright, clapping with a laugh: “Could it be that the Marquis is about to play? I’ve heard he is both scholar and warrior, a famed gentleman-general—but I’ve never heard him play. I wonder if the stories are true.”
Qian Jiaoniang didn’t know Xing Muzheng could play either. She had never heard him. Today, with his spirits high, it seemed he wanted to show off in front of the beauties.
“Madam, our lord plays the zither wonderfully,” Ah Da suddenly leaned in and grinned as he whispered to Qian Jiaoniang.
She shot him a strange look—what was he trying to say by telling her that?
Everyone else, seeing the Marquis in such a refined mood, quieted down and turned their full attention toward him.
Zheng!—a sharp pluck echoed. Xing Muzheng struck the first string.
Qingya gasped with delight. “Just that one note!”
Everyone held their breath. Xing Muzheng sat unmoving like a pine tree, long fingers plucking with force. The sound of the zither burst forth—clear and sonorous, with an overwhelming presence. Before their eyes rose clouds and peaks, rivers and mountains—heroism vast as tigers devouring ten thousand miles, legions of soldiers thundering across the land, all embodying the majesty of the realm.
Though he was playing the same song Yuluo had just performed, everyone felt it was completely different. Her playing had imitated the song’s spirit as best she could, but Xing Muzheng—each pluck, each strike—radiated true valor and iron-blooded might, the very soul of the empire. Qian Jiaoniang was frozen, staring at him. Her blood surged—her fingertips burned.
This—was his “Asking the Heavens.”
Yanluo stood to the side, stunned by what she heard. She had heard many masterful male musicians play, but never something that stirred the blood like this. Her throat itched—she wanted to sing along. Swallowing hard, she straightened up and opened her mouth to sing—
Qian Jiaoniang noticed and her eyes deepened.
But Xing Muzheng suddenly struck hard—a sharp pull—and the music ended abruptly.
Everyone snapped back to their senses.
Yanluo’s song was stuck in her throat. She looked uncertainly at Xing Muzheng, who was now glaring at her.
Her heart jumped—did the Marquis not want her to sing?
He set the zither aside and turned toward Qian Jiaoniang. She met his gaze briefly before turning away.
Xing Pingchun had been nearby feeding his horse. When he heard the music, he froze, mesmerized. Now that it stopped, he excitedly ran over with his reins in hand.
Li Qingquan stepped forward and whispered to Xing Muzheng. He nodded, rose, clasped his hands behind his back, and turned toward the road.
Xing Pingchun and the others followed his gaze—only to see that several hundred soldiers had quietly gathered along the highway. Their commander sat astride a horse, clad in silver armor and red-plumed helmet. He raised his hand high—and led his troops in a charge toward them.
These were all regular troops of the Xie Dynasty. Judging by their unit insignia, they were garrisoned in Huizhou, so the guards didn’t panic—only puzzled why they were here.
The leading officer dismounted not far ahead, strode forward, and led his soldiers in kneeling on one knee before Xing Muzheng with clasped fists, saying: “Deputy Officer Li Yi of the Huizhou garrison leads 200 troops—greetings to the Dingxi Marquis!”
“You may rise.”
Li Yi stood and explained their purpose to Xing Muzheng. It turned out that the prefect of Minghu had reported the assassination attempt on Xing Muzheng to the court. Prime Minister Hang Zhi took the matter very seriously. Based on estimated travel time, he ordered the Huizhou garrison to find Xing Muzheng immediately and escort his group to Yongan.
“Prime Minister Hang’s concern—I’m deeply grateful,” Xing Muzheng nodded mildly. “But this will be a hardship for you and your men.”
“This is all part of my duty,” Li Yi said indignantly. “It’s infuriating that a loyal subject like the Marquis should suffer an assassination attempt even after removing his golden armor! Despicable! Does the Marquis have any leads on who these attackers are?”
Xing Muzheng said, “I have no clue at all. Everything has been handed over to the Minghu authorities to investigate.”
Lielei returned from hunting and circled above, shrieking. The one-eyed dog in Qian Jiaoniang’s arms instantly bristled at the sound, leapt from her arms, and barked wildly up at the sky. Lielei shrieked back mid-air.
“Big Sis, quit barking already.” Qian Jiaoniang had named her one-eyed little dog “Big Sis.” She was quite helpless—this little one feared everyone except the eagle that could easily peck her to death. Every time it saw the bird, it acted like it’d spotted its arch-enemy, barking uncontrollably. Lielei had been trained not to attack the dog, but with its bad temper, it also wouldn’t back down—so it would just yell back. As a result, people regularly witnessed the scene of a crippled one-eyed dog and a fierce eagle “arguing” with each other.
Li Yi was dumbfounded. “I-isn’t that an eagle falcon!” Huizhou locals were especially fond of eagle. Even an average eagle fetched a high price—and an eagle falcon, king of all birds of prey, was something Li Yi dreamed of but had never seen in real life. Now that one appeared before him, he nearly forgot he was on duty.
“Yes, that’s the war eagle Lielei, the Grand.. Marquis’s bird!” Ah Da almost slipped up and said “Grand Commander,” but Xing Muzheng had already ordered them not to use that title anymore.
“A war eagle! It’s actually seen battle!” Li Yi’s eyes lit up.
“Of course—it’s ferocious!” Ah Da bragged.
Though Ah Da spoke proudly up front, Lielei was in the back trading empty threats with a little dog, which made his claim somewhat hard to believe. Xing Muzheng acted like he hadn’t heard a thing. Qian Jiaoniang, driven to a headache by the ruckus, pulled out two pieces of dried beef—one for Big Sis, one tossed to Lielei—and only then did peace return.
“Can just anyone feed that eagle?” Li Yi blurted in shock. Was the Marquis raising it wrong, letting a prized eagle falcon get spoiled by a woman?
“Of course not—that’s our madam!” Ah Da shot him a look like he was an ignoramus. “You think an eagle like that can be casually fed? I heard Huizhou folks like raising eagles—how come you don’t have one, Officer Li?”
Li Yi: “……” Sorry for asking. Still, to see the Marquis’s eagle being hand-fed by a woman? Even if she’s his wife… he himself had a rare black-headed eagle, and not even his family elders were allowed to touch it!
Xing Muzheng ordered the group to pack up and continue the journey. Now that they had military escort, he dismissed Zhen Hao’s men, sending them back. Qian Jiaoniang carried Big Sis into the carriage. A figure entered right after—she thought it was Qingya, but when she looked up, it was a tall black shadow.
Xing Muzheng had come in.
