Yuluo had always been proud, dismissing the young nobles at Minghu, even looking down on Zhen Hao. But Xing Muzheng’s song Asking the Heavens yesterday had completely captivated her. Finally, she thought, there was a man worthy of her. And now—this!
Yanluo quickly grabbed her. “The Madam already said so—how could it not be the Marquis’ decision? Even if he did like us, he would never slap his own wife in the face. As Qingya said—concubines are just servants!”
These words hit Yuluo hard. She stood frozen for a long while, then slowly walked to the qin and began to play The Phoenix’s Lament, tears in her eyes.
The sorrowful sound of the zither drifted out the door. As soon as Qingya heard it, she knew who was playing. Qian Jiaoniang chuckled and, after wiping her feet, said to just let her be.
But although she said to let Yuluo move heaven and earth with her music, it was as if if she wouldn’t sleep, no one else could either. The zither kept playing, over and over, without end. Qian Jiaoniang laid on the bed and even covered her face with the blanket, yet she could still hear that incessant sound. She frowned, suddenly sat up, paused, then slapped the blanket forcefully before lying down again with frustration.
Truly maddening! Had she known it would be like this, she should have waited until morning to speak. Back in the carriage, Yuluo could cry, shout, play the zither or dance all she liked—it had nothing to do with her! But now with that noise all night long, even if she managed to fall asleep, it would be full of bad dreams.
Qian Jiaoniang covered her ears under the quilt, yet the devilish sound still pierced through. Only after a while did the music finally stop.
Amitabha—at last, that girl must’ve exhausted herself. Qian Jiaoniang exhaled and turned over to sleep.
What she didn’t know was that it was Xing Muzheng who had sent someone to knock on the Two Luo sisters’ door, bluntly stating that their noise was disturbing the madam’s rest, and ordered them to stop. Only then did the music cease.
But poor Yuluo—her heart full of sorrow—was shattered into pieces. She could only blame Xing Muzheng for being a martial brute who didn’t understand her feelings, crying alone until dawn.
***
This matter rippled through the group like a stone dropped into still water. Ah Da tried to show favor to Yuluo, but she ignored him, and her gaze toward Xing Muzheng became increasingly bitter. On the way through the prefecture, Wang Yong bought a golden hairpin and asked Qian Jiaoniang to pass it to Qingya. Qingya thought it over for several days and eventually returned the hairpin. Qian Jiaoniang didn’t say much—she had expected this outcome. What she hadn’t expected, however, was Yanluo.
Yanluo came to Qian Jiaoniang alone, directly stating that she no longer aspired to the position of concubine and, having nowhere else to go, asked to serve as a maid. Qian Jiaoniang had thought she was clever—never imagined she would willingly cast off her freedom and choose to become a servant.
Qingya suspected it was a strategy of retreating to advance—still hoping to be taken in by Xing Muzheng.
Qian Jiaoniang didn’t know what Yanluo was thinking, so she just let her be. But she already had Qingya and four other maids at her side. Adding Yanluo made it seem like there weren’t enough tasks in a day. Qian Jiaoniang didn’t keep idle hands, and Yanluo was quick to catch on, volunteering for everything—tea serving, clothing assistance, even bringing bathwater. Yet she had been raised as a courtesan—her hands softer than Qian Jiaoniang’s and unfamiliar with anything heavier than a zither. She’d spill half a bucket carrying water. Seeing she wasn’t used to hard labor, Qian Jiaoniang took pity and instead asked her to teach her music theory.
That was Yanluo’s area of expertise. She dared not slack off. She carefully wrote a detailed curriculum outlining how someone with no knowledge of music could learn step by step. Her explanations were thorough and patient—even the picky Qingya, who listened in, found no faults.
So now Qian Jiaoniang was studying calligraphy, practicing music, working on embroidery when they stopped, and occasionally getting dragged out by Xing Muzheng to ride horses when the weather was good. She was incredibly busy. In the blink of an eye, it seemed they were nearly in Yongan.
A fast horse arrived from Yongan bearing a letter from Prime Minister Hang. He had learned that Xing Muzheng would arrive by midday the next day and especially requested he rest and bathe for a day before meeting at Salei Pavilion to welcome him.
Such sincere hospitality couldn’t be refused. Xing Muzheng ordered the group to set out half an hour earlier the next day to ensure arrival at midday.
Since Li Yi had begun escorting them, the journey had been safe—no one dared attempt an ambush. Though not one of Xing Muzheng’s former men, Li Yi was an upright fellow. Knowing they’d part ways the next day once they reached Yongan, he felt sentimental. Ah Da bought good alcohol, and they had a hearty drink with the Huizhou troops.
The next morning, the procession set out in grand fashion. The air was frigid with frost, and the sky still dark. Xing Pingchun hadn’t woken and wasn’t riding. He curled up in Qian Jiaoniang’s arms asleep. The one-eyed dog, having lost its spot, nestled at her feet. Qingya also looked worn and sat beside her, nodding off repeatedly.
The world was still quiet, and the group unusually so. Only the sound of hooves striking the road and wheels rolling through mud could be heard. Qian Jiaoniang lifted the heavy curtain slightly; a blast of cold air rushed in, making her shiver. Everything outside was pitch-black and indistinct. She felt disoriented—it seemed she hadn’t journeyed in such darkness and chill for a long time… yet it also felt like only yesterday that she was holding Chou’er, traveling in this bitter cold.
As they moved forward, dawn gradually broke, but the fog hadn’t lifted. A faint scent of incense drifted in. Qian Jiaoniang looked toward a mountain partially hidden in mist. That should be Wuling Mountain, the one Qingya had mentioned. The temple on the mountain had been rebuilt by the founding emperor of the Xie dynasty. Over time, the common folk believed the Buddha there to be quite effective, and the incense offerings had only grown stronger. It had now become the foremost temple in the empire—even royalty from Yongan often visited to offer incense and prayers. To smell the incense from this far away was proof of its prosperity. Qian Jiaoniang squinted into the distance—she, too, wanted to pray. If it truly worked, she’d be willing to offer her entire fortune in gratitude.
As they neared Wuling Mountain, the fog still wreathed the peaks. Suddenly, the sound of strings and flutes floated in the air like music of the immortals. Qian Jiaoniang was invigorated. Why would there be music this early in the morning? Was there a ritual happening on the mountain? But the tune was light and joyful—nothing like Buddhist ceremonial music.
The caravan slowed. Qian Jiaoniang peeked out.
Down the mountain path came two rows of maidservants with double-ringed buns, wearing white jackets and pink skirts. First came those playing flutes, zithers, and pipas, opening the way with music. Behind them were maids scattering flower petals. A grand palanquin carried by twelve men followed, adorned with flowers, embroidered drapes, dragons and phoenixes chasing pearls, and layers of gauze fluttering in the breeze—just like a celestial carriage descending from the heavens.
Xing Muzheng ordered a halt. That palanquin bore clear signs of royalty—the person inside was undoubtedly of the imperial family. And among Yongan’s royals, only one was known to flaunt such extravagance.
The Fifth Princess of the Xie Dynasty: Jianan.
Princess Jianan was the youngest sister of the current Emperor Taikang, and his most beloved sibling. She was also the one who frequently sent gifts to Xing Muzheng—the same princess who triggered Feng Yuyan’s jealousy and led her to drug him.
Xing Muzheng furrowed his brow and turned to glance at the nearby carriage—just as Qian Jiaoniang also looked at him. He opened his mouth, clearly meaning to say something, but then closed it again, not knowing what to say.
Xing Pingchun had been awakened by the commotion. He stuck his head out and exclaimed, “Wow! Mother, so many fairy sisters!”
“Those are maidservants, not fairies,” Qingya said, having also awakened and lifted the curtain from the other side.
Xing Muzheng dismounted but did not send anyone ahead. If Princess Jianan’s procession didn’t stop, then he had no need to offer greetings.
Princess Jianan’s procession emerged from the mountains, heading toward Yongan. But once the guards at the rear had all come out, the entire entourage came to a halt. Not long after, a pink-robed eunuch with a hairless white face stepped forward and bowed before Xing Muzheng. “This humble one dares to ask—might you be Dingxi Marquis?”
Xing Muzheng replied, “I am. May I ask which esteemed person sits in the palanquin?”
The eunuch hurriedly knelt and saluted. “Peace to Dingxi Marquis. My mistress, Princess Jianan, has just returned from offering prayers at the temple.”
Wow! A princess! Qian Jiaoniang hadn’t expected that before even entering the imperial city, she would see a princess’s palanquin. She’d heard that Yongan was filled with princes and princesses—clearly, that wasn’t just talk. Xing Pingchun gaped and exaggeratedly turned to look at Qian Jiaoniang, full of excitement.
Qingya, having heard the title clearly, gave a faint tug at the corner of her lips.
“So this is the retinue of Princess Jianan? My apologies for the slight,” Xing Muzheng said, feigning surprise. He called to Qian Jiaoniang, “Wife, up ahead is Princess Jianan. Come with me to pay your respects.”
Qian Jiaoniang left the one-eyed dog in the carriage and let the maid help her down. Others from the carriages also disembarked—only the guards remained at their posts. Everyone else followed Xing Muzheng forward.
Qingya leaned over and whispered, “Be careful.”
Qian Jiaoniang looked at her in confusion.
Qingya could tell right away that she’d forgotten. “This Princess Jianan is the one that made Feng Yuyan so fearful she resorted to drugging.”
Only then did Qian Jiaoniang recall. She had truly forgotten—just vaguely remembered that Feng Yuyan had spoken of some ‘princess.’ So it was this one. Her eyes shifted. If this was that same princess, then could today’s “coincidental encounter”… really be a coincidence? But wasn’t it a bit too early for that? Was this truly fate between the two?
Xing Muzheng glanced at Qian Jiaoniang from the corner of his eye. He stepped slightly slower and whispered to her, “You’ll have to suffer the indignity of kneeling.”
Kneeling is a hardship? Qian Jiaoniang blinked. She had knelt plenty in her past life.
When Xing Muzheng reached the fragrant, elaborate palanquin, he bowed and said, “Xing Muzheng, Dingxi Marquis, pays respects to Princess Jianan. Long live Your Highness.”
As a super-ranked marquis, Xing Muzheng wasn’t required to kneel before a royal, but Qian Jiaoniang, though his wife, held no official rank and thus had to kneel with the rest. “Long live Your Highness.”
After a long moment, a delighted voice came from within the palanquin. “So it is Dingxi Marquis. I hadn’t expected to see you here.”
As she spoke, a fair, plump, delicate hand emerged from the layers of sheer curtains. A ruby ring adorned her finger, along with an intricately carved gold bracelet. Two personal maids stepped forward quickly to help her, while a eunuch in blue robes prostrated on the ground and another laid down a red carpet. Princess Jianan slowly stepped out of the palanquin.
Her hair was styled in a lofty “Flying Immortal” bun, decorated with a golden phoenix pecking at pearls. Her skin was whiter than snow, her face round and luminous like a silver basin—an undeniable beauty. She wore a luxurious white fur cloak, radiating wealth and nobility.
