Still kneeling, Xing Muzheng didn’t so much as blink. “Your servant is unaware of what Your Majesty refers to.”
Emperor Taikang sneered. “Still pretending? Tell me, did you bring your wife with you to Yongan?”
“I did,” Xing Muzheng replied, head lowered.
“Which wife?”
“Replying to Your Majesty, I have only one wife—Madam Qian.”
Emperor Taikang’s eyes widened. “Is that not the same Madam Qian whom I commanded to leave the marriage on her own?”
“Yes.”
The emperor was so infuriated by Xing Muzheng’s blunt response that he laughed. “Then is it you who disobeyed the imperial command—or her?” A simple question, but the answer held life-or-death consequences. Whoever bore the blame would be guilty of treason—a capital crime.
Xing Muzheng replied, “Your servant would not dare. But as Your Majesty’s decree did not set a time limit, and I have yet to draft the letter of separation, it does not constitute disobedience.”
Emperor Taikang was briefly choked for words, just about to explode when Mao Qi entered again. “Your Majesty, the auspicious hour for alchemy has arrived.”
The only reason Mao Qi dared to interrupt while the emperor was speaking with a subject was that, these days, nothing mattered more to Emperor Taikang than refining elixirs. Were it not for the upcoming imperial birthday, he wouldn’t have emerged from seclusion at all. After all, he was now content to leave governance to the Prime Minister and the Three Judicial Offices while he pursued immortality in peace.
“Out! Can’t you see I’m speaking with Marquis Xing?” the emperor snapped irritably.
Mao Qi bowed and withdrew quickly, though he was secretly surprised. In the past, even when the Prime Minister brought urgent state matters, the emperor would still leave mid-conversation to refine elixirs. Yet today, for Marquis Xing, he had postponed his sacred alchemy session. Did this mean the emperor valued the marquis—or intended to punish him?
Being interrupted by Mao Qi took some of Emperor Taikang’s edge off. He called Xing Muzheng to his feet, then resumed his half-Daoist, half-immortal posture and said calmly, “Speak, then. Why did you delay the imperial decree? Are you blaming me for meddling in your affairs?” When he had first heard of the matter, the emperor had found it strange. Xing Muzheng had always seemed indifferent toward his official wife. The emperor had even thought that a village girl like her was unworthy of marrying into a marquis’s household, so he’d kindly stepped in to preserve Xing’s reputation, taking the blame himself as the bad guy. Never did he expect that the man would not appreciate the gesture.
Xing Muzheng replied, “How could this humble subject dare to blame Your Majesty? I blame only myself for being blind—mistaking a treasure for worthless grass, and taking weeds for precious gems. I once looked down on my wife, Lady Qian, and intended to marry Lady Feng as equal wife in her place. Who would have thought that Lady Feng, deceived by wicked words, would go so far as to poison me…”
“What? Such a thing happened?” Emperor Taikang slapped the table in fury.
“I would not dare deceive Your Majesty. It was indeed Lady Feng who tried to poison me—and it was Lady Qian who saved my life. I am ashamed.”
“Where is that poisonous woman now?”
“Your Majesty, please calm your anger. Once her plot was exposed, I personally took off her head.”
Even so, Emperor Taikang remained incensed. “A venomous woman like that should have been executed by slow slicing! Beheading her was letting her off too easily!” To dare harm the greatest general of the Xie dynasty—she truly deserved death!
Xing Muzheng gave a bitter smile. “As the saying goes, one may know a person’s face, but not their heart. I’ve spent half my life on the battlefield, yet never knew a woman’s heart could be so malicious. And yet, my wife Lady Qian has managed our household for ten years—caring for my widowed mother, raising our son, and enduring the chaos of war. When I lost contact with home during the unrest, it was she who held everything together. Only after returning to Yuzhou did I learn of all the hardships she endured alone. I am filled with guilt. What’s more, from ancient times, it’s said that loyalty and filial piety cannot both be fulfilled. I was on the battlefield and could not care for my mother—that has long troubled me. But Lady Qian fulfilled that duty in my place, and for that I am greatly comforted. Before my mother passed, she left me a letter, speaking of Qian’s virtue and kindness, calling her a once-in-a-thousand daughter-in-law. She commanded me never to discard my wife for wealth or power—otherwise, even in the afterlife, she would not rest in peace.” The more he spoke, the heavier Xing Muzheng’s voice became, even his eyes seemed to redden.
Though Xing Muzheng was not born into nobility, and his nature was reserved, he knew when to be tactful. Otherwise, how could he have secured food, silver, and weapons from so many officials over the years? But now that he held high rank and kept distant from court politics, few had seen him put on a performance like this.
Emperor Taikang was moved. “So that’s how it was.”
Xing Muzheng knelt again. “Your Majesty, all of this was my fault alone. Lady Qian is loyal and steadfast. Had she truly agreed to a separation, she would have hanged herself with a white silk scarf. It was she who saved my life. If I forced her to her death now, I would be worse than a beast—how could I face my parents or ancestors in the afterlife? Therefore, I boldly beg Your Majesty to rescind your decree!” He finished speaking and knocked his head heavily to the floor.
Emperor Taikang looked at the kneeling man, feeling troubled. He realized he had meant well, but ended up making a mess. But he was the emperor—his words were law. How could an imperial edict be taken back? He rubbed the Celestial Ruler in his hand and thought for a long while, then personally helped Xing Muzheng to his feet and slowly said, “But I heard… she had an affair with a fellow villager named Wang Tieniu…”
“That is pure nonsense. Surely Your Majesty’s informants made an error,” Xing Muzheng replied firmly.
The emperor had merely meant to offer Xing a face-saving excuse, but the man just wouldn’t play along. He could only sigh, “I’ll deal with those useless spies later. But the decree has been issued, and you’ve already accepted it—how can it be withdrawn now? She’s just a woman, after all. A wife’s virtue is to be loyal and gentle. If she’s not, then she is no wife at all. This Lady Qian… fate must have dealt her a poor hand. Don’t force the matter. I’ll select a new wife for you—someone more virtuous, more generous, and better born, befitting your rank as Dingxi Marquis. In fact, I was just worrying about Princess Jianan’s marriage prospects… do you think she’d consider a man on his second marriage like you?”
The last part was said in jest, but Xing Muzheng answered seriously, “I am honored by Your Majesty’s grace. But Princess Jianan is of imperial blood, while I am a rough soldier. By Your Majesty’s kindness I was granted the title of marquis—how dare I dream of marrying a princess?”
“You—!” This blockhead! Was he really trying to force the emperor to rescind the edict? Not just in the Xie dynasty, but since the dawn of time, no emperor had ever taken back a decree! Taikang might not have been the most capable ruler, but he couldn’t be the first emperor to become a laughingstock.
Compared to his ancestors, Emperor Taikang was indeed unremarkable—often acting on whims, and now fully engrossed in alchemy, neglecting state affairs. But to call him an incompetent ruler would be a mistake: he had a sharp eye for talent. He had entrusted the supreme military seal to Xing Muzheng while the man was still young, and made Hang Zhi the youngest Prime Minister in Xie history. Xing was the emperor’s most trusted subject—invincible in battle, yet willing to relinquish power afterward and return to his estate. What other dynasty had such a worry-free general? If war broke out again, Xing would be his sharpest blade; if rebellion arose, he would be the shield the traitors feared most.
So as long as Xing Muzheng committed no crime of treason, Emperor Taikang would always protect him. Over such a trivial matter, he would not truly punish him. He had only wanted to give him a little warning—yet ended up shooting himself in the foot and creating a mess.
“Official Xing, don’t be ridiculous. My edict is tied to the dignity of the state—what’s spoken cannot be taken back! Hmph, I admit I was careless, so let’s compromise. Have Lady Qian leave the main household and make her a concubine. I won’t pursue the matter further, and you can compensate her somehow. That should be enough, yes?”
This was the emperor giving ground, yet Xing Muzheng still shook his head. “Lady Qian is my wife.”
“You—! You stubborn mule!” Emperor Taikang couldn’t help but curse. “Over such a petty matter, you’re trying to force me? You claim you want to ease my burdens, but all you ever do is bring me trouble!”
“I would never dare,” Xing Muzheng said, kneeling once more.
Emperor Taikang let out a heavy snort. “Would never dare? Looks to me like you dare plenty! I’ve said all I need to say—figure it out yourself. Don’t test my patience!” With that, he stormed out of the study without even dismissing Xing Muzheng. Outside, Mao Qi called after him in alarm, his voice fading into the distance.
Xing Muzheng slowly stood up, dusted off his knees, and rubbed his neck. He didn’t expect this matter to be resolved quickly, so he wasn’t particularly disappointed.
Leaving the imperial study, he refused a eunuch escort and walked toward the South Gate alone. Just as he passed through a corridor, two people approached. One wore a qilin-embroidered robe, lean and sharp—his former military strategist Huang Gong, now serving at the Censorate. The other wore a white-tiger robe, plump and smiling like Maitreya Buddha—it was Ren Yan, Left Vice Minister of Revenue.
Both of them also saw Xing Muzheng’s bright red flying-fish robe. When Huang Gong got a clear look at the man, a glint flashed briefly in his eyes before it vanished, and his expression returned to calm.
“Dingxi Marquis!” Ren Yan’s eyes lit up, his smile growing even wider, and he dropped to his knees with a thud.
Huang Gong also knelt beside Ren Yan, respectfully greeting him as “Marquis Xing.”
Xing Muzheng told them to rise. Ren Yan scrambled up at once, all warmth and enthusiasm. “Marquis, you’ve finally come to Yongan! I’ve been counting the days, looking forward to your arrival!”
Compared to Ren Yan’s friendliness, Huang Gong—who had once been promoted by his former patron—only exchanged a few polite words before saying he had matters to attend to and took his leave. Xing Muzheng let him go without comment.
Ren Yan, however, remained at Xing Muzheng’s side, stroking his chin and clicking his tongue in mock wonder. “I heard the Marquis is Lord Huang’s great benefactor. But seeing the Marquis today, Lord Huang still kept that same face. I thought with the Marquis here, I might get to see Lord Huang smile for once!” As he spoke, he kept stealing glances at Xing Muzheng.
Since taking office, Huang Gong had been like a firecracker with a lit fuse—blowing up all over the place. Ren Yan himself had been “corrected” by him before, and secretly ground his teeth in resentment. Without Dingxi Marquis behind him, Huang Gong would be nothing.
Xing Muzheng said, “That’s just his temperament. If Lord Ren has official business, you may go.”
Ren Yan quickly laughed. “Yes, yes, then I won’t trouble the Marquis further.” But he couldn’t help wondering—had the Marquis heard his little provocation just now?
***
Xing Muzheng still rode back to the official residence.
By the roadside in Prince’s Alley, many carriages and horses were already parked. They belonged to stewards and servants delivering visiting cards and invitations. Upon seeing Xing Muzheng, they all dropped to their knees in a dark mass. Xing Muzheng gave a casual lift of his hand, then handed both his horse and whip to Li Qingquan, who was accompanying him, and strode into the courtyard.
As soon as he was gone, the men scrambled back to their feet and continued slipping their masters’ visiting cards into the doorkeeper’s pouch.
Just inside the decorated gate, Xing Muzheng spotted Wang Yong holding a long strip of paper, blowing on it as he headed toward the east wing.
“What are you doing?” Xing Muzheng called out.
Wang Yong turned, grinning. “Master, you’re back—this is the list of the servants’ names that Madam had me copy. I just finished and was about to deliver it to her.”
“What does she want it for?”
“No idea, sir.”
Xing Muzheng walked up, pinched the paper between two fingers, and took it away. “All right, I’ll deliver it for you.”
