After watching two matches, Qian Jiaoniang’s voice had gone hoarse from shouting, so Yanluo quickly brought her a cup of freshly brewed tea. Xing Muzheng told them to rest a bit and leave later. He beckoned Ah Da over and whispered a few words in his ear. Ah Da nodded with a smile and hurried off. Qian Jiaoniang thought he had someone else to meet and paid it no mind, listening instead to Xing Pingchun animatedly discussing the earlier games.
Out of the four teams, Xing Pingchun liked a red-team player best, because that player had hit the ball five times in a row and directly scored.
Wang Yong, upon hearing this, dismissed it as a mere parlor trick. “Even I can do that—it’s nothing special. But judging by how excited the crowd was, I suppose in Yongan City that’s considered quite the feat.”
“Uncle Yong, you can do it too?” Xing Pingchun’s eyes lit up. “You have to teach me when we get back!”
“No problem teaching you, but actually…” Wang Yong glanced toward Xing Muzheng, who sipped his tea with a calm expression.
Ah Da soon returned, saying it was ready. Xing Muzheng nodded and told everyone to gather their things and head down.
Xing Pingchun thought they were heading home, but instead they walked toward the polo field again. By now, the grounds were nearly empty, save for Marquis Yongjing, who stood with a few attendants and several horses nearby. Looking closer, Xing Pingchun even spotted his own “Ant.”
Tan Wenzhi saw them coming and stepped forward quickly with his men. Xing Muzheng cupped his hands. “Many thanks, Marquis.”
Tan Wenzhi laughed. “You’re far too polite, Marquis—it was nothing.”
Xing Pingchun had already dashed to Ant’s side. The colt affectionately nudged his face, making him giggle. A servant beside him presented a polo mallet with both hands. Xing Pingchun accepted it in puzzlement and turned to ask, “Father, what are we doing?”
Xing Muzheng walked over to the other horses, examined them one by one, and chose the gentlest mare. He beckoned Qian Jiaoniang forward, then said to Xing Pingchun, “Didn’t you say you wanted to learn polo? You can try it now. If you play well, when we return to Yuzhou, I’ll have a polo field built for you.”
“Really?” Xing Pingchun beamed, vaulting onto Ant like a monkey. “I can definitely play well!”
Tan Wenzhi secretly marveled. He had already been surprised at how father and son interacted. A son so carefree before his father—he had never seen such a thing. And the father actually allowed the boy to act like such a little rascal? Did great households in Yongan all behave like this?
He didn’t realize that children could be masters at reading the room. When Xing Pingchun was alone with Xing Muzheng, although not as fearful as before, he was still respectful. But whenever Jiaoniang was around, he would act out recklessly, fully confident that his father would not scold him in front of his mother.
Xing Muzheng signaled for Wang Yong to mount a horse and teach Xing Pingchun. Then he turned to Qian Jiaoniang. “Lightning is too tall for you and not suited for polo. Try riding this one first.”
Qian Jiaoniang glanced at him, smiled without saying much, and mounted using the stirrup. The horse was indeed much tamer than Lightning, not making a fuss even with a stranger in the saddle. Xing Muzheng took a polo mallet from a servant and handed one to her.
Seeing the mood, Tan Wenzhi tactfully led his men away. Xing Muzheng guided her hands on the mallet. “This is a man’s mallet—it’s heavier and hits farther. I’ve seen you hit people hard enough; you should be able to manage this just fine.”
Qian Jiaoniang gave him a sidelong look, meeting his dark, amused eyes. “Did I hit you, my lord?” she teased.
Xing Muzheng cleared his throat without answering, and told her to try hitting the ball. She had been itching to play after watching earlier, so at her very first strike, the ball flew far. Without waiting for instructions, she spurred her horse after it. Xing Muzheng mounted another horse, following with Ah Da.
Both she and Xing Pingchun were lively and competitive. Polo suited them perfectly. After just a little practice, they were already asking Wang Yong to teach them the three-hit combo they’d seen earlier. Wang Yong demonstrated a five-hit combo, earning cheers from both.
Xing Pingchun immediately wanted to try, but his first hits were either crooked or too far. Qian Jiaoniang fared no better—one swing sent the ball under Xing Muzheng’s horse, nearly causing a collision.
Xing Muzheng stopped the ball. “Trying to run before you’ve learned to walk. Combos aren’t hard, but you must control your strength.” Pressing the mallet down, he struck the ball lightly so it rolled forward—not too fast—then urged his horse a step forward and struck again before it landed. “You must match your horse’s pace.”
This time, he rode two steps, met the ball perfectly for another hit, then took three more strides to intercept it again. Turning his horse, he sent the ball straight to land precisely at Qian Jiaoniang’s mallet, as if the ball had eyes. She had no doubt—if he wanted to string together as many hits as he liked, he could.
Xing Pingchun gaped in astonishment. Was this really the same ball he had been playing with?
Ah Da chuckled. “My lord, show madam and young master that move—let us brothers witness it again too.”
“Show a move?” Xing Pingchun thought. “Wasn’t that already a move? Father has something even better?” He looked at his father with awe.
Xing Muzheng glanced at Qian Jiaoniang, who smiled and asked, “And which move would that be, my lord?”
Xing Muzheng said, “It’s nothing but a trifling trick—if you want to see it, I’ll let you have a look.”
Ah Da, upon hearing this, immediately leapt off his horse, counted out ten copper coins from his bosom, and placed them on the ground not far from Xing Muzheng. Xing Pingchun didn’t know what Ah Da meant by this, but Qian Jiaoniang guessed—could it be that he would strike with his polo mallet, sending one coin into the goal?
Xing Muzheng lashed his whip, and his horse sped forward. When he reached the stacked copper coins, he suddenly swung his polo mallet, and the topmost coin flew off into the air—landing directly into the goal. The remaining nine coins stayed standing!
“This can’t be!” Xing Pingchun rubbed his eyes, unable to believe what he had just seen.
Xing Muzheng turned his horse’s head, and with another flick of his wrist—“whoosh”—the second coin flew off and once again dropped neatly into the goal.
“Heavens above!” Qian Jiaoniang and her son exclaimed in unison, eyes wide. Was this still even human?
Seeing the mother and son’s worshipful expressions, Xing Muzheng pressed his lips together to keep from letting the corners of his mouth curl upward.
“Bravo!” From the southern entrance came cheers and applause. Everyone turned toward the sound to see Yongjing Marquis standing behind a young man in a gold coronet and snow-white mink cloak—the one clapping and praising was this young man. He looked one or two years older than Xing Muzheng; though not as handsome, his entire being radiated wealth and privilege—clearly the scion of a great household. And Yongjing Marquis was even standing behind him with a slight bow. Qian Jiaoniang narrowed her eyes slightly.
When Xing Muzheng saw who it was, his expression shifted. He rode over to Qian Jiaoniang, helped her down from her horse, and whispered in her ear, “It’s the Crown Prince.”
The golden-crowned young man stepped forward with a smile. This was none other than Crown Prince Wu Hong, son of Emperor Taikang and Empress Murong—the legitimate eldest son, who had naturally become Crown Prince upon coming of age. These days, with Emperor Taikang absorbed in alchemy, the Crown Prince governed the realm with the help of the Prime Minister and others. Yet Wu Hong’s heart was hardly in state affairs—his only real interest in life was women. Still, he kept only one wife and one concubine, so the Empress was content, believing her son to be devoted to governance rather than given to lust. Little did she know, her precious son was not lacking in lust—he was peculiar in it. His most cherished saying was: A wife is not as good as a concubine, and a concubine is not as good as another man’s woman.
Thus, the greatest delight of His Highness the Crown Prince of Great Xie was seducing respectable married women. This habit had been with him for years—many officials’ concubines had been “plucked” by him, and even some principal wives had secretly coupled with him. Those women were either bewitched by his honeyed words or harbored ambitions of leaping up to become Imperial Consort or even Empress. Some husbands never discovered they’d been cuckolded; some, upon finding out, either beat the concubine to death or, seeing an opportunity, “gifted” her to the Crown Prince to curry favor. Yet Wu Hong had no interest in such gifts—he only liked to steal flowers from other gardens, and once in hand, he quickly lost interest.
The principal wives tended to be cleverer; even if they had an affair with him, they were careful not to be found out. This very day, he had arranged for the wife of the Left Vice-Minister of the Hanlin Academy to meet him under the pretext of attending the polo match. Yet in the midst of their entanglement, he had heard a woman’s loud shouts—so unlike the demure tones of a genteel lady. Accustomed to women’s coy tenderness toward him, Wu Hong’s interest was instantly piqued; he felt sure this woman must be wild and untamed, far more interesting than the posturing noblewomen he usually saw. Even while holding the soft jade in his arms, his soul had already flown to the other woman.
After dismissing the Vice-Minister’s wife, he had someone inquire—and found out that the unruly woman was none other than the wife of Dingxi Marquis, Xing Muzheng.
