“…There’s truly no other token of thanks?” Xing Muzheng pressed, unwilling to give up — even a small purse of silver would do.
Qian Jiaoniang lifted her gaze to meet his dark eyes, and in them she caught a trace of disappointment that was hard to ignore. A ripple stirred in her heart, but it quickly faded. She said to Xing Muzheng, “My lord, inviting Miss Zhao was something I racked my brains to come up with as thanks. Are you really dissatisfied? Or are you perhaps worrying about me? I truly don’t mind. You can, just like before, take Miss Zhao into your household as a wife of equal standing — wouldn’t that be fine?” Of course, it would mean Miss Zhao had to suffer a little injustice, but if she explained things to her, the young lady would surely agree, right? With such a beauty by his side, Xing Muzheng would probably have no time for all those messy, bothersome schemes.
Wasn’t she the one who said she most despised men who ate from one bowl while eyeing the pot? Who said that men with multiple wives and concubines were only trampling women underfoot? How could she be so open-minded now? Or had she all along been planning to leave him?
Xing Muzheng had thought he was never one to cling to anything — but now he understood what it meant to yearn for what one could not have. He gazed at the woman before him, clearly within arm’s reach yet seeming as distant as the horizon. This woman’s heart was ruthless; could it be that he truly would never enter her eyes again?
Rather than force her, it might be better to follow her will and let her go. Perhaps, in the end, he might still hear a kind word from her lips.
But the moment that thought arose, Xing Muzheng felt as though barbs had grown beneath his skin, pricking him all over so that there was nowhere comfortable.
She was his wife; unless he died, he would never let her go. Clenching his teeth, Xing Muzheng forced his thoughts to shift, and that suffocating discomfort finally began to ease.
A dark, turbulent shadow flashed in the depths of his eyes before sinking into even deeper darkness.
“I don’t want this grand gift of yours,” Xing Muzheng said again, now calm.
Qian Jiaoniang’s eyes flickered in surprise. His displeasure just now had been so palpable that, for an instant, she’d even felt danger and the urge to flee. Yet in the blink of an eye, it was as though a breeze had passed — nothing remained. What on earth had he just been thinking?
Xing Muzheng went on: “If you’re truly sincere, then make me a cloak — that will be thanks enough.” It was probably the first time in history someone had asked outright for a thank-you gift.
“But I’ve already made a cloak for you, my lord,” Qian Jiaoniang said.
Xing Muzheng was taken aback. “Where is it?”
Only after speaking did Qian Jiaoniang realize she had spoken too quickly. When he pressed the question, her eyes grew knowing, and she inexplicably smiled. “My lord must be too busy and forgetful.”
Xing Muzheng frowned. Jiaoniang had made him a cloak? If she had given it to him, he would have treasured it, but he was certain he had never received one from her. Where had that statement come from? Surely she wasn’t just making it up to fob him off? He was about to question her further, but Qian Jiaoniang reached out and tugged at him, smiling brightly. “Don’t dwell on such unimportant things, my lord. Go in and listen to Miss Zhao sing — that’s the real priority. I went to great lengths to invite her here; don’t waste my good intentions.”
If she had taken his arm on any other day, Xing Muzheng would have been quietly delighted. But today she was merely eager to send him to another woman. Grinding his molars in frustration, he stood still and gently removed her hand. “I have matters to attend to. You can go listen on your own.”
Qian Jiaoniang opened her mouth to persuade him again, but suddenly Zhao Yaoqian came out from the warm chamber and abruptly knelt before them both, saying sorrowfully, “My lord, my lady, please help this humble woman!”
Qian Jiaoniang was startled — what was this guest kneeling for all of a sudden? “Miss Zhao, what is the meaning of this? If something is wrong, let’s talk it over.”
But Zhao Yaoqian not only did not rise, she bowed deeply again and choked out, “I beg my lord to help me!”
Slowly, Zhao Yaoqian revealed the whole story. After her father gave his life defending the city gates, she and her mother had sought refuge with her second uncle, Zhao Shixian. Relying on his late brother’s reputation, Zhao Shixian had obtained a petty official’s post, and this year he had scraped together silver to bribe the eunuch in charge of selecting palace maidens, intending to send Zhao Yaoqian into the palace. His only wish was that she might one day become an imperial consort, allowing him to soar to power as the emperor’s uncle. Zhao Yaoqian knew all too well that the palace was a place where sunlight could not reach. Without backing, unlike the noble daughters from great families, how could she dare vie for favor? She feared she would perish in obscurity before even finding her footing.
She saw her situation clearly, but her uncle’s ambition had already blinded him, and he was forcing her — openly and in secret — to enter the palace selection. Zhao Yaoqian was in bitter distress. Just then, she received an invitation from Dingxi Marchioness. At once she had an idea. When she arrived at Prince Alley and saw Xing Muzheng and Qian Jiaoniang with her own eyes, her resolve hardened. Better to serve a young, promising general than to waste her life on a mediocre, self-absorbed emperor. The marchioness seemed easy to get along with; perhaps in the marquis’s household, she could be of some use.
“My lord, my lady,” Zhao Yaoqian said, “this humble girl’s life is a frail one, and I have no one to rely on. If I enter the palace, I will be walking on thin ice, never to see the light of day again! I beg you, for my father’s sake, lend me your aid. I am willing to serve you both like a beast of burden.” By the time she finished, tears were streaming down her face, and she bowed deeply once more.
Qian Jiaoniang thought to herself — wasn’t this heaven-sent? Her eyes lit up as she looked at Xing Muzheng, even giving him two excited pats. He glared at her, but she didn’t notice. She sent the others away, helped Zhao Yaoqian up, and said sympathetically, “Miss Zhao, I understand you well. You needn’t worry. My lord just told me to ask about your troubles — he respects your father as a hero and will help if he can. Isn’t that right, my lord?”
Qian Jiaoniang nudged Xing Muzheng, urging him to speak. He felt as if he might cough blood — she was in such a hurry to play matchmaker!
Hearing this, Zhao Yaoqian looked up at Xing Muzheng through her tears like pear blossoms in the rain.
In front of outsiders, Xing Muzheng couldn’t say anything even if he was inwardly seething. But if he wouldn’t speak, someone else would.
Qian Jiaoniang wiped away a sympathetic tear. “Miss Zhao, you see the marquis nodding. I may not be worldly, but I’ve thought of a good idea. It would be a bit of a grievance for you — I wonder if you’d be willing?”
“Madam, please speak.”
“You see, although our marquis is Dingxi Marquis, there’s still no confidante in the household. Poor him, always having to talk with me like chickens and ducks conversing. If Miss Zhao doesn’t mind… oh!” Qian Jiaoniang would have liked nothing better than to finish her words right away, but she couldn’t—Xing Muzheng had given her waist a fierce pinch.
Zhao Yaoqian was a clever woman. The moment she heard, she understood that Qian Jiaoniang did not object to her entering the marquis’s household. Most of her worries eased at once, and she gritted her teeth and said, “If this humble woman can obtain the marquis’s help, I am willing to present this map in return.”
Saying that, Zhao Yaoqian carefully took from her sleeve a roll of cowhide and held it with both hands before Xing Muzheng. He unrolled it to see what appeared to be a map: lofty mountain ranges linked together, a dragon’s head half-hidden amid drifting cloud peaks, facing from afar a stone statue of Kṣitigarbha. There were also many incongruous details in the painting; in the lower left corner was an extra character “book”. After scanning it once, Xing Muzheng raised his eyes, narrowed them, and asked Zhao Yaoqian, “Miss Zhao, what is this?”
Zhao Yaoqian replied, “Marquis, this is a treasure map.”
“What is the treasure?”
“The Shu Book written by the great general Yu Xuanshen of the previous dynasty.”
At these words, Xing Muzheng’s gaze sharpened. Yu Xuanshen was a legendary figure, versed in the way of heaven above and the geography below. It was said he was a master of military strategy and could turn stone into soldiers, once using five hundred elite troops to hold off an army of a hundred thousand. The Shu Book, composed with the effort of his lifetime, contained both strategy and profound metaphysics; whoever possessed it could win every battle and keep the people safe. Generals of all generations had longed to obtain it, but Yu Xuanshen had taken it into his own tomb, and no one knew where that tomb lay.
Qian Jiaoniang did not understand what the Shu Book was until Zhao Yaoqian explained it to her. Only then did she realize—it was the ultimate treasure of the military world.
Xing Muzheng had not expected Zhao Yaoqian to possess a treasure map. But she was merely an unmarried young lady—how had she come by it?
Zhao Yaoqian seemed to understand his thoughts. She said, “This map was originally kept by my father. As for how he obtained it, I do not know. As I am the only daughter of my family, when he sent me away from Tongan, he secretly entrusted it to me and repeatedly urged me to hand it only to someone worthy of trust.”
“But this is only half a treasure map.”
Zhao Yaoqian gave a faint smile. “The marquis truly has sharp eyes. Yes, this is indeed only half; the other half is still on me. My father said…” At this point, she suddenly paused, a blush floating across her face.
“Your father said only your future husband may see the other half of the treasure map?” Qian Jiaoniang said it outright with a smile. Ah, the hearts of parents under heaven—wasn’t this, in essence, her father giving her a dowry worth a fortune?
Hearing Qian Jiaoniang put it so plainly, the unmarried Zhao Yaoqian’s face flushed bright red.
“Marquis, I say this is the work of Heaven itself—Old Man Yue has personally tied the red thread between you and Miss Zhao!” Qian Jiaoniang clapped her hands in delight, addressing Xing Muzheng.
Xing Muzheng’s face turned black.
