That night, the ghost-thing had another episode, but Xing Muzheng managed to suppress the madness within a quarter of an hour.
His body hurt even more than before, but he didn’t care. He even hoped Jiaoniang wouldn’t be woken—but she still was, because the ghost-thing’s sobbing had been too loud.
Whoever dared to play tricks behind his back better be ready to bear the wrath. Watching Qian Jiaoniang squinting sleepily as she changed his bandages and applied medicine, Xing Muzheng had a flash of unprecedented cruelty in his heart.
—
The next morning, Qian Jiaoniang and Qingya were discussing how to manage the marquis household’s accounts. After hearing Steward Zhou go over the ledgers with her so many times, she had a rough idea of the estate’s usual expenses. Qingya helped from the side, but Qian Jiaoniang wasn’t in a rush to finish—she was also using the opportunity to practice writing.
If the emperor wasn’t in a hurry, why should this eunuch be? Qingya went with the flow—whatever Jiaoniang wanted to learn, she would teach.
“Silver… gold…” Qian Jiaoniang hunched over, clumsily holding a weasel-hair brush, copying stroke by stroke onto the paper. Dingxi Marquis lay in a rocking chair, slowly swaying, watching her.
Qingya sat beside Jiaoniang, leisurely fanning herself, watching her write. Whenever Jiaoniang’s arm drooped, Qingya used the fan to prop it up. Jiaoniang complained, “Are you sure this posture is right? It’s exhausting.”
“I started practicing calligraphy when I was five—you doubt me?” Qingya gave her back a light tap with the fan. “Sit up straight.”
“When I sit straight, I can’t see clearly.” Qian Jiaoniang puffed her cheeks and tried to sit straight, but squinted.
“I told you not to do embroidery at night—you wouldn’t listen. Sooner or later, you’re going blind.”
Qian Jiaoniang rubbed her eyes and huffed, “Any business at the embroidery shop lately?”
Embroidery shop? What embroidery shop?
Qingya picked up the puzzle box nearby and started fiddling with it. “One order. The shopkeeper said the prefect’s daughter wants a floral overskirt. It’s a short skirt embroidered with gold thread—not easy. She asked if we’ll take it.”
“Of course we’ll take it! How much is she offering?”
“One tael. She’s supplying the gold thread.” A tael of silver was already a good price for a skirt like that.
“D*mn right she’s supplying it. Who else would? One tael of silver… the prefect’s daughter… Alright, gold thread is a pain, but we’ll take it.” Qian Jiaoniang went back to practicing her writing, her head unknowingly drooping again.
Xing Muzheng was dumbfounded. His wife— the madam of the Marquis’ household—embroidering skirts for the prefect’s daughter? All for a single tael of silver, even at the cost of her eyesight?
Qingya casually fiddled with the wooden puzzle box and said with a glance, “Sister, you do know we now hold the key to the Marquis household’s storeroom, don’t you?”
“So what if it’s big? It’s not ours. What use is it to get jealous just by looking?” Qian Jiaoniang glanced up at her, “Just bear with it a bit longer. Once we’ve saved up enough money, we’ll open our own embroidery shop. A woman shouldn’t rely on anyone but herself. In this world, you can’t count on anyone—remember that!”
She was the official wife of the Marquis household, and instead of thinking about taking money from the estate, she was working herself to the bone to earn it? Had she gone stupid too, just like him? Xing Muzheng thought.
Qingya was silent for a moment. “Then when I get some time, I’ll draw a few more paintings and take them out to sell.”
Qian Jiaoniang nodded and dipped her brush in ink with flair. “You go ahead for now. Once I get the hang of writing, I’ll sell calligraphy and paintings with you.”
Qingya laughed bluntly. “By that time, I’m afraid I won’t be able to hold a brush anymore.”
Qian Jiaoniang raised an eyebrow and dabbed a bit of ink on her cheek with the tip of the brush. Qingya shrieked, spat at her, and ran off covering her face to wash up. Jiaoniang laughed heartily.
After lunch, since Dingxi Marquis didn’t take a midday nap, Jiaoniang looked out at the weather and sent Ah Da to clear the way through the estate. Ah Da hesitated, “Madam, the Marquis estate is too big. We can’t make everyone hide every day. How about we draw up a few walking routes to make things easier?”
Qian Jiaoniang thought that made sense, though she wasn’t sure where to go today. Qingya said, “I heard there’s a garden on the south side. Feng Yuyan renovated it extensively this year to prepare for her wedding.”
So Qian Jiaoniang told Ah Da to clear the path to the garden and have everyone inside leave. Ah Da went to carry it out. Jiaoniang turned to Qingya and said, “I already asked Zhou Mu—he swears it was Feng Yuyan who took the missing several thousand taels of silver and the account books. Go ask the accounting office again, carefully.”
Qingya immediately perked up. “What, you’re going to confront Miss Feng?”
Qian Jiaoniang said calmly, “If she wants to seek her own doom, no one can stop her.”
Jiaoniang was serious now, and Qingya was so happy she nearly ran outside to set off firecrackers. She’d long disliked Feng Yuyan. One of the ‘three great literary women’ of the times? With that pathetic writing and those soft, syrupy poems? Just because there were so few educated women in Great Xie!
Xing Muzheng wasn’t surprised at all. The night Jiaoniang learned that Feng Yuyan had withheld her allowance, she sat embroidering in her room and cursed Feng Yuyan under her breath the whole night—stabbing her needle into the cloth with every “stab you to death, Feng Yuyan.” She was so angry it had almost made him laugh. When Pingchun came in to say goodnight, she immediately became the gentle, doting mother. As soon as he left—stab, stab, stab again.
Xing Muzheng thought she’d storm over to Feng Yuyan the next morning. He never expected her to have such patience.
Ah Da finished arranging the route. Qian Jiaoniang led Xing Muzheng outside. Qingya went first to the accounting office, then to meet them in the garden.
The newly renovated garden already looked quite presentable. Feng Yuyan had brought people to supervise the redesign. It had pavilions, towers, rock formations, winding paths, and artfully arranged flowers—every three steps a view, within each view another scene. Unfortunately, it was wasted on Qian Jiaoniang, who had no eye for such things, and even more so on the silly Marquis, who had no idea what appreciation meant. The two of them, along with three guards, strolled around the garden but showed no delight at the scenery.
Along the way, they passed a large lawn. Suddenly, Dingxi Marquis let out a howl and leapt into the grass like a big frog, even rubbing his face against it.
Jiaoniang was tired too, so she sat down beside him and plucked a stalk of foxtail grass, twirling it in her fingers. Glancing at the Marquis—who lay there like a dried-up frog, unmoving—she waved at the three guards. “Go on, take a walk. I’ll rest here with the Marquis for a bit.”
“Madam, just you and the Marquis…” Wang Yong hesitated.
“It’s fine. This garden is beautiful—don’t waste the good weather. Go.” Jiaoniang smiled.
The three obeyed and left. The grassy patch was under a large cherry blossom tree. A gentle breeze blew, scattering petals with a soft fragrance—it really was quite pleasant. Dingxi Marquis lay on his back with all four limbs splayed out, while Jiaoniang twirled the foxtail grass and casually hummed a folk tune. Her voice was light and soft, the lyrics winding through her throat, carried on the breeze, stirring the heart.
Xing Muzheng didn’t understand what she was singing—it wasn’t a local Yuzhou tune. Listening more closely, it seemed to be from Xiangzhou. When had Jiaoniang learned songs from there?
He was still lost in thought when she finished singing and casually slapped his backside. “Get up, or bugs will bite your face.”
This woman was getting bolder and bolder—she actually dared to slap his butt! Xing Muzheng was a little annoyed. The ghost-thing let out a growl, then started giggling.
