Qingya said, “You make it sound easy. If you don’t attend a royal banquet, someone will come to see why. If you claim illness, the imperial physician will be sent to examine you, and if they find you’re fine and report back, it’s contempt for the imperial court—a crime punishable by death.”
Qian Jiaoniang stared. “So I can’t even choose not to go for fun?”
“The royal banquet doesn’t care what you want,” Qingya said. “Besides, this banquet won’t be good for you.”
“How so?”
Qingya curled her lip. “Most of those attending the Crown Princess’s birthday are imperial relatives or wives of officials of second rank or above. These ladies always look down their noses at people, obsessed with ridiculous notions of status—like talking to commoners would somehow cost them a piece of flesh. If someone of low birth visits their manor, the teacups they used would be thrown away, the cushions burned… basically, short of killing themselves for having spoken to such a person.”
Qian Jiaoniang snorted with laughter. “You’re afraid they’ll mock me?”
“Not afraid—they will. These ladies have nothing better to do; their eyes see only petty inner-court matters. When they go out, they love to make someone the butt of their jokes. Take Madam Xu, wife of the Minister of Works Liu Xiong—both were from non-noble families and were betrothed from birth. Later, Liu Xiong became top scholar in the examinations, took office, and with repeated promotions became Minister. Since Liu was fairly good-looking, many noble ladies had an interest in him, but he remembered old ties and brought his plain wife to Yongan. She should have had a good life as Madam, but everywhere she went, she met cold looks and ridicule. The other ladies never mocked her outright, but they would say this was wrong, that was wrong—even the way she drank water was ‘too loud’—and they’d hide their giggles behind fans.
“Madam Xu had never seen much of the world, and after being ridiculed two or three times, she didn’t dare step out the door. But those ladies kept inviting her to view flowers, to see plays—just to watch her make a fool of herself. Liu Xiong, unaware, even encouraged her to go out, which only made it worse. Later, who knows where he heard the gossip, but he began to think his original wife was unpresentable, and took concubines one after another. Madam Xu, in truth, was a good person—soft-spoken and gentle in temper—but was driven into illness, and in the end died of melancholy. Truly, a killing of the heart—enough to make one sigh.”
Qian Jiaoniang said, “How could she just die like that? What a fool! She should’ve lived well, happily, and let them see it!”
“Exactly. The Buddha fights for a stick of incense, people fight for a breath of air. If you don’t fight, you’ll be out of breath,” Qingya sighed. “You don’t know—these madams in the household are used to tormenting concubines. They can come up with all kinds of sharp, cutting words—never even a dirty one—and every single one has a mouth like a knife. We’re just less fortunate than them, didn’t get reborn into a rich family. The elders used to say, ‘Are kings, marquises, generals, and ministers born with noble blood?’ They’ve never had to wet their fingers with spring water since childhood, while we earn our own living. In what way are we worse than them? What right do they have to laugh at us?”
“What did you say? What’s that about… born with what?” Qian Jiaoniang asked.
“Are kings, marquises, generals, and ministers born with noble blood?” Qingya repeated, word by word, then lowered her voice. “It’s asking—are the emperor, the princes, the generals, and the prime ministers truly born noble?”
“Are kings, marquises, generals, and ministers born with noble blood…” Qian Jiaoniang slowly rolled the words on her tongue, her eyes lighting up. She clapped her hands hard. “That’s an excellent saying!”
Qian Jiaoniang had always felt a bit uncomfortable facing the likes of Feng Yuyan and Princess Jianan, but now, hearing these words, her mind suddenly cleared as though the light had broken through. Why should she be any lower than them? Why should they be any higher than her? It was nothing more than having better luck!
“Isn’t it so? They always say, ‘Dragons beget dragons, phoenixes beget phoenixes, mice beget burrowers.’ But look—the Marquis himself was born a commoner and became Commander-in-Chief of the army by his own ability. So really, no one is inherently nobler than anyone else!”
“Yes! Exactly right!” Qian Jiaoniang jumped to her feet, so excited she waved her arms about. “Heavens above—what sage came up with such a powerful saying?”
Big Sis lying on the kang, licking its paws, glanced over at its mistress a few extra times at her excitement.
Qingya snorted. “What sage would dare say such a thing? This was said by a rebel leader from the previous dynasty.”
“So that’s how it is!”
The two were still chatting warmly when a child’s cheerful voice piped in, “Mama, what are you talking about?”
Qian Jiaoniang turned her head and saw her son come running in, all dusty, with dirt in his hair and grime on both knees. “Amitabha! You’ve been crawling through the dog hole again!” These past few days, he had been coming back filthy like this every time—who knew what martial tricks Wang Yong had been teaching him?
Xing Pingchun flusteredly patted at himself. “I— I didn’t crawl through the dog hole!”
Qian Jiaoniang narrowed her eyes. No one knew a son better than his mother—she knew exactly the look and mannerisms he had when lying. “What were you really doing?”
“Really, nothing! Just practicing martial arts! What were you saying to Sister Qingya? Tell me too!” Xing Pingchun grinned and sidled up to her. Qian Jiaoniang couldn’t stand how dirty he was, made him stand up straight, and vigorously brushed the dust off him, then told him to wash his own clothes. Only after he agreed did she say, “Your Sister Qingya just taught me a very fine saying—one I’ll benefit from all my life. Listen carefully: ‘Are kings, marquises, generals, and ministers born with noble blood?’”
Xing Pingchun, having been studying orthodox classics with Mr. Cao, was bright enough to half-understand the saying. Qian Jiaoniang explained it to him just as Qingya had explained it to her, then added, “You remember this well—if you inherit the marquisate one day, it won’t be because you were born noble, but because you were lucky enough to be your father’s son. You must never be arrogant. The truly capable are the real nobles.”
Xing Pingchun nodded, half comprehending. “Mama, I can’t quite figure it out yet. Let me think about it more.”
Qingya said, “Think about it quietly to yourself. That saying’s been criticized by moralists as rebellious—best not to run out and repeat it, or someone might use it against you.”
***
Xing Muzheng made a circuit around the Prime Minister’s residence, then stopped by Yongan’s most famous teahouse, ordered a pot of tea, and sat for a long while listening to young scholars speak grandly. When night fell, he returned to Prince Alley. The household had already prepared dinner, and Qian Jiaoniang was waiting for him with a smiling face.
Offering unsolicited kindness means nothing good—either theft or scheming. Xing Muzheng finally understood the saying. At this moment, he looked at his wife the way one looks at a cunning fox—no, a fox spirit, the kind that’s both sly and dangerously enchanting.
Xing Muzheng’s head was aching badly these days. The external troubles were bad enough, but now the internal trouble had arrived too. And yet—he couldn’t bear to beat her, couldn’t bear to scold her. Truly, he wanted to kill her in bed.
“The Marquis is back! Quick, get water for the Marquis to wash his hands—he must be hungry. Bring the dishes!” That fox spirit—no, that Qian Jiaoniang—called cheerfully, inviting Xing Muzheng to sit and eat.
Xing Muzheng dealt with it by staying silent, letting Qian Jiaoniang summon a maid with a basin for him to wash his hands, then bring tea to moisten his mouth. She even personally placed a large piece of fatty pork into his bowl.
For the first time, Xing Muzheng felt the full authority of being the master of the house—it felt good. But he quickly forced himself to be wary. This enchantress was serious now.
Qian Jiaoniang spoke pleasantly as she ate with Xing Muzheng and Xing Pingchun, and as usual the three of them cleaned their plates. Then she told a maid to bring hot towels for washing face and hands. Xing Muzheng tossed his used towel into the basin and told Xing Pingchun to go play outside. The boy answered and slipped away in a blink.
Xing Muzheng glanced at Qian Jiaoniang and struck first: “When did Miss Zhao leave today?”
“She left without even staying for lunch.” Qian Jiaoniang habitually stacked the dishes on the table, while Hongjuan and Suier hurried to clear them away.
“In any case, I’m not marrying her. So tell me—what should we do?” Xing Muzheng simply threw the problem at her.
Qian Jiaoniang sighed. “The Marquis already said so today, so of course I’ll follow your lead. I told Miss Zhao there are plenty of fine young men in the Marquis’s household and she could choose one herself. But Miss Zhao said her marriage is in her uncle’s hands now, and if it’s not to a powerful family like yours, her uncle will never agree. And… from what I saw today, Miss Zhao seems to have steeled herself. You tell me—what girl would take charge of her own marriage unless she was forced to the edge? She’s upright and strong-willed. I fear that if the Marquis truly refuses her, she’ll hang herself with a length of white silk.”
After speaking, Qian Jiaoniang turned to look at Xing Muzheng, her eyes full of respect and sincerity. “A man like the Marquis—so noble in character, refined and gentle, upright and steadfast—surely would not stand by and watch a talented lady perish in such a way, would he?”
“…” Xing Muzheng was silent for a while. “Who taught you all those words?”
She was forcing him onto the path of a saint.
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