Qian Jiaoniang raised her brow and lightly slapped the Marquis’s firm rear again, laughing as she did.
“You like getting your butt smacked?” she teased.
This woman was truly outrageous! Xing Muzheng, now reduced to meat on a chopping block, had to suppress his temper and couldn’t retaliate. There was no more humiliating situation than this. And yet Qian Jiaoniang seemed to be having fun teasing the Marquis—one spanked, the other took it, both laughing so hard that even the Marquis’s occasional protests, shouted with a laugh, only made it more absurd.
“You really are a fool,” Qian Jiaoniang laughed heartily.
The ghost-thing turned his head, and Xing Muzheng happened to catch a glimpse of Jiaoniang’s wide, carefree smile—it was the first time he’d seen her laugh so freely. Her eyes curved like rippling water, and even her toothy, unrefined grin sparkled brilliantly.
So this woman could be quite beautiful when she smiled. Xing Muzheng thought to himself.
At that moment, upstairs in the pavilion, Feng Yuyan heard their laughter loud and clear.
Her courtyard faced the garden directly—on purpose. The pavilion gave her a perfect view of the garden, so she could enjoy the scenery whenever she pleased.
“Miss, the Marquis looks like he’s getting better…”
“What’s better about him?” Feng Yuyan said as she elegantly painted an orchid leaf. “If he were truly better, would he laugh like that? Would he let that village wench strike him…” She had only glanced down briefly, but already felt her eyes were soiled. She couldn’t even bring herself to say the vulgar words. She couldn’t believe Qian Jiaoniang would do such coarse things in broad daylight—how disgraceful. Shameless. Feng Yuyan’s grip on her fine brush tightened.
“This… at least the Marquis isn’t running around or hitting people anymore…” Wet Nurse Ye muttered softly.
Feng Yuyan shot her a glance, and Wet Nurse Ye fell silent. Feng Yuyan turned back to her orchid painting, but with just one stroke, it went crooked. Laughter kept drifting in—it was truly irritating. Feng Yuyan threw down her brush, crumpled the fine gauze paper into a ball, and turned to head downstairs.
Wet Nurse Ye quickly followed. “Miss, Miss, I heard that Madam Qian has been asking that maid Qingya to go over the accounts with her lately. It’s really bizarre—a little maid who can actually do bookkeeping, isn’t that strange?” Wet Nurse Ye was feeling guilty. Not long ago, she had confidently claimed that Madam Qian wouldn’t be able to manage the household or handle the accounts—and now, she’d been completely proven wrong.
Feng Yuyan snorted coldly and stepped lightly down the stairs. She veered into a side room on the east wing, where a maid was dusting with a chicken-feather duster. Feng Yuyan waved her away and pointed to the plum blossom cup on the table. Wet Nurse Ye quickly poured her a cup of tea and said nervously, “Madam Qian probably saw her monthly allowance!”
Feng Yuyan drank the cold tea in one gulp. “So what if she saw it? The Marquis said to give her twenty taels. I gave it. If the steward deliberately shorted her behind my back, what could I do about it?”
“Yes, yes, it’s definitely the steward’s fault. But I heard that now Steward Zhou has also been caught up by Madam Qian’s schemes…”
“He deserved it! That ungrateful mutt.” If it hadn’t been for him, how would Qian Jiaoniang have found the Marquis? Just thinking about it made Feng Yuyan’s teeth ache with frustration. She had underestimated these lowly people too much, and now she was paying the price.
“The steward may deserve it, but I’m worried that if Madam Qian really gains full control, we might be…”
Feng Yuyan said, “Of course I’ve already thought of that. If I needed you to remind me, I’d have died several times over by now.”
Wet Nurse Ye forced a smile. “Naturally, Miss is far more clever than this servant. Then… what are your plans?”
Feng Yuyan gave her a sidelong glance, crooked a finger, and beckoned her closer to whisper.
—
Qian Jiaoniang looked up at the gauze-draped tower where Feng Yuyan lived—the most luxurious courtyard in the entire Marquis estate. It was said to be the rightful Madam’s residence. Qian Jiaoniang’s smile faded. She clutched the foxtail grass in her hand, stayed silent for a moment, then murmured, “You must be very angry.”
You’re right. He was very angry. Once he got better, he’d definitely grab her and give her a good spanking. Xing Muzheng thought.
Qian Jiaoniang scratched her head and gave a self-deprecating laugh. “What am I even thinking? Of course you’d be angry. After all, the one I want to drive away is your beloved.”
Xing Muzheng froze. What did she just say?
Qian Jiaoniang seemed to be explaining to Dingxi Marquis—or perhaps just talking to herself. Her brow furrowed tightly. “But if I don’t take this chance to get rid of her, and wait until you’re well… If she really becomes the Marchioness, with her temperament, she definitely won’t treat Chou’er well… I’m sorry. I can’t let her stay.”
Even though the fact that Feng Yuyan had locked up Xing Muzheng and nearly caused his death sounded unforgivable, who could say whether, once he regained his senses, a few tears and sweet words from the pitiful beauty might make him forget what she had done? Worse—he might not even remember anything that had happened during his madness.
Only now did Xing Muzheng understand: Jiaoniang thought that if she dealt with Feng Yuyan, he’d blame her once he recovered. Xing Muzheng found it both ridiculous and laughable. Feng Yuyan had waited for him to die—was he supposed to keep such a venomous woman at his side? Wait a second… she just said… “beloved”? Whose beloved? This woman’s choice of words was absurd. Did she think he was some lovesick scholar from a romance story?
Not long after, Ah Da, Wang Yong, and Wu Shunzi returned one after another and shook their heads at Qian Jiaoniang. They had been hiding nearby, watching for suspicious individuals, but had found no one.
Qingya arrived, shielding her head with a fan and complaining about the heat. Qian Jiaoniang looked up and saw the sky had unknowingly darkened—it looked like a heavy rain was coming. So she pulled Xing Muzheng along and led the group back to their small courtyard. On the way, Qingya asked Jiaoniang what she thought of the garden. Jiaoniang replied, “Not much to look at. Just flowers and plants.” She’d seen plenty of that in the mountains.
Qingya said, “You really don’t know how to appreciate things. That Miss Feng might be a bit vulgar, but the person she hired to design the garden is actually quite renowned. I found some charm in it as I walked.”
“Well, that’s because you cultured types can compose poems when you see a nice view—like you, like Miss Feng, like the Marquis… The Marquis and Miss Feng wandering through the garden, drinking wine, composing verses—it does sound lovely,” Jiaoniang said flatly. “But since I’m about to kick Miss Feng out, should I find another talented lady to replace her so he won’t blow up in anger?” She turned to Qingya. “Aren’t there said to be three great female talents in court right now? Who are the other two?”
If it came to it, maybe she should go help the Marquis get engaged to one of them.
Qingya wiped her sweat and sneered, “Feng Yuyan? She’s no real talent—just snuck in with the crowd. The other two are only famous because some scholars praised them and their names spread. One is Miss Zhao—supposedly excels in zither, chess, calligraphy, painting, and is best at ink wash art. The other is the former wife of the current Prime Minister Hang Zhi, Madam Di—she wrote a few poems that got circulated and now she’s considered a talent.”
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