The moment Xing Muzheng stepped out, Qian Jiaoniang shuffled forward and said to Ah Da, who was acting as coachman, “Go quickly and tell Qingya—no matter what happens, she must not come out!” Ah Da answered at once and hurried off.
The whole street had been cleared; the commoners were driven to both ends, the Imperial Guards tightly encircling the Xing family’s carriage. The marquis’s guards stood with their backs to the two carriages, arms raised and ready. Xing Muzheng leapt down, his tall frame standing firm before the crowd, an inexplicable pressure radiating from him. The noisy scene fell silent at once. Xing Muzheng swept his gaze around, and the spear-wielding guards also stilled.
For a moment, Yonghe Street was silent as the grave.
A white horse snorted. Hang Zhi, holding the reins, locked eyes with Xing Muzheng and smiled faintly. “Marquis Xing hasn’t shown himself all this time—I thought you had decided to cooperate with my investigation.”
Xing Muzheng drawled, “This marquis thought Lord Hang was drunk and didn’t wish to make a scene. But since Lord Hang insists on pressing, I have no choice but to accompany you.”
Hang Zhi dismounted, tossing the whip to Duanfang, and walked toward Xing Muzheng. The guards immediately opened a path. Hang Zhi stopped three feet in front of him. Qian Jiaoniang jumped down from the carriage—her first time seeing this young, white-haired minister. At first sight, she drew in a sharp breath; never had she seen such a man, his beauty like glazed porcelain. The white hair did not seem odd—instead, it lent him the air of an otherworldly immortal. This was Qingya’s…? With such a handsome husband from a wealthy family, why would Qingya avoid him? What had he done to break her heart so completely?
Hearing the movement, Xing Muzheng turned to glance at her. The door of the rear carriage suddenly opened, and Yanluo and Hongjuan stepped down, skirts lifted, coming to Qian Jiaoniang’s side and handing her a hand warmer.
Hang Zhi cast only a glance at Qian Jiaoniang, but when the second carriage opened, his gaze locked on it, as if to pierce through the panels. Unfortunately, the view inside was blocked by a beauty, and in the blink of an eye, the door was shut again. Hang Zhi’s eyes, now carrying killing intent, turned on Yanluo, who had blocked his sight. Yanluo, standing beside Qian Jiaoniang, met his gaze in surprise—never before had a man looked at her with such naked loathing.
Hang Zhi withdrew his gaze. “If this were not a matter of great import, I would not dare offend Marquis Xing. But I eat the ruler’s grain, I bear the ruler’s concerns. Ordered to arrest rebels, in a matter concerning the foundation of Xie Dynasty, I will not lightly let a single one slip away. I ask for the marquis’s understanding.”
Xing Muzheng said evenly, “Everyone in Dingxi Marquis’s household—servants and all—I have had investigated one by one. There is absolutely no rebel as Lord Hang claims. There is no need for such trouble.”
Hang Zhi narrowed his eyes. “The marquis has investigated all of them?”
Xing Muzheng nodded calmly. “All of them.”
Hearing this, Qian Jiaoniang suddenly remembered the time when Qingya had looked uneasy after hearing that a few people from the manor had been called away by Wang Yong and the others. She had thought Qingya feared they might be acquaintances, but now she realized it was because she feared her own identity would be discovered. Then later, Xing Muzheng’s unusual attention to Qingya, even asking her surname—had he already guessed who she was?
Rage surged in Hang Zhi; he drew the sword at his waist and pointed it directly at Xing Muzheng’s chest. The moment he moved, the Imperial Guards leveled their spears, and the marquis’s guards, seeing their master threatened, all set hands to sword hilts, eyes like tigers. The air on Yonghe Street churned, ready to explode at any second. Only Xing Muzheng remained still as a mountain; he lowered his gaze to the sword tip less than three inches from his chest, then raised his eyes to Hang Zhi’s murderous stare and asked calmly, “And what does Lord Hang mean by this? Does the marquis look like a rebel to you?”
Even Duanfang, who had seen much of the world, nearly fainted. His master had just drawn a sword in the street against the former Grand Commander of the army—now Dingxi Marquis! Was his master truly mad—mad ever since that night when, upon hearing his wife had died, his hair turned white overnight?
The Marquis’s words sounded as if he meant business. But in the whole Xie Dynasty, who would suspect the marquis of being a rebel? If he had wanted to rebel, he would have done so back when he commanded a hundred thousand troops! Just now, his master’s talk of rebels in the marquis’s household could still be patched over—but a sword at the marquis’s chest? What possible excuse could cover that?
“Master!” Duanfang couldn’t help but cry out.
Hang Zhi’s teeth clenched; he furiously withdrew the sword. “Naturally, I believe the marquis is no rebel. But seeing is believing. If you are innocent, why not let me see a mere maid? Or is there something shameful—something you don’t want me to see? Or perhaps… someone you don’t want to see me?” Could it be that Xing Muzheng… had taken his beloved wife…?
“No.” Xing Muzheng’s skill at speaking blatant lies with open eyes had grown ever more practiced.
“Then why not allow it?”
“Because this marquis does not wish to.”
Hang Zhi let out a cold laugh. “Then do not blame this official for reporting truthfully to His Majesty—that Marquis Xing shelters rebels and harbors treacherous intent.”
That was a hat of accusation even the battle-honored Xing Muzheng could not easily bear! Hang Zhi’s words were sharp and ruthless; it was clear he would not rest until his aim was achieved. Xing Muzheng narrowed his eyes, locking gazes with Hang Zhi.
Duanfang, Ah Da, and the others tensed, knowing that with a single command from him, they would…
“My family’s marquis is no clay bodhisattva for you to knead as you please!” Qian Jiaoniang suddenly raised her voice. She strode to Xing Muzheng’s side and declared clearly, “My lord marquis is the great hero who defeated the Western Xili, and was personally granted the title of Dingxi Marquis by His Majesty. Even though he no longer holds office now, would Minister Hang use his power to bully others? I refuse to believe there is no law under the Son of Heaven’s very eyes!”
Her indignant words were heard loud and clear by everyone, even causing the Imperial Guards to glance at one another. Indeed—this was General Xing they were talking about! How could he possibly be shielding rebels?
Xing Muzheng turned to gaze at Qian Jiaoniang, his heart surging. The last time he had heard her call him “my family’s marquis” and stand so staunchly in his defense had been when she threatened to use poison on someone. Then, he could not see her face—now, at last, he could. And indeed, she shone just as brilliantly as he had imagined. His heart warmed. Though he knew she was doing it for the sake of her maid this time, it was still deeply pleasing to hear her speak in his defense. He wondered when she might truly call him “my family’s marquis” from her heart.
He found himself a little dazed. Qian Jiaoniang was waiting for him to pick up the thread of conversation, but after a long while, no words came. She looked up and saw him staring at her in a sort of foolish stillness. Puzzled, she gave him a discreet nudge with her elbow, and only then did Xing Muzheng return to himself.
It was Hang Zhi’s first time truly looking at Qian Jiaoniang. He knew she was Xing Muzheng’s wife, knew her background was low, and also knew of that imperial decree. What he did not know was why Xing Muzheng had thus far defied it. From what he’d just seen, perhaps he understood a little… Yet the more he saw this behavior, the more he suspected that the woman in that carriage was his supposedly deceased wife. But if she truly sat within—why would she refuse to come out and see him? Was someone stopping her? Or… had she lost her memory?
Qingya was leaning close to the carriage window, hearing snatches of their exchange. More than once she wanted to get down to avoid implicating Jiaoniang, but Dongsheng blocked her each time. The madam’s orders were that, no matter what, Miss Qingya must not leave the carriage—so she had to hold her back.
Xing Muzheng’s blood was boiling; he thought that even if he were to die today, he could not lose face before Jiaoniang. He stepped closer to her and looked up at Hang Zhi. “My wife speaks the truth—if one stands upright, one’s shadow is straight. This marquis’s conscience is clear. If Minister Hang continues to press without reason, then do not blame this marquis for showing no mercy with his sword.”
The moment Xing Muzheng drew his sword, the marquis’s guards bared their own blades in unison, murderous intent filling the air.
So Xing Muzheng truly meant to meet him head-on! Rage and blood surged in Hang Zhi’s chest—this arrogant man was relying on the presence of his wife to act so wildly. Well, a barefoot man need fear no one with shoes; if Hang could not have peace, neither should the other!
Seeing the danger, Duanfang hurried forward to grab Hang Zhi’s arm. “My lord—my lord, think twice!”
“Release me!” Hang Zhi snapped.
Duanfang quickly leaned close and whispered urgently, “My lord, making a scene like this will only blow matters up! If, by chance, the one inside truly is the madam—where will you find a rebel to accuse? And if you do come to blows with Marquis Xing, he will never let it rest. If it goes to His Majesty, you will be in the wrong! If you are punished, you will still not be able to get the madam back. And besides—the madam has always cared for you the most. If she has not appeared all this time, perhaps she has some unspeakable difficulty. We should plan for the long term.”
Duanfang did not believe the madam was still alive, but he knew that any other argument would fail—so he invoked her name again and again. At last, the red haze in Hang Zhi’s eyes began to fade.
