He had just stepped in when Suier’s “The Marquis is here” reached them. This man really had no sense of treating himself as an outsider. Qian Jiaoniang resisted the urge to roll her eyes. Xing Muzheng had already changed into a plain blue robe. When he came in, Di Qingya rose to greet him, but now that the paper window between them had been pierced, she found herself at a loss for how to face him.
But Xing Muzheng’s expression and manner were exactly as before—he didn’t even look at Qingya, just waved her off.
Qingya actually breathed a sigh of relief, glanced at Qian Jiaoniang, and left.
“What were you two talking about?”
“Nothing much.”
Xing Muzheng, getting nothing from her, didn’t press. His gaze, however, stayed fixed on Qian Jiaoniang’s skirt. She had come straight to talk with Qingya after returning and hadn’t yet changed clothes. He stared intently at the embroidery for a moment, then stepped forward and grabbed at the flowers on the fabric, even pinching them between his fingers. Qian Jiaoniang truly hadn’t expected that, and pulled her skirt back at once.
Xing Muzheng smiled and sat beside her. “Isn’t this the skirt you embroidered recently? These flowers are pretty well done.”
Pretty well done? If they didn’t look like flowers, could she wear them outside?
Qian Jiaoniang was speechless and didn’t bother to respond.
“You wearing this…” Xing Muzheng’s gaze burned, but when he opened his mouth, the word “beautiful” stuck in his throat and refused to come out.
Qian Jiaoniang, not knowing what he was thinking, asked, “What does the Marquis plan to do about Qingya?”
Xing Muzheng cleared his throat and swallowed back the “beautiful.” “From the way she was so anxious when you were ill, it didn’t seem fake. Just for that bit of sincerity toward you, you can decide yourselves—if she wants to stay, she can stay. If she wants to go, she can go.”
Qian Jiaoniang gave him a strange look for a moment. Xing Muzheng asked, “Why are you looking at me like that? Don’t tell me you think I’m interested in her?”
Qian Jiaoniang gave two dry laughs. “Not exactly.”
Xing Muzheng snorted coldly, muttering something that sounded like, “That’s more like it.”
Thinking for a moment, Qian Jiaoniang asked, “If she wants to stay… will Prime Minister Hang be easy to deal with?”
From his expression, she could tell the answer was no. “Tomorrow I’ll take you to see someone at Brother Hong’s place.” Xing Muzheng leaned closer and whispered two sentences into her ear. Qian Jiaoniang lifted her gaze to look at him for a moment, then hesitantly nodded.
Outside, Hongjuan requested to come in—she had gone to the kitchen at Qian Jiaoniang’s orders to have two bowls of noodles cooked. At the banquet, Qingya had been talking her up so much she’d only eaten a few leaves of greens, and she was already starving. Hongjuan brought in the bowls, and the fragrant smell made Qian Jiaoniang’s stomach growl. Xing Muzheng glanced at her with a half-smile; she pretended not to notice, though her ears quietly turned red.
He pointed at the other bowl. “Who’s this for?”
Hongjuan said, “Madam told us to prepare it for Miss Qingya.”
Xing Muzheng sat down and picked up a pair of silver chopsticks. “Tell the kitchen to cook another bowl for her. I’ll eat this one.”
Hongjuan quickly saluted and left. Qian Jiaoniang stared at this thick-skinned man as he really did snatch Qingya’s noodles and eat them in big mouthfuls—then had the gall to call her over. “Weren’t you hungry? Come and eat.”
Qian Jiaoniang thought about it—better to eat than starve—so she didn’t quibble and sat down to dig in. The two of them had just come back from the Crown Prince’s banquet, both like starved ghosts reincarnated, and in no time they’d each finished a big bowl of noodle soup, even draining the broth.
Xing Muzheng glanced at her bowl; she glanced at his. Qian Jiaoniang gave a little cough. Xing Muzheng took the small copper pot from the brazier and poured her a cup of tea. She stared at the golden liquid but didn’t reach for it.
“Now that we’re full,” Xing Muzheng said leisurely, blowing the tea leaves in his cup, “shouldn’t we talk about terms?”
Qian Jiaoniang had been about to burp, but the words made her swallow it back. She slowly patted her chest, feeling her heart tighten. Was this man really going to use the situation to his advantage?
“What terms?” she asked warily.
Xing Muzheng looked up at her. Seeing her so on guard, he raised an eyebrow. “So nervous—afraid of what I might demand?”
Qian Jiaoniang gave him a peculiar look. “The Marquis’s belly is full of more ink than the water I’ve drunk in my life. How would I know what terms the Marquis will propose?”
Was that a compliment? It didn’t sound quite right. Xing Muzheng frowned.
Qian Jiaoniang snuck a glance at his expression—she truly didn’t know what he was thinking. Could it be he was going to force her into that? Make her agree to be with him without a title? Or was there some other scheme? But if he really used Qingya’s matter to threaten her, should she pretend to accept or…?
While her thoughts were in chaos, she heard him say, “Jiaoniang, I want you to behave yourself for the next five days after tomorrow.”
Caught up in her own thoughts, it took her a moment to register his words. She blinked and repeated them in her mind—he wanted her to… behave… for the next five days? When had she not behaved? She wanted to refute him, but then something occurred to her, and suspicion flickered in her eyes. Could it be… “What does the Marquis mean by that?”
Xing Muzheng chuckled. “You know perfectly well what I mean. I just want your word.”
So it was true! He knew she’d been making moves behind his back these days. But how much did he know? And why give her just a set number of days to “behave”? What medicine was he selling in that gourd? The more she thought about it, the less she understood. She stared hard at him, but his expression was calm and gave nothing away.
It sounded like a bargain. Qian Jiaoniang thought it over—just five days. How much trouble could he cause in that time? And if five days was all it took to give Qingya some peace, why not agree?
“Alright, though I don’t know exactly what the Marquis means, I’ll agree to it.”
Hearing her such ambiguous words, Xing Muzheng was actually satisfied. He nodded and said briskly, “Good, then it’s settled. We’ll go tomorrow.”
His ready agreement actually left Qian Jiaoniang a bit stunned—he believed her just like that? The way she’d phrased it, it could just as well have meant nothing at all. She couldn’t help but ask aloud. Xing Muzheng, finding her so adorably foolish, held back a laugh and said, “I believe you.”
Qian Jiaoniang suddenly felt she’d been silly. She stood up and started out, “Where’s Chou’er? How come I haven’t seen him at all!”
Only after the tinkling of the bells on her skirt faded into the distance did Xing Muzheng withdraw his gaze and chuckle softly. Moments later, the smile faded from his dark eyes, replaced by a gathering killing intent.
The next morning, Xing Muzheng had Qian Jiaoniang ready to go to Hong Tai’s residence and also called for Xing Pingchun to come along. Qian Jiaoniang was not in the habit of visiting others so early, but figured Xing Muzheng likely wanted to handle Qingya’s matter quickly, so she didn’t say much. She had heard from Ah Da that someone had once again tried to sneak into the Marquis’s residence the previous night.
Hong’s residence was not far from the Crown Prince’s. As they passed the Crown Prince’s mansion, Qingya said, “Yesterday the Marquis interrupted, and I actually forgot to ask—Jiaoniang, about you and the Crown Prince yesterday… nothing happened, right?” She had never heard that the Crown Prince was that kind of despicable man. Was there some misunderstanding? Or had Hang Zhi kept her in the dark all along?
Qian Jiaoniang smiled. “It’s nothing.” Yes, she had nearly forgotten—there was still that brainless Crown Prince.
The carriage arrived at Hong’s residence. Hong Tai and his wife came out to greet them in the front courtyard, the couple standing to left and right to lead Xing Muzheng and Qian Jiaoniang into the main hall. Looking up, Qian Jiaoniang saw in the center a shrine to a majestic God of War, smoke curling up from the incense burner. Beneath the burner, it looked as if… a piece of black cloth was being offered on a jade plate?
Hong Tai called in all his legitimate and concubine-born children—three sons and four daughters in total—to pay respects to Xing Muzheng. He then left behind two children about the same age as Xing Pingchun, ordered a group of servants and maids to follow, and sent them off to play with Pingchun.
As soon as Pingchun left, Ma Dongchang entered with a plain-looking hunchbacked old man. Hong Tai had his wife return to the rear courtyard; Madam Hong, understanding, invited Qian Jiaoniang to come with her, but Xing Muzheng told Qian Jiaoniang to stay.
Ma Dongchang and Hong Tai exchanged a look, then Ma said to Xing Muzheng, “Muzheng, this is Li Qianmian*, the number one master of disguise in the martial world. To escape his enemies’ pursuit, he became a long-term guest in my residence. What business do you have with him?”
*thousand face
Qian Jiaoniang found something odd—Li Qianmian was Ma Dongchang’s guest, so why had Xing Muzheng brought her to Hong Tai’s?
