The hunchbacked old man shuffled forward slowly and knelt in a deep bow.
Xing Muzheng told him to rise. Qian Jiaoniang studied Li Qianmian: a sallow, skinny old man with gray hair, a face full of wrinkles like a chrysanthemum, eyelids drooping so low one could hardly see his pupils, loose wrinkled skin on his neck, large but withered hands like sticks, and a hunched back as if a pot lid were strapped to it.
Qian Jiaoniang said, “Since you’re the master of a thousand faces, this hunchback must be hard to conceal.”
Ma Dongchang froze—he had only seen the near-perfect false faces Li Qianmian made for others, never considering this problem. A master of disguise should practice on himself; if the hunchback was constant, wouldn’t it make him easy to recognize?
Li Qianmian’s dry, coal-rasped voice said, “This hunchback wasn’t from birth—it was from a beating by my enemies.”
Qian Jiaoniang nodded in understanding. “I just spoke whatever came to mind, elder—don’t take offense.”
Li Qianmian snorted. “If Madam doesn’t trust this old man, then there’s no need for me to stay here. Master Ma, you’d best find someone else.”
Ma Dongchang quickly stopped him. He knew the old man’s temper was strange, but his skill was real, so he coaxed him gently. Qian Jiaoniang got up, intending to apologize directly, but as she drew near, she sniffed lightly, a gleam flashing in her eyes. She turned her head toward Xing Muzheng—only to quickly turn it back.
Xing Muzheng came to stand beside her, cupped his hands to Li Qianmian, and said, “My wife speaks bluntly. I, Xing, apologize to you on her behalf.”
Li Qianmian lifted his sagging eyelids to look at the high-and-mighty Dingxi Marquis, as if surprised that he could be so approachable and even apologize for his wife. Ma Dongchang nudged him in secret. Li Qianmian gave a dry cough. “Are you truly apologizing to this old man?”
Xing Muzheng glanced at Qian Jiaoniang, exchanged a meaningful look with her, then turned back. “Of course… not really.”
Before the words were fully out, Xing Muzheng suddenly lashed out with a palm strike at Li Qianmian.
Both Hong Tai and Ma Dongchang were shocked. Li Qianmian bent back to dodge the strike, somersaulted through the air, and landed half-kneeling by the door. “What is Dingxi Marquis doing?” he asked in his hoarse voice.
Ma Dongchang hadn’t thought that this old man—who normally seemed barely able to walk steadily—had such martial skill. Hong Tai didn’t know why Xing Muzheng was testing him, but turned to listen as Xing Muzheng said, “Since you’ve met me, why not show your true face?”
Ma Dongchang was stunned—this man had been living in his house for over half a year, and he hadn’t even known he was in disguise!
Li Qianmian was also taken aback. “The Marquis must be mistaken. This old man has not—”
Xing Muzheng had no patience for more words. With a wave of his hand, Li Qianmian felt a blade of icy air graze his face, followed by a metallic clang behind him. His eyes shifted sideways to see strands of his hair drifting down, and when he looked back, there was a gleaming dagger embedded in the doorpost.
Ma Dongchang saw clearly—the skin on Li Qianmian’s face had been sliced open, yet not a drop of blood came out! He shouted, “Li Qianmian! Who are you really, daring to toy with your Master Ma?!”
Li Qianmian scraped at his own face and knew he’d been exposed. After a pause, he suddenly laughed aloud. The laugh held none of an old man’s rasp, but was clear and bright as a youth’s. Ma Dongchang was even more shocked and demanded that he reveal his true face.
Li Qianmian gave a sly smile and, in a young man’s voice, said, “Don’t take offense, Master Ma!”
With that, he lowered his head and tore the human-skin mask from his face. A young man’s visage emerged—delicate features like a doll’s, at most eighteen years old. And yet, he had been living in Ma’s house as an old man for half a year.
Ma Dongchang stared wide-eyed. “Who the h*ll are you, boy?! Daring to deceive your Master Ma—you’ve got a death wish, haven’t you?!”
The young man chuckled, “Master Ma, I’m not lying to you—I really am Li Qianmian!”
Ma Dongchang cursed, “I believe you, my *ss! I’ve heard of Li Qianmian since decades ago—how could you be that brat who’s barely grown his hair? If you don’t tell the truth, I’ll cut your tongue out!”
The young man fumbled around his body, then pulled out something and tossed it to the ground—it looked like a padded leather vest stuffed with cotton. He straightened up, now almost as tall as Xing Muzheng. Stretching like someone who’d had a seal removed, he let out a comfortable sigh. “Li Qianmian was my master. When he died, he passed on the name of Li Qianmian to me. So I am Li Qianmian!”
“Li Qianmian is dead?” Ma Dongchang frowned. “Then why did you disguise yourself as an old man to join me?”
The now-younger Li Qianmian said, “My master was murdered. I’ve been investigating and discovered that the killer is here in Yongan. So I disguised myself as my master to join you, Master Ma, so I could avenge him. I just didn’t expect that someone could see through my disguise at a glance.” He looked at Xing Muzheng, then squinted at Qian Jiaoniang. “And not just one person.”
He prided himself on having mastered his master’s disguise techniques perfectly, yet today he’d been exposed repeatedly. Just how had this couple seen through him?
Ma Dongchang and Hong Tai followed his gaze to Qian Jiaoniang. She had seemed a bit unusual earlier—could she really have noticed something was off about him? But she’d only exchanged a glance with Muzheng, so how had Muzheng figured out it was a fake face?
Xing Muzheng silently stared at Li Qianmian, weighing the truth of his words.
The butler hurried in to announce the arrival of an imperial edict. Hong Tai quickly ordered an incense table set up, then went out with Xing Muzheng and Ma Dongchang to receive it.
Ah Da and Wang Yong came in on orders, standing guard to the left and right of Li Qianmian. He didn’t seem to mind—in fact, he whistled as he peeled off the false skin from his face and hands, then, with his back to them, took something from his teeth. When he turned around again, he showed a gleaming row of white teeth. He winked at Qian Jiaoniang and smiled with a boyish, charming air. “Big Sister, you’re really beautiful—no wonder you can be a high official’s wife!”
Qian Jiaoniang, thinking about the sudden imperial edict, smiled. “You’re making me embarrassed. I’m just ordinary-pretty.”
Li Qianmian’s smile froze. That didn’t sound embarrassed at all!
Ah Da and Wang Yong struggled to hold back their laughter.
Li Qianmian cleared his throat and asked, “Big Sister, how did you tell I was in disguise?”
“I didn’t,” Qian Jiaoniang said innocently, spreading her hands.
Impossible—it couldn’t be such a coincidence that she just happened to glance at her husband! Li Qianmian was skeptical, but Qian Jiaoniang continued slowly, “It’s just… you didn’t have the smell of an old man on you.”
“What?” Li Qianmian was stunned. The smell of an old man? That smell his master had? He sniffed himself hard—sure enough, there was no smell at all. She’d figured it out just from that? This Big Sister… “Then how did your husband know? Did you tell him I didn’t smell right?” She’d only glanced at him—how had that Marquis figured it out? Or did the two of them have some secret code?
“That I truly don’t know.” In truth, Qian Jiaoniang didn’t even know why she’d looked at Xing Muzheng—she regretted it the moment she did, and hadn’t expected him to understand. Yet he had, and even spotted Li Qianmian’s flaw. How had he done that?
Li Qianmian felt utterly defeated. If that big brother pointed out another flaw of his, he wouldn’t be able to show his face in the martial world again!
After a while, Xing Muzheng and the others returned from receiving the edict. He walked straight to Qian Jiaoniang and, in a voice only she could hear, asked, “Well? Can we use him?”
Qian Jiaoniang replied, “Just have him make a mask, and there should be no problem.”
Xing Muzheng nodded. “Then handle it yourself. I have to go into the palace right away.”
“Then I—”
“You’ll stay here at Brother Hong’s for a while. Last time he said he owed you a welcome gift and hasn’t given it yet—take your time and pick something you like. I’ll come back to get you later.”
Since he’d found her a disguise expert, Qian Jiaoniang nodded.
“Remember what you promised me.”
Why was he reminding her of that now? Qian Jiaoniang felt something was off, but couldn’t put her finger on it, so she just nodded again.
Xing Muzheng curved his lips into a smile, his dark eyes fixed on her. “Good girl.”
Qian Jiaoniang choked, her face flushing red. She thought she was thick-skinned, but he was even more shameless. How could he say such things so casually!
Xing Muzheng didn’t notice anything wrong with his words. He turned to speak with Hong Tai, whose expression grew serious. His gaze toward Qian Jiaoniang also became strange.
The Emperor had suddenly summoned Xing Muzheng again—was it because of the Crown Prince’s matter? Or because Hang Zhi had caused trouble? Or both?
Xing Muzheng soon left, taking only Li Qingquan with him and leaving Wang Yong, Ah Da, and the others at Hong’s residence.
Lunchtime passed, dinnertime passed. At last, under a sparse, starry moon, Li Qingquan returned alone on a fast horse.
Xing Muzheng… had been placed under house arrest by the Emperor.
