Hang Zhi tore off Qingya’s disguise, the face he had dreamt of and longed for now truly before his eyes. He stared deeply at her, letting tears blur his vision. Holding her hand to his lips, he kissed it over and over, warm tears slipping into her palm. Qingya could no longer hold back; biting her lips, tears poured forth.
Heaven above—Ya’er was alive! His Ya’er was alive! He asked for nothing more in this life! “Ya’er, Ya’er…”
Hong Tai decisively and silently sent the servants away, preparing to leave with Ma Dongchang and Qian Jiaoniang, but Qian Jiaoniang refused to go and sharply called out: “Qingya!”
It was as if a spell was broken; Qingya gasped, tears clouding her eyes as she turned her head aside.
Hang Zhi suddenly regained his senses, recalling where he was. With his back to everyone, he wiped his tears, but still gripped Qingya’s wrist tightly. When he turned back, his face had returned to normal. He hoarsely called Qingya’s name, but the one he both loved and hated would not look at him, instead pleading silently toward Muzheng’s wife. Hang Zhi looked as well and met Qian Jiaoniang’s calm gaze. Narrowing his eyes, Hang Zhi thought this woman did indeed bear some resemblance to Muzheng.
“Prime Minister, please release her—she is my maid,” Qian Jiaoniang said.
At this, Hang Zhi’s anger flared instantly. The treasure he held so carefully in his hands—the one he feared to drop or let melt—was now another’s maid? How much suffering had his Ya’er endured out there? Just thinking of it made him miserable. “She is my wife. I will take her home.”
The words “take her home” pierced Qingya’s heart. Her lips trembled as the tears she had just held back swirled once more in her eyes.
Hong Tai and Ma Dongchang were utterly confused. Hadn’t the Prime Minister’s wife died years ago? How had she become a maid in Muzheng’s household?
Qian Jiaoniang sneered coldly, “Qingya, tell me yourself—are you my maid or the Prime Minister’s wife?”
Di Qingya’s body trembled violently. She took a deep breath, closed her eyes briefly, then turned to Hang Zhi, speaking softly but firmly: “The Prime Minister’s wife is dead. I am the maid of Dingxi Marchioness.” She blamed him, yes, blamed him. Rather than return and repeat past mistakes, she would sever their ties here and now.
Hang Zhi recoiled in shock at Qingya’s cold cruelty, stepping back; his lips turned nearly as pale as his white hair. His Ya’er would rather be another’s servant than return to him?
Qingya grit her teeth and tried to pull away, but Hang Zhi reacted quickly—not only holding her hand fast but wrapping his long arms around her fiercely. Qingya tried to resist, but her strength was like a mantis trying to stop a chariot—completely ineffective.
Her resistance pierced Hang Zhi’s heart like arrows. The wife who had once relied on him wholeheartedly now struggled to break free from his embrace! He hugged her tighter and turned toward Qian Jiaoniang and the others. “Could you please leave us for a moment?”
Qian Jiaoniang looked at Qingya, who shook her head. Qian Jiaoniang said, “My maid is unwilling! Prime Minister, you should return my maid to me!”
Who was whose maid, and who should be returned to whom! Hang Zhi instantly exploded in rage. Hong Tai tried to smooth things over, gently persuading Qian Jiaoniang to leave and not interfere in others’ family matters. Qian Jiaoniang frowned, thinking deeply. After looking at Qingya a moment, she knew this matter had to be resolved by Qingya herself and strode out with the two men.
After they left, Hang Zhi looked down at the woman in his arms, urgency in his voice: “Ya’er! You must come back with me. You are my wife. Have you forgotten? I am your husband—your Sixth Brother! Have you forgotten me? Hmm? Have you forgotten me? When I heard you drowned, my hair turned white overnight, Ya’er! How could you be so cruel—alive yet refusing to recognize me? Do you despise me? Because my hair is white? Because I’ve grown old? Is that it? Is that it?”
Qingya’s lips trembled; tears glistened as she shook her head repeatedly.
“Ya’er, you do not despise me. Then why won’t you come home? You are my wife—now and forever. You promised me. Don’t go back on your word! And I won’t allow you to!” Hang Zhi held her tightly, as if letting go would cause her to fly away. He had dreamed this dream so many times, too many to count. If it was only a dream again, he would end it all with one cut—putting it all to rest.
Qingya felt her heart being pulled in two directions, tearing her apart with unbearable pain. Returning to this warm embrace, memories of every moment with Hang Zhi resurfaced, and she had to admit she craved his presence. Yet the Hang family was a knot she could not untie—no one wished for her to return. His mother would surely try to kill her again. Though no longer afraid, she hated that vicious stepmother. Moreover, he had taken a concubine; he was no longer her husband alone.
Clarity returned to Qingya’s eyes, and tears slowly withdrew. She gently pushed the space between them, raised her head, and met Hang Zhi’s gaze. “Prime Minister, Qingya has already died once. The Hang family has held a funeral for me, have they not? I am no longer who I was. Prime Minister, please consider me dead. Let us each go our separate ways and live in peace.”
She truly did not want to reconcile with him! “What did you call me? Huh? I am your husband, not some Prime Minister!” Hang Zhi was anxious and angry, his eyes reddened. He bent down and fiercely kissed Qingya’s lips.
Qingya struggled to avoid him, “Don’t do this!”
Did she even hate his kisses now? Hang Zhi almost bit his own teeth to pieces. He roughly cupped her face and kissed her forcefully, disregarding everything, until Qingya was gasping for breath, nearly fainting. Only then did he leave her lips, planting heavy kisses on her face and neck.
“You are my wife,” he said while holding her weakly, then carried her as he headed out, “Come home with me!”
Hang Zhi suddenly opened the door and stepped out with Qingya in his arms, only to find Qian Jiaoniang leaning against the wall waiting for them. Hong Tai and Ma Dongchang also stood nearby, evidently having been discussing something.
“Jiaoniang!” Qingya snapped back to reality and reached out to her for help.
Qian Jiaoniang grabbed her hand and glanced coldly at Hang Zhi. “Prime Minister, where do you intend to take my maid?”
“She is my wife,” Hang Zhi gritted his teeth and said. He could not bear that his Ya’er relied on others instead of him, even hoping others would help her escape. “I will take her home.”
“Does Qingya agree?”
Qingya wanted to speak, but Hang Zhi tightened his grip on her slim waist and said, “If a wife won’t follow her husband, will she follow some strange people?”
“Strange people? Are you insulting her?” Qian Jiaoniang narrowed her eyes. “Di Qingya is dead. The household still keeps a memorial tablet for her. This is my maid Qingya. Prime Minister, don’t get it wrong.”
Hang Zhi was frustrated, not finding anyone else to vent his anger on. “You’ve been hiding my wife from me, making it impossible for us to meet. What kind of intentions do you have! I could submit a memorial to the court accusing Dingxi Marquis of sinister plans, hiding my wife and preventing our reunion. Let’s see how the court judges that!”
Hong Tai and Ma Dongchang were startled. Muzheng’s confinement in the palace was already troublesome enough. If Hang Zhi added fuel to the fire, wouldn’t it only get worse? And if this girl really was Hang Zhi’s wife, how could that be possible?
“Prime Minister, calm down, calm down. There must be some misunderstanding here!” Hong Tai said.
Qian Jiaoniang sneered, “Still acting like a child, huh? Complaining whenever things don’t go your way?”
Hang Zhi was stumped.
“What business do I have with Qingya? I saved her once; so did Dingxi Marquis. We are both her benefactors! If you can’t or won’t protect her, then why take her back home? I might as well burn incense for Qingya tomorrow!”
This struck Hang Zhi’s sore spot. Back then, Qingya didn’t want to return to her mother’s home; it was he who coaxed her onto that fatal ship. Every day since, regret and pain gnawed at his heart.
But if they saved Ya’er twice, could it be she had faced mortal danger more than once? Hang Zhi desperately wanted to know what his beloved wife had endured all these years. He took a deep breath. “If what the Marchioness says is true—that my wife was saved by a noble—then I will prepare a generous gift and personally thank them. I will also do everything I can to petition on behalf of Dingxi Marquis.”
Qian Jiaoniang said, “I don’t need your thanks, nor does the Marquis. If Qingya willingly returns with you, I won’t say a word. But if she doesn’t want to, then you leave her here.”
Qingya said, “I don’t want to.”
Hang Zhi’s throat nearly tasted blood. “Willing or not, Di Qingya is my wife, married with great ceremony. A wife has no reason not to follow her husband.”
“Then give me a divorce paper.” Qingya said.
Qian Jiaoniang said, “You fool, it’s not a divorce, it’s a separation agreement.”
Qingya learned her lesson and nodded, “Then give me a separation agreement.”
Hang Zhi almost spat out a mouthful of old blood. His once obedient and lovely wife… had turned bad. No doubt Dingxi Marchioness had taught her that act of playing the innocent. Controlling his anger, Hang Zhi forced a smile at Qingya. “Only if I’m dead.”
Hang Zhi was about to leave holding Qingya, when Duanfang and some attendants hurriedly followed, their eyes fixed on Qingya’s terrified face.
“Let go of Qingya!” Qian Jiaoniang shouted sharply. Ah Da immediately ordered men to block Hang Zhi’s path.
Hang Zhi sneered, “If I can’t even take my wife today, then my life is in vain!” He drew his long sword. Duanfang and the attendants drew their weapons as well.
In recent days, the Hong household was tense, all guarded by soldiers. As weapons were drawn, a group of black-clad men appeared on the rooftops of Jingxin Pavilion, all ready with bows and arrows.
Cold wind howled; swords were drawn and bows bent.
