Late at night, all was silent. The guards patrolling inside the Nanzi Courtyard were as vigilant as those in the imperial palace; the defenses were so tight that it seemed not even a fly could get in. The two compounds to the east were even more heavily guarded, with sentries every three steps and posts every five.
Ah Da surveyed the area with satisfaction, ready to lie down and rest for a bit, when he suddenly heard a disturbance outside. Irritated, he grabbed his broadsword, ready to go on a killing spree—only for a man dressed in black to stride in. When Ah Da took a closer look, delight flashed across his face.
Inside, the beast-headed candlestick flickered with flame, the floor heating system glowing with heat. On the landscape screen, shadows swayed. Qian Jiaoniang sat alone at the table. On the fragrant nanmu table were a few small dishes and two jars of Jade Immortal alcohol—one jar was tipped over, completely empty. Her cheeks were flushed, her head rested on her arm, and her eyes were hazy. She held a pair of chopsticks, counting the peanuts on a plate.
“One… two… three… five… No, that’s wrong. One… two… three… What comes after three again?”
She thought for a long time without moving, frowning and pouting as she reached for the alcohol jar. Lifting it, she gave it a shake, then tilted it toward her cup. Out of ten parts, she spilled seven; the jar was nearly empty. Dissatisfied, she simply pressed the mouth of the jar to her lips and drank directly.
Xing Muzheng, just released by the Emperor, walked in to see this scene. He raised a brow, glancing at her hand, then at the table. Jade Immortal alcohol was notoriously strong—if she could still move after drinking two jars by herself, she was indeed a heroine among women.
Qian Jiaoniang hesitated before realizing someone had entered. She narrowed her eyes, peering for a long moment, then called uncertainly, “Xing Muzheng?”
Xing Muzheng gave a low reply and sat beside her. For the first time, she didn’t look at him with guarded, cunning eyes—she seemed almost endearingly simple. She stared straight at him, then suddenly swung the jar in her hand at him. Luckily, Xing Muzheng dodged quickly, or his head would have been split open.
She squinted, pointing the jar at him. “You’re not Xing Muzheng—Xing Muzheng is still locked up in the palace by that old Emperor! Tell me—what sort of demon are you?”
“….” She was truly drunk. Xing Muzheng reached for the empty jar in her hand, but she protested, “I still want to drink!” She reached out to grab it; he held it high, and like a cat, she reached and clawed for it. But his arms were longer—no matter how she tried, she couldn’t get it. Instead, she tumbled into a solid chest.
Setting down the empty jar, Xing Muzheng held her by the waist, settling her more comfortably on his lap. Her whole body went soft against his shoulder, gentler than she had ever been. This almost made Xing Muzheng think of making a habit of getting her drunk every day. He brushed back the stray hairs on her forehead, lowering his gaze to admire her drunken beauty—her eyes languid, lips slightly parted, radiating a different kind of allure. Unable to resist, he pressed a kiss to her cheek. She didn’t resist, so his heart warmed, and he kissed her a few more times, asking the drunken woman, “Did you miss me?”
Qian Jiaoniang looked at him intently. “Who are you?”
That nearly made Xing Muzheng explode—was she saying that if she got drunk, she’d let any man hold her? He frowned. “From now on, you’re not allowed to drink so foolishly.”
“You’re the foolish one.” Even drunk, she didn’t lose. She pushed at his chin; he grunted, caught her hand, and carried her toward the bed. He cradled her head, laying her down with her clothes still on, then lay beside her and pulled the blanket over them both.
“Don’t want the blanket—too hot.” She kicked it away.
“You’ll be cold in a while.” He stretched his arm out from under the blanket and wrapped her up tightly so she couldn’t move. “You should sleep.”
“I don’t want to sleep. I still want to drink—two more jars!” she complained loudly.
So now she was getting rowdy. Xing Muzheng asked, “Why are you drinking alone in gloom?”
Qian Jiaoniang shook her head and didn’t answer. She frowned, pressing her head against his chest and rubbing twice. Xing Muzheng, hearing no reply, didn’t press further—he simply held her waist through the blanket, coaxing her to rest.
But she was like a restless child, twisting and turning, and her movements nearly ignited the fire he’d been holding back. He pinned her down, gritting his teeth. “Move again, and you won’t be sleeping tonight.”
Like a chastened little girl, Qian Jiaoniang lowered her head. Xing Muzheng thought she had finally quieted down—only to hear her mutter softly…
“Qingya wants to stay by Hang Zhi’s side… She’s going to leave me…”
Xing Muzheng frowned. So this was what had been bothering her? “If you don’t want Di Qingya to leave, I can just go fetch her back for you,” he said. As long as she was happy.
Qian Jiaoniang’s head shot up and she glared at him. “Why are you so bad? Why would you tie Qingya up!”
“You don’t want her to go, do you?”
Qian Jiaoniang frowned, her gaze hazy but her tone earnest. “If she’s doing well, of course I’d be willing for her to go. But I’m afraid she won’t be doing well! She’ll be all alone, and what if she gets bullied again, or tricked and killed by that old woman? How pitiful that would be—and I wouldn’t even be able to see it!”
“Hang Zhi isn’t that unreliable,” Xing Muzheng gently reassured his drunken wife, who was still worrying about others.
“If men were reliable, sows would climb trees,” Qian Jiaoniang snorted.
Xing Muzheng was momentarily at a loss for words.
Qian Jiaoniang buried her face in his chest, absently tugging at his buttons. Xing Muzheng absentmindedly stroked her hair, racking his brain for how to soothe her.
“I can’t hold on to anything…” Qian Jiaoniang’s voice drifted up again, soft and faint.
Xing Muzheng froze. He looked down—her face was shadowed beneath him, and the light sorrow between her brows made her seem rare and fragile.
“Father and Mother didn’t want me, Mother’s gone, Xing Muzheng doesn’t want me, Qingya’s going to leave, and I can’t even keep Chou’er… I can’t hold on to anything!”
One grievance after another tumbled from her lips, her voice choked as if she might cry any moment. Every word pierced Xing Muzheng’s heart like a needle. His hand paused at the back of her head; for a long time, he couldn’t say a word.
At last, in a low, hoarse voice, he said, “Xing Muzheng wants you. He was wrong—you must forgive him.”
“He wasn’t wrong—he just doesn’t like me… But that is wrong! Since he married me, why should he despise me?” Qian Jiaoniang tilted her head up at him. “Why?”
Xing Muzheng’s Adam’s apple bobbed, but no words came.
“I know—he married me for Mother’s sake… But I longed for his return so much. I once thought he was dead, and I cried several vats of tears! When he came back, I was overjoyed, but he didn’t even glance at me. I—I was so sad, and he didn’t even know! Then he brought back that Feng Yuyan! I cried several more vats of tears—do you know that? Does he know that?”
So she had been waiting for his return? She would cry for him? She really did have him in her heart? Yet he had wounded her so deeply. Xing Muzheng was filled with boundless regret. His voice came out low and rough, like he had swallowed coal. “He knows now… Please, give him another chance, let him make it right.”
Qian Jiaoniang shook her head hard, rubbing her tears against him. “No. I dare not. I won’t.”
A deep, pained look came into Xing Muzheng’s eyes. He had hurt her too much; she no longer wished to turn back to him.
Suddenly, a hand reached up toward his eyes. Xing Muzheng caught it lightly. “What are you doing?” he asked.
Qian Jiaoniang leaned closer, asking softly, “Look—do I have a ‘lonely life palm’? Can you read palms?”
Xing Muzheng’s hand tightened suddenly. Qian Jiaoniang flinched, and he quickly let go, unable to stop himself from pulling her into a tight embrace. “You don’t have a lonely life palm. You have the most blessed fate in the world. Great people must go through hardships—after this, things will be wonderful for you.”
