Hang Zhi and Di Qingya personally saw Xing Muzheng and Qian Jiaoniang to the gate. Outside, Qian Jiaoniang noticed not only Dingxi Marquis Manor’s carriage, but also many Hang family carriages. Several Hang family younger men were waiting nearby, and the moment Hang Zhi came out, they all gathered around — but seeing that he was sending off Dingxi Marquis, they dared not approach rashly.
Qian Jiaoniang glanced around, patted Qingya’s shoulder. Qingya replied with a faint smile and helped her into the carriage.
Xing Muzheng, after parting with Hang Zhi, didn’t mount a horse but got into the carriage with her. As the carriage moved forward, Qian Jiaoniang kept lifting the curtain to look outside. At this moment, Qingya and Hang Zhi were already surrounded by Hang family members. For the past two days, Hang Zhi hadn’t allowed anyone into Nanzi Garden; even when the Hang family’s old madam came yesterday, she wasn’t let past the gates.
Qingya should be fine. Qian Jiaoniang was lost in thought when suddenly her shoulder was tapped. She turned her head, and a finger poked her cheek.
Xing Muzheng had, at some point, drawn very close. He pressed a hand to her shoulder, his dark eyes deep and bright, staring into her as he spoke hoarsely: “So busy worrying about others — why don’t you ask me why I was confined in the palace and couldn’t get out?”
Qian Jiaoniang shifted in her seat. “The Marquis is a great hero. How could a little woman like me meddle in what you do?”
Xing Muzheng’s lips curved. “This time the great hero was brought down — all the fighting and struggling was over your matter. The imperial family got angry and locked me up, saying they’d only let me out once I’d thought things through.”
Qian Jiaoniang’s eyes lit up. “Then the Marquis is thinking…” She didn’t finish before Xing Muzheng’s burning lips pressed down on hers, impatient and insistent. He pinned her into the corner of the carriage, his broad frame covering her, savagely sucking at her red lips. Qian Jiaoniang had nowhere to dodge; she lifted a fist and pounded the carriage wall, only to have her hand caught.
Hearing the commotion outside, the driver slowed and called in, “Marquis, any orders?”
Xing Muzheng had just slid his tongue in to tangle with hers, the sweet taste spreading from his tongue to his spine, not wanting to speak at all. But when the driver called again, uneasy at the silence, Xing Muzheng held her head still and barked, “Drive your carriage.”
Before the words had even faded, he tried to deepen the kiss again — but Qian Jiaoniang had clenched her teeth shut. Xing Muzheng, unwilling to give up, caressed her cheek, lightly biting her lower lip, lingering and sucking for a long time until the air inside the carriage grew thick with an unspoken intimacy. Qian Jiaoniang’s face flushed bright red; Xing Muzheng kept teasing her, and when she was nearly out of breath, something suddenly appeared in her hands. Looking down with effort, she saw it was a bright yellow scroll.
The sight of that yellow shocked her so much her already pounding heart nearly leapt out. Xing Muzheng brushed a kiss against the corner of her lips. “Open it and look.”
She turned her face away. “I can’t read.”
He kissed her cheek. “Then I’ll read it to you.”
“I don’t want to hear it.” She panted, teeth clenched, eyes shut.
Xing Muzheng chuckled, pressing another hard kiss to her lips. After a while, breathing slightly heavier, he murmured against her lips, “The imperial family says the decree they issued was wrong. They want us to live well together from now on.”
“I… don’t believe it.” She was still breathless, leaning against the carriage wall but stubborn enough to squeeze out the words.
“See for yourself.”
“I can’t read.”
“I’ll read it for you.”
“I don’t want to hear it.”
Xing Muzheng laughed in exasperation. “So you’re going to be unreasonable?”
Without waiting for a reply, he covered her mouth again, kissing her with irrepressible passion. He had wanted to do this since last night. Getting this imperial edict made him far happier than being granted a title or land — he had been eager to tell her, not expecting her to be quietly upset.
Qian Jiaoniang was already too weak to resist; she let him kiss her, though her head felt more and more muddled, her heart tangled in knots. Was this bright yellow scroll really an imperial decree Xing Muzheng had fought to get back? How could the old emperor be so useless — slandering her before, and now just changing his own decree? Even she had heard the saying that the emperor’s word was as good as gold. Wasn’t he afraid people would laugh?
The carriage stopped in front of the Hong residence. The driver jumped down, and Ah Da with the guards dismounted as well. A Hong family servant, seeing Dingxi Marquis’s carriage, hurried to inform the master. Hong Tai, who was resting at home, came out with his eldest son to welcome them. But the carriage door stayed shut for a long time. From Ah Da, Hong Tai learned that both Xing Muzheng and Qian Jiaoniang were inside and thought they must be asleep, so he called to them tentatively.
After a while, Xing Muzheng finally opened the door and jumped down, followed by Qian Jiaoniang, who had her face covered. Xing Muzheng reached out to help her, but she simply lifted her skirts and jumped down on her own.
Hong Tai looked closely before finally recognizing that the veiled woman was Qian Jiaoniang. He couldn’t understand why she had suddenly covered her face like some well-bred young lady. Qian Jiaoniang avoided everyone’s gaze; her lips were still burning painfully, and she didn’t need a bronze mirror to know they were swollen beyond all shape. XIng Muzheng hadn’t stopped the whole way—whenever his thoughts drifted, he would lean in and kiss her.
