The beauties who arrived late all stared with wide, round eyes.
These women who had been gifted to Xing Muzheng were all carefully chosen—either courtesans trained since childhood or household slaves raised specifically to serve men. Most had rarely stepped outside their inner chambers. So while they had heard that these men bore battlefield wounds, in their imagination that meant only a scarred face or perhaps a limp. Who would have thought there were missing arms and legs, or faces burned beyond recognition?
In their hearts, the beauties lamented Qian Jiaoniang’s cruelty. Surely it wasn’t that the Marquis didn’t want them—it was clearly that the tigress at home was scheming to get rid of them, planning to marry them off to these broken men!
At the banquet, Xing Muzheng’s brothers, however, took a liking to many of the beauties who tried their hardest to sing and play in order to catch the Marquis’s eye. Yet the beauties would not spare them even a second glance.
Some of the brothers laughed it off, careless; others’ eyes dimmed, their hurt hidden away. Qian Jiaoniang, being observant, noticed this, and after the feast specially sent word: “For those men or women with disabilities, it’s always hard to find a match. But don’t be anxious—since I’ve taken this matter upon myself, I will make sure each of you finds a good girl and has a family.”
Only then did Xing Muzheng’s brothers feel somewhat soothed.
That night, Xing Muzheng drank heavily. As soon as he entered the room, the whole place reeked of wine. Qian Jiaoniang urged him to bathe, but without a word he dragged her toward the back. Qian Jiaoniang, puzzled, followed. Xing Muzheng turned his head, his usually clear black eyes faintly hazy with drink. “Didn’t you tell me to bathe? Then come with me.”
He pulled her into a side courtyard, where, to her surprise, there stood a large jade-built bath pool. A great white lion’s head spouted steaming hot water, and beside the big pool were two smaller ones, also bubbling with heat.
It turned out the most unusual thing about this residence was a natural hot spring, which Xing Muzheng had renovated into this white jade pool. Before Qian Jiaoniang had time to marvel, he stripped off her clothes and tossed her into the water. She choked on a mouthful of the spring, which tasted faintly of rotten eggs, and surfaced in disarray to scold him—when a great splash beside her drenched her again from head to toe. Through hair plastered over her eyes, she glared darkly at the wheat-colored chest before her. Lifting her gaze, she met Xing Muzheng’s smiling eyes—deep, unfathomable, carrying the danger of a wild beast.
He was drunk. Qian Jiaoniang’s heart lurched. She turned to flee, but was suddenly swept back by a strong arm, lips hot and searing against her neck.
…
In his drunkenness, Xing Muzheng was all the more unrestrained. Even the two tangyuan dumplings brought later, he fed her mouth-to-mouth. Qian Jiaoniang was utterly overwhelmed, and afterward was limp as mud, carried back to the courtyard in his arms.
Good deeds travel slowly, bad deeds spread far. By the next day, the shameful incident was already known throughout the rear courtyard. Qian Jiaoniang nearly wished to crawl into a hole, but the new beauties now understood just how much the Marquis doted on his wife. Some shut themselves in their rooms, sighing at their bad luck; some began plotting ways to curry favor with Qian Jiaoniang; some, still unwilling to give up, schemed to send Xing Muzheng soup or poems.
As a result, Qian Jiaoniang’s quarters grew lively like a marketplace each day, with beauties from all the courtyards trying their hardest. After all, in such a vast Dingxi Marquis’s household, there was still no proper concubine or secondary wife. If any of them could win the favor of both the Marquis and his lady, she would be the first to be formally taken in—a position of great significance.
Each evening when Xing Muzheng returned to the rear courtyard, he would “happen” to encounter beauties out “taking a stroll.” Some danced despite the bitter cold, some sang loudly, some recited poetry with great flourish. All cast him sidelong glances full of tender affection. One even went so far as to “accidentally” bump into him, pressing something into his hand before fleeing in shy embarrassment. Xing Muzheng unfolded it with a blank expression—only to find a peach-pink bellyband.
Without a word, he ordered that brazen woman expelled from the manor. He didn’t tell Qian Jiaoniang about it, only urged her gently to marry the women off quickly. His words were: a sharp knife cuts tangled hemp clean. Whoever his brothers fancied, that was who should be married to them. After all, they each had some savings and were all good men—in time, feelings between husband and wife would grow.
Qian Jiaoniang had originally thought to give those of Xing Muzheng’s brothers who had suffered injuries more opportunities, so she had not wanted to rush. She wanted the beauties to slowly come to see the good in those men, and perhaps change their minds. Who knew that before she even had time to persuade more, those people came swarming in with “eighteen weapons” at once. Day after day she was pestered until her head ached.
Yanluo said: “Those who are crowding forward now are like when we used to select the top courtesan —just the ones not really of any rank. The truly serious ones are still waiting behind.”
She was giving Qian Jiaoniang a veiled reminder.
Whether Qian Jiaoniang understood it or not, she asked Yanluo: “How is your younger sister these days?”
Yanluo gave a bitter smile. “Still the same as before.”
Qian Jiaoniang said: “She came from being a top courtesan, her pride is high—she may not look twice at a soldier. This matter cannot be hurried. When there are scholars or xiucai available, let her also take a look. Only, living here in the estate, she cannot just eat and drink for nothing. She must find something to do to support herself.”
Yanluo nodded in agreement. Qian Jiaoniang added: “If you yourself take a fancy to someone, you can tell me too.”
Yanluo shook her head. “Yanluo does not wish to marry. I only want to serve Madam.”
At these words, Suier glanced at Yanluo, her gaze tinged with hostility. She had always harbored some suspicion toward Yanluo. Just now Yanluo had said those men were “not of any rank.” This woman had once been worth thousands of gold for a single night, living like a lady—how could she be willing to be a servant? Could it be that she had merely changed her method of parading herself before the Marquis? But at present she behaved properly, wore coarse cloth, bare-faced without rouge—there was no handle to catch.
While they were speaking, Granny Zhou hobbled in weeping with her cane. As soon as she saw Qian Jiaoniang, she burst into sobs, “Jiaoniang—”
Qian Jiaoniang was startled, and quickly stood to help her sit. The maids rushed to wipe her tears, pour hot tea, and console her in overlapping voices. Qian Jiaoniang thought to herself that surely no wicked servant had bullied her, and gently asked the reason. Granny Zhou had the attendants dismissed, then haltingly told the truth.
It turned out her granddaughter Zhou Cuilian had resolved to become a nun. Granny Zhou had tried bitterly to dissuade her but could not, so in her grief she had come to cry her heart out to Qian Jiaoniang.
“How well and whole she is, why must she go take the tonsure?” Qian Jiaoniang asked.
Granny Zhou wiped her tears with her sleeve. “How is she whole? Cuilian was repudiated by her husband’s family, her maiden family is gone—who wants such a cast-off? She—she has nowhere left to go!”
