“Women? How can there be women?”
“You don’t know? Polo is no trifling thing—word is even the imperial consorts in the palace love to play!”
“Is that so? Then who are these women?”
“Have you no eyes? Look—riding that red horse, isn’t that our lord’s lady herself?”
Some had already recognized Qian Jiaoniang earlier when she beat the opening drum. Once one voice named her, word spread like wildfire, and the crowd erupted: “It’s the Marchioness! The Marchioness herself is playing polo!”
Because this was Yuzhou’s grand occasion, the spectators included not only men but many women—wives of officials, daughters of merchants, noble ladies. They stared in shock at Qian Jiaoniang leading a troop of women onto the field: some were astonished, some envious, some bewildered, some disdainful.
Qian Liniang too recognized her younger sister. She shot to her feet at once, waving anxiously and calling out: “Sister, sister, what are you doing!” She was the dignified Marchioness, after all—how could she expose herself before these common rabble?
By now Qian Jiaoniang had removed her veil, fearful that sharp eyes might otherwise glimpse the wound at her lip, so she pressed her lips together often. Seeing Qian Liniang waving at her from afar, she could not hear what she was shouting, but she smiled brightly and waved back.
Sun’s Madam Xiong was first startled, then pursed her lips in a laugh. “So that is the Marchioness? Liniang, she does look quite like you!” A woman showing herself in public, swinging a mallet at polo—she truly was nothing but a village wench, unfit for the stage!
Qian Liniang’s face flushed scarlet with shame. She secretly blamed Qian Jiaoniang for not knowing propriety even as a noble’s wife, bringing ridicule down upon them both. Yet Marquis Dingxi did nothing to stop her—indeed, he allowed her to shame herself so publicly? She turned to look toward the central pavilion. Xing Muzheng sat at ease on the long couch, his arm resting on the cloud-patterned armrest, black eyes fixed upon the field.
Xing Muzheng, who had roamed the borders, had seen women of the Western Li tribes and many small nations who rode horses and fought battles. Though rare, when they struck, they were formidable. So he did not consider it disgraceful for women to play polo. On the contrary—it pleased him that Jiaoniang delighted in it.
The match began quickly. Qian Jiaoniang, with Chunwu and a few others plus Ah Da, formed one team. Zhao Yaoqian led the other beauties alongside Li Qingquan and others. By rights, Ah Da and Li Qingquan’s skill far surpassed that of Jiaoniang’s side, and they should have shone brighter. But Xing Muzheng had instructed them beforehand to act mainly in support, to pass the ball but not to score. Even without the order, the young men would have done so—for it was their first time playing with women, and it felt fresh indeed. Besides, among them was the Marchioness herself.
What they had not expected was that the women would play so well—far better than they imagined. Though at first a little reserved, their striking and passing soon showed form; as the game went on, they grew bolder, even forming tactics. The spectators, who at first had mixed thoughts, soon forgot all else and focused only on the match. Truly, the heroines were no less than the men. Many of the young women in the stands felt stirred—this was the first time they thought that to gallop on horseback like men was not unseemly at all, but full of heroic spirit, bringing honor to their sex. Compared to the restrained applause of the earlier match, now the young ladies’ cheers rang out no less than the men’s.
At that moment, the Marchioness spurred her red horse forward, catching a ball passed flying toward her. With two swift strokes she skirted past the defenders, then swung fiercely—whizz! The little ball shot straight into the goal!
“Bravo!” The first full-throated shout of praise came from none other than Marquis Dingxi himself, clapping and cheering. The crowd hastened to echo him, turning their heads to see—the Marquis was laughing openly, face filled with satisfaction. His chiseled, storm-cleared features shone like sunlight after rain, and many unmarried maidens who beheld him felt their hearts race. Who would have thought their lord was not only a warrior but also Yuzhou City’s first and foremost handsome man!
Qian Jiaoniang had been in high spirits too, but at that sudden shout of praise she turned her head sharply—only to crash straight into Xing Muzheng’s black eyes, brimming with laughter. Her heart skipped violently, an odd flutter rising unbidden. She coughed twice in discomfort, averted her gaze, and urged her horse forward a few steps.
Ah Da and Li Qingquan wiped the sweat from their brows. Both had caught sight of Xing Muzheng’s smile. Li Qingquan, baffled, said, “When the brothers struck their finest plays just now, the Marquis never showed such delight. Could it be that Madam’s move carried some hidden mystery?”
Ah Da felt the men around him were nothing but blocks of wood, while he alone was a lotus blooming from the water. He said with meaning, “Qingquan, the secret is not in the move, but in the person who performed it.” The Marquis’s open joy was just like an old woman on the street bragging about her clever child. Could they truly still not see it?
Qian Liniang had also seen it from afar. Her chest felt stifled, breath hard to draw.
The match continued, the young ladies playing more and more smoothly, and the cheers grew ever louder. Zhao Yaoqian caught the ball and swung her mallet toward the goal. All eyes followed the little ball. Suddenly, a faint whistle split the air. Xing Muzheng’s body shifted slightly, and a black arrow thudded into the long couch!
“Assassins!” shouted one of the guards at his side.
It happened in a blink. As everyone turned their heads at the guard’s cry, Qian Jiaoniang too looked toward Xing Muzheng. But he suddenly roared at her: “Jiaoniang, beware!”
Startled, she turned her head—and saw a black arrow speeding straight for her chest. Her eyes widened, breath catching. She twisted aside, but too late. The arrow was almost upon her—when with a sharp, domineering whine another hidden weapon struck it aside at the last instant. The black shaft scraped her neck, searing pain, and clattered to the ground.
Qian Jiaoniang felt fire scorch across her throat. Chunwu leapt from her horse, catching her and carrying her down. Before she could lift her head, she had already fallen into a solid, unyielding embrace. She was held tightly, vision cut off, wrapped only in the familiar scent of the man. Her wildly pounding heart slowly steadied. Outside came the neighing of horses, the chaos of pursuit and flight.
The common folk seated above were stricken with terror at the sudden attack. They clamored, only to be silenced at once by the soldiers. Stiff in their seats, they could only gape at the Dingxi Marquis holding his marchioness so tightly in his arms. Something was off—wasn’t the first arrow aimed at the Marquis? How had he alone noticed the danger to his wife?
Ah Da, Li Qingquan, and the others rushed to guard them. Qian Jiaoniang only heard Xing Muzheng’s command: “Take them alive. Go!”
The men obeyed and scattered. She was still locked in his embrace, though her heartbeat had calmed. Hearing the confusion outside, she cleared her throat and said, “My lord, you may release me now.”
Xing Muzheng seemed to wake from a dream. He loosened his arms, and on lowering his gaze saw the cut across her throat. His vision darkened. “You are hurt.” He bent closer, inspecting it. The wound was not blackened—it seemed free of poison.
Qian Jiaoniang raised a hand to touch it, but he caught her fingers. “Don’t. I’ll have someone dress it at once.”
After such an incident, of course the match could not go on. Two assassins had been captured alive. The crowd was dismissed, though they left buzzing with speculation. Some wondered which enemy had dared strike at the lord and his lady, but most women eagerly discussed the scene they had witnessed:
“Did you see? The first arrow was clearly aimed at the Marquis. We were all watching him—yet only he was watching the madam. It was his weapon that knocked aside the arrow meant for her! Such martial skill! And rarer still, he cared nothing for his own life, thinking first only of her safety.”
“Just so! Did you see how he rushed in at once to shield her, holding her so tight, as if terrified she might slip away? Heehee, I swear I saw it with my own eyes—I even blushed!”
“I saw it too! And afterward, when he saw her wounded—oh, that face of his was terrifying!”
“I say, the Marquis must truly love his wife to the utmost!”
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