Bao Li’s eyes widened, his mouth gaping open, the mole at his lip seeming to gape in surprise as well. “They—they dared rob the Marquis’s gold? Truly outrageous, lawless beyond measure!”
Xing Muzheng said, “My men were carrying two chests of gold by waterway back to Yuzhou. I received word only yesterday that they were robbed by Wuling water bandits.”
“What! Now they even rob along the waterways? This cannot be tolerated!” Bao Li sprang up, rubbing his hands. “Marquis, be at ease. I shall immediately send word to the garrison in Juzhou, have them bring soldiers here—this time we must wipe them out to the last!”
Xing Muzheng said, “Since this gang has already begun plundering by water, they must also have a hiding place on the river. Lord Bao, you might also send word to Minghu, and request aid from the Minghu navy. If they attack from the water while the army strikes by land, to catch them in a pincer would that not be better?”
Enlightened, Bao Li smacked his forehead. “But of course! I shall see to it at once.”
Leaving the Jiangzi yamen, Xing Muzheng led Qian Jiaoniang to continue strolling the county. The place was small, and with bandits rampant, the whole prefecture looked lifeless and desolate. On the roads nearly all were men; rarely could one see a maiden, and even married women were scarce. It was said the Wuling bandits also abducted women as wives by force.
Since stepping out, Qian Jiaoniang had seemed preoccupied. Seeing the state of the streets, her brows knit tightly. Xing Muzheng asked why she was displeased. Qian Jiaoniang said, “I thought that once the Marquis won his victories, it would be an age of peace. I did not expect peace still could not be had.”
Xing Muzheng said, “The words ‘peace and safety’—how easy are they to achieve?”
Qian Jiaoniang halted her steps. “Why must there always be strife in the world?”
Xing Muzheng turned his head to look at her intently. “If a man does not live for himself, heaven and earth will destroy him. All strife arises from the word ‘self.’ For wealth, for power, for beauty, for desire.”
Qian Jiaoniang frowned, then shook her head. “If all people were well, then would one not be well oneself?”
Xing Muzheng smiled. “The ‘all people’ you speak of—who are they?”
Qian Jiaoniang walked on, tilting her head as she thought over Xing Muzheng’s question. He did not press her, only accompanied her quietly. After a while, Qian Jiaoniang slowly spoke: “I hope the people of Jiangzi may live well, the people of Xiechao may live well, and the people of Xili may live well too. Everyone who treads this same earth may live well.” If all were well, there would be no strife.
Yet once said aloud, Qian Jiaoniang felt she had spoken foolishly. She darted a glance at Xing Muzheng, but he did not mock her. Instead he seriously asked, “Is this something you learned from Chou’er’s books?”
Qian Jiaoniang gave a small “ah,” then realized he was right. She had indeed thought of it from her reading.
Xing Muzheng’s eyes carried a smile. “You are not bad. Without a teacher to instruct you, you can think clearly yourself. That shows you have a root of wisdom.”
Qian Jiaoniang’s cheeks flushed. She felt as if Xing Muzheng were teasing her, yet it didn’t seem so. While she hesitated, he had already taken her hand to lead her onward. Qian Jiaoniang’s mind was elsewhere, so she did not pay it much heed. She raised her head to ask, “Then the Marquis does not think like the sages?”
Xing Muzheng lowered his gaze to her. “Such good fortune belongs only to immortals.” He had seen too much of human greed. And Jiaoniang was no sheltered young miss; still, she was willing to believe otherwise, simply because her heart was soft.
“Then what does the Marquis believe in?”
“I believe in law,” Xing Muzheng said. “To protect the good, and kill the utterly wicked.”
Xing Muzheng had never imagined he would one day discuss such grand principles with a woman. In the past, hearing great men and learned scholars debate endlessly, he had only listened in silence, never speaking his own views. Yet now, sitting in a roadside eatery, he spoke at length face-to-face with Qian Jiaoniang. She listened with great interest, as though he had opened a door for her, clearing up the muddled thoughts in her mind.
Xing Muzheng finished speaking, then said to her: “This is only my own view. You may listen, agree, or disagree. None of this is fixed—just hold fast to your own dao.”
Qian Jiaoniang thought he was overestimating her and said: “What dao do I have? But what you say makes a lot of sense, and it happens to fit with my own thoughts as well.”
Xing Muzheng looked at her, lips curving slightly in praise: “You are very clever, and you know how to adapt—better than some rigid bookish scholars.”
“Is the Marquis praising me?”
He nodded. “I am praising you.”
Hearing him say it so directly, Qian Jiaoniang instead did not know what to say.
The waiter brought the food and wine, and their conversation paused. Out of gratitude for his earlier teaching, Qian Jiaoniang diligently poured him a cup. Xing Muzheng, having spoken more than usual and feeling thirsty, accepted without ceremony, drained it in one go, and said in mild surprise: “This wine is good—you try some.”
Qian Jiaoniang caught the fragrance, tipped back her head and drank, nodding repeatedly. Xing Muzheng refilled her cup and said with a smile: “If you like this wine, why not have them prepare a hundred jin to take back and store?”
That sounded as though he were treating her like some wine-drunk woman. Qian Jiaoniang raised her brows: “A hundred jin—how is that enough? At least a thousand.”
Xing Muzheng froze, then laughed heartily: “So I underestimated the strength of this lady-immortal of wine!”
He called the waiter and truly ordered a thousand jin.
The waiter was startled—their little tavern had truly met high nobility. He hurried to fetch the shopkeeper. The shopkeeper, upon hearing, didn’t beam with joy but instead pulled a bitter face: “Honored guest, we’re a small business. We cannot stock a thousand jin of wine.”
Qian Jiaoniang laughed: “Shopkeeper, our family’s lord was only joking.”
Only then did the shopkeeper sigh in relief.
Hearing her call him “our family’s lord” so rarely, Xing Muzheng’s lips quirked.
“Then have them prepare a hundred jin.”
The shopkeeper’s brows knotted again: “Honored guest, we don’t even have a hundred jin of wine!”
Xing Muzheng found this strange: “You run an inn and can’t even supply a hundred jin of wine—what kind of business is this?”
The shopkeeper said bitterly: “Honored guest, I hear from your accents you’re not local—you don’t know! Our county is plagued by bandits, no one has an easy life. This wine is from our best distillery, Ah Gui Distillery. The bandits robbed away all the brewed wine, and demand monthly tribute—otherwise they’ll kill the distiller’s young master! Tell me, how could they still have wine left to sell us? The jars I have are from before!”
“Those villains are so lawless?” Qian Jiaoniang, though she had seen banditry earlier that day, still grew angry hearing it.
“Exactly! The yamen is useless, and the soldiers who come can’t find them. Ai… I think Jiangzi is beyond hope. I hear Lord Xing’s fief is just next door in Yuzhou—many families want to move there. However bold the bandits, they won’t dare cross into Lord Xing’s land, right? But as for me, my family has been rooted in Jiangzi for generations—I cannot leave. Ai, all that’s left is to wait for death.”
The shopkeeper left sighing. Qian Jiaoniang lost her appetite too. She put down her chopsticks: “Marquis, I’ve been thinking—even the most reckless bandits should not dare so much. How can they come plundering into town and even demand tribute? Do they not fear an ambush in the city?”
Xing Muzheng nodded: “I’ve wondered the same. They are indeed more brazen than ordinary bandits. And every time the soldiers attack the mountain, they fail to catch them.”
“Exactly…” Could they really be that band from Qian Mountain? If so… Qian Jiaoniang narrowed her eyes: “Marquis, since they’re so wicked, you must capture them all to rid the people of this scourge.”
“Capture them, of course.” Xing Muzheng urged her to keep eating. “But when the county magistrate said today that the bandits may be from Qian Mountain, you seemed unsettled. Have you encountered them before?”
Qian Jiaoniang paused.
“No… I haven’t seen them.”
Xing Muzheng raised his brows at her. She lowered her gaze and resumed eating. The chopsticks paused near her lips, then she ate as though nothing were wrong. Just then she suddenly thought—two chests of gold were indeed valuable, but after taking charge of Xing Muzheng’s private treasury these days, she knew that to him, two chests were but a drop in the bucket. Why would he personally come to Jiangzi over two chests of gold? Was it truly just to bring her along for leisure—or did he have some other purpose?
The county town of Jiangzi was small—one circuit and it was done. There was little novelty, except that fortunately no bandits struck again.
That night, Magistrate Bao hosted a banquet for Xing Muzheng with all the county officials. Xing Muzheng accepted, and Qian Jiaoniang went too, received in the back by Bao’s wives and concubines. After the feast, Xing Muzheng had mostly seen through the officials of Jiangzi: oily old hands like Bao himself, with little ability, destined at best to remain seventh-rank officials unless luck intervened. Qian Jiaoniang was nearly overcome by the heavy perfumes of Bao’s women. Hearing that Xing Muzheng had come to fetch her, she quickly stood and left. Bao, with his wife and the officials, escorted them to the gate, where fine horses and sedan chairs were prepared.
Just before entering the soft sedan, Qian Jiaoniang suddenly heard urgent hoofbeats. She turned and saw a bearded man in yamen garb driving a carriage that stopped in the corner. From afar, he dropped to one knee with head bowed.
Thinking it was only a constable returning from duty, Qian Jiaoniang bent down and entered the sedan.
Back at the posthouse, she washed off the smell of powder and perfume, dried her hair, and lay on the bed. She gave a soft sigh. The sudden events of the day had left her no time to brood over her second sister. Now in quiet, she thought of it again, yet with less anger—thankfully she had discovered it early, misfortune within fortune.
Suddenly, a wave of heat swept over her. She smelled a familiar scent. A large hand slid from beneath her hair to the back of her head. Xing Muzheng’s voice came from above: “Hair’s dry?”
“Mm,” Qian Jiaoniang answered vaguely. “Marquis, is yours dry?”
“I didn’t wash it—too much trouble.” Xing Muzheng toyed with her hair, confirming she spoke truth, but did not withdraw his hand. Instead, he gripped the back of her neck, tilted her face up, and pressed his burning lips to hers.
Although Qian Jiaoniang knew by now that Xing Muzheng was one to fool around every night, still, lying on a posthouse bed in a strange land made her uneasy. She frowned and tried to push him away. Xing Muzheng loosened slightly, but against her lips murmured: “I know this place is rough… just let me kiss you.”
Qian Jiaoniang had not yet answered when Xing Muzheng pressed down again, kissing her fiercely for a long while. Fortunately, he was as good as his word—after some rough entangling, he only held her in his arms and went to sleep.
The next morning, Xing Muzheng was up first. After washing and dressing, he stepped out and saw Bao Li already waiting in the main hall. At the sight of him, Bao Li’s face lit up with delight as he came forward, “Marquis, great news!”
Xing Muzheng asked, “And what joy is this?”
Bao Li’s smile was so broad his eyes narrowed to slits. He stepped aside and pointed to two large black chests that had appeared in the hall. “Marquis, your two chests of gold have been recovered!”
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