Qian Jiaoniang slowly woke amid waves of discomfort. Before her were dense green trees; in her ears, the chirping of insects and birds. She did not move—her cheek was pressed against a warm, resilient body. As her awareness sharpened, she realized she was being carried on a man’s back. And this man’s breath was utterly unfamiliar—not Xing Muzheng.
Qian Jiaoniang recalled she had been in the Jiangzi post station changing clothes before fainting for no reason. Now it seemed… she had been kidnapped. Her gaze turned cold. She slowly lifted her arm, reaching for the hairpin on her head—but her hand closed on nothing. Her hairpin was gone.
The abductor stopped walking, turned his head, and revealed a bearded face. “Awake?”
He set her down on a rock, pulled a coil of rope from his bosom, and slowly tied her hands together, his hawk-like eyes never leaving her. Qian Jiaoniang stared at the unfamiliar face—it was the yamen runner surnamed Fang, whom she had only met twice.
“…Yamen Runner Fang, what are you doing?” she asked.
The man bared his white teeth in a grin. “Don’t you recognize me, woman?”
Qian Jiaoniang’s brows furrowed slightly. That form of address…
After binding her, the man drew a dagger from his waist, spat on his palm, and scraped away his beard. A once-familiar face emerged. Qian Jiaoniang’s brows knit tighter and tighter—she knew this man. He had long since recognized her.
Qian Mountain bandit chief—Fang Xiong.
Who would have thought he dared swagger into Jiangzi in the guise of a yamen runner, even delivering gold to Xing Muzheng?
Shaven, his face was rugged, around thirty years old, with hawk-eyes and hooked nose, radiating violence. He had cut two bloody lines into his cheeks but didn’t care. He spat on the ground and grabbed Qian Jiaoniang’s face in his large hand. “Recognize your man now, woman?”
Qian Jiaoniang said coolly, “So you’re not dead.”
If there was one thing she regretted most, it was saving Fang Xiong.
Their ill-fated entanglement began when she was passing through Baohua County on the way back to Yuzhou. Xing Pingchun had been coughing without cease, but she had no money to see a doctor or buy medicine. She had no choice but to go into the mountains herself to gather herbs. At the time she did not know bandits lurked on Qian Mountain. When she was returning with the herbs, a downpour forced her into a cave—inside was Fang Xiong, pierced by a poisoned arrow. His face had been paler than snow, his whole body trembling, on the brink of death. Out of pity, she had risked it, sucking out the poisoned blood, dressing his wound, and giving him a few herbs. The rain lasted the whole night; she watched over him until morning. He truly improved by dawn. She thought she had done a good deed and felt relieved as she prepared to return to Baohua County. Unexpectedly, the ingrate knocked her out, dragged her back to his stronghold, and demanded she become his bride.
She resisted and refused, but was whipped twice and locked in the woodshed. A few days later, he forced her into red bridal robes and pressed her into a sham wedding. Luckily that night the whole bandit gang drank themselves senseless; Fang Xiong too was drunk and wanted to consummate the marriage. Qian Jiaoniang feigned compliance, then struck his skull several times with a jade pillow until he lay bloody and motionless. She escaped in his clothes, stumbling through the pitch-black mountains all night, somehow avoiding beasts and snakes, and finally made it back to Baohua County to fetch Xing Pingchun.
Who would have thought she would encounter him again in Jiangzi—and once again be drugged and tied by him?
Fang Xiong roughly pinched her face. “Since I didn’t kill you back then, even King Yama feels cheated! I only gave you two lashes, and you dared smash my head bloody? I’ll kill you for real this time! Up, move!”
“If you don’t behave, I’ll whip you again.” He yanked the rope binding her and dragged her to her feet to march. Qian Jiaoniang did not resist, not wanting needless suffering. As she walked, she said coldly: “This morning you were kneeling before me. Don’t you know who I am? I am the wife of the Dingxi Marquis—Xing Muzheng’s wife. This kind of humiliation, do you think he’ll let you live?” If Fang Xiong truly feared nothing, he would never have returned those two chests of gold.
Fang Xiong pulled her along, chewing on a stalk of dogtail grass. “I fear no one! Besides, you married me first—how dare you wed another man? That’s adultery!”
“I was already married to Xing Muzheng at fifteen.” Her tone was flat.
Fang Xiong choked, then turned a glare on her. So what she’d said before—that she was a married woman—was true. “That child of yours is real too?” He remembered her saying she was gathering herbs for her son, but he hadn’t believed her. With her snow-like skin, she hardly seemed like a woman who had borne children.
“Of course it’s true.”
Fang Xiong shook his head, clicking his tongue. He looked at her again—his memory of her was of a thin, frail figure of nothing but bones. Now she had filled out, grown more delicate, like a woman nourished by her man. A fire roared in his gut. He knew well that after all these years she must have married another. But he could not forget the sight of her sucking poison from his wound—that image had burned itself into his very heart and liver, haunting him all these years, tormenting him.
He had searched for her constantly. Later he’d heard a bodyguard whose accent resembled hers and learned she came from Yuzhou. So he led his men toward Yuzhou. But Yuzhou was Xing Muzheng’s territory—he wasn’t stupid enough to walk into the tiger’s den. Instead, he set up camp in Wuling Mountain, waiting until things stabilized before seeking her.
Unexpectedly, she showed up herself. Even more unexpected—she turned out to be Xing Muzheng’s wife. D*mn it, what rotten luck.
Qian Jiaoniang did not miss the gloom in his eyes. She spoke gently: “If you let me go now, it’s still not too late. You’d still have time to run. I won’t cause myself trouble by exposing you.”
Fang Xiong gave her a sinister look, then spat after a long pause. “Quit the nonsense. You’re my woman. Even if the Emperor himself came, it wouldn’t matter!” He urged her along. “And besides, don’t great households care the most about things like this? You’ve been carried off by me, which already makes you a tainted woman. General Xing —such a man of renown—how could his wife be someone sullied by a bandit? If word got out, wouldn’t the whole world laugh at him? Even if you go back, you’ll only end up drowned in a pig cage. Better to follow me obediently. I’ll see to it you eat well and live well.”
Qian Jiaoniang fell silent. Fang Xiong thought she had accepted her fate and, secretly pleased, started humming a bawdy tune he’d picked up in the brothels, swaggering as he led her deeper into the mountains.
She didn’t know how long they walked, but the forest grew denser, the towering trees nearly blotting out the sky. Birds called incessantly all around, and a stifling feeling weighed on her chest. Fang Xiong led her along paths that weren’t even roads; having just arrived, she couldn’t tell directions at all. After a while, he began to whistle now and then—some long, some short—and there were answering whistles from within the forest. Qian Jiaoniang looked around, but couldn’t tell where they came from.
The defenses here were far stricter than back at Qian Mountain. Breathing a little heavily, she said, “Seems you’ve gained quite a few men.”
“Of course! In this world, nothing pays better than being a bandit. Just the other day another whole stronghold came to throw in with me—didn’t even want to accept them! If Xing Muzheng had come a year or so later, why would I fear him?”
Qian Jiaoniang gave him a sidelong glance. “And you’re not afraid of the army? With so few men, you think you can crown yourselves kings of the mountains?”
Fang Xiong opened his mouth, then grinned at her. “Trying to trick me into talking? Doesn’t matter—I’ll tell you anyway. We’ve got four thousand brothers in camp now. Once I swallow a few more bands, the numbers will be unbelievable. Mark my words—following me is no worse than following Xing Muzheng. I’ll make you an empress!”
Four thousand men… that truly was a great number. If reinforcements hadn’t yet arrived, Xing Muzheng charging in with only a dozen men would be risking his life. It seemed tonight would not end peacefully. Qian Jiaoniang lowered her gaze, pressing her lips together.
After about another quarter of an hour’s walk, Fang Xiong brought her back to Wuling stronghold. The houses here were all built against the mountain, scattered high and low, erected wherever there was room. Only at the entrance had they put up a long palisade of sharpened stakes. Inside, everything was just wooden huts. Twice Bao Li had made a show of bringing troops up here, but Fang Xiong’s men had always gotten word in advance and slipped away, leaving the place empty. Bao Li had refused to burn it, using the excuse that setting fire might consume the whole forest. So once the danger passed, Fang Xiong simply led his men back.
As soon as Fang Xiong entered the stronghold, two bandits—one older, one younger—came up to meet him. Both were startled at the sight of him. The younger nearly failed to recognize him, while the older asked: “Chief, why did you shave your beard?”
Fang Xiong touched his chin uneasily. “Wanted to shave, so I shaved.”
The younger one finally recognized his leader and circled him curiously. Then, seeing the woman with her hands bound at his side, he asked wide-eyed: “Chief, who’s this woman?”
