Before long, voices echoed across the water: “Imperial investigation! All ships halt!”
Calls to stop rang out, layer upon layer, until every vessel on the river came to a standstill. As Fang Xiong had guessed, the officers first boarded the cargo ship. From his barge, he watched as torches lit up Old Six’s ship, soldiers swarming aboard. They poked around the cabin, then an official gave Old Six a wave. Old Six bowed and scraped, thanking them profusely, and was released.
Guihua let out a breath. Old Six’s ship was fine—then theirs should be fine too. The kidnapping of the Dingxi Marquis’s wife couldn’t have reached these unexpected naval officers so quickly. She asked Fang Xiong, “Chief, what do you think they’re looking for?”
“How would I know?” Fang Xiong glanced back. Qian Jiaoniang was already dressed in peach-red, veiled, sitting demurely as if indifferent to the navy outside. She really has given up, Fang Xiong thought, and felt more at ease.
The second ship to be searched was the pleasure-barge. Fang Xiong staggered out with a wine jar in hand, acting drunk, claiming to be a merchant, and offered to pour drinks for the officials.
Zhen Hao waved him off. “We’re on duty. No drinking.”
Fang Xiong quickly pulled back, nodding over and over. “Yes, yes, officers work hard! Only… may I ask, what exactly are you searching for so late at night? If a humble merchant knows, perhaps I can lend a hand.”
Zhen Hao gave him a sidelong glance. “State business—no need to ask. What happened to your face?”
Fang Xiong hiccupped, touched his cheek, and chuckled awkwardly. “Cut myself shaving today. Embarrassing for you to see, sir.”
“What possessed you to shave out here?”
“My… sweetheart dislikes the stubble—says it pricks her hand.”
Zhen Hao smirked. “How considerate of you.”
Meanwhile, the soldiers searched the barge from stem to stern, finding nothing incriminating. They did, however, herd out all the women hidden inside. Qian Jiaoniang was among them. She had already recognized the voice earlier—now, seeing him in person, she confirmed it was Xing Muzheng’s sworn brother.
But with Guihua standing watchful at her side, Qian Jiaoniang said nothing, only stood tall in silence.
Zhen Hao swept his gaze over the group of veiled women. Most of their eyes darted away in panic—only one woman remained calm, unflinching, meeting his look without evasion. Zhen Hao locked eyes with her but did not recognize who she was. Though he had seen countless women in his life, out of respect for Xing Muzheng he had never dared study Qian Jiaoniang closely. Now, he could not place her.
He raised his hand and pointed. “You. What’s your name?”
Fang Xiong followed his gesture toward Qian Jiaoniang, his brows drawing together. Guihua gave Qian Jiaoniang’s leg a vicious pinch, warning her not to speak rashly. Enduring the pain, she replied in a soft, delicate tone: “Replying to lord official, this humble woman’s surname is Zhen, my name is Zhen Meili.”
Zhen Hao’s lips twitched. A few soldiers behind him couldn’t help but laugh. Last time, when Marquis Dingxi had passed through Minghu, they had learned their Lord Zhen once had a nickname—Zhen Haokan*. It had been the butt of many jokes, until Zhen Hao had beaten the mockery out of them. And now here appeared a “Zhen Meili”—didn’t that make the pair complete?
* Handsome Zhen
Zhen Hao arched a brow. “What kind of girl dares shamelessly claim such a name? Take off your veil, let me see just how ‘beautiful’ you really are!”
“This…” Qian Jiaoniang hesitated, glancing toward Fang Xiong. Fang Xiong could only say, “The lord official asked you to remove it—then remove it.”
Obediently, Qian Jiaoniang lifted away the silken veil, revealing a face of pale, delicate beauty.
Zhen Hao jolted at the sight, his heart leaping. He forced down his shock, already racing through ways to extract her, when suddenly a loud shout split the night: “Impudence! To dare kidnap the Dingxi Marchioness!”
Before anyone could react, a sharp-eyed soldier—who had seen Qian Jiaoniang back in Minghu and had an excellent memory—blurted it out in a rush of impulse. Guihua instantly drew her soul-hook claw and pressed it against Qian Jiaoniang’s throat. “Don’t come closer!”
Zhen Hao and Guihua drew their blades at the same time, but they had already lost the initiative. Zhen Hao shot a furious glare at the reckless soldier. The man, realizing too late the disaster he’d caused, clutched his sword in regret.
Seeing their secret exposed, Fang Xiong did not panic. With slow composure, he drew a short knife from under his robe and strode forward, pushing Guihua aside so he could press the blade himself to Qian Jiaoniang’s neck. He smiled narrowly at Zhen Hao: “Since you know this is the Dingxi Marchioness—will you let us go?”
Zhen Hao’s face was cold. “To dare kidnap the Marquis’s wife—your crime deserves death. Surrender at once, and I may yet grant you a swift one!”
Fang Xiong burst out laughing. “When have I, Fang Xiong, ever feared death? But you dogs—if you can’t return the Marchioness alive, your own lives are forfeit too!”
Zhen Hao’s jaw tightened. “What do you want?”
“I want you to let us walk free, right now.”
“Fine. Leave the Marchioness.”
Fang Xiong sneered. “She’s my wife. She goes with me—or she dies with me.”
Guihua snapped: “If we hand the Marchioness over, won’t you immediately slaughter us?”
Zhen Hao said, “This official never breaks his word! Release the Marchioness, and I’ll spare you and your comrades. Refuse—and none of you will leave this night alive.”
Guihua and the others wavered. They could see that Zhen Hao was in charge, and with nothing but disguised boats against the entire navy, they had no chance. Prolonging the standoff would bring only ruin. Their only hope was to find a way to hand over the Marchioness while still buying escape.
“Head, you take the brothers and go first. Once you’re clear, I’ll hand her over!” Guihua said.
“Shut up!” Fang Xiong snarled, face twisted, “I’ll say it again—my wife goes with me!”
“Head, more boats coming up behind!” Niudan whispered sharply.
Fang Xiong’s heart stirred—could it be Uncle Dao’s men arriving? If so, they might yet fight their way clear. He turned to look—and froze. Out of the black waters two torches flared. A crimson war-boat burst through the night. At its prow stood a man in blood-soaked blue robes, cold and still as a bloodthirsty sword—terrifying to behold.
The scarlet boat sped to the pleasure barge’s bow. Zhen Hao cried out, “Commander!” But the eyes of the newly arrived Xing Muzheng were fixed only on the hostage—Qian Jiaoniang. Their gazes met, emotions surging in her eyes. He had caught up.
Fang Xiong’s heart lurched. He hadn’t expected Xing Muzheng to discover and pursue them so swiftly. Only then did he notice that the man’s blade dripped blood onto the deck, his whole body steeped in gore. A dreadful premonition crawled up Fang Xiong’s spine.
He had heard of Xing Muzheng’s battlefield exploits—merciless, ruthless, not a man of forgiveness. Today, having kidnapped his wife, Fang Xiong had delivered the gravest insult. As for a sullied wife, Xing Muzheng would likely discard her. That meant Fang Xiong’s own death was certain tonight.
He did not fear death. He only regretted that before dying he hadn’t had his way with his “wife.” Dark resentment churned in him; if Xing Muzheng had ruined his pleasure, he would not let him have it easy either.
He gave a ghastly laugh. “General Xing, Lord Marquis—you too have come to drink at my wedding feast?” He slapped Qian Jiaoniang’s face with the knife-hand. “Look—this is my wife.”
Qian Jiaoniang gritted her teeth and clutched his arm.
A shadow of murderous fire flickered in Xing Muzheng’s eyes. His voice was flat: “She is my wife.”
Fang Xiong spat, “Bah! Years ago, she and I bowed before heaven and earth, entered the bridal chamber. Tsk tsk—her body, tender as fresh tofu!” With that, he leaned in and dragged his tongue across Qian Jiaoniang’s cheek, arrogant beyond measure.
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