In front of her, Xing Muzheng’s face was cold as ice, as though suppressing a storm of rage. Yet his hands as he applied the medicine were remarkably gentle—so gentle that Qian Jiaoniang almost felt nothing at all.
Fortunately, the wound wasn’t deep. The doctor had said it would heal in a few days without leaving a scar. Her right cheek, now covered in cooling ointment, felt refreshed, but her left still carried an unbearable disgust. Though she had already scrubbed her face raw, she still felt as though Fang Xiong’s saliva clung to her skin. Unconsciously, she rubbed it again with her hand.
Seeing this, Xing Muzheng’s expression grew even darker.
The kitchen delivered supper. The two ate in silence. Afterward, Qian Jiaoniang wanted to talk, but as soon as Xing Muzheng set down his chopsticks, he stood. “You’ve been frightened. Rest early.” He paused. “I’ve already searched this room carefully—there are no hidden passages. There are guards outside. You may be at ease.”
With that, as if the room contained wild beasts, he left without looking back.
Qian Jiaoniang sat for a while, then shook her head with a self-deprecating smile.
Outside, Xing Muzheng didn’t walk away. He stood frozen at the doorway for a long time. At last, he slapped himself hard across the face.
Instead of leaving, he began practicing sword in the courtyard. Though he had battled day and night, he still seemed to have endless energy. Every move radiated lethal sharpness, as if he wished to hack someone into pieces.
Qian Jiaoniang hadn’t gone to bed. She stood at the window, peering through the gap at Xing Muzheng’s sword practice.
He’s angry with me, she thought. And truly, there was plenty for him to be angry about: she had hidden her abduction in Qian Mountain, then had been kidnapped again, humiliating him in public. Now he even owed her a debt of gratitude. He couldn’t bring himself to cast her off, or else the imperial decree he had fought so hard to obtain would become a laughingstock.
Turning this over in her mind, Qian Jiaoniang suddenly realized she had stumbled into a blessing in disguise. This way, wouldn’t she have gotten exactly what she wanted—her freedom? Why should she still be fretting over Xing Muzheng’s troubles?
Her thoughts cleared, and she turned to sleep.
After finishing his duties, Zhen Hao came to find Xing Muzheng. Xing ordered a meal set in the side hall and had Ah Da and Li Qingquan join them. After three cups of yellow wine, Zhen Hao chided him: “Brother, you were far too reckless this time, chasing after them with only a handful of men. Those bandits had no fear of death. If I hadn’t arrived in time, wouldn’t you have been in dire peril?”
Xing Muzheng drained the cup of strong liquor. “I calculated the time—you should be arriving soon.”
Zhen Hao asked, “But, elder brother, how did you know in advance, even sending word for me to prepare?”
Xing Muzheng said coolly, “Because I deliberately let them seize those two chests of gold.”
“You have a grudge with Wuling Stronghold?” Zhen Hao couldn’t help but ask. True, bandits deserved death in everyone’s eyes, but his sworn brother was not the type to meddle idly. Now that he was a local lord, he would not act without reason.
Xing Muzheng shook his head—then nodded. He himself had none. Jiaoniang did. And if Jiaoniang had, then so did he. When Xing Muzheng heard that Qian Jiaoniang had lost her way in the mountains for several days while gathering herbs, and she mentioned Qian Mountain, he immediately guessed there must be bandits there, and that her disappearance was surely tied to them. A beautiful woman in a den of bandits for days—even if she were clever—could hardly escape being defiled. And today that crazed bandit leader declared her his wife before everyone’s eyes, so Xing Muzheng was even more convinced she had been ravaged. Yet he did not care whether she was “pure” or not; he only raged at the grievance she had suffered. He had to avenge her.
Zhen Hao couldn’t make sense of Xing Muzheng’s shake-then-nod, but since he didn’t explain, Zhen Hao dared not pry. That was the habit formed over the years—if Xing Muzheng wished to speak, he would. If he didn’t, no amount of asking would draw it out.
Li Qingquan hesitantly asked, “My lord… then what about the madam?”
Xing Muzheng lifted his head, his gaze sharp as a blade. “What about her?”
Li Qingquan was startled by that look. He swallowed, but still forced himself to speak: “Madam was carried off by bandits, and then in public was… would she still be fit to serve as… Marchioness?” His voice grew lower and lower as Xing Muzheng’s eyes grew sharper and sharper. Li Qingquan felt as though he were being cut apart by a thousand blades.
The other two were also cowed by Xing Muzheng’s expression, not daring even to breathe heavily. It had been years since they’d seen him release such open, ruthless ferocity. Even so, Zhen Hao could not understand. If this spread, it would be a stain on Xing Muzheng’s name. If people sneered behind his back, how could his sworn brother endure it?
Xing Muzheng swept his gaze across the three, then said slowly, “Qingquan, you have always been loyal to me. But this is the last time I will tolerate you showing disrespect to Jiaoniang. She is my wife, the mistress of the Dingxi Marquis’s household. You are to defend her as you defend me. Do you understand?”
Though phrased as a question, his tone allowed no retreat. Li Qingquan, shocked, felt Ah Da’s kick under the table, and shut his mouth tight, nodding. Zhen Hao swallowed hard. He had never imagined his sworn brother felt so deeply for his principal wife—that he could even endure such a matter. Zhen Hao thought: if it were his own little wife who had suffered such a fate, he might pity her, perhaps demote her to concubine and settle her well—but beyond that, he could do nothing more. Before, he had mocked his brother for being slow to “open his heart,” but now… had he opened it to the point of madness?
Xing Muzheng then turned to Zhen Hao. “Go back and tell your men well: if anyone dares let slip what they saw yesterday, I will hold you responsible first.”
Zhen Hao dared not disobey. “I understand.”
When the drinking and eating was done, Xing Muzheng dismissed them to rest. Ah Da hesitated, then stepped forward, lowering his voice. “Master, have you explained things to Madam?”
Xing Muzheng gave him a look that spoke volumes. Ah Da, knowing his commander always acted more than he spoke, still ventured a few more words. “Master, this touches on a woman’s chastity. Even Madam, as free-spirited as she is, might find it hard to let go. You mustn’t bottle it up—you need to let her know your heart.”
For a long while Xing Muzheng said nothing. Ah Da thought he would not answer. Then he heard Xing Muzheng’s hoarse voice: “This matter… is my fault.”
With that, Xing Muzheng turned and went into Qian Jiaoniang’s room.
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