When Xing Muzheng returned, Qian Jiaoniang was already lying down. Quietly, he undressed and slipped into bed, gently embracing her back-turned form. Feeling the stiffness in her body, he realized she was not asleep. He tightened his arms, holding her close.
Qian Jiaoniang had thought he would not come to her room tonight. Unexpectedly, he did—and held her so tightly she could hardly breathe. She truly had no idea what this man was thinking anymore. She decided not to think at all, and simply pretended to sleep.
But he held her for so long, his body heat nearly scorching her back. She could no longer keep up the pretense. She turned over, and Xing Muzheng loosened his grip a little, letting her adjust before pulling her back into his arms again, pressing her soft body firmly against him. As if… she were a treasure lost and found.
Whatever their thoughts, their bodies were long accustomed to this closeness; their breaths mingled, bringing a strange sense of peace. Qian Jiaoniang had wanted to speak, but now she no longer wished to. Her ear pressed against his chest, she again heard that fierce heartbeat.
Perhaps… he did have some affection for her. The thought flickered across her mind, only to vanish immediately. She dared not dwell on it.
Then why did he hold her like this now? Was it because he didn’t know how to tell her he wished to divorce her? Or was he going to send her away to fend for herself?
“Jiaoniang,” Xing Muzheng spoke lowly in the darkness.
She answered softly.
“I…” He faltered, his voice hoarse. “I’m sorry.”
“Ah.” Hearing this, Qian Jiaoniang felt a strange calm, as if it were something she had expected. She thought he should have said this earlier, instead of embracing her that way. She felt he needn’t feel guilt—he had come to save her, and for that she was grateful.
“I let you suffer again. I’m sorry.” Xing Muzheng lowered his head and kissed her hairline.
He had brought her here to avenge her. She must have suffered bitterly in Qian Mountain, and he could not bear to let her bury it inside until it festered. Only by cutting open the wound and squeezing out the poison could it heal. He had never expected that Fang Xiong would dare, right under his eyes, to seize her! He bitterly regretted turning cleverness into clumsiness, making her endure new fear—and even that humiliation.
Xing Muzheng felt he had no face to meet Qian Jiaoniang.
But Qian Jiaoniang’s eyes flew wide, her heart surging. He said “I’m sorry”… because he let her suffer again? Not because she had shamed the Marquisate and he meant to cast her off?
Ever since she had been taken by Fang Xiong, Qian Jiaoniang never counted on anyone coming to rescue her. The more one hoped, the deeper the disappointment. She only thought about how she could escape with her own strength. Running into Zhen Hao, then Xing Muzheng rushing to save her—that was an unexpected joy. Yet Xing Muzheng blamed himself for it, and even told her “sorry.”
No one had ever placed her suffering in their heart. Others always had more important people to protect, or she herself had to protect others. But now, one day, there was actually someone who looked at her, saw her, and knew she had suffered.
Qian Jiaoniang was at a loss, her whole body prickling with discomfort, as if someone had asked a beggar to sit on the dragon throne. She tightened her voice: “My Lord Marquis, what is the matter with you? You have nothing to apologize to me for. You came to save me—I can’t thank you enough!”
“I am your husband. To save you is only natural. If you thank me again, I won’t know where to put my face.” Borrowing the cover of darkness, Xing Muzheng could finally say such words.
Qian Jiaoniang’s scalp tingled. Not the same tingling as when she sat on Fang Xiong’s boat last night—that was fear. Tonight it was shock.
“And another thing—about what happened last night, I’ve already given a gag order. No one will know you were taken by mountain bandits. You may set your mind at ease.”
So he meant to make everyone act blind and deaf? But did he himself not care? Qian Jiaoniang couldn’t believe it. In this world, men might take three wives and four concubines, yet women were not allowed a single blemish. Even showing an arm could be counted as loss of chastity. She had been handled lightly by Fang Xiong last night—if some old Confucian pedant learned of it, she’d be condemned to the pig cage!
“My Lord Marquis, you heard it yourself yesterday. I won’t hide it from you. That Fang Xiong—I already knew him from Qian Mountain. When I went up the mountain to gather herbs, he seized me and wanted me as his bandit’s wife. I was locked in their stockade for days, and even went through a wedding ceremony with him…”
“Sorry.” Xing Muzheng pulled her tight into his arms again.
“Ah?” Qian Jiaoniang nearly didn’t recognize this man anymore. Why was he apologizing again?
In a hoarse voice Xing Muzheng said: “When you suffered, I wasn’t by your side. Sorry. Don’t hold it in your heart. From now on, let’s live our days well.”
Qian Jiaoniang froze, then all at once pushed him away and sat upright. “Xing Muzheng, are you stupid!”
