Xing Yanan laughed. “Second Uncle, no need to worry. I saw with my own eyes—the Marquis’ looks resemble our Zhao’er somewhat. That alone strengthens our confidence. But Marquis Dingxi holds high rank and great power, lord over a whole region. He cannot rashly recognize kin. We should simply wait quietly a few days. A result will surely come.”
Second Uncle had always trusted Yanan, for he was a licensed scholar, steady and cautious. Hearing him say this, his anxious heart eased for the time being.
Xing Muzhao, being still young, had kept silent at the banquet, but now he exclaimed noisily: “Father, if it’s true, then my elder cousin is incredible! Just a few years older than me, yet he has commanded hundreds of thousands of troops and even become a lord. Truly admirable!”
Yanan said: “If you know to admire him, do you also know to strive in your studies? Your martial skills are poor; only through books can you succeed.”
Xing Muzhao, not wanting to be caught in his father’s lecture, made a face and slipped away.
***
Xing Muzheng was a man of swift action, and his subordinates were no less capable. After just one day, Qian Jiaoniang heard from him that not only would they select fine cloth in Yuzhou, but they would also spend heavily to seek the best across the entire Xie Dynasty. A month later, the Marchioness herself would make the final selection in public. The announcement had already gone out with drum and gong. Merchants, ever sharp to news, would soon flood into Yuzhou in droves.
“Isn’t this all rather too grand?” Qian Jiaoniang raised her brows. Was he really making this a matter known to all the world? Did he not fear the court’s attention on Yuzhou?
Xing Muzheng answered with calm ease: “I am infatuated with my lady. To spend richly on cloth to win her smile—why not?”
Qian Jiaoniang saw that he didn’t even twitch an eyelid as he said it. Admitting her own face was not as thick as his, she turned and left.
Sure enough, when word reached Yongan, the court was not stirred. The Third Prince, when presenting a jade pestle for alchemy to Emperor Taikang, mentioned it in passing. The emperor burst into laughter: “That boy grows more and more useless! With the world at peace, all he does is amuse his wife. Just what sort of beauty must that woman be, that he spoils her so? I truly should have summoned her into the palace last time to take a look.”
The third prince had thin lips and a hooked nose, his gaze piercing. He wore a golden-yellow python robe trimmed with gold, his eyes lowered as he ground medicine for his father. “Oh? This son hadn’t noticed before that the Dingxi Marquis dotes on his wife so much…” Up until now, the third prince’s attention had been all on the crown prince. “Wasn’t it said that the marquis once took a daughter of the Feng family as an equal wife? Then this current marchioness—who is she?”
“It’s his original wife, the Qian woman—once a village girl… enough, it’s a messy account, not worth mentioning. You only need to know that heroes fall for beauties, and he’s willing to spend thousands of gold coins for one smile.” Emperor Taikang recalled how in his own day he once burned through a hundred bolts of brocade just to make a favored concubine smile. Compared to that, what Xing Muzheng was doing wasn’t much at all. “Enough of these trivial matters. Look at my face—does it look more ruddy than yesterday?”
The third prince studied his father carefully, then smiled and nodded in agreement.
Hang Zhi also learned of this matter. He waved away the servant who had reported, then strolled slowly into the inner chamber. Two maidservants stood at the door holding up the curtain for him; they bowed silently, but did not speak to greet him. The room was quiet, a wave of coolness dispelling the heat from Hang Zhi’s body, faint cold fragrance lingering in the air. Passing the six-paneled screen of drooping willow and fluttering breeze, he saw a beauty reclining languidly on the couch—her jade-like body stretched across, cloud-like hair loose, cheeks tinged red. One maid sat at the front of the couch slowly fanning her with a sandalwood fan, another behind lightly massaging her shoulders. Hang Zhi’s gaze burned, his heart filled with satisfaction. Such a scene of beauty—he could never tire of watching it, not in a lifetime.
His eyes fell lower: delicate bare feet, slim enough to encircle with one hand, without even silk stockings.
The two senior maids, seeing Hang Zhi come in, quickly rose and saluted.
“When did Madam fall asleep?” Hang Zhi asked softly.
Before the maid could reply, the drowsy beauty stirred, her starry eyes still hazy with sleep. She raised an arm and stretched lazily. Hang Zhi’s frozen smile melted, and he bent down to claim her red lips.
