Mother Qian was determined to save that utterly depraved son Qian Baogui. But Qian Jiaoniang’s resolve was set—no matter what Mother Qian said, she would not yield. Two days later, Prefect Xie openly judged the case. As expected, he sentenced Qian Baogui to death, execution to be carried out in the autumn.
Mother Qian fainted on the spot.
When she came to, Qian Jiaoniang was sitting by the bedside, staring at her in a daze. Seeing her awake, she startled and hurriedly called for someone to bring hot medicine.
Mother Qian’s withered hand clutched her tightly, eyes filled with unforgiving anger and hatred. “Third Niang, don’t you just want me dead? Then why give me medicine?”
Qian Jiaoniang turned back to look at her mother’s furious face and let out a heavy sigh. These past days she had reasoned every which way, spoken every good word she could, but Mother Qian refused to hear anything except that her precious son must be released. Supporting her mother to sit against the bedhead, she frowned and said, “Mother, Baogui has committed murder—there is no place that will tolerate him! Just think of him as no longer your son. From now on, I will see to your care and your burial rites. You and Father can live here in the Marquis’s residence and enjoy a lifetime of wealth and honor—wouldn’t that be good?”
Qian Meiniang also came forward, eyes red, saying, “Yes, Mother, don’t think of that beast anymore. I’ve already spoken with Second Brother, and later I’ll bear another son and adopt him into the Qian family, so that the incense line will continue!”
Mother Qian looked at her third daughter, then at her eldest daughter, and gave a strange laugh. She shook her head without speaking, braced her hand, and tried to get out of bed. Thinking she needed the privy, Qian Jiaoniang and Qian Meiniang supported her, one on each side. Mother Qian slowly put on her shoes, and Qian Jiaoniang crouched down to help fit them on.
Mother Qian stepped down and walked a few paces, then went straight to the couch by the window. She beckoned to Qian Jiaoniang, her voice softening. “Third Niang, come here.”
Not knowing what her mother was thinking, and unwilling to provoke her further, Qian Jiaoniang obeyed and sat down when told. Who would have thought—just as she sat, Mother Qian suddenly grabbed the scissors from the embroidery basket by the couch and pressed the sharp point against her neck!
A chill ran across Qian Jiaoniang’s throat. Instinctively she lowered her head to look—only to feel a sudden sharp stab.
“Don’t move!” Mother Qian shouted in agitation. With her excitement, the scissor point jabbed several times more. Qian Jiaoniang tried to instinctively flinch away, but her mother’s withered yet still strong peasant-woman’s hand clamped her throat. “I told you not to move!”
“Mother, what are you doing!” Qian Meiniang screamed.
“Baogui’s mother!” Qian Dafu also jumped up in fright.
Qian Jiaoniang herself just sat stiffly, as if she had not yet reacted.
But Mother Qian’s face had twisted into something monstrous, “Go—fetch that cold-hearted husband of hers. I’ll trade her for him!”
Hongjuan and the others, hearing the commotion inside, rushed in. When they saw Qian Jiaoniang being held by her own mother with scissors at her throat, they all cried out in alarm. Chunwu wanted to act, but since it was Qian Jiaoniang’s own birth mother, she didn’t dare move recklessly.
Xing Muzheng had just returned and heard there was trouble. He rushed to the room at once. At a glance he saw the scissors at Qian Jiaoniang’s throat and the trickle of blood there. His killing aura spread like blades through the whole room. Everyone went from worry to terror. They had been trying to reason with Mother Qian, but now they dared not even breathe too loudly.
Meeting Xing Muzheng’s eyes, which radiated unmasked murderous intent, Mother Qian’s hand trembled and jabbed Qian Jiaoniang again. Qian Jiaoniang gave a muffled groan. That sound pierced Xing Muzheng like needles. He met her gaze and saw there was no ripple in it at all, which only made his own breathing heavier.
“Let her go,” Xing Muzheng said.
This was the first time since their reunion that Mother Qian had seen Xing Muzheng. Ten years ago, when she first met him, she hadn’t cared about his looks, only thought him a fool bound for war. Looking at him now, the man from back then was gone. His cold, stern face carried the majesty of high office. Deep down, she was afraid, but her desperation for her son’s life propped her up. She stammered, “T-To let her go… fine, if you give me Baogui—give me Baogui back!” By the end her voice was trembling, and she could say no more.
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