When Xing Muzheng had come, he had already anticipated this. What he had not expected was that Mother Qian would truly be foolish enough to use her daughter’s life to bargain for that useless son.
“Fine,” Xing Muzheng answered crisply.
“No!” Qian Jiaoniang spoke at the same time.
Mother Qian had been strung taut as a bowstring. Hearing both “fine” and “no,” the string snapped. Baring her teeth, she drove the scissors hard into Qian Jiaoniang’s shoulder. “You don’t speak! I mean it!” Her voice had become shrill and violent, her clouded eyes red like a specter’s.
Blood seeped instantly through Qian Jiaoniang’s summer blouse. She could not help crying out in pain.
“Madam!” “Jiaoniang!” Shouts rose from all around. No one could believe it—Qian Jiaoniang was her own daughter, her life was saved by her daughter, and yet she could show no shred of motherly affection!
Even Qian Dafu was stunned. Yes, he was heartbroken over Qian Baogui, but he had never thought to harm Third Niang! “Baogui’s mother…” Had his wife gone mad?
“Stay back, all of you, stay back!” Mother Qian swung the bloody scissors wildly, the hand on Qian Jiaoniang’s throat bulging with veins. Qian Jiaoniang’s breathing grew ever more labored.
Xing Muzheng stood unmoving, like a mountain. “When this Marquis says fine, it means fine. Are you deaf? If you dare stab Jiaoniang again, this Marquis will have Qian Baogui’s flesh cut from him piece by piece.” His voice was calm, as though speaking of something trivial, but it carried a chilling force that turned Mother Qian’s hot blood instantly cold and filled her with dread.
Her hand stopped swinging the scissors. Instead, she pressed them back against Qian Jiaoniang’s throat, eyeing Xing Muzheng suspiciously, as if trying to judge whether he spoke the truth. “Is the Master’s word real?”
“Would this Marquis’s word ever be false?” Xing Muzheng’s tone carried impatience.
“Baogui’s mother, enough…” Qian Dafu, seeing the blood spreading further on Qian Jiaoniang’s clothes, felt it more and more dreadful. A dark foreboding seized him, as if they were about to plunge off a cliff.
“Shut your mouth! Useless thing!” Mother Qian spat at Qian Dafu, then turned back to Xing Muzheng. “Master, I believe you. But you must still write a pledge for me, so I can take it to the yamen to have my son released.”
“Fine. Bring brush and ink!”
The servants quickly brought paper and brush. Xing Muzheng swept his hand and wrote in bold, flying strokes. At the end he even pressed his own seal.
Mother Qian could not read, but when she received the paper she stared at it front and back for quite a while, then lifted her head to scrutinize Xing Muzheng, convinced he had not deceived her. “You… must not go back on your word, must not block us!”
“I will personally take you,” Xing Muzheng promised calmly.
Mother Qian and Qian Dafu exchanged a glance; at last she hesitated, then released Qian Jiaoniang. The maidservants hurried forward to support her, and Xing Muzheng lifted her up in his arms. “Go summon the doctor to Honghu Courtyard.”
Mother Qian, clutching the written pledge, wanted to chase after them—not out of concern for Jiaoniang’s wounds, but because she held fast to Xing Muzheng’s words about leading them. Qian Meinang pulled her back.
Doctor Bai hurried to Honghu Courtyard to staunch Jiaoniang’s bleeding and dress her wounds. From beginning to end Jiaoniang sat wooden and silent—neither groaning nor crying out. Xing Muzheng, once assured she was not in grave danger, stood at her bedside and gazed at her for a moment. Yet she only stared at the canopy overhead, refusing to look at him. Xing Muzheng extended a finger and brushed her pale cheek, but she seemed entirely unaware.
Turning, Xing Muzheng left Honghu Courtyard. Mother Qian and Qian Dafu had not gone; they still waited for him to lead them to rescue their son. Though they already had the pledge, with Xing Muzheng personally present they would need even fewer words. Qian Meinang, weeping as she spoke, still tried to persuade them to turn back, to apologize to Jiaoniang, to beg forgiveness from the Marquis.
Mother Qian said, “She is my daughter. If she is unfilial, then beating and scolding her is only right and proper. Could she possibly beat me, her mother?” Though she did not know her letters, she knew filial duty. She had never heard of any daughter daring to strike her own mother. Besides, in families of such rank and standing, face mattered even more—they could never let outsiders know their children were unfilial.
Xing Muzheng strode out in a black robe with embroidered trim, a sword at his waist, his handsome face unreadable. Carpenter Zheng, seeing his calm expression, felt an inexplicable chill. Anxiety weighed heavily on his heart. He feared Xing Muzheng might even arrest his parents-in-law. After all, though his mother-in-law had stabbed Third Sister, she was still her mother—what could be done about that?
Yet Xing Muzheng truly meant to escort the Qian couple to the yamen to fetch their son. Qian Meinang and Carpenter Zheng were both startled, just about to speak when Xing Muzheng said,
“Eldest Sister, Jiaoniang’s spirit is unwell just now. I will trouble yourself to stay with her.”
With that, he led Mother Qian and Qian Dafu away.
Qian Meinang’s heart thudded wildly. She clutched her husband’s hand. “Second Brother, I’m afraid.” She could not read Xing Muzheng at all. His face was so calm she could not tell if he was angry. But still, she feared.
Carpenter Zheng said nothing, only wrapped her in his arms. He could not comfort her.
Under Xing Muzheng’s lead, Mother Qian and Qian Dafu reached the dungeon unhindered. Xing Muzheng summoned Xie Zhang and ordered him to open Qian Baogui’s cell.
Mother Qian rushed in at once to embrace her beloved son, wailing as if he had suffered some heaven-shaking injustice. Qian Dafu did not go in; instead he steeled himself to say the words he had rehearsed along the way: “Lord Marquis, this matter was Jiaoniang’s mother losing her senses. We have wronged Jiaoniang. We will return to the village at once!”
Xing Muzheng paid him no heed, but Xie Zhang’s eyelids twitched. It was Xing Marquis who had ordered Baogui’s torture, Xing Niang who had approved his death sentence. How could such a settled matter be overturned? Just what had this blind, son-obsessed couple done to the Marchioness that caused Xing Niang to change his mind?
After days of torture, Qian Baogui was half-dead. Hearing his mother had come to take him away, he wept aloud in the joy of reprieve, clutching her as they both sobbed. They cried for a long while, until Qian Dafu’s scalp prickled and his feet turned cold with dread—he urged them to come out quickly. Only then did Mother Qian, supporting the staggering Baogui, lead him out of the cell.
Mother and son stood before Xing Muzheng. Tears streaking her face, Mother Qian smiled and said, “Young Lord, thank you for saving Baogui!” She still made no mention of wounding Jiaoniang. In her eyes, Jiaoniang’s refusal to save her brother had come first, so her own violence was merely repayment in kind.
“No need for thanks,” Xing Muzheng said lightly. Then all present saw him draw his sword and drive it straight into Baogui’s chest, twisting the blade twice before pulling it free. A trail of blood splattered to the ground.
Drip, drip.
Qian Baogui’s eyes bulged wide; he collapsed limply to the floor. Mother Qian’s smile froze on her lips—she still did not understand what had happened. Only the reek of blood reached her nose, and her treasured son lay fallen.
Qian Dafu threw himself forward, tearing his lungs with a scream: “Baogui—!”
Mother Qian slowly lowered her head. She saw her son staring wide-eyed, mouth agape, lying motionless upon the ground, a great pool of blood flowing fast from his chest.
“Baogui’er, you cannot die!”
Her son—dead? Dead before her very eyes? Mother Qian crouched down, staring at the motionless body. After a long moment, she shrieked, seizing and shaking him madly. “No—Baogui! Mother’s Baogui!”
To the couple’s devastation, Xing Muzheng did not spare even a glance. He wiped his sword clean, tossed a pouch of silver onto Baogui’s corpse. “The silver inside repays the Qian family for giving life to Jiaoniang. If you dare appear before me again, do not blame me for being merciless.”
With that, Xing Muzheng flung aside the bloodied handkerchief and turned away. Behind him, Qian Dafu and Mother Qian clung to Baogui’s corpse, wailing like ghosts.
