After drinking her medicine, Qian Jiaoniang quickly fell asleep again. Xing Pingchun was worried and wanted to sleep in her room to keep her company. But as in the past few days, Qingya told him to go sleep in his own room—she would stay with Jiaoniang.
Xing Pingchun took a quick look through Xing Muzheng’s room and saw that he, too, was asleep. Relieved, he splashed some water on his face and hurried off to bed.
Qingya, who had been caring for Jiaoniang day and night these past few days, was already exhausted. As soon as she lay down, she sank into a deep sleep. Ah Da and Wang Yong also quickly dashed to the side room and fell onto their beds fully clothed. After three days of the commander’s round-the-clock madness, they hadn’t had a single good night’s sleep—now, the moment they hit the bed, their loud snores filled the room.
Li Qingquan and Wu Shunzi took the night shift, sitting outside Xing Muzheng’s door. But even they were nodding off, eyelids growing heavier and heavier.
The night was silent. Pale moonlight washed over the courtyard like a blanket of silver, cold and serene. A gentle breeze carried faint floral scents. Tree shadows shifted slowly, the silver light gradually swallowed by encroaching darkness. The crescent moon overhead was, at some point, veiled by clouds.
“Ah—!”
A torn, ragged scream suddenly pierced the calm night like a blade.
Qian Jiaoniang’s heart stopped for a beat. She jolted awake from her sleep. Turning her head instinctively, the movement sent a stabbing pain through her heavy, stone-like skull.
Qingya also awoke. After listening for a moment, she rolled over. “The Marquis is acting up again. Just ignore him—let’s get back to sleep.”
Qian Jiaoniang made a sound of acknowledgment and lay with eyes open, listening to the now-familiar commotion outside. Xing Muzheng was probably still thrashing about in his room. She wondered if Ah Da could calm him with goat milk… Ah, he’s gone out, now he’s in the main hall—he came out faster tonight… now he’s throwing chairs… good thing he’s a high-ranking official now—otherwise he wouldn’t even be able to afford his own furniture… Money really does make the world go round…
But why did his voice…
Jiaoniang tilted her head slightly, brows furrowing.
She had heard Xing Muzheng’s mad howls so many times that she could nearly tell the exact time of day by his voice alone. But she had never heard this kind of scream before. If she didn’t know better, she’d think it was a criminal being tortured—under the cruelest kind of torture, the kind that made people wish for death.
“What’s going on? Go have a look,” Qian Jiaoniang said. By now, even the sounds of smashing objects had stopped—only that piercing, wretched screaming remained. It was truly unsettling.
Qingya sensed something off too. She got off the small bed, slipped on her shoes, lit a small oil lamp, and placed it on the table. She threw on a coat.
“Be careful. Stay back a little,” Jiaoniang instructed. She lay stiffly on the bed, trying to glance at Qingya out of the corner of her eye. She was lying on a specially-shaped pillow—moving even slightly was difficult.
“I got it,” Qingya replied and went out empty-handed. She didn’t dare carry the lamp, so she felt her way in the dark. She quietly crept to the side door of the main hall and lifted the curtain to peek inside.
The scene was familiar chaos: tables and chairs knocked over in all directions—but surprisingly, none were smashed. It was too dark to make out clearly which lump of shadow was Xing Muzheng. She could only see several silhouettes gathered around, calling out, “Commander! Commander!” amid the terrifying screams.
As the clouds drifted away, a sliver of moonlight shone in. Qingya finally saw that none of the four standing figures were Xing Muzheng. She looked more closely and spotted him lying flat on the ground, face up, his bulging veins visible as his hands gripped his arms tightly. His legs were curled inward, long dark hair a mess across his chest, obscuring his face. But the way he screamed—each cry more tortured than the last—was enough to make anyone’s heart twist.
Qingya bit her lower lip. Though she still bore a grudge toward Xing Muzheng for accidentally hurting Jiaoniang, when she heard those desperate, beast-like cries—as if he were dying—she couldn’t help but feel a twinge of pity. She had witnessed Xing Muzheng’s mad fits at night several times, but never anything as… harrowing as tonight.
Doctor Bai, who was temporarily staying in the small room behind the east wing, was a light sleeper. Even though her room was far from the main hall, she still heard faint disturbances. She came out with a lamp, and the screams grew louder—like a bloodthirsty beast trapped in the house. Doctor Bai, trembling, stepped out into the corridor and saw Qingya peering into the hall. She whispered to her, “Miss Qingya!”
Qingya turned and waved her hand. “Doctor Bai, blow out the lamp, quickly!”
Doctor Bai immediately extinguished it and hurried over. The two of them peeked inside together—and drew in a sharp breath.
Dingxi Marquis was rolling on the ground, slamming his head against the floor, violently yanking his own hair—ripping out a clump and stuffing it into his mouth. Wang Yong reacted quickly, crouching down and grabbing his wrist. But the marquis roared and sank his teeth into Wang Yong’s arm, biting deep into the flesh. Wang Yong felt as if his arm would snap in two, but he clenched his teeth and didn’t cry out. Li Qingquan rushed up from behind, grabbed the marquis’s arm, and tried to pull him off. But the marquis wouldn’t let go—he clamped his jaws down even harder and, with his long arms, reached back to slam Li Qingquan’s head with his own. Li Qingquan’s forehead struck the back of the marquis’s skull, and stars danced before his eyes.
Ah Da moved in and covered the marquis’s eyes. The marquis screamed wildly, bloodied teeth finally loosening from Wang Yong’s arm. Wang Yong pulled back at once—blood poured down his wrist and quickly pooled on the floor. Before Ah Da could retreat, he took a powerful kick to the stomach and was sent flying, landing in a pile of chairs.
Xing Muzheng couldn’t stop it.
The pain was so intense he felt like he was dying, and tonight’s torment was hundreds—no, thousands—of times worse than any he had felt before. He could no longer describe what kind of pain it was. All he knew was pain.
“Is this… the Marquis?” Doctor Bai was in disbelief. She had heard that Dingxi Marquis was a famous war hero—how could he behave like a fool one moment and a madman the next?
“He’s sick,” Qingya said softly. “Doctor, can you tell what kind of illness this is?”
Doctor Bai observed for a long while. “This… my medical skills are limited…” She dared not say it aloud—this didn’t look like illness. It looked like possession.
Li Qingquan shouted, “Knock him out!”
Wang Yong also sensed that tonight was different from past episodes. Without hesitation, he stepped forward and struck the marquis at the back of the neck with his good hand. The marquis’s head tilted, and he collapsed. Li Qingquan and Wu Shunzi rushed forward to support him. Wu Shunzi crouched in front, and Li Qingquan helped lift the marquis onto his back.
Ah Da, limping, got up just as the marquis suddenly opened his eyes and kicked Wu Shunzi flying. Qingya jumped back in fright.
Ah Da cursed, “Too light-handed, you dumb ox!”
“I used ninety percent of my strength!” Wang Yong protested, rushing to help Wu Shunzi up.
Xing Muzheng felt as if he were strapped to a burning stake—his skin splitting open, his flesh charring—yet he did not die. He could not die. He could only struggle helplessly in the flames. Was this backlash? Because he had willed the ghost-thing to take him to Jiaoniang’s place, and now it was rebounding on him? Or was someone deliberately punishing him?
The four had no way to stop the marquis from hurting himself. With no other option, they tied up his limbs and carried him back to bed. Even with his hands and feet bound, he thrashed like a trapped beast, sweat pouring from him like rain, Wang Yong’s blood still at the corners of his mouth. He bared his teeth and snapped in every direction, even trying to bite into his own shoulder. The others had to stuff cloth into his mouth to keep him from chewing his own flesh.
Xing Muzheng continued struggling. Qingya couldn’t bear to watch any longer. She told Doctor Bai to treat Wang Yong and the others, then went to the east wing to fetch the medical kit. As soon as she entered the room, she saw Qian Jiaoniang slowly getting up by the bed. Qingya rushed to help her. “What are you doing?”
Jiaoniang pointed at the chamber pot in the corner.
Qingya scolded, “At least wait for me! What if you fell again? Not even the gods could save you!”
“I’m not that fragile.”
Qian Jiaoniang, supported by Qingya, finished relieving herself, but by the time they returned to the bed, her head was spinning. She suddenly retched and vomited up the little white porridge she had eaten earlier. Qingya stomped her foot in panic. “You’re trying to die today, aren’t you!”
