On the way to the prison, everyone was weighed down with heavy thoughts. On one side was duty to country, on the other, their own lives. No matter how one chose, it was a road of no return.
To avoid drawing attention, the Prefect of Wuzhou only allowed one person to go in. Qin Shaoyuan, thinking of the gravity of the matter, wanted to ask Qian Jiaoniang to let him enter. Before he could speak, Ah Da and Li Qingquan voiced their objections. After the incident of the Commander being poisoned, the two of them knew Qian Jiaoniang was dependable. Compared with Qin Shaoyuan, who had only just arrived, the Commander ought to trust the one at his pillow-side more.
Qin Shaoyuan was slightly taken aback, but seeing the situation, could only remind Qian Jiaoniang: “Madam, when you see the Marquis, just tell him every word Zhang Zize said, and the Marquis will make his own judgment.” He paused, then said with meaning, “As the old saying goes, ‘If the green hills remain, there will always be firewood to burn.’”
Qian Jiaoniang glanced at Qin Shaoyuan and nodded. Ah Da lowered his voice, “Madam, please tell the Commander—whatever decision he makes, we will follow him!”
Li Qingquan nodded firmly.
Qian Jiaoniang smiled lightly. “With brothers like you, Xing Muzheng’s life is not in vain.”
Ah Da grew anxious. “Madam, you mustn’t say such ominous words at a time like this.”
The Prefect’s aide came to escort Qian Jiaoniang into the prison. She followed him and the jailers down damp bluestone steps. The wailing and howling, almost identical to that of Yuzhou, echoed in layers from the depths. When they reached the bottom, torches lit up the pitch-dark dungeon, the sweltering air thick with foul stench that rushed to her nose. Qian Jiaoniang’s delicate brows drew tighter and tighter.
Xing Muzheng’s cell was at the very end, as if to guard against a prison break; two soldiers even stood watch outside the door. Inside, Xing Muzheng sat cross-legged on a heap of straw, eyes closed as if meditating. A scar of fresh crimson slashed across his right cheek, vicious and glaring. Qian Jiaoniang pressed her lips tightly together.
Even the clanking sound of the chains being unlocked did not make him open his eyes. The aide said softly, “Dingxi Marquis, someone has come to see you.”
Xing Muzheng opened his eyes and met Qian Jiaoniang’s gaze through the bars. His black eyes stirred faintly.
Qian Jiaoniang gave the aide a small nod. He understood, motioned with his eyes, and the jailers withdrew with him. Bending down, Qian Jiaoniang stepped into the filthy cell. The moment she lifted her head, Xing Muzheng was already before her.
“You—why have you come?”
“Are you hurt anywhere else?”
The two spoke at the same time.
After a moment’s silence, Xing Muzheng grasped her hand. Qian Jiaoniang struggled slightly, mindful of his injuries.
He bent down, his hoarse voice at her ear: “I had let you go free.” And yet, she had still come.
Qian Jiaoniang lowered her eyes. “Where else are you hurt?”
Xing Muzheng tilted up her chin, his gaze boring into the depths of her eyes, not allowing her to evade. “Why did you come?”
Qian Jiaoniang glared at him. “Xing Muzheng, is this the time to be asking that?”
He said nothing, only pressed harder on her chin.
“Let me go first.”
“Now that you’ve come, I won’t let go.”
Qian Jiaoniang ground her teeth in anger, furious at his inability to weigh priorities. She gritted out, “Fine—when we get home, I’ll give you a child. That should be enough!”
Xing Muzheng’s joy was sudden and wild. He pulled her into a fierce embrace, as if to fuse her into his very bones. Qian Jiaoniang nearly couldn’t breathe from the force, and as she struggled to lift her head, his lips came down hard on hers, sealing them. He kissed her so fiercely, as though trying to draw out her very soul.
Qian Jiaoniang was nearly faint from his kiss. She beat his arm with her hand until at last he let go. He bit her ear, his voice rough in her ear: “Bear me a daughter!”
Panting, Qian Jiaoniang glared at him viciously. “You wretch! You’re on the brink of death, and still you cling to this?”
Xing Muzheng laughed low and deep, holding her tight, unwilling to release her. She pushed at him, but he spoke almost like a rogue: “Even if I die, you must bear me a daughter.”
She spat at him. “Dream on! Now let me see where else you’re hurt. I brought medicine!”
“Nothing much, just a few lashes across the chest.”
He said it lightly, but Qian Jiaoniang could not take it lightly. She pulled open his robe and saw the bloody welts slashed across his chest. She quickly pressed him to sit and knelt before him, drawing out medicine from her sleeve to apply carefully. As she worked, she softly told him about Zhang Zize coming to her.
But after she finished, she heard no response for a long while. Looking up, she saw his dark eyes fixed unblinking on her fingers as they applied the salve, as if he hadn’t heard a word.
“What are you thinking?” she pressed a finger to his wound.
Xing Muzheng hissed in pain. She lowered her head and blew gently on the cut, and his lips curved faintly without a sound. Yet when she lifted her head, his expression was once again solemn. “What do you think?”
“Does His Majesty believe in your innocence?”
Xing Muzheng pulled her into his arms, closed her fingers around the medicine jar. “The Emperor is obsessed with alchemy, yearning for immortality and an everlasting throne. If I were accused of some other crime, he might still believe in my loyalty, and I’d be safe. But treason—treason is the gravest taboo of the imperial house. They’d rather wrongly kill a hundred than let one slip away. Now that false witnesses have accused me, with the Third Prince fanning the flames, I fear there is little hope of turning the tide.”
Qian Jiaoniang was silent, her face pressed against his chest.
Xing Muzheng gently stroked her face. “Rest assured—even if I die, I will never let you and Chou’er be implicated.”
Qian Jiaoniang lifted her head and looked straight into his eyes. “Why must you die?”
Xing Muzheng’s gaze shifted slightly. “If I take the other path, you will all be branded rebels and traitors. One careless step, and it will be eternal damnation.”
“So what? I only want the father of my child to live.” From the very start, Qian Jiaoniang had no confusion in her heart. To die wronged under the false name of loyalty and service to the state—what use was it? Even if future histories recorded him as a loyal minister of Great Xie, he would still be dead. Better a wretched life than a glorious death—only by living could the tide be turned. Silks and riches were never what Qian Jiaoniang sought; they were no more than icing on the cake. All she wanted was her family safe and alive.
“You are not afraid? If I go to Yongan and refuse to confess unto death, then even if the Third Prince kills me, I will still keep my title of Dingxi Marquis. You and our son can continue to live in wealth and honor in Yuzhou. But if I become a rebel, then we will be hunted everywhere, forced to flee, with no good days ahead.” Xing Muzheng caressed her face.
Qian Jiaoniang pursed her lips. “It’s not as if I haven’t lived through hard days before.”
A hot rush surged through Xing Muzheng’s chest; he buried his face against her neck. Qian Jiaoniang gasped softly, “Your wound…”
“Jiaoniang, you are the wife I love.” Xing Muzheng finally spoke the words aloud.
