Qian Jiaoniang had only just returned to Yuzhou when the Minghu Army received an imperial edict to attack Yuzhou. Following Xing Muzheng’s instructions, she ordered Peng Shi and the others to guard the city tightly.
Yet though the attacking army looked fierce, in truth it was thunder without rain. For the generals’ true orders were: feign attack, but do not harm a single soldier of the city.
With Zhen Hao within the Minghu Army, Qian Jiaoniang quickly received word. She thus instructed Peng Shi to put on a show of defense—going up to the walls each morning to make a circuit.
The Minghu Army “attacked” outside Yuzhou’s gates for half a month, until at last the imperial edict of withdrawal arrived. As they departed, Qian Jiaoniang had Peng Shi send them fine wine and good meat in reward.
Another month later, Xing Muzheng sent secret report that the remnants of the former dynasty had been swept up in one net. He would return to Yuzhou before the Mid-Autumn Festival.
It should have been Mid-Autumn long ago, but this year there was a leap seventh month, and so instead it let Xing Muzheng catch the night of reunion. Qian Jiaoniang had been angry that Xing Muzheng schemed to force her into making a choice, yet at the same time, at opening her heart to him again—she was both joyful and uneasy.
Qian Jiaoniang was not one to retrace her steps, but hateful as it was, Xing Muzheng was her destined calamity. She had clearly severed all ties and feelings, yet still could not escape his grasp. These years of his devotion to her, she had seen and remembered, but she could not forget his past cruelty. Her heart, however unwilling, still beat for him. This tangle of love and hate made her falter, yet Xing Muzheng pressed her into taking this step. Qian Jiaoniang yielded to her heart: when she heard he was imprisoned, she worried; when she heard he faced death, her heart ached. She could not put him down, could not let him go. No matter how angry she was, she still loved him.
Qian Jiaoniang could be said to have tasted the full bitterness and fire of love, not the least of it under her own control. Clutching the secret letter, her heart was sweet. She only hoped that this time, there would be no more suffering.
On the fourteenth of the eighth month, as evening drew near, autumn winds whistled bleakly. Outside Yunzhou city, a light rain had just fallen, the ground like it was spread with a sheet of water, so that dust could not rise. Several strong, sleek horses came from the official road, but even so could not run at full speed. The man riding at their head was precisely Xing Muzheng. Days of hurrying on the road, eating in the wind and sleeping under dew, had left both man and horse exhausted. Clearly, he could have rested the night at an inn and returned leisurely to Yuzhou the next morning. Yet Xing Muzheng insisted on driving the tired horses harder, unwilling to pause even a moment, pressing to return to Yuzhou as quickly as possible.
At the Salei Pavilion, a figure who had waited long heard the sound of hooves, hurried out to look, and upon seeing that it was him, her lips curved upward. She loosed her horse and leapt into the saddle.
Xing Muzheng suddenly saw a woman in a flaming red cloak riding toward him at full gallop. Looking more closely—it was a smiling Qian Jiaoniang. Joy flashed across Xing Muzheng’s eyes. He whipped his reins fiercely to meet her. Their gazes met in midair, their feelings entwining like tangled vines. Heat surged in Xing Muzheng’s chest. Stretching out his arm, he caught Qian Jiaoniang by her slender waist. Like a fiery butterfly, she fluttered down in an instant into the man’s embrace.
Li Qingquan and Ah Da hastily raised their hands to signal the others to halt, and, in silent understanding, had the riders fall back.
Qian Jiaoniang gave a startled cry, then sank steadily into the solid arms, meeting the smiling dark eyes, her lips lifting high in joy.
Xing Muzheng pulled Lightning to a halt, the corners of his lips already lifted. Lowering his head, he carefully studied the beloved wife he had not seen for so long, and tightened his hold around her waist. “How did you come here?”
“To fetch you.”
“To fetch me?” Xing Muzheng’s heart softened all the more. The storms of blood and steel were, in that instant, wholly swept away.
“Mm,” Qian Jiaoniang wound her arms around his neck, her breath warm against his ear, “Xing Muzheng, I’ve come to bring you home.”
Xing Muzheng’s dark eyes were so deep they seemed to draw her in. He pressed a swift, heavy kiss onto her full red lips and said in a low voice: “Mm. Let’s go—to our home.”
He flicked his whip, and Lightning too seemed to understand his master’s urgent heart. The stallion reared, hooves pawing high, then surged forward with renewed vigor. Because of Lightning’s sudden motion, Qian Jiaoniang tumbled against Xing Muzheng’s chest, and he wrapped one strong arm tight around her, holding her close. Both their bodies burned with heat, as though the chill of autumn could not touch them in the least.
“Xing Muzheng,” Qian Jiaoniang called softly.
“I’m here.”
She giggled, and he tightened his hold, laughing with her.
They entered the city and returned to the manor. Steward Ding, upon hearing the page’s report, hurriedly summoned the servants to welcome their master—yet before they could gather, the impatient lord had already ridden straight in, cradling a woman in a blazing red cloak who was carried directly into the Warm Spring Pond. Steward Ding remembered: that cloak was the one Madam had worn out that very morning. His heart gave a sudden jolt, and with a quick glance, he ordered the servants to scatter at once.
Inside the pavilion, Xing Muzheng could not wait to wash off the road’s dust. Qian Jiaoniang turned to leave, but he caught her back with one sweep of his arm. “Stay and bathe with me.”
“You’re filthy and stinking, I won’t keep you company,” Qian Jiaoniang’s eyes glimmered with teasing charm.
Xing Muzheng had already dismissed the attendants. Hearing her refusal, he pinned her fiercely against the wall, raining down ardent kisses. “Then I’ll make you just as dirty and stinking—let’s see if you’ll keep me company or not!”
“Don’t be rash, Chou’er will be back soon… wait, don’t tear my clothes! I’ll stay, I’ll stay!”
Yet in the end, Xing Muzheng could not truly bear to sully his fragrant, delicate wife. After kissing and caressing her fiercely, he stripped off his own garments and leapt into the hot spring. Qian Jiaoniang brought out a poria-root comb to undo his crown and wash his hair. Xing Muzheng tilted his head to meet her gaze, and the two of them smiled at one another.
He bathed properly, scrubbing himself clean, and all the while recounted how he had destroyed the remnants of the former dynasty’s rebels. Qian Jiaoniang checked that he bore no serious new wounds and asked no further. What she could not fathom was why Xing Muzheng, safe and sound, would take such a perilous mission upon himself. He held no office in court—by rights, even the emperor could not order him. Unless…
“Why would you do this? Do you have some handle in the emperor’s hands?”
Xing Muzheng looked up at her. She touched the smooth line of his freshly shaven jaw. Xing Muzheng narrowed his eyes lazily, letting her caress him, and said, “Not a handle. A condition.”
“What condition?” she pressed.
He clasped her hand, stroking the back of it. “The Son of Heaven wanted my promise in this matter in exchange for an imperial decree.”
Qian Jiaoniang suddenly understood. No wonder Xing Muzheng had been able to have the imperial edict altered—he had traded his life on a knife’s edge for it. Her eyes grew complex as she looked at him. He had spoken lightly, but it had been fraught with danger; if not for his skill at turning peril aside, he might well have lost his life.
“Was it worth it?” she asked.
Xing Muzheng smiled and kissed her palm. “A bargain this profitable—naturally it’s a sure gain, no loss.”
A spark ignited in her heart, joy spreading through every vein. How sweet it was, to know her husband truly cared for her.
Qian Jiaoniang bit her lip and smiled. Xing Muzheng gazed at her, fire glowing in his eyes, and began to kiss the center of her palm. Alarmed, she pulled back her hand. “You’re done washing—hurry and get out.” She rose to fetch him a towel, but he swept his long arm around her, pulling her, clothes and all, into the pool.
“Xing Muzheng!—cough, cough!” Qian Jiaoniang sputtered in outrage. He was always so reckless!
His wet black hair clung down his back. He laughed low, pressing her between the pool wall and his chest. “My darling wife, I’ve starved far too long. Let me have a taste first—and tonight I’ll eat my fill.”
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