Delicacies already at his lips, there was no way Xing Muzheng would spit them out. Qian Jiaoniang was well and truly devoured by the starving man. If not for remembering that Xing Pingchun was waiting anxiously outside, Xing Muzheng would never have released her so soon.
Hongjuan and the others had already considerately hung their garments in the side chamber. Xing Muzheng carried Qian Jiaoniang out, changed clothes, and only then summoned the maids to dry her hair.
As expected, Xing Pingchun had been pacing in Honghu Courtyard until he was beside himself. The moment he heard his mother’s familiar laughter, his eyes lit up and he dashed outside. There he saw his parents striding toward the main hall, smiling into each other’s eyes. Beneath their wide robes, their hands were clasped tightly together.
To hold your hand, and grow old together with you.
The line of poetry sprang unbidden into Xing Pingchun’s mind. His heart thumped heavily, joy multiplying inexplicably at the sight of his parents walking hand in hand. A wide grin spread across his face as he ran to join them. “Father! Mother! Father, I welcome you home!”
In these past days, Xing Pingchun had grown much. He had endured anxious weeks in Yuzhou alone, uncertain of his parents’ fate, and had borne the burden of the entire city on his young shoulders. For the first time, he truly realized the weight of the title Young Lord of Yuzhou. Even after Qian Jiaoniang returned, he had not let down his guard; instead, he had taken on the duty of protecting his mother while awaiting his father’s safe return. He had even steeled himself for the possibility of killing.
Qian Jiaoniang had seen it all with her own eyes. That evening, after supper, the three sat talking together. She recounted to Xing Muzheng all that Xing Pingchun had done. Xing Muzheng praised him with a single word—“Good”—and then turned to Qian Jiaoniang with a smile: “He is our son.”
Xing Pingchun’s face flushed. Not from his father’s rare praise, but from those words that followed: our son. That meant more to him than any commendation. His blood raced hot—he carried half his father’s blood, half his mother’s blood. He was theirs!
Xing Muzheng had brought back a gift for him: a jade-cased brush of fine hair. Xing Pingchun was delighted, and solemnly gave thanks.
After enjoying the happiness of family, night had already grown late. Xing Muzheng wished all the more to share pillow talk with his wife, only Xing Pingchun was still overexcited, sitting cross-legged on the heated bed, fiddling with the jade brush tube, showing no intention of leaving. Xing Muzheng sat behind Qian Jiaoniang, and secretly touched her thigh, giving her a meaningful look. Qian Jiaoniang felt a faint shiver, half shy, half annoyed, and glared back at him. She knew he wanted her to send their son to bed, but she did not speak.
That glance made Xing Muzheng all the more restless. He thought this little enchantress was tormenting him, and pinched her slender waist in secret. Clearing his throat, he said, “Chou’er, you’ve been at school all day and must be tired. Go rest.”
“Father, I’m not tired!” The honest child Xing Pingchun answered loudly.
Xing Muzheng: “……”
Qian Jiaoniang burst into laughter. Xing Muzheng’s face darkened even more. While Xing Pingchun had his head lowered playing with the pen, he leaned close to her ear and whispered, “Keep being mischievous, and you’ll suffer for it.” Then he bit her ear.
Heat flushed from her ears across her face. Forced by his domineering ways, Qian Jiaoniang could only say to Xing Pingchun: “Chou’er, even if you’re not tired, your father is. Go back to your courtyard.”
Xing Pingchun let out an “ah,” quickly jumped down from the bed, bowed to his parents, and said, “Father, Mother, your child will take his leave. I wish Father and Mother a good rest. Tomorrow morning I’ll come pay my respects.”
Just as he was leaving, Xing Muzheng called out, “No need to come tomorrow morning.”
What wolfish ambition! Qian Jiaoniang’s face turned crimson all at once. She turned away from her son and pinched Xing Muzheng hard. How could he say such things in front of the child!
Sure enough, Xing Pingchun asked, “Father, why should I not come tomorrow?”
Xing Muzheng, with a righteous air, followed Qian Jiaoniang’s excuse: “I just returned, and am tired. I’ll sleep late.”
Xing Pingchun understood and said with shame, “Your son did not consider Father’s hardship. Then I won’t disturb Father’s rest.”
When Xing Pingchun was gone, Xing Muzheng wrapped Qian Jiaoniang from behind, his large hand sliding up from her waist, biting her ear as he laughed, “Chou’er is good in every way, just too honest.”
The flush on Qian Jiaoniang’s face hadn’t faded. She cast him a sidelong glance. “How can a father talk like that? What’s wrong with a child being honest? Besides, he has a mind, only he doesn’t wish to scheme. He is kind.”
“Mhm. That part, not too much like us.”
Qian Jiaoniang grew displeased. “You’re sly and deceitful, even daring to trick your wife and child. You’re no virtuous man. How can you compare me to you?”
This was digging up old grievances.
