Qian Jiaoniang blinked, then slowly said, “This… better not.”
Xing Muzheng frowned. “What do you mean better not? You don’t want to marry me?”
“That’s not it. Our marriage contract has always been there—we’ve always been husband and wife, haven’t we? I just don’t want to hold another big wedding. First, it would be shameful if word got out. Second, I’ve already married several times—I really don’t want the bother anymore.”
Xing Muzheng’s face darkened instantly. What nonsense ‘married several times’!
“That’s all the more reason to marry again!” Otherwise, some people still wouldn’t know to whom she truly belonged!
But Qian Jiaoniang really had no enthusiasm for it. For her, the two of them being of one heart was worth more than anything. As for the rest, she didn’t care. Now all she wanted was to live peacefully with her family and have another healthy child—that would be enough for her.
Seeing her remain silent, Xing Muzheng lifted her chin and kissed her heavily. “Will you marry or not?”
Qian Jiaoniang mumbled vaguely, “I’ve already married.”
Dissatisfied with the answer, Xing Muzheng bit at her lips again. “Marry or not?”
Qian Jiaoniang groaned, refusing to yield. Xing Muzheng was not one to be put off so easily—he pressed her relentlessly, coaxing and threatening in turn. Provoked into annoyance, Qian Jiaoniang suddenly turned and sat on his lap.
Her jade-like body alluring, Xing Muzheng was struck speechless by the sight before him.
Her slender fingers traced along his jawline, then slid downward. With her eyes half-lidded and lips moistly licking, she murmured, “My lord Marquis, in such a fine moment, do you truly mean to waste the hour on such trivialities?”
How could this be trivial? Xing Muzheng wanted to argue, but his gaze clung to her, his tongue bewitched: “It must not be wasted…”
Satisfied, Qian Jiaoniang leaned down and took the initiative to kiss him. Xing Muzheng, lost to the softness of her lips, shamefully forgot everything else.
The next morning, as expected, Xing Pingchun did not come to pay respects, nor was the inner chamber door opened. When the sun was already high, the maids waiting outside all had flushed faces. The master had returned from long travels; of course the lord and lady would “sleep late” the next day. Last night water had been called for two or three times, and in the early dawn, faint sobbing moans of the lady could still be heard. One maid secretly thought—if only the mistress she once served in the palace had received such constant favor, how could she have failed to bear a dragon son!
Qian Meinang, hearing that Xing Muzheng had returned, came to the Marquis’s residence with her swollen belly, attended by a little maid. Hongjuan and the others greeted her as “Auntie” and hurried forward to support her into a seat. Her due date was near; Zheng Second Brother was beside himself with worry, yet Qian Meinang herself remained restless.
“Enough, enough, don’t treat me like I’m made of porcelain—I’m fine!” she laughed heartily. “Where’s Jiaoniang?”
Shanzha, quick-tongued even after marriage, said: “The madam is still asleep inside.”
“Still asleep? At this hour?” Qian Meinang was surprised. “I heard my brother-in-law returned—where is he?”
Hongjuan forced a smile: “He is also inside.”
Qian Meinang paused, then caught the meaning. Even as a married woman, she flushed. “The two of them…”
Suier giggled, “People say a little parting is better than a new marriage. Our marquis and lady are simply deeply in love!”
Qian Meinang also laughed, but then remembered—hadn’t Xing Muzheng smashed the study before leaving, after a big quarrel with his wife? “They… reconciled, then?”
Hongjuan smiled: “Auntie needn’t worry. Yesterday the Madam waited outside the city all day and personally fetched back the Marquis. We all saw it—the two of them are closer than ever!” The maids’ attention was always on their masters; every gesture, every glance was noted. At first, the Marquis and Madam had shown each other only due respect. But yesterday, when they emerged hand in hand from the ond house, the maids realized something was different—the way they looked at each other made hearts pound.
Only the married Shanzha knew—that was the unique intimacy between husband and wife.
“How closer than ever? In what way?” Qian Meinang pressed eagerly.
“Well… aiya, I can’t really explain. Auntie, if you come tonight to our household for the Mid-Autumn reunion feast, you’ll see for yourself!”
On the fifteenth of the eighth month, family reunited. At the feast, Qian Meinang indeed saw just what “closer than ever” meant between her third sister and her husband. In the past, when Jiaoniang spoke of Xing Muzheng, though she praised him, there had always been a certain distance. Her husband had explained that great households required formality, and even between spouses, courtesy reigned. Qian Meinang had believed it, though with some regret.
But that night, when she saw Jiaoniang secretly pinch Xing Muzheng under the table, Qian Meinang smiled knowingly.
During the feast, an imperial decree arrived from Yongan—Xing Muzheng had rendered great service by annihilating the remnants of the former dynasty’s rebels. Rewards poured down endlessly.
After the fifteenth, any observant eye would notice that Qian Jiaoniang and Xing Muzheng were near inseparable, never apart.
