Qian Jiaoniang was pleasantly surprised. “Right now?”
“Mm. Just now is perfect.”
Her eyes sparkled, and she readily put down her needlework. “Alright, let’s go!” She rose. “Shall we invite more people to liven it up?”
“No need, just the two of us. Don’t even bring your maids.” Xing Muzheng took her hand, smiling with deeper meaning.
It was the golden season of autumn, when osmanthus flowers filled the air with fragrance. As they passed through the bamboo courtyard, the scent of golden osmanthus wafted over. Qian Jiaoniang inhaled deeply and happily slipped her hand free from his. “So fragrant! I love the smell of osmanthus!”
Xing Muzheng’s lips curved. “Since you like it, we’ll plant a couple in our own courtyard as well.”
“Good.”
They rounded the secluded bamboo grove and arrived at the Golden Osmanthus Pavilion. The pavilion was large, its courtyard filled with blooming osmanthus trees. A breeze carried the overwhelming fragrance, refreshing body and spirit. Beneath a centuries-old osmanthus tree stood a stone table carved with a chessboard, with two round stone stools. A qin rested on a stand at one side, and beside it a chaise longue. On the food tray before the chaise were delicate snacks, a small jade wine pot with two jade cups, and a red clay brazier nearby. Fallen osmanthus blossoms scattered like a soft embroidered carpet.
“With so many flowers, tomorrow I’ll have some gathered and make osmanthus honey for you.” Qian Jiaoniang was in high spirits.
“Good. I’ll come with you tomorrow to pick them.”
Xing Muzheng poured warmed wine from the brazier into the jade pot, moved the tray beside the stone table, sat on one of the stools, and pointed to the stone chessboard already laid with jade pieces.
“Come, play a game.”
It was xiangqi (Chinese chess). When he had taught her military strategy, he had also taught her the game. Qian Jiaoniang had learned quickly and played well.
She agreed and moved to sit opposite him. But before she could, Xing Muzheng reached out and swept her onto his lap. Qian Jiaoniang gave a small startled cry, then looped her arms around his neck.
“Weren’t you going to play chess?” she asked, laughing.
“Mm.”
“Then why not let me sit over there?”
“We’ll play like this.”
“How can we play like this?”
Xing Muzheng kissed her cheek, his voice low and husky. “You take the black pieces. I’ll use the red.” The black was already set before their side.
Qian Jiaoniang arched a brow.
“Are you looking down on me?”
“How could I?”
“Then the loser has to be punished.”
“Punished how?” He asked, still holding her.
After some thought, Qian Jiaoniang said, “The loser must fulfill one wish of the winner.”
Xing Muzheng nodded. “That will do. What wish do you have?”
“You first.”
Xing Muzheng actually considered it, then gave a wicked smile. Leaning close to her ear, he whispered a few words. Qian Jiaoniang’s ears flushed red. She bit her lip and glanced at him in mock reproach, but nodded. Then she whispered her own wish in his ear. When she finished, Xing Muzheng looked at her with a half-smile and also agreed.
And so the two of them really did sit entwined, playing chess like that. Qian Jiaoniang leaned lazily in his arms as she pushed her pieces, while Xing Muzheng’s long hand reached across the river line to move his own. A soft breeze stirred, shaking down a rain of osmanthus blossoms. Their fragrance drifted in the air—an imposing man holding a tender beauty in flowing skirts, like a scene out of fairyland.
Midway through the game, Qian Jiaoniang slowed down. Xing Muzheng, calm and composed, wrapped one arm around her waist, poured wine with the other, and fed her a sip. Only, being a little careless, a line of immortal brew slipped from the beauty’s lips, and Xing Muzheng tilted his head to lick it clean.
Qian Jiaoniang pecked him lightly, but her attention remained on the chessboard.
Xing Muzheng’s mind had already wandered far. Stroking her waist gently, he said, “Jiaoniang, do you remember the paintings we looked at last night? Isn’t there one that looks quite like us now?”
Last night, the couple had nestled under the quilt looking at paintings. At such a late hour, they were of course not proper paintings, but the spring palace pictures Xing Muzheng treasured. One of them depicted a man and woman seated on a stone bench in a garden—the man feeding the woman sweets with one hand, while the other was hidden beneath her skirts.
Qian Jiaoniang had even remarked then on the fine detail of the drawing. Thinking of it now, she recalled it at once. Her face flushed scarlet, already knowing exactly what Xing Muzheng had in mind.
“Don’t you dare!” She had enjoyed looking at the painting, but had never said she would dare such things outdoors in the open. What if someone came looking for them?
“What am I daring?” Xing Muzheng brushed kisses against her cheek, his hand truly growing reckless.
