A moment later, Qian Jiaoniang gave a sharp cry. This scoundrel really had…
“Stop that at once!” Her face was as red as a peach, as she bit her teeth and struck him with her fists.
Xing Muzheng’s breath grew heavy. “Be good, I’ve already ordered no one else is to come in. This time, yield to me.”
“No…” Qian Jiaoniang’s body weakened under his teasing, though she clearly knew this was far too shameful. Yet deep inside, there was a faint stirring.
By now, Xing Muzheng knew her body more than well. Calling her his dearest, coaxing and murmuring, Qian Jiaoniang melted into a pool of water in his arms, yielding half unwilling, half willing.
The air grew thick with sweetness. Xing Muzheng turned her around, working her gently and then more forcefully, ever more unrestrained. Qian Jiaoniang cupped his face, gazing into those deep black eyes. Within them was light, her, and madness.
She lowered her head and kissed him hard; he lifted his head and kissed her back with even greater dominance.
The two twined and clung in the garden.
Not far away, hidden behind a strange rock, Zhao Yaoqian had witnessed everything. She had originally loved the lotuses there. With the fine weather today, she had come early, sitting by the pond half the day, composing two poems. When she caught the faint scent of osmanthus, she had come to gather some blossoms to make honey for the household. Who would have thought she would stumble upon such an embarrassing scene?
Zhao Yaoqian’s small face flushed red and white by turns. Though unmarried, she still knew that such unspeakable intimacy belonged only between husband and wife. She wished to leave, but her legs were weak and she could not move. Her gaze could not break away. Usually cold and restrained, Dingxi Marquis —so hearty and open, his lady so bright and generous—now before one another, their expressions were so alluring, so intoxicating, that it made her cheeks burn.
Zhao Yaoqian’s heart pounded fiercely. Her face grew hot, her body hot.
She was the most awkward guest in the marquis’s residence, and she knew it. She was nearly twenty-two already—in Great Xie, already an old maid. She admired Xing Muzheng, yet he never gave her even a glance. She envied the marquis’s wife, who alone held his love, and was all the more jealous of her.
Zhao Yaoqian fled in panic.
Xing Muzheng bit at Qian Jiaoniang’s pale neck, but from the corner of his eye he caught the departing figure of the woman, and a strange light flickered in his gaze.
Zhao Yaoqian slipped out through a side gate of the garden. The guards were startled—they hadn’t known she was inside. They tried to call her, but she fled as though chased by a wild beast, running desperately.
Her courtyard was close by. By the time she returned, her forehead was dripping with sweat. Her nurse was shocked and started to ask where she had been, but Zhao Yaoqian had already dashed into her room and bolted the door.
She threw herself onto the bed, her face burning as though aflame.
Her cheeks flushed, eyes glistening with tears, she felt deeply wronged. She was not shameless. However much she liked Xing Muzheng, since he had no feelings for her, she would never discard her dignity to try to seduce him. If the gentleman felt no love, she would stop. Yet having once seen such a man, no other could compare. She would rather go to the mountains to be a nun. But the marquis household would not let her go. Because she bore the secret of the treasure map, they kept her hidden away, fearing others might seize it. Having lived in the household so long, she had come to know well the character of its masters—good people, who thought always of the common folk. If she could, she would hand over the entire map. But she truly did not understand her father’s cryptic words, nor did she know where the other half of the map was!
Now she was trapped. They would not let her marry Xing Muzheng, but insisted she must wed someone they trusted.
How could she bear such a fate!
That night, Zhao Yaoqian was listless, skipped dinner, wept and went to sleep. In a haze, she dreamt of a sky filled with falling blossoms, where a man and a woman embraced and kissed. The man was Xing Muzheng; at first she thought the woman was Qian Jiaoniang, but then the woman turned her head—and the face was her own!
Zhao Yaoqian woke with a start, clutching at her pounding heart.
Qian Jiaoniang had no idea Zhao Yaoqian had witnessed their reckless entanglement. She only thought Xing Muzheng had deliberately cheated when he was about to lose the game. A few days later, she pressed him to keep his promise and take her to the army camp.
At that time, the soldiers were conducting exercises, split into red and yellow teams, entering the mountains to stage a mock battle. The winner would take the prize. Qian Jiaoniang found it amusing and insisted on joining. Xing Muzheng at first refused, but worn down by her pestering, he relented. When Xing Pingchun heard, he too demanded to go. So Xing Muzheng threw him into the yellow team, while he himself led Qian Jiaoniang into the red team. Xing Muzheng even laid down three rules with Xing Pingchun: if the yellow team failed to win, he would have to write three essays and memorize an entire martial manual.
Xing Pingchun, bold as a young calf, agreed readily, his ambitions soaring. He and Qian Jiaoniang both eagerly tied on their headbands.
Qian Jiaoniang changed into a soldier’s outfit, her hair tied in a scholar’s knot, looking every bit a new recruit. She even carried a red headband to bring to Xing Muzheng, and went to his tent to find him. She didn’t know there were others inside. She only heard his advisors saying things like “be prepared for danger in times of peace” and “why seek far when near is enough,” as though discussing strategy. Before she could stop herself, she had stepped right into the tent.
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