Could it be that her hidden secret had been discovered?
When Xing Muzheng came in, Qian Jiaoniang told him what she’d heard. He remained calm as still water—Ah Da had already informed him.
He said to Qian Jiaoniang: “Ah Da reported that when Miss Zhao was rescued, she was badly frightened. Whatever we asked, she would not answer. Then she fell ill, and so we’ve been unable to question her further.”
“And the bandits?”
“Dead, or fled.”
Qian Jiaoniang thought a moment. “I’ll go see Miss Zhao.”
When she arrived at Lanzhi Courtyard, Zhao Yaoqian came out to greet her at the gate. At the sight of her, Qian Jiaoniang was startled. In scarcely ten days, Zhao Yaoqian had become so gaunt and haggard. She had always been thin and frail, but at least with some flesh on her bones—now she was nothing but skin and bone, as if a breath of wind could knock her down.
“Miss Zhao, you have suffered.” Qian Jiaoniang’s heart ached. She stepped forward and clasped Zhao Yaoqian’s hands. They were icy cold, like snow.
Zhao Yaoqian’s eyes welled with tears, and she only shook her head again and again. Her maids and wet nurse were also weeping pitifully.
Then Zhao Yaoqian recounted her ordeal. That day, she had gone with several beauties of the old residence to the polo field. After their midday meal, she asked for a carriage from the household to take her out, and at the gate she even mentioned it to Ah Da. Yet scarcely had she gone out the city gates when she heard a sudden clamor of hoofbeats. Before she could react, two masked men knocked out the coachman and forced their way into the carriage. Zhao Yaoqian had no time even to scream before she was struck unconscious and carried away; her maid was left behind in the carriage, also knocked out.
When Zhao Yaoqian woke again, she found herself in a pitch-dark room, tied to a chair, unable to move. In the darkness someone pressed her about the whereabouts of the treasure map. When she said she did not know, they whipped her. Terrified, she was interrogated for who knows how long. Just as she had despaired of life, Ah Da burst in with men and saved her.
As she spoke, her face turned deathly pale, her body trembling without end. Pity stirred in Qian Jiaoniang, who never let go of her hand. Fortunately within misfortune, the bandits had not defiled her.
“Miss Zhao, did you ever see their faces?”
Zhao Yaoqian shook her head. “They lit torches when questioning me, but all their faces were masked.”
“Did they reveal who they were?”
“No…”
“Think carefully—when they spoke among themselves, could you hear? Did they have an accent?”
“Ah! They all had Yongan accents—they came from the imperial capital!” Zhao Yaoqian suddenly recalled, then her spirit fell again. “Other than that, I know nothing. They asked only where the treasure map was, nothing else.”
“And did you tell them?”
A guilty look flashed across Zhao Yaoqian’s face. She lifted her eyes cautiously toward Qian Jiaoniang.
Qian Jiaoniang’s heart lurched. Could she really have given the treasure map to these rogues?
Zhao Yaoqian lowered her head and muttered: “I always kept half the treasure map on me. Fearing their whips, I handed that half-scroll over to them.”
“And… they were satisfied?” Qian Jiaoniang asked softly, probing.
Zhao Yaoqian gave a bitter smile. “Of course not. They kept pressing for the other half. But I truly do not know, how could I answer? I thought my life was to end there—yet who knew Master Ah Da would descend like a god, bringing men to deliver me from the sea of suffering. I am ashamed—I have not even thanked him.”
Qian Jiaoniang studied her face closely. She could tell Zhao Yaoqian was not lying—she indeed did not know where the other half was. But then, what hidden meaning lay in Lord Zhao’s dying words?
“Miss Zhao, apart from telling us, have you spoken to anyone else of the map?”
Zhao Yaoqian said, “I knew this was of utmost importance, so I told no one else.”
Qian Jiaoniang frowned slightly. Could it be someone among them had leaked the secret? And those rogues with Yongan accents—who had sent them?
Questions upon questions, but she did not show it in front of Zhao Yaoqian. Instead she soothed her gently for some time, sent over ginseng and other tonics, and told her to rest well in the manor.
Zhao Yaoqian’s wet nurse even knelt to beg her, saying that her young mistress had suffered nightmares for days, her spirit unsettled, and asked that someone be summoned to perform a ritual to calm her soul. Qian Jiaoniang of course agreed, and at once sent people to seek out a master.
The nurse thanked her profusely with kowtows.
After Qian Jiaoniang left, Zhao Yaoqian’s maid, wiping her tears, said: “The Marchioness is so kind—why does she still refuse to let my lady enter the household? My lady does not fight, does not scheme, has a treasure at her side, and yet why will she not be allowed to become the Marquis’s concubine? Can there be another woman better than her?”
Because of this abduction, Zhao Yaoqian all the more felt the curse of “carrying a jade invites guilt.” Fragile as duckweed, with no one to protect her, she thought again of the master of this household, and grief welled up in her heart.
When Qian Jiaoniang returned to her own courtyard, Xing Muzheng was out on business. She at once ordered a carriage prepared, with gifts loaded, and brought Xing Pingchun to her sister Qian Meinang’s house to offer congratulations.
Outside the Zheng family gates, red paper from firecrackers littered the ground. Second Brother Zheng had hosted a three-day banquet to celebrate the birth of his son. The Zheng household warmly welcomed Qian Jiaoniang, who presented a generous gift; the Zheng elders grinned from ear to ear.
The baby boy was a plump, smiling child who laughed at every glance or tickle. Second Brother Zheng had not yet given him a formal name, only a childhood name, Ping, so everyone called him “Ping-ge’er.” At the moment he lay in a cradle his father had made, smiling whenever his eyes opened, utterly endearing. Xing Pingchun adored his new cousin, standing by the cradle with a rattle, amusing him nonstop.
Qian Meinang, still in confinement, watched from the bed and teased Xing Pingchun: “Chun-ge’er, you like your little brother so much—why not ask your mother to have another?” She knew that since Xing Muzheng’s return at Mid-Autumn, the couple’s relationship had changed, so she dared to make such a jest.
Xing Pingchun’s eyes lit up. “Mother, really?”
Qian Jiaoniang pursed her lips. “I won’t have another stinky boy. If I give birth again, it will be a fragrant little girl.”
Hearing that, Qian Meinang laughed with relief. That was as good as a tacit promise. She too felt at ease—her sister and brother-in-law had reconciled, and that was best of all.
But Xing Pingchun protested: “Girls only cry, they can’t be my little soldiers!”
Second Brother Zheng came in, beaming. “Chun-ge’er, if you want little soldiers, then our Ping-ge’er will follow at your heels!”
“Really, Uncle! That’s great—then you and Auntie must have more little brothers. I’ll be the squad leader!” Xing Pingchun laughed so hard his teeth showed.
“Good, good—may your auspicious words come true. Let us have several more, all to serve as your little soldiers!” Second Brother Zheng laughed until his eyes nearly disappeared into slits.
Qian Meinang flushed red, but after a moment joined Qian Jiaoniang in laughter.
Before long, news came from outside: Dingxi Marquis himself had arrived to congratulate the Zheng family on the birth of their auspicious son. Second Brother Zheng hurried out to welcome his brother-in-law, while Qian Jiaoniang, hearing of his arrival, thought to carry her nephew out for him to see.
Qian Meinang said: “Little Ping hasn’t been formally named yet. Second Brother says he’s unlearned and fears giving a poor name, so he thought to ask the Marquis to bestow one.”
Qian Jiaoniang was a little startled. “Is that proper?”
“Of course it is! The Marquis is such an exalted personage—Father and Mother could only wish for it. The only fear is that the Marquis might not condescend.”
“Then I shall mention it to him.”
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