Before Qian Jiaoniang could even bring it up, Second Brother Zheng had already impatiently made the request of Xing Muzheng. Xing Muzheng was not overly surprised; after asking Qian Jiaoniang’s opinion, he agreed.
Qian Jiaoniang carried Ping-ge’er over for him to look at, while Xing Pingchun leaned in to coax the infant to laugh. A family of three with a baby in arms—whichever way one looked, it seemed as though another child had been added to their household. The sight made Second Brother Zheng smile broadly.
The Jiaoniang family did not stay for a meal; after sitting for a while, they took their leave.
On the return, Qian Jiaoniang and Xing Muzheng rode together in the carriage, while Xing Pingchun—now fond of his mount—chose to ride on horseback.
As they chatted idly, Qian Jiaoniang asked Xing Muzheng to give Ping-ge’er a proper name. Xing Muzheng nodded. “I will also take the chance to think of a name for our daughter.”
Qian Jiaoniang giggled, softly answering that would be good.
His gaze grew even gentler. He reached to rest his hand upon her belly. “You’re no longer taking those pills, are you?”
“Mhm, no longer.” Qian Jiaoniang laid her hand over his.
Finding her hand a little cold, Xing Muzheng turned his palm to enfold hers, pressing both together over her belly. “It may already be so,” he said.
“How could it be that fast?” Though she said so, her heartstrings were plucked by his words.
“Sooner the better—I can hardly wait.” Xing Muzheng rubbed his face against hers. “Our daughter will surely be even more delightful than Ping-ge’er.”
It was the first time today he had held a newborn not yet a month old, that soft little bundle stirring strange feelings in him. He could not wait to hold the daughter born of him and Jiaoniang.
“From tomorrow, have Doctor Bai check your pulse every few days. Don’t let it be that you are with child and we not know it.”
“All right, all right, look at you so impatient.” Qian Jiaoniang laughed with tears in her eyes. “I’ll say this beforehand: when we have a second child, you mustn’t neglect Chou’er. You weren’t by his side when he was born, and if you dote too much on the second, I fear he’ll be hurt.”
“Don’t worry, I understand,” Xing Muzheng said. “He is our eldest son; everything of ours will one day be his.”
He had placed his deepest hopes upon him.
Hearing this pledge, Qian Jiaoniang nodded contentedly and leaned on his shoulder.
The carriage rattled leisurely along when Qian Jiaoniang suddenly spoke: “…Tell me, if you had not been poisoned with gu, and Feng Yuyan had become your equal wife and borne you a son—would you still have taken Chou’er as your eldest son to inherit your title?”
Xing Muzheng was silent for a moment. “Yes.”
Qian Jiaoniang lifted her head. “You’re not lying to me?”
Xing Muzheng said: “You speak so only because you think I valued Feng Yuyan. But with a heart like hers, sooner or later it would have shown. I would have despised her before long—how could I let her bear me a son? Moreover, for Chou’er’s sake you would surely have fought me, and Chou’er himself is such a promising child—I would always have seen you both. Only… for us, it would have come much later.” He paused. “Jiaoniang, let me ask you—if I had truly married Feng Yuyan, would you still have turned back to me?”
Qian Jiaoniang too was silent for a time before heavily exhaling a single word: “No.”
Xing Muzheng let out a long slow breath, clasping her hand tightly in his.
The carriage was quiet for a spell, until Qian Jiaoniang spoke again—this time of Zhao Yaoqian. “Miss Zhao said those who kidnapped her had the Yongan accent, but she doesn’t know who they were.”
“And how did she put it?”
“I believe she truly doesn’t know where the other half of the treasure map is. She was frightened near to death—her nurse even begged me to call a master to recall her soul.”
Xing Muzheng said blandly: “Do as you see fit. Let Ah Da arrange it.”
At the time, Qian Jiaoniang thought nothing of it, taking it for an ordinary remark. But afterward, seeing Ah Da sparing no effort to invite ritualists for Zhao Yaoqian, and finding excuses to enter her courtyard from time to time with attention, Jiaoniang began to sense the undertone.
She did not oppose it—in fact, she rather wished Zhao Yaoqian might marry Ah Da. Yet after two or three years in the household, Ah Da had never shown interest, and now of all times, in her moment of weakness, he stepped forward. However one looked, it seemed like taking advantage.
So Qian Jiaoniang called Ah Da over and, smiling, asked why he had suddenly taken a fancy to Miss Zhao. Ah Da, with his honest face, replied: “When this subordinate went to rescue her, I saw her crying so pitifully, and my heart was moved. Since then I cannot put her from my mind. Madam, please speak kindly for me.”
Qian Jiaoniang only smiled in reply. “And has Miss Zhao been told of your feelings?”
“She knows. Only… she’s shy and dares not see me. But I think she may have some fondness for me.” Ah Da grinned.
Qian Jiaoniang’s smile grew broader. “Then I’ll congratulate you in advance. But I forgot to ask—where exactly was Miss Zhao rescued?”
Ah Da said: “On the road to Zhiye, in a deserted house. She was being kept inside.”
“And those who seized her?”
“Two were killed by us, the rest escaped… they were quick on their feet.”
“Why didn’t you leave one alive?”
Ah Da rubbed his bald head. “Well, we failed to catch one alive.”
Qian Jiaoniang curved her lips. “Heh.”
That night, when Xing Muzheng returned, Qian Jiaoniang told him of Ah Da’s courting attentions toward Zhao Yaoqian. Xing Muzheng slipped off the cloth shoes Qian Jiaoniang had stitched for him, changing into a pair of wooden sandals. “In that case, go sit with Miss Zhao. Now that her identity is exposed, if she has a husband skilled in martial arts, won’t she feel all the more secure?”
That really hit the mark. Qian Jiaoniang cast XIng Muzheng a glance full of hidden meaning, then poured him a cup of tea. “True enough—but if the culprit were found, wouldn’t Miss Zhao feel even more at ease? It’s been so long, and still no clue at all?”
“None.” Xing Muzheng accepted the tea and drained it in one go.
“Truly none?” Qian Jiaoniang leaned closer, dabbing the dust from his forehead with a handkerchief.
“Truly none,” Xing Muzheng said. “Pour me another cup.”
Qian Jiaoniang smiled, obliged, and handed it to him with a half-smile, half-sneer: “Then I must be more capable than you great lords, for I’ve found a trace. Would the Marquis care to hear?”
“If you’ve found a lead, of course I want to hear. But wait until I’ve had a bath…”
He started to rise, but Qian Jiaoniang caught hold of him. “What’s the rush? Let me finish my words first, and then I’ll scrub your back for you.”
If Xing Muzheng truly wanted to leave, she could never hold him—but how could he deny her now? He let her pull him back with ease and sat on the couch again. Qian Jiaoniang scooted close, pressing herself against him. “I’ll tell you, and you can judge if I’m right.”
Xing Muzheng turned his head and suddenly stole a kiss from her lips. Caught off guard, she froze, then laughed. “What are you doing?”
“Haven’t kissed you since I got back today.” Xing Muzheng pinched her chin, then seized her lips in a firm kiss.
Kissing and tumbling, they ended up lying on the couch. Qian Jiaoniang caught his wandering hand, panting: “At least let me finish speaking first!” She pushed him off and sat up, shooting him a reproachful look as she straightened her clothes.
A flash of regret flickered in Xing Muzheng’s eyes.
