“Outrageous! Too much bullying!” Xing Muzheng, upon hearing the imperial decree, at once overturned the desk beside the couch. His expression was cold and murderous.
Qian Jiaoniang’s face was no better. She had already heard of this matter earlier, and knew what it meant.
By reason, being a study companion to the princes was no bad thing—in fact, it was an honor for noble families’ sons. But this was usually only for clans residing in Yongan, close kin of the imperial family. Never before had a feudal marquis’s son, from such a far-off fief, been ordered to travel thousands of li away from his parents to Yongan as a “companion.” In name it was a study companion—in truth, it was sending him as a hostage!
How could one not be furious?
Xing Muzheng’s desire to be rid of the emperor rose to its peak. The irony was, he had never truly thought of rebellion before, yet now it was this emperor who forced his hand.
Qian Jiaoniang pulled Xing Muzheng’s hand over and examined it, worried he might have hurt himself in his earlier rage. His fury subsided somewhat at her gentle gesture. He gathered her into his arms, rubbing his chin against the crown of her head.
“At such a juncture, Chou’er likely has no choice but to go,” Qian Jiaoniang said softly, resting in his embrace after a moment of silence.
The emperor clearly did not trust the Marquis of Dingxi’s household. Xing Muzheng was already “ill.” If Chou’er too fell “ill,” even someone without suspicion would begin to doubt—let alone that narrow-minded emperor. But aside from complying, there was no way to ignore this decree.
Xing Muzheng could not speak words of refusal. If not for the need to hide his strength and bide his time, he would not be feigning illness now. He was a man who could endure—but when it came to enduring by sending his own son, the fire in his chest surged up once more.
“Chou’er going alone to Yongan is too dangerous. I’ll go with him,” Qian Jiaoniang said.
When she spoke, a great sense of loss welled up inside her. She had only just been reunited with Chou’er and Xing Muzheng; after only a few short years, they would be separated again—and now in circumstances where life or death was uncertain. Who knew when they might meet again?
Xing Muzheng tightened his hold on her hand. His throat was dry, but his tone allowed no contradiction: “Chou’er is already grown, and he is our son. He does not need to hide behind his parents. This is our battlefield—and it is also Xing Pingchun’s battlefield.”
“But in my eyes, he is still a child.” Qian Jiaoniang lifted her head. “And you here in Yuzhou are relatively safe—that eases my heart.”
“But I cannot send both you and Chou’er into the tiger’s den.” If the plan went smoothly, perhaps all would be fine. But should anything go wrong, the first to be endangered would be mother and son. Xing Muzheng could no longer bear to imagine what his life would be if he lost them both.
He had, in the end, grown a soft spot.
“It will be alright, don’t worry,” Qian Jiaoniang said, lifting her face and encircling his neck with her arms.
Xing Muzheng buried his head against her neck, shaking it slightly.
“Husband…” Her whispered call was like silk on her lips, her eyes brimming with unshakable attachment.
Beauty’s embrace, hero’s grave.
Xing Muzheng’s heart melted to water.
“I forbid it.” Xing Pingchun was a man—he must shoulder his own burdens. Though he was loath to let him face danger alone, he bore the Xing name; he was his son, and what ought to be borne must be borne on his shoulders. But Jiaoniang—she was the tender wife he longed to shield under his wings. He could not let her live in fear again.
“Just promise me,” Qian Jiaoniang coaxed softly, shaking him lightly, rare in her show of coquettishness.
For her, he would pluck the stars from the sky—but this, he could not allow.
The two reached an impasse. Qian Jiaoniang dared not stay longer in his arms, fearing that in her longing for his warmth she might forget she was a mother. She pushed away from him and rose, intent on finding Xing Pingchun to hear his thoughts. Yet in her haste, her vision went black, and her body swayed. Unwell, she pressed a hand to her temple.
“Jiaoniang!” Xing Muzheng immediately noticed something was wrong with her and rose to steady her.
“I’m fine…” Qian Jiaoniang said without thinking.
“Your lips are pale.” Xing Muzheng frowned, helped her sit back on the couch, and raised his voice for someone to summon Doctor Bai to take her pulse.
Qian Jiaoniang thought he was making a fuss over nothing. “I only felt dizzy when I stood up, this happens often. Why bother calling Doctor Bai?”
Xing Muzheng said, “Dizziness upon standing is no small matter. It shows your body still needs regulating. Let Doctor Bai examine you more carefully.”
Qian Jiaoniang could not prevail over him and could only allow Doctor Bai in. Doctor Bai carefully took her pulse, then showed a hint of delighted surprise. “Madam, your pulse is round and smooth like beads—this must be a pregnancy pulse!”
