Xing Pingchun sat upright, stirred with emotion. For this man before him to speak such words—truly, he was his confidant!
As a child, Xing Pingchun had seen many sufferings and endured much hardship himself. He had seen beggar children fighting with dogs for scraps by the roadside, seen corpses strewn on wild graves, seen parents selling off emaciated little girls in the street. He and his mother had often gone hungry, shivering in the bitter winter cold.
Back then he only knew to pity others, and himself. Now, having learned more of the world, he understood: the people’s suffering could be changed.
The court was precisely the place meant to ensure the people had food and clothing, to live good lives. His father, as city lord, could also ensure prosperity for the people under him. Yet today, the emperor’s vision was so shallow—he did not govern well-off prefectures for the benefit of the people, but for selfish desires sought to harm the loyal and good. How was he different from tyrants in the histories? If this went on, it would again be the common people who bore the suffering.
Though Xing Pingchun was now the young master of the Dingxi Marquis Manor, in his heart he still felt the people’s hardships as his own. What he admired was that Wu Ze, though born of royal blood, still cared for the realm’s people.
“Duan Zhi, you and I think the same! Truly, it doesn’t matter who sits the throne—so long as the people of Great Xie can be full and warm, then the world is good!”
Wu Ze gazed at the earnest youth before him, eyes flashing with hidden meaning. With a slight smile, he raised his bowl. “Then let us drink—for the people of the world.”
“Good, for the people!”
That night, the two drained a whole jar of wine, then lay down together on the large bed, fully clothed, and slept.
***
At dawn the next morning, Qian Jiaoniang personally came to rouse Xing Pingchun. When he opened his eyes, Wu Ze was already gone. Xing Pingchun hastily washed up. The whole room smelled of wine, but Qian Jiaoniang said nothing, only ordered sobering soup to be brought, and a bath prepared. Xing Pingchun, a little afraid of being scolded, peeked at her cautiously. Qian Jiaoniang, seeing his thoughts, pinched his nose.
“Your father says you’re grown now, able to make your own decisions. I too am glad not to nag. I’ll only warn you this—whatever you do, act within your limits.”
Xing Pingchun grinned. “I understand, Mother.”
At early-morning hour, the departing party was already assembled in front of the Marquis Manor, horses and carriages at the ready. Eunuch Zhao, with Imperial Physician Jia in tow, first went to Honghu Courtyard to bid farewell to Xing Muzheng, still bedridden. He swore with solemn oaths that he would see Xing Pingchun safely to Yongan, without losing even a single hair. Xing Muzheng coughed twice and thanked him with difficulty. Eunuch Zhao bowed respectfully, then added, “When His Majesty learned of the Marquis’s grave illness, he has been most uneasy. Distrusting common doctors, he has commanded Imperial Physician Jia to remain in Yuzhou until the Marquis recovers, and only then return to serve in the palace.”
Imperial Physician Jia looked startled—he too had only just heard of this. Eunuch Zhao glanced at him, eyes carrying a hint of warning.
“What virtue or worth has Xing, to keep an imperial physician in Yuzhou so long?” Xing Muzheng coughed again.
“Marquis, what words are these? You are Great Xie’s lucky general. Both the late emperor and His Majesty value you most highly. I think His Majesty would move the entire Imperial Medical Office here, just to cure you!” Eunuch Zhao laughed, then turned to Imperial Physician Jia. “This is an imperial decree—see to the Marquis’s treatment with all your heart, and dare not be negligent.”
Imperial Physician Jia hastily knelt. “This subject obeys.”
Meanwhile, Xing Pingchun had already bid farewell to Xing Muzheng and now waited in the Honghu Courtyard for Eunuch Zhao to come out. Qian Jiaoniang straightened his collar, checked the money pouch at his waist. Not long ago she had claimed she wouldn’t be a nagging mother, but now she had forgotten, chattering on: eat well outside, add clothes in the cold, don’t be stingy with money, if in difficulty ask your teacher… anything she could think of, she said.
Xing Pingchun listened quietly, no trace of impatience on his face, nodding again and again. At last, when her throat was dry and there was nothing more to instruct, Xing Pingchun said, “Mother, just focus on giving birth to my little sister. Your son will be back soon.”
Qian Jiaoniang’s nose stung; she lowered her head a moment, then raised it with a sighing laugh. “All three of us are hoping for a sister. But if it turns out to be a little brother, what then?”
“That’s easy. You can just have another.” Xing Pingchun said it briskly.
Mother and son looked at each other and both burst into laughter.
