Qian Jiaoniang received a letter from Qingya, detailing Xing Pingchun’s “exploits” in Yongan. As she read it aloud to Xing Muzheng, she laughed so hard she toppled into his arms. Xing Muzheng, steadying her belly with one hand, used the other to shell melon seeds, peeling off the thin skin from the kernels before dropping the plump white meat into a green lotus-shaped dish, already heaped with them.
Qian Jiaoniang grabbed a handful and popped them into her mouth, still unable to stop laughing. “Just look at our son—always so restrained before, and now in Yongan, see what a madcap he’s become!”
Xing Muzheng said calmly, “Indeed.”
Qian Jiaoniang shifted to sit up, and Xing Muzheng’s hand followed her movement to support her. Her belly was now over five months along, showing clearly. Since the pregnancy was diagnosed, she had suffered terrible nausea—vomiting everything she ate, wasting away the flesh she had built up over the years. Xing Muzheng, anxious enough to consider abandoning the child, was surprised when the little one in her belly seemed to sense his father’s displeasure—at once it quieted down. A few days later, Qian Jiaoniang stopped vomiting. Not only did her appetite return, it grew ravenous; everything tasted delicious. Xing Muzheng now wished he could make up all her lost nourishment in a single day.
“Who would have thought our Chou’er had such talent for putting on airs? Qingya said Hang Zhi told her the emperor rather indulges him. Even when he struck the Second Prince, he was only lightly punished with five strokes.” Since arriving in Yongan, Xing Pingchun had only once paid a visit to the Hang household. He strictly followed his parents’ instructions—playing the role of local bully, caring only for eating, drinking, and making trouble, while avoiding close ties with the Xing family’s allies. Thus he visited the Hang, Hong, and Ma households only once, and for other festivals merely sent gifts, never calling in person.
Qingya too knew Xing Pingchun’s circumstances were difficult. Her heart ached for her nephew, yet she had no outlet for that affection except to secretly send people to check on him from time to time, always fearing he might lack food or warm clothing, sending heaps of supplies each time. She even dispatched two hidden guards from the Hang household to keep watch over his movements and safety, and wrote regularly to Qian Jiaoniang, updating her on Xing Pingchun’s situation.
The letters Xing Pingchun wrote himself rarely mentioned his doings in Yongan, and only showed concern for his parents and the unborn little sister. From Qingya’s letters, Qian Jiaoniang learned many details of his situation, and only then felt somewhat consoled.
“Without realizing it, Chou’er has already grown up,” Qian Jiaoniang sighed.
“Mhm. Recently, Mr. Cao wrote to me praising that his essays had reached a new level of understanding, and even sent some of them back. I read them—they are indeed not bad.”
“When did this happen? Why don’t I know? Where are Chou’er’s essays? I want to see them too.”
“They were delivered last night, after you’d already gone to bed. I didn’t wake you. I’ll bring them to you in a bit.”
Qian Jiaoniang nodded, then sighed again: “Our poor Chou’er—he spends the day wrangling and fooling around with others, yet at night he still has to study and write essays. Truly too exhausting.”
“A grown man, what hardship is there in that?” Xing Muzheng said lightly.
“Man or woman, everyone has hard times,” Jiaoniang replied. “We must work harder, so we don’t let Chou’er’s efforts go to waste.”
“Don’t worry. Now that the treasure map is in hand, Mr. Lu and Peng Shi are close to finding the treasure vein. In a few days I will go join them. You’ll be at home alone… behave yourself.” Xing Muzheng’s hand stroked her belly as he spoke.
The treasure map in Zhao Yaoqian’s hand had finally been pieced together, just as Jiaoniang had suspected. Lord Zhao, by some tattooing method, had secretly imprinted half of the treasure map onto her back without her knowledge. The map usually didn’t show, and only surfaced when she was drenched in sweat. As a boudoir girl, how often did she sweat? And even then, she always bathed alone, so not even her nurse or close maids knew of it.
Once Pingchun had left, Jiaoniang immediately sought out Zhao Yaoqian. Though suspicious, Zhao Yaoqian followed her suggestion and played a round of polo with her. Drenched in sweat, she went inside to change clothes, only to discover that there truly was a pattern surfacing on her back!
Thus Jiaoniang summoned Yanluo to carefully copy down the markings. This was no simple task—for the image only appeared when Zhao Yaoqian sweated, and faded quickly. To let Yanluo draw it properly, poor Miss Zhao was put through half a month of torment, until she was so exhausted she couldn’t even get out of bed.
Later, once the treasure map was complete, Miss Zhao actually volunteered to join the expedition herself. It turned out the treasure map had become a thorn in her heart, and for the sake of her father’s last wish, she wanted to witness the opening of the imperial tomb with her own eyes, as comfort to his spirit.
Since she was the true bearer of the map, both sentiment and reason allowed her to go. Qian Jiaoniang’s persuasion was of no use, and Xing Muzheng didn’t even bother to dissuade her, simply letting her depart with Ah Da and the others.
“When will you be back?” Qian Jiaoniang’s voice was calm, though her eyes carried a trace of longing she herself hadn’t noticed.
Xing Muzheng, however, did notice. His gaze softened; he kissed her cheek. “I only dared to go now seeing you are better. While there are still a few months before you give birth, I’ll check the situation. Whether it succeeds or not, I’ll be back when the child is eight months along.”
“Mhm, go without worry. The household is in my hands. But you must be careful. I’ve heard those imperial tombs are filled with traps and mechanisms—and with so much treasure inside, there might even be corpses turned into zombies!”
Xing Muzheng chuckled. “All baseless rumors. I don’t believe them.”
“Better to believe they exist than assume they don’t,” Qian Jiaoniang countered. “I didn’t believe there could be mind-controlling gu worms either.”
Xing Muzheng relented: “Alright, I understand. I’ll bring two men used to entering tombs. In fact, Mr. Lu has been down in tombs before, and he’s a master of mechanisms. With him there, you need not worry.”
“Whatever else, I don’t care. I only want you all to return safe. Even if we seek treasure, it must be with absolute safety.”
“I’ll do as you say.” Xing Muzheng nodded. “In these days, Xing Muzhao will be coming up from Zhiye. Have the storehouse give him another hundred thousand taels of silver. If he feels it’s not enough, or wants other things, decide as you see fit. If manpower is needed, have Xie Zhang handle it.”
If everything else was expected, Zhiye County was the greatest surprise. Originally, Xing Yanan had gone to root out corrupt officials and reclaim wastelands. But after stabilizing the refugees and preparing to open land, they unexpectedly unearthed iron ore. This was like wealth falling from the heavens. Xing Muzheng left only a small detachment of troops in Yuzhou, moving the rest to Zhiye, and with generous rations secretly recruited new soldiers. Now the whole of Zhiye focused on smelting iron and training troops—it had already become a county of military industry.
The Yongtai Emperor, like his father, had long forgotten such a county existed. He only knew that Xing Muzheng had drastically reduced his army, and so felt even more reassured.
