The kiss was fierce and punishing—Xing Muzheng’s usual way of disciplining her. Qian Jiaoniang muffled and struggled for breath, finally gasping out a plea for mercy: “I calculated… I was safe…”
Xing Muzheng bit her sharply, face grim. “Who on the battlefield dares say they are safe? Your carriage was burned, arrows rained down—had one struck you, would you still be here arguing with me?” He had known she wouldn’t behave, which was why he worried and rushed back. He had faced countless battles himself, long since fearless of blades and death. But the thought of Qian Jiaoniang, alone as bait, left his heart hanging by a thread, terrified she might fall.
He pulled her tight against him, voice harsh. “Disobey again, and I’ll lock you away.”
Knowing she was at fault, Qian Jiaoniang smiled to appease him. She rolled over, pressing him beneath her. “I know, I won’t dare again. Don’t speak of it anymore. Tell me—what do you plan to do with Meng Rang?”
Knowing that Qian Jiaoniang was deliberately trying to change the subject, Xing Muzheng let out a cold snort, yet still followed her lead. “Of course we’ll use him to force Xili to retreat their troops and drive them out of Hemen Pass.”
“Will Xili agree to that?”
Xing Muzheng said, “Hard to say. Meng Rang’s sons are not easy to deal with—especially his eldest, Guda, a hot-tempered one and the first heir to the throne. His father not returning is exactly what he would wish for. Meng Rang only usurped the throne not long ago, his foundation is unstable. Now that something’s happened to him, there will surely be strife within the Xili royal family. If the ministers stand firmly behind Meng Rang, then pressing for retreat is still possible. But if each harbors their own schemes, they’d sooner wish him dead in prison.”
Qian Jiaoniang wiped away a streak of blood beneath Xing Muzheng’s neck. “In that case, Meng Rang’s prospects are grim.”
Xing Muzheng gave a low, mocking laugh. “Mm.”
Qian Jiaoniang rested her chin against Xing Muzheng’s chest. “If Guda rushes to ascend the throne, won’t that mean we’ll be dragged on even longer?”
Xing Muzheng brushed the hair from her face, tucking it behind her ear. “This battle cost Xili tens of thousands in troops. And Guda is nothing but a fledgling brat—I don’t take him seriously.”
Qian Jiaoniang chuckled. “That Guda is about your age. How does that make him a brat? And the emperor is about the same—so is he also a brat in your eyes?”
“All of them are fools, strutting about with brute strength. How are they not brats?” Xing Muzheng pulled her up, leaned close to her ear, and said, “Kill them all.”
Qian Jiaoniang let out a muffled laugh.
Xing Muzheng tilted his head, kissed her cheek, and gently stroked her hair to soothe her.
“You’d best wash up and sleep for a while. Tomorrow you must rise early.”
Xing Muzheng lazily kneaded her ear. “No need to hurry. Just now… your punishment hasn’t ended yet.”
The low, dangerous timbre in his voice made Qian Jiaoniang tense. She lifted her head warily, only to be pressed beneath him again. She cried out in alarm, “Xing Muzheng, what are you doing? Doctor Bai said I’m not fully healed yet!”
“I know.”
“You know, and still—you… don’t… ah—mmph!”
Qian Jiaoniang, after all, could not resist Xing Muzheng’s strength. He pinned her down, until her eyes grew hazy, and she unconsciously leaned toward him. Then Xing Muzheng abruptly pulled away and left the bed. From above, he looked down at Qian Jiaoniang’s flushed face. “I’m going to bathe.”
Left hanging, Qian Jiaoniang felt unbearably stifled. Propping herself up, she stared at him in disbelief. “You… you’re just leaving?”
“Mm.” Xing Muzheng licked his fingertips, turned coldly, and strode off without a backward glance.
Qian Jiaoniang sat there dumbfounded. Only when his figure disappeared behind the screen did she come back to herself. She grabbed a pillow and hurled it. “Wretched man!”
***
News of the great victory at Wuyou Valley traveled swiftly back to Yongan. Both court and common folk rejoiced. The only one not rejoicing was the Son of Heaven himself.
“I knew it, I knew it!”
The memorials on the imperial desk were swept to the ground by Emperor Yongtai, ink splattering everywhere. Zhaohui, kneeling below, did not dare to breathe too loudly. The emperor raged, yet even that did not satisfy him. He hurled everything left on the desk, smashing them to the floor. “I knew it! All of this is Xing Muzheng’s schemes! It was he who let Meng Rang usurp the throne, he who incited war, only so he could have an excuse to seize the command token!”
“Your Majesty, please quell your anger, please quell your anger.” Zhaohui kowtowed repeatedly, not daring to say more, though he could only sigh inwardly. He had not much learning, yet he had never heard of an emperor displeased that his minister defeated an enemy and defended his people. He did not believe General Xing would stage such a monstrous charade with the lives of thousands, nor that Meng Rang, no fool, would allow himself to lose twenty thousand men and be captured alive if he were truly in league with him.
“How can you tell me to quell my anger!?” Emperor Yongtai paced before the desk in agitation. “Xing Muzheng is about to rebel—I know it! Once he drives the Xili out of Hemen Pass, he’ll turn his troops straight on Yongan!”
Zhaohui held his tongue. Serving at the emperor’s side so long, he had learned that when the master raged, he must be like a mute gourd.
The more Emperor Yongtai thought, the more panicked he became. He wished to seize Xing Muzheng’s command token immediately. Yet he also knew he had no reasonable pretext—anyone could see it was fear of a subject! But if he did not reclaim the military power quickly, would he not sleep each night with a blade hanging over him?
“Hurry, summon the cabinet ministers! No, no… those old diehards will only remonstrate this and remonstrate that, never sparing a thought for my realm! I must think on this myself, think carefully…”
As though possessed, the emperor muttered as he walked away.
After a long while, Zhaohui rose, sighed so faintly it could hardly be heard, and quietly began picking up the fallen memorials.
The next day, Emperor Yongtai summoned Xing Pingchun into the imperial study. With an uncharacteristically kind smile that never left his lips, he looked him over, making Xing Pingchun uneasy.
“You brat, do you know your father has earned another great merit?”
Xing Pingchun put on a doltish act. “Ah? What merit has my father earned now?”
“Your father has captured the King of Xili.”
“Impossible!” Xing Pingchun shook his head firmly. “My father can hardly take three steps without gasping for breath. How could he capture anyone?”
The emperor’s lips twitched, but he forced a smile. “Who said he had to do it himself? He devised the strategy and had others carry it out—it’s still his merit.”
“Oh, I see.” Xing Pingchun scratched his head and gave a silly grin.
The emperor resisted the urge to shake his head, keeping up his smile. “Hearing of your father’s merit, I am overjoyed. I wish to reward him. But the late emperor already bestowed upon him honors without precedent, at the very peak. I cannot think of what else could possibly be granted him.”
Xing Pingchun dropped to his knees with a thump. “I thank Your Majesty for such gracious intent. But Father always says that serving the country with loyalty is the duty of the Xing family. He seeks only the name of a loyal general, nothing more.”
The emperor sneered inwardly—he did not believe it. “I know of the Xing family’s loyalty. But with such merit again, if I do not reward him, will it not make me, the emperor, seem stingy? I racked my brains all last night and could not think of a reward for your father. But then—there is still you, isn’t there?”
Xing Pingchun’s face instantly lit up with joy. “Your Majesty wishes to reward this humble subject? Then grant me a chest of gold! I’ve been short on money these past few days and dared not tell my family. Now this is just like having a pillow handed over when I doze off!”
Emperor Yongtai’s expression hardened. “Shameless good-for-nothing! To dare ask for a chest of gold before me—do you not disgrace your father’s name?”
Xing Pingchun shrank back at once, hurriedly begging forgiveness.
The emperor gave a couple of coughs, then forced a stiff smile. “Foolish boy. My reward is worth a thousand, ten thousand times more than a chest of gold!”
Xing Pingchun raised his head. “Then… ten thousand chests of gold?”
Was this brat determined to cling to gold? Emperor Yongtai glared at him. “Not ten thousand chests of gold. I have decided to bestow upon you something more precious than that— Princess Huairou herself, to be married down to you, and you shall become imperial son-in-law!”
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