Xing Muzheng said, “This humble servant thanks Your Majesty for such great grace. Only, my health is poor, and the Imperial Physician has forbidden me to drink much.”
A colleague stepped forward with a smile. “Lord Xing, today is the grand day of the Xing family. To drink heartily just for this day will do no harm. On such a joyous occasion, surely you too would wish to drink your fill!”
Several men came forward, surrounding him, ushering him to the banquet.
Meanwhile, Xing Pingchun was being shoved and teased into the bridal chamber by a group of rowdy friends. Several among them were already married, and having been tormented on their own wedding nights by Xing Pingchun, they had come today for revenge.
Yet as soon as they entered, they saw the bridal chamber in chaos. The red candles, fruits, auspicious vases—all scattered across the floor. The little princess, still in her phoenix coronet and embroidered robes, had already thrown off her red bridal veil. Her face was full of anger as she lifted a “double happiness” vase and smashed it at Xing Pingchun’s feet.
“Impudent servant! How dare you trespass in this princess’s place!”
“Your Highness!”
“Princess, Your Highness!”
The nanny and palace maids following Princess Huairou all cried out in alarm.
Xing Pingchun’s group was stunned by the princess’s actions, but Xing Pingchun only grinned cheekily and said, “Princess, I’m not your servant, I’m your husband. Ever heard the saying, ‘a wife regards her husband as the sky’? I’m your sky!”
A bunch of loafers burst into raucous laughter at his words. This brat was truly audacious—he even dared to joke with a royal princess!
Princess Huairou was furious to the point of half-death. One of her nannies, the one with the violet-flower headdress, stepped forward, straight-backed and cold-faced. “Princess Consort, forgive this servant for speaking out of turn. Since the princess has married, you are now Her Highness’s consort. The princess will have her own Princess’s Manor, and both you and the princess will reside there.” She especially emphasized the three words “Princess’s Manor.”
Princess Huairou sneered, “This princess does not acknowledge him as my consort. He is unworthy!”
Xing Pingchun’s face darkened. With a sudden flick of his sleeve he snapped, “This young master doesn’t care to be any so-called princess consort either! Let’s go—time to drink!”
His friends, who had come to join the bridal chamber revelry, quickly followed after him. None of them had his guts to stand off against the princess.
Huairou, long used to being pampered, had never suffered such humiliation. She turned and flung herself into Zihua Momo’s arms, sobbing bitterly. “Momo, look at that shameless lout—he dares to treat this princess with such disdain!”
Zihua Momo held the little princess tightly, heart aching. She knew well the girl had become a sacrifice of imperial politics. “My little princess, bear with it for now. The Xing family is powerful, and since His Majesty cannot kill them, he must win them over. Think of the brighter side—your consort is at least handsome, like a jade tree in the wind.”
“Bah! Jade tree in the wind, nonsense! So coarse and insolent—this princess doesn’t want him, I want his head chopped off! Tomorrow, when I return to the palace, I’ll memorialize Royal Father against him!”
Zihua Momo had wanted to stop her, but then thought better of it. Indeed, the princess consort had shown disrespect to the royal family. Since the imperial house had already wronged the princess, they ought to back her up—let the golden-branch jade-leaf princess live comfortably in the Xing household.
While each harbored their own thoughts, Xing Pingchun returned to the banquet and, alongside Xing Muzheng, was toasted again and again. By the time the feast dispersed, father and son were dead drunk, carried off by servants like lumps of mud.
The little princess would never serve a man, much less tolerate a drunkard in her room. Pinching her nose, she ordered Xing Pingchun driven out, not even allowing him to sleep in the west wing. He was thus sent to Xing Muzheng’s quarters.
Deep into the night, the bridal candles had long been extinguished, with only the tall red lanterns in the rear courtyard still hanging aloft. Silence settled over the Xing estate; even the caged birds had ceased their cries. The household servants had all retired to rest.
The night watchman yawned as he crossed the back courtyard, striking the clappers three times.
A faint breeze rose, carrying an odd scent. The small west gate was opened by a eunuch brought along by Princess Huairou. A group of black-clad men, armed to the teeth, slipped inside and followed him toward Xing Muzheng’s residence. On the rooftops, masked assassins had already gathered, their target set squarely on the head of the Xing household.
The leader crept to one side of Xing Muzheng’s chambers and gestured. A man on the left sent up a signal, and the assassins on the roof immediately obeyed—dark weapons shot into the chamber windows in unison. The assassins swarmed forward, their foremost task to kill Xing Muzheng. If they met resistance, then slaughter the entire Xing clan.
The commander of the shadow guards burst into the room, driving his long sword down viciously into the bed. But as he pulled it free, a wrongness pricked his instincts. Whipping aside the quilt, he found only another quilt rolled up inside.
“A trap!” the commander growled. Screams came from outside. Two masked comrades were kicked through the door, necks twisted askew, dead.
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