Qian Jiaoniang did not yet know that her husband and son had arrived outside the city. She lay weakly on the bed, having just taken her medicine, listless and drowsy. Suier’s eyes were red as she softly comforted her from behind the bed-curtain:
“Madam, please rest easy. Surely it is only an ordinary fever, nothing to do with the plague.”
Qian Jiaoniang coughed twice and smiled faintly. “I would like to think so—but this wretched illness, even the doctors cannot tell whether it is plague or not. Truly tormenting.”
Suier murmured assent.
Qian Jiaoniang instead consoled her, weakly jesting: “Look at me, born with such bitter fate. Just when I was about to live a good life, Heaven sends me this. It must be on purpose, to spite me.”
“Madam’s blessings are great. Surely Heaven will protect you,” Suier said.
Qian Jiaoniang smiled and urged her out. “Go prepare some paper and brush. Bring them when you come again with the medicine. Otherwise, do not come into my chamber. And—see that Ah Da keeps the patients in the quarantine compound under control. Treat those who can be treated, but do not let them run loose again. As for the townsfolk, order them to stay at home until the plague subsides. All food will be delivered from the prefect’s office and left at their doors. Whoever disobeys is to be arrested.”
“I understand, Madam. Please rest well. Perhaps one sleep and you will be better!”
“Mmm… And since you are often with me, avoid contact with others when you go out. Have a doctor examine you too… I am sorry.”
Because of Madam’s fever, Suier was already miserable, and at these words her tears fell in a stream—thankfully the bed-curtain hid them. “Madam, please don’t speak that way—you’ll undo me. This servant belongs to Madam, and wishes nothing more than to fall sick in your place. Please recover quickly—Master, Young Master, and Little Master, they are all waiting for you!”
Qian Jiaoniang’s heart gave a faint stab. She did not even know if she would survive to see again those dearest to her.
She knew well how terrible the plague could be—that if it spread, Great Xie would lose countless lives, more than on the battlefield. She knew, too, that in past dynasties, to stop plague from spreading, an entire city had been slaughtered.
She could not let the disease escape from Pingchuan. Xing Muzheng was about to be Emperor; her son must be Crown Prince. She must see them safely to their thrones.
Suddenly, outside the window, came the piercing cry of an eagle. Qian Jiaoniang started upright.
“It’s Lielei.” Had Xing Muzheng come?
“It’s the Marshal! The Marshal is here!” Suier cried with joy, hurrying to fetch the gauntlet.
Qian Jiaoniang donned an outer robe and went to the rear courtyard. Looking up, she indeed saw Lielei circling and crying in the sky. She gazed at the soaring eagle, her nose stinging with sudden emotion.
Suier brought the falconer’s glove, and Qian Jiaoniang whistled. Lielei answered with two cries, circled twice, then dove straight down, alighting firmly on her arm, folding its wings after a few flaps.
Qian Jiaoniang stroked its head and smiled. “So you’ve come.”
Lielei’s golden eyes gleamed. It rubbed against her hand, cooing.
Qian Jiaoniang noticed a message-tube tied to its leg. She untied the cord, drew out the slip of paper. No signature, only three words:
“I am here.”
Her vision blurred. She had thought herself prepared, yet those simple three words shattered her defenses. A hot tear fell onto the snowy paper, spreading the ink. She crumpled the slip, quickly wiped her face. “Bring me brush and paper.”
Suier had seen her tears, but pretended not to. She answered, then turned aside to wipe her own. She knew in her heart—this time, the danger was grave indeed.
***
Outside the city, Xing Muzheng stood atop a towering tree. Watching Lielei descend within the walls, his dark eyes flickered. He reached out, grasping at the void before him.
“Brother!” Zhen Hao called from below.
Xing Muzheng lowered his head—Zhen Hao, together with Huang Gong and Li Qingquan, stood at the foot of the tree, each wearing a different expression as they looked up at him.
Xing Muzheng leapt down from the tree. The three stepped forward to meet him. Zhen Hao asked, “Did Lielei manage to find Sister-in-law?”
“Mm.” Xing Muzheng replied absentmindedly, clearly his thoughts had not yet returned.
Zhen Hao and Li Qingquan exchanged a glance with Huang Gong. Zhen Hao took a step forward, cautiously saying: “Brother, don’t worry too much. Sister-in-law is a blessed person—she’ll surely turn misfortune into fortune this time as well.”
Xing Muzheng said nothing.
Li Qingquan said: “Great Marshal, all of us know how deeply you feel for Madam, but you’ve only just won this realm. I beg you to place the greater picture above all.”
Huang Gong followed with: “Great Marshal, the tyrant has been deposed, yet the new sovereign has not ascended—the times are at their most unstable. You, Great Marshal, as commander-in-chief, with the officials’ support and the people’s love, are the only one fit to ascend. The royal house of Great Xie has long been muddleheaded and incompetent, the people have suffered bitterly. They all long for a good emperor to lead them into better days. You are the heartfelt expectation of both court and common folk. If anything were to happen to you, I fear the entire Great Xie would fall apart, and the people would once again be plunged into misery!”
Zhen Hao added: “Yes, Brother, you mustn’t act recklessly!”
After a long silence, Xing Muzheng said heavily: “I understand.”
Meanwhile, Suier had fetched paper and brush, but Qian Jiaoniang, overcome by the medicine, had dozed off against the bedframe. Suier didn’t wake her, instead gently laying her down. Lielei stood obediently on the eaves, like the most loyal of guards, his gaze fixed straight at Qian Jiaoniang’s room.
When Qian Jiaoniang woke from her nap, night lamps were already being lit. Suier brought her congee, but she had no appetite, taking only two bites before stopping. Suier tried to persuade her, but she only shook her head, saying she couldn’t eat.
Suier had no choice but to take away the barely touched congee. Qian Jiaoniang sat at the table, carefully spreading out a sheet of rice paper, slowly grinding ink. She lifted a wolf-hair brush, dipped it in ink, and let the tip touch the paper. Her heart was heavy, yet she could not bring herself to write a single stroke.
She thought of many things, had much to entrust—yet not a word would come.
She wanted to tell Xing Muzheng and Xing Pingchun to set their minds at ease, that perhaps she might still walk out alive; she wanted them to be prepared, that even if she died, they must not grieve too much; she wanted Xing Muzheng to raise Ni Xue well, and Xing Pingchun to grow up properly; she wanted Xing Muzheng to rule as a good emperor, open an era of peace, so the people would no longer starve, no longer freeze, no longer suffer epidemic; she wanted Xing Muzheng, after her death, to forget her, and marry a gentle lady, to live out good days.
She wanted… to see him.
To see him day and night.
To grow old at his side.
Qian Jiaoniang could no longer deceive herself. She threw down the brush and collapsed over the desk, weeping bitterly.
Had Heaven found her life too blessed, and so meant to take it all away?
She didn’t want to die!
“…Why are you crying.”
In the room where she had been alone, a deep male voice suddenly rang out—so familiar it made Qian Jiaoniang startle upright at once. A tall figure stood before her, but her eyes were blurred with tears and she couldn’t see clearly. She hastily rubbed her eyes with her sleeve, and when she saw the man before her clearly, she still couldn’t believe her own eyes.
Qian Jiaoniang froze, her tear-bright eyes making her look somewhat foolish.
“You…” Was it a dream? It had to be a dream.
“Ah, crying so sadly.” The man’s voice, tinged with heartache, entered her ears. Rough fingertips brushed across her face, wiping away her tears. The touch was so real.
Qian Jiaoniang grabbed his hand. “You, you—how…” She couldn’t believe it. This man in black was truly Xing Muzheng!
Seeing her crying so miserably, fragile in a way he had never seen before, his heart ached fiercely. He pulled her tightly into his arms. “Why are you crying? Didn’t I say I came? Whatever it is, I’ll face it with you. Don’t cry, hmm?”
Held against his familiar chest, Qian Jiaoniang suddenly felt as if waking from a dream. She shoved him away, both hands covering her mouth and nose, panicked, “What are you doing here! Are you stupid? Get out, quickly, get out!”
Xing Muzheng forcefully pulled her hands away and pressed his lips hard against hers.
Qian Jiaoniang went soft in his arms, and she could no longer restrain herself—she clung to him tightly.
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