That recovery took two full days and nights. Xing Muzheng slept right through the Mid-Autumn Festival. It was early the next morning when he suddenly opened his eyes.
At the time, Qian Jiaoniang was wiping his face. The sudden movement startled her so much that she accidentally dropped the wet towel on his face.
Xing Muzheng’s fingers twitched. He slowly raised his hand and removed the damp cloth.
Qian Jiaoniang rubbed her fingertips and met his gaze.
Those black eyes were no longer vacant and dull—they were the deep and cold ones she remembered.
He didn’t need to say a word. Qian Jiaoniang could tell—Xing Muzheng was back.
The two stared at each other for a long time in silence. Xing Muzheng slowly sat up, his gaze still fixed on her. His large, powerful frame moved with a heavy, oppressive air. Qian Jiaoniang had seen the “foolish” Marquis rise many times, but never had it felt this unfamiliar.
She froze in place.
Wang Yong entered with a troubled expression, but the moment he saw the man sitting upright on the bed, it all vanished. He shouted with joy, “Commander, you’re awake!”
His loud exclamation drew everyone into the room. Li Qingquan and the others rushed to the bedside, chattering excitedly. Wu Shunzi started sobbing loudly again.
Xing Muzheng ignored it all. His gaze swept over the crowd, and he spoke slowly, “What… happened?”
***
Xing Muzheng sat in the hall, silent and still like a sculpture. The sharp angles of his handsome face were half-shrouded in candlelight, giving him a piercing and brooding look. Though he hadn’t said a word, the room was filled with his overwhelming presence.
This was the real Xing Muzheng—the true Commander! Li Qingquan, Ah Da, and the others were beyond thrilled, standing respectfully below.
Qian Jiaoniang, holding Xing Pingchun in her arms, and Qingya also stared at him. Anyone could see the miracle for what it was: though this man was physically the same person, a single look, a single expression, made him seem like two completely different men.
Xing Muzheng blinked slowly. His eyelids shifted. He looked left—his gaze followed. He looked right—his gaze shifted again. He raised an arm and looked at his fingers, flexing them and rolling his wrist.
Everyone followed the path of his eyes—until suddenly, his hand lifted and—
Bang! Crash!
The square table on his left was smashed into pieces with a single slap of his palm.
Everyone jumped. Ah Da immediately rushed to check his expression, terrified the Marquis had once again fallen under the control of the gu.
But what he saw was a faint, almost imperceptible smirk at the corner of Xing Muzheng’s lips. Xing Muzheng glanced at him sideways. The sharpness in that gaze made Ah Da’s heart skip a beat. He awkwardly rubbed his shaved head and retreated.
Xing Muzheng stood up. His waist moved. His legs followed. He took several large steps and came to stand before Qian Jiaoniang.
A shadow seemed to fall over her eyes. She straightened her back and forced herself not to step away.
Xing Muzheng slowly lowered his head, his dark eyes scanning down from her hair, over her brows, her eyes, her nose… finally landing on her lips.
Qian Jiaoniang felt uncomfortable under his gaze and unconsciously pressed her lips together.
He stood before her for a long while, then turned his gaze to Xing Pingchun at her side. The boy stared up at his father—familiar yet unfamiliar—and swallowed nervously, wrapping his arms around Qian Jiaoniang.
Xing Muzheng frowned. Xing Pingchun looked even more lost.
Seeing her son frightened, Qian Jiaoniang pulled him close and stepped back slightly.
Xing Muzheng’s face grew colder. Ah Da and Wang Yong exchanged glances, wondering if they should intervene, when the Marquis finally spoke, his voice heavy:
“Madam Qian, why are you here?”
Earlier in the room, Qian Jiaoniang had already realized—Xing Muzheng didn’t remember anything from when he was cursed. She had expected this. Facing the real Marquis, who clearly didn’t welcome her, she gave a faint smile and replied,
“My lord, you were afflicted by a gu. I brought someone to break the curse for you.”
Ah Da quickly added, “Commander, you were tricked by those b*stards—you’ve been sick, uh, I mean afflicted, for nearly half a year. Madam’s been caring for you this whole time!”
Xing Muzheng turned toward Ah Da. “Half a year?”
Ah Da clasped his hands and said, “Commander, you’ve been sick for nearly half a year. Yesterday was the fifteenth of the eighth month—Mid-Autumn Festival.”
Xing Muzheng’s brows twitched. “Mid-Autumn has passed?” He had been asleep for two days? His memory was still stuck on the moment he heard Qian Jiaoniang’s fierce threats to the gu master—her words so forceful they still stirred warmth in his chest.
Yes—Xing Muzheng remembered everything. He had never forgotten what happened while he was under the gu’s control. He remembered it all clearly. Who treated him with contempt, and who cared for him—Jiaoniang’s kindness toward him was etched into his heart.
But he didn’t want anyone, especially Jiaoniang, to associate him with that monstrous state. That was the most shameful, pitiful version of himself in his entire life, and he didn’t want her to remember it—didn’t want her to bring it up. So from the moment he opened his eyes, he had decided to hide the truth.
Heaven knew how hard it had been for Xing Muzheng to endure just now, forcing himself to act indifferent. He had long wanted to open his arms and pull Qian Jiaoniang into a tight embrace, to stroke her face, to see whether the scar on her forehead had faded, and to kiss her deeply on the lips.
He had once been blind, leaving the treasure in his home to gather dust. Now, all he wanted was to hold it carefully in the palm of his hand. But he couldn’t allow Jiaoniang to be reminded of the crazed, deranged version of himself. That would be too humiliating. So Xing Muzheng had to endure, had to pretend everything had gone back to how it was before the gu. Even if his blood boiled beneath his skin.
Just then, someone was still talking: “Yes, Commander. Yesterday was Mid-Autumn Festival. We were all waiting for you to wake and eat mooncakes together. But the sixteenth’s moon is even rounder than the fifteenth’s, so today we can still—”
Suddenly, a loud, shrill voice rang out from the courtyard: “Let our young miss in! The Marquis is awake—why won’t you let her see him?!”
The noise in the courtyard made it impossible to keep the peace inside. A moment later, Wu Jiang came striding in and dropped to one knee before Xing Muzheng. “Commander, Miss Feng is outside requesting an audience.”
Wu Jiang had been following orders not to allow Feng Yuyan in, but upon realizing the Commander had recovered, he naturally came to await his new instructions.
News of Xing Muzheng’s recovery was practically being celebrated with gongs and firecrackers by Ding Zhang in the household. Many of the close attendants already knew the Marquis had regained his senses. Those who didn’t know the full truth simply thought the Marquis’s illness had finally passed. Feng Yuyan had, of course, heard the news too.
Holding her belly, nervous and flustered, she had consulted with her wet nurse for a while before finally deciding to brave the tiger’s den and come.
When Xing Muzheng heard it was Feng Yuyan, a wave of disgust rose in him. But in his pretense of not remembering anything from his time under the gu, Feng Yuyan was still technically his respected future wife. If he didn’t put on an act, that clever fox Jiaoniang would certainly see through him.
“Let her in.”
