An imperial edict? Xing Muzheng was slightly surprised. But an edict from the Emperor was not something to delay. He glanced at Qian Jiaoniang and strode out. “Quick, set the incense table.”
Ding Zhang hurried after him. “Marquis, the edict… is for the Madam.”
Xing Muzheng halted in his tracks. Qian Jiaoniang blinked. “For me?” What kind of merit or virtue did she have to warrant a personal edict from the Emperor?
An edict from the Imperial Court—for Jiaoniang? Xing Muzheng’s expression turned sharp.
Qian Jiaoniang quickly changed into her finest clothes and followed Xing Muzheng to the central gate. As the main doors opened, the Emperor’s close attendant, Eunuch Maoqi, stepped down from the carriage. Pale-faced, beardless, wearing a dark red court robe and a round palace hat, he was trailed by several attendants. Though he claimed to bear an edict, he held no golden scroll. Xing Muzheng exchanged a look with Qian Jiaoniang and both knelt together.
Maoqi stood in front of them, facing the capital. He proclaimed:
“By order of His Majesty: Madam Qian, wife of Xing Muzheng. It has come to Our ears that during your husband’s campaign, you believed him to be dead and remarried Wang Tieniu, a fellow villager. Upon learning that Xing Muzheng yet lived, you sought him out again. Your conduct is unfaithful and disloyal. However, considering your care for the Old Madam Xing, We hereby grant you a reward of one hundred gold taels. You are commanded to leave the Marquis household and remarry Wang Tieniu. Thus decreed.”
So it was nothing good! Xing Muzheng’s molars ground together, and his fists clenched so tightly they cracked.
When he returned to the capital, the court had questioned his intent to take a consort rather than reinstate his former wife. What had he answered back then? He couldn’t even recall. He just remembered that the Emperor had smiled oddly and said they would prepare him a “grand gift” before his wedding. Who would’ve guessed this was the so-called gift: smearing Jiaoniang’s reputation, ordering her to voluntarily leave him and marry Wang Tieniu?
Jiaoniang—given to Wang Tieniu? Just the thought made his blood boil.
Could he really let her leave him now? Let her and Wang Tieniu live happily ever after? Even if it came as an imperial decree—absolutely not.
Qian Jiaoniang was dazed. She understood every word the eunuch had said, yet strung together, she couldn’t make sense of it. When had she ever married Brother Tieniu? What was all this talk of unfaithfulness and disloyalty?
She slowly turned her head to look at Xing Muzheng. He saw the disbelief in her eyes, and his heart twisted, as though someone had grabbed it in a tight, merciless fist.
Xing Muzheng wanted to explain, but he truly couldn’t absolve himself of blame. Had he not entertained the idea of taking a equal wife from the start, or had he made it clear to the imperial family that he would never divorce his wife, then none of this would have come to pass. Xing Muzheng averted his gaze, and upon seeing this, Qian Jiaoniang actually smiled.
“Madam Qian, did you understand the decree?” Maoqi, though a eunuch seasoned by countless storms, had never seen a woman laugh after being divorced. Was she too shocked and gone mad? “If you understood, then accept the decree.”
Qian Jiaoniang said, “This humble woman understands. This humble woman accepts the decree and gives thanks.”
She took the imperial edict and left—neither weeping nor making a scene. Maoqi watched her straight-backed figure retreating and couldn’t help but feel astonished. This Qian Jiaoniang truly was an odd one. Even though the marquis had neglected her, she still held the title of the Marquis’s wife. That title alone, Madam of the Dingxi Marquis Estate, was more prestigious than many noblewomen in the capital, even some of imperial blood. Did she truly not care? Or… perhaps he was overthinking it. Maybe she was just an ignorant village girl after all.
“Mao Gonggong, what is the imperial intention behind this?” Xing Muzheng asked in a low voice. Though fury was roiling inside him, not a trace of it showed on his face.
Maoqi snapped back to himself and looked up at Xing Muzheng with an indescribable smile. He took out a letter from his sleeve. “Marquis Xing, this letter is personally written by His Majesty. He instructed me to show it to you—after you’ve read it, return it to me.”
Xing Muzheng immediately tore open the letter and read it at a glance, ten lines at a time. As expected, it was just as he had suspected. He secretly gnashed his teeth, the veins bulging on the fists clasped behind his back. Even though Maoqi was a seasoned old hand, he failed to read the room and smiled cheerily. “Marquis Xing, your wedding day is drawing near. Allow me to offer my congratulations in advance—may you and your fair lady live in harmony and joy for a hundred years.”
Those words stung painfully now. Xing Muzheng thought of Qian Jiaoniang, who had just left. Without bothering to explain himself, he simply said calmly, “Mao Gonggong, I have a memorial. Would you please deliver it to His Majesty on your way back?”
Maoqi found Xing Muzheng a strange man—his wife had just been divorced, yet he showed neither joy nor anger, as if it had nothing to do with him. This couple really was a match made in heaven. Maoqi hesitated and said, “Taking back the memorial is not a problem. But His Majesty has recently secluded himself with Taoist Zhang for cultivation. All state matters have been handed over to Chancellor Hang and the Three Ducal Ministers, with repeated orders not to disturb His Majesty during this period. I fear that when I return to the palace, His Majesty may still be in seclusion, so your memorial—”
Everyone at court knew the emperor had become obsessed with Taoist cultivation. Xing Muzheng asked, “Did His Majesty say how many days he intends to be in seclusion?”
“That… His Majesty’s intentions, I dare not guess. It could be just a few days, or as long as half a year. However… His Majesty’s birthday is approaching. By then, the capital will be abuzz with festivities. Marquis Xing will surely go to the capital to offer congratulations, yes?”
The imperial birthday celebration would be in late November—almost half a year away. Could the emperor truly intend to remain in seclusion until then? Xing Muzheng’s brow furrowed imperceptibly. Then he said, “Gonggong, you’ve had a long journey. Please, rest in the guest quarters.”
“Many thanks for your kind offer, Marquis. But I have other duties and must hurry back to the capital.”
Xing Muzheng didn’t press him to stay. After giving a few instructions to Ding Zhang, he turned and headed toward Qian Jiaoniang’s main room.
