Xing Muzheng had wanted to kiss her for a long time—ever since he’d regained his sanity. The moment his lips touched Qian Jiaoniang’s soft red ones, all his rage was burned away, instantly replaced by another kind of fire. He ignored her struggle and kissed her fiercely.
He had once believed that intimacy between man and woman was just for producing heirs. But after realizing his feelings for Qian Jiaoniang, just seeing her made him want to kiss her, to hold her. When he didn’t see her, he couldn’t sleep at night. And yet she couldn’t wait to marry another man.
He bit her in anger—but couldn’t bear to bite too hard. Who knew she’d bite him back? Hard. Her sharp teeth felt like they’d been filed down. Blood filled his mouth.
He pulled back in pain, only for Qian Jiaoniang to slap him hard across the face.
A slap to the face—that was a deep insult.
Xing Muzheng had never suffered this kind of humiliation before. His eyes flared as he turned back, meeting her cold stare.
“Xing Muzheng, don’t push me too far.”
“I’m pushing you too far?” he said, gripping her chin again with a heavy voice. So he was the one pushing her, when she married someone else behind his back?
A drop of blood fell from his bitten lip onto the corner of hers. Qian Jiaoniang wiped it off with the back of her hand, leaving a streak of red across her face. Xing Muzheng’s eyes dimmed. He reached out to wipe it away.
Qian Jiaoniang flinched away, but he grabbed her face, holding her still, wiping off the blood—and also wiping off the smudged lipstick at the corners of her mouth. As he wiped, his thumb slipped into her mouth—and she bit down viciously.
He pulled his hand out. He should’ve been angry—but instead, he laughed. “Like a dog,” he muttered. Always biting. How was that so adorable?
Qian Jiaoniang grew even angrier. “You’re the dog!”
She shoved him hard, leaped off the bed, and stood a few paces away, glaring at him.
“Xing Muzheng, who gave you the right to ruin my marriage? Do you think I’m some piece of dirt you can mold at will? Even a clay Bodhisattva has a temper!”
He ruined her marriage? Xing Muzheng sneered darkly. “You’re mad I ruined your good thing. You couldn’t wait to marry Wang Tieniu.”
That tenant farmer? What was so good about him? Dirt poor, no family, old, and clearly impotent—she was really that desperate to rush into marrying him? Had pig grease clouded her brain?
Qian Jiaoniang sneered right back. “Yes, of course. Marrying him is better. I’d rather marry a cat or a dog than marry you!”
That struck straight into Xing Muzheng’s heart. He had been blind once—throwing away the treasure he had at home. But he had changed. Wasn’t that enough?
He stepped off the bed, crushing the torn red wedding dress beneath his feet. If one looked closely, they’d see his own clothes were covered in dust. He had rushed back at full speed the moment he got word by carrier pigeon. He’d gone to a Ji tribal camp not far from Yuzhou City—and in one night, had wiped them out entirely. He had thought Jiaoniang would be waiting at home for him to return. But halfway back, Wang Yong’s pigeon arrived—saying Jiaoniang was about to get married, and to none other than Wang Tieniu. Xing Muzheng had nearly died of rage. He raced home, only to find her actually wearing a red veil, all smiles and ready to wed.
At that moment, he truly didn’t know whether to strangle her—or lock her up forever.
Xing Muzheng said, “I told you—you are my wife.”
“And I told you—I don’t want to be anymore,” Qian Jiaoniang said firmly, her gaze clear and unwavering, as if she were about to swear to the heavens. “I’ve thought it through. A girl like me from a humble family doesn’t belong with someone like you from high nobility. Isn’t that the whole ‘toad lusting after a swan’ thing? Wang Tieniu matches me much better. Marquis, my husband is still waiting for me. If you’d like, you can come drink a cup of wedding wine too. Goodbye!”
Qian Jiaoniang gave a perfunctory bow and turned to leave, but Xing Muzheng pulled her back and said coldly, “First, I haven’t given you a letter of divorce. Second, I haven’t issued a repudiation notice. Who is your husband? Whose wife are you?”
Let her open her eyes and take a good look at who her rightful husband really was!
“I have an imperial decree!” she shot back—surely that held supreme authority.
Xing Muzheng said, “Even if you have an imperial decree, I still must write a release letter to let you go. Until then, you are still my wife, Qian Jiaoniang. That bowing ceremony and bridal chamber today—none of it counts.”
Qian Jiaoniang was dumbfounded. “What… what do you mean, it doesn’t count?”
Xing Muzheng ground his teeth. “If it counts, then you’ve remarried. That’s a capital offense—you want to be drowned in a pig cage?”
First she was accused of being unfaithful, then of remarriage—he just wanted to pin every crime on her! Qian Jiaoniang nearly ground her molars to dust. “So you just want me dead, is that it?”
What had he said that meant she’d die? He was clearly saying she should stay put in the Marquis’s manor and live peacefully as the marquis’s wife! How could someone normally so clever not even understand that?
The two glared at each other, stuck in a standoff. At that moment, Xing Pingchun suddenly burst in, all round-faced and grinning, “Mother, you didn’t get married after all!”
Qian Jiaoniang was bumped in the waist and cried out in pain.
Xing Pingchun bounced while hugging her. “Mother, didn’t you say you were getting married today? Why did you change your mind?”
Xing Muzheng’s temples throbbed painfully. Why was no one around him ever easy to deal with? Wasn’t this son of his very respectful toward him? Yet his mother was about to remarry and he didn’t try to stop it—still grinning like a fool!
Qian Jiaoniang gave Xing Pingchun a pat and told him to stand properly. “Where did you run off to early this morning? Didn’t I tell you to ask your teacher for a day off today?”
“I… oh! Father!” Xing Pingchun scratched his head, turned, and spotted Xing Muzheng—his face lit up with a beaming smile.
Xing Muzheng responded with a low “Mm.”
Xing Pingchun then remembered this father of his was no longer that fool from before. His smile faded, and he straightened up stiffly, muttering again, “Father.”
Xing Muzheng’s black eyes narrowed. Why was he suddenly acting so timid—was he afraid of his own father?
Xing Pingchun saw his father’s face darken and grew even more flustered.
Mother and son stood stiff as boards, as if he were some kind of ferocious beast. Xing Muzheng felt entirely ill at ease but still kept a stern face. “You two stay in the manor. Without my permission, neither of you are to leave the estate.”
With that, he flung his sleeve and left.
