Qian Jiaoniang was confined within the Dingxi Marquis’s estate. Not to mention leaving the compound—she couldn’t even return to her own courtyard without being followed. Qingya was already waiting for her there, but Qian Jiaoniang was fuming. Xing Pingchun followed her step for step, even clinging to her at night, insisting on sleeping beside her.
The next morning, when Qian Jiaoniang woke up, she was shocked to find Xing Muzheng standing at the bedside, arms crossed, glaring at her with a stormy face. She let out a yelp and sat up with a jolt. Xing Pingchun, who was curled up beside her, also woke up in confusion. When he saw Xing Muzheng standing right there, he was stunned.
Had this guy gone stupid again? Who just barges into someone’s room this early in the morning?
Xing Muzheng snapped at him, “You’re not a child anymore. What are you doing still sleeping with your mother?”
Xing Pingchun lowered his head and didn’t dare make a sound.
“Don’t let it happen again,” Xing Muzheng said coldly, and then turned and walked out.
Qian Jiaoniang was utterly bewildered.
But since she’d been disturbed, she didn’t bother trying to go back to sleep. She stepped outside to find Xing Muzheng gone. Her eyes darted and she quickly gathered her things to leave the courtyard—only to be blocked at the gate by Wu Jiang and Xu Guoyi, two human-sized door gods. The guards once meant to protect her now acted as her jailers. Qian Jiaoniang leaned against the doorway and gave a cold snort.
“I once heard a story,” she said. “A farmer found a snake lying frozen in the road one winter. He felt sorry for it and tucked it into his coat. But when the snake warmed up and woke, it bit the farmer to death. Tell me—wasn’t that farmer an idiot? Saving an ungrateful poisonous snake for no reason. Deserved to be bitten, didn’t he?”
Even if Wu Jiang and Xu Guoyi weren’t the brightest, they knew she was scolding someone else while pretending to talk about them—clearly cursing their commander. Wu Jiang gave an awkward laugh. “Madam, the world is chaotic right now! The commander is only afraid something might happen to you.”
Xu Guoyi gave Wu Jiang a discreet jab with his elbow. What the h*ll kind of explanation is that?!
Qian Jiaoniang’s face darkened. “Don’t call me ‘Madam.’ Let someone else have that title!”
—
Shortly after noon, Ding Zhang and a few others prepared a full table of meats and delicacies in the main room of the courtyard. Qian Jiaoniang and Xing Pingchun were both “invited” to the table.
Xing Muzheng was already seated, hands resting on his knees, eyes closed, waiting. When he heard familiar footsteps, he opened his eyes—and immediately saw Qian Jiaoniang wearing maidservant clothes. He frowned. “You have no proper clothes left?”
After a night and half a day, Qian Jiaoniang had cooled her temper. She realized she was just a fish on the chopping board now—completely at someone else’s mercy. What could she do? Fight head-on with a marquis? So she curled her lips into a smile and said, “I’ve already been divorced from the household, naturally I wouldn’t dare thick-skinnedly linger in the Marquis estate. Of course, I moved all my things out.”
No wonder her courtyard had been so empty—she really was greased lightning, eager to bolt. Xing Muzheng’s temple throbbed with pain again. After a moment, he said, “Forget the items. Come eat.”
Qian Jiaoniang glanced at the lavish spread of dishes on the square table, then lowered her head and nudged her lips toward Xing Pingchun. He looked over—his mother was clearly telling him to sit beside his father. But he didn’t dare. Flustered, he made eyes at her to take the seat instead.
Qian Jiaoniang didn’t want to sit next to Xing Muzheng either and was clearly trying to make her son the scapegoat. The mother and son exchanged glances and both refused to move.
Xing Muzheng saw it all and the veins on his forehead nearly popped. He pointed to his left side. “Chou’er, over here. Sit.” Then pointed to his right. “You—sit.”
The great lord had spoken. The mother and son had no choice but to drag their feet to either side of him and sit.
Once seated, silence fell. Xing Muzheng didn’t move his chopsticks. Neither did Qian Jiaoniang or Xing Pingchun.
Ding Zhang, standing behind and waiting, began to panic. Was the food not to their liking? Why wasn’t anyone eating?
Xing Muzheng waited for his wife and son to stupidly thank the heavens. Usually, just a chicken or a fish would make them beam with joy—now they had everything, surely they’d express their gratitude again. Though he didn’t care much for it, he’d gotten used to hearing it. Today was the first time he was properly sitting down to eat with them, and deep down, he even felt a faint trace of happiness. But after waiting a long while, neither wife nor son said a word—they sat there like mutes.
“You two… have nothing to say?” Xing Muzheng asked.
Qian Jiaoniang stared at her nose, her nose at her heart; Xing Pingchun shook his head like a rattle-drum.
They wouldn’t say a single word while eating with him? It felt like a bucket of cold water had been dumped on him. Xing Muzheng picked up his chopsticks and said blandly, “Eat.”
Mother and son wouldn’t go against their own stomachs, of course—they picked up their bowls and chopsticks and ate in silence. But whether it was because they had starved too long or because eating with Xing Muzheng felt too strange, after just a few bites and barely picking at the dishes, they already felt full.
The two of them scraped their bowls clean without leaving a single grain of rice and neatly set down their utensils at the same time.
Xing Muzheng was still eating. Seeing them stop, he frowned and said, “The rice bucket’s right beside you—are you waiting for a maid to come serve you?”
“I’m full,” said Qian Jiaoniang.
“I’m full too,” echoed Xing Pingchun.
Weren’t the two of them usually ones to eat two bowls each? They could put away plenty of dishes, too—how come today they barely ate and were already full? Was it because they didn’t want to eat with him?
Xing Muzheng felt bitterness rise in his mouth.
When he finally finished eating, Ding Zhang signaled the maids to bring over basins for the master and young master to wash their hands. Xing Pingchun nervously watched how Xing Muzheng washed and mimicked him. Xing Muzheng rinsed his hands, took the clean towel a maid handed over, and while drying his hands, asked, “You’re not going to school today?”
Xing Pingchun quickly wiped his wet hands on his clothes and straightened up to answer, “The school is on holiday today!”
Xing Muzheng gave a light cough and tossed the towel into the basin. “Then go copy a passage. When you’re done, bring it to me for inspection.”
“Huh?” Xing Pingchun froze.
“Huh what?”
“N-nothing! I’ll go write it now!” And he bolted.
This kid—when he’s off school, he runs wild and won’t study no matter how she urges him. But now, with just one sentence from Xing Muzheng, he obediently runs off. Truly a child who bullies the soft and fears the tough! Qian Jiaoniang snorted as she watched her son’s figure vanish, then turned to see Ding Zhang had already ordered the table cleared. After a moment’s thought, she got up to leave.
“Stop,” Xing Muzheng called.
