Qian Jiaoniang walked briskly through the rain to Xing Muzheng’s courtyard. No servants were at the entrance, so she pushed the door open and walked in. The courtyard was quiet and empty. She entered the main hall, where two young servants were moving a table inside.
“Where is the Marquis?” she asked.
“Madam, the Marquis is in the inner study!”
“Don’t call me Madam!”
Qian Jiaoniang frowned and spat lightly, then crossed the courtyard toward the study. Just as she entered the small courtyard, a servant came rushing out of the side room next to the study. Jiaoniang stopped him. “Where are you hurrying off to? Have you seen Chou’er?”
The servant looked up and jumped when he saw Jiaoniang. “Madam is here!”
Qian Jiaoniang covered one ear. “I’m not deaf. Lower your voice. And stop calling me Madam. Where’s Chou’er?”
“Huh?”
“Huh what? Chou’er—the young master. Where is he? Did you see him?”
The servant’s eyes darted about, unable to form a coherent answer. Jiaoniang saw a small group gathered around the side room and faintly caught a glimpse of Xing Muzheng inside. She stopped dealing with the servant and walked straight toward the room. At the corridor, she tossed her umbrella to the side and quickly approached the doorway.
“…Commander, it seems the young master collapsed from exhaustion, and he got caught in the rain as well… I’ll go prepare two prescriptions immediately…”
“What happened to Chou’er?” Qian Jiaoniang flung open the curtain and stepped inside, bumping right into Xing Muzheng, who had been standing by the door speaking to Doctor Jian. The always-unshakable Xing Muzheng suddenly looked startled, a flash of panic crossing his eyes. He stiffly turned his gaze away.
Through the open space, Qian Jiaoniang saw Pingchun lying on the couch. His upper body was bare, draped with a robe. A maid knelt by his head, gently wiping his hair.
“Chou’er, why are you lying there?” Jiaoniang squinted, not seeing clearly. She stepped quickly around the two and walked closer. Only then did she realize Pingchun’s eyes were tightly shut, his brow furrowed, his face flushed red, and his lips were blood-colored. He looked terribly uncomfortable. Qian Jiaoniang’s face stiffened as she reached out to feel his forehead. The burning heat made her draw back instantly. She pressed her lips together and touched him again—her hand met scorching heat that burned straight through a mother’s heart.
“What’s going on?” Qian Jiaoniang asked in a low voice, turning to the others. “He was perfectly fine earlier.”
The room fell into silence. Everyone kept sneaking glances at Xing Muzheng, but no one answered.
Qian Jiaoniang stared at Pingchun’s wet hair being wiped down by the maid, then looked at his discarded clothes in the corner—also drenched, still dripping with water.
“What exactly happened?” Jiaoniang raised her voice.
Xing Muzheng waved everyone out. Once the room was clear, he stepped forward and said, “…I originally told Chou’er to come to the study at the hour of Mao today so I could teach him martial arts. But on the very first day, he slacked off and wouldn’t get up, so I made him stand outside with his arms raised as punishment for half a day.”
Qian Jiaoniang took a deep breath. “Punished to stand for half a day, and you didn’t even let him in when it started raining? That rain was pouring!”
Xing Muzheng pressed his lips together. “Military orders are as unyielding as mountains.”
Qian Jiaoniang gritted her teeth and rushed at him, landing a hard blow on his arm with all her strength. Xing Muzheng was shocked, almost reflexively wanting to fight back. He forcibly restrained himself, grabbing her wrist and shouting lowly, “What are you doing?!”
“He’s just a half-grown child!” Qian Jiaoniang finally couldn’t hold back her rage and roared, her whole body like a ball of fire ignited. “Tormenting a young child like that can kill them!”
Xing Muzheng had anticipated she’d be angry—that’s precisely why he hadn’t allowed anyone to tell her the truth. But he hadn’t expected her to explode with fury like this. She had endured countless wrongs herself without ever making a fuss, always playing along with him. But the moment Chou’er fainted, she no longer cared and dared to confront him head-on.
Yet Xing Muzheng felt he hadn’t done anything wrong. He had been trying to repair the father-son bond, but on the first day, Chou’er violated military discipline. In order to correct his attitude, he had to impose punishment. Having him stand with his arms raised was the lightest form of military discipline—he had only intended to teach him a small lesson. He never imagined the child would faint in the rain.
Jiaoniang shouldn’t make a fuss over this.
“Boys have to suffer a bit—what’s the harm? What great hero didn’t go through hardship in his youth? The more you spoil him, the more useless he’ll become!”
Qian Jiaoniang’s lips trembled. She broke free of his grip and shoved him hard. “Easy for you to say! Chou’er is your own flesh and blood, yet you treat him like a stray cat or dog—scolding and punishing him at will just because he displeased you! Have you ever once thought whether he could even bear it? Do you know how hard it was for mother and me to raise him? I almost…” Her eyes grew wet, and she bit her lip, swallowing her words. “If you’ve got a problem, come at me. What kind of man takes it out on a small child?!”
Xing Muzheng opened his mouth to retort, but Qian Jiaoniang ignored him and stormed out to find Doctor Jian.
Xing Muzheng took a deep breath and walked to the bed. Hands behind his back, he looked down at the unconscious little boy. The child’s tiny face was scrunched up in pain, his forehead beaded with cold sweat, even breathing seemed difficult. He looked so fragile—like a mere breath would send him slipping away.
Suddenly, Xing Muzheng felt a tight clench in his chest.
Doctor Jian repeated what he had told Xing Muzheng to Qian Jiaoniang—assuring her that once the fever broke, the child would be fine. But there was one thing Doctor Jian had kept to himself: if the fever didn’t subside, then it would be dangerous.
