“Marquis, it’s quite late. What brings you here?” Qian Jiaoniang, hastily drying and dressing herself behind the screen, listened to the increasingly strange conversation. She quickly tied her belt, stepped out, and cut in.
Xing Muzheng looked toward the sound. Her hair was twisted up behind her head, her cheeks slightly flushed, eyes glistening with moisture—likely from the bath. She looked so tempting it made him swallow unconsciously. He clutched the white cloth in his hand, opened his mouth, but hesitated to speak.
“It’s nothing,” he finally said.
He had originally rushed over on impulse, wanting her to dry his hair. But then he second-guessed himself—if he made such a sudden request, she might suspect he remembered something from the past. He scolded himself for being reckless. With a large hand, he balled up the white towel and stood up. “…Rest early,” he said.
And with that, he strode out in long strides. The way he came was strange, and the way he left was even stranger. Qian Jiaoniang stared at his departing back, speechless. Qingya, equally puzzled, went to bolt the door.
She turned back and asked, “What did the Marquis come for?”
Qian Jiaoniang thought over the conversation and frowned. “Just now—did Xing Muzheng quote your name?”
Qingya curled her lips. “Yes. ‘In the dead of winter in Jiangnan, the early plum blossoms bloom; spring is entrusted to the drooping willows. With a slender waist and natural grace, still more so—pure bones and refined elegance.’ It’s a poem about willows. My father always loved willows, so he picked my name from it.”
“People who’ve read books do pick good names. I always thought your name sounded nice, didn’t expect it to have such literary origin.”
But why did Xing Muzheng go out of his way to say that to Qingya? Could it be… he actually came to see Qingya?
Qian Jiaoniang lowered her head, deep in thought. Qingya also fell silent. The two exchanged a few more words before going to bed.
Perhaps from riding too hard the day before, Qian Jiaoniang slept especially soundly. Qingya woke first but didn’t rouse her—outside, it was raining. Ah Da had come to notify them they’d wait for the rain to stop before setting off.
By the time Qian Jiaoniang washed up, it was already late morning. She walked downstairs with a rare hint of shyness in her steps—her legs were sore from gripping the saddle all day.
Everyone else was already up. Xing Muzheng sat at a table with Liu Ying and her husband. Liu Ying said something emotional and wiped away a few tears. Xing Pingchun, along with Tian Yongzhang and Tian Bilian, were surrounding a traveling merchant, cheerfully spinning a tray he had set down.
When Xing Muzheng saw Qian Jiaoniang come down, his gaze locked onto her.
Liu Ying was still chatting animatedly about childhood stories with her twin sister when she noticed her nephew was distracted. She followed his line of sight and saw Qian Jiaoniang. She curled her lip, then chuckled, “Look at you, you lazybones. Everyone’s already up and about, and you’re still fast asleep. What if we left you here at the inn—would you be scared then?”
Qian Jiaoniang and Qingya descended the stairs.
“Aunt is always the kindest,” Qian Jiaoniang said, smiling. “You’d never leave me behind.” She found an empty table and sat down. A server came over with a cloth, swiftly wiped the table, and asked what she wanted to eat. She ordered four buns, two eggs, and two bowls of tofu pudding.
Liu Ying had intended her words to mock Qian Jiaoniang, but instead, they sounded double-edged—leaving Liu Ying irritated at herself. She turned away and resumed talking to Xing Muzheng, racking her brain for sisterly childhood anecdotes.
“Back when your mother and I were just seven or eight, there was a time she got mischievous and climbed a tree to get a bird’s nest. But she got stuck and couldn’t get down. No adults were home, and it was getting dark. She got so scared she started crying up there, and I panicked down below. I went to fetch a quilt and told her to jump—I’d catch her. She did jump, and landed right on my arm! Broke it clean. Took me ages to heal.”
Tian Linwen stroked his beard and smiled. “Didn’t expect it—so elder sister used to be a mischievous one.”
Xing Muzheng also didn’t expect that his mother had once climbed a tree to dig out a bird’s nest.
“Auntie, this story sounds awfully familiar. I think Mother told it to me once,” Qian Jiaoniang rested her cheek in her hand. “Only, the version I heard was a little different. Mother said it was you who climbed the tree and couldn’t get down, crying so pitifully that she thought up a way to help, but when you jumped, you landed on her arm and broke it.”
This was something Madam Qian had told her on the journey to the Tian family. Even then, she spoke with a smile, sincerely believing that her sister had shared a deep and loving bond with her.
Liu Ying had originally meant to twist the truth to leave a good impression in her nephew’s eyes—as someone who had always cared for her sister. But unexpectedly, Qian Jiaoniang also knew of this story. Her expression changed drastically, and she stammered, “Your mother must have remembered it wrong.”
“It’s more likely that Madam Qian remembered wrong. She likely remembered it correctly,” Tian Linwen said.
Liu Ying quickly nodded, pointing at Jiaoniang. “Right, right, it’s you who remembered it wrong.”
Qian Jiaoniang smiled and said indifferently, “Then it must be I who remembered wrong. Look how muddle-headed I am, can’t even remember a story properly.” She let it go. Her mother was gone now—whatever they wanted to say, let them say it.
Seeing her back down, Liu Ying felt pleased. “Look at you, still so young, already so forgetful. How can you ever—”
“Wow—!” a little child’s shout cut Liu Ying off. Everyone turned to the sound and saw Xing Pingchun and the Tian siblings excitedly watching a traveling merchant blow a sugar figurine—a monkey.
The merchant dipped the tip of a reed stick into sugar and stuck it to the monkey, then made a small hole in the monkey’s back and poured in some syrup, then poked a tiny hole at its backside—and it became a monkey with diarrhea.
Tian Bilian covered her nose in disgust. “That’s gross!”
But Xing Pingchun and Tian Yongzhang were overjoyed. “So fun! So fun!” Xing Pingchun clapped and laughed, eyes bright as he turned and saw Qian Jiaoniang had come down. He darted over, hopping and beaming, “Mother! Mother! Look!”
Qian Jiaoniang feared that look in his eyes most. Whenever he looked at her like that, it meant he wanted something. But he never asked, even at his young age he knew they were poor. Now that he sensed she might have some money, he believed she could afford it. She did have some coins and could buy the sugar figure—but she didn’t want to.
She used to enjoy watching sugar figures being made too. But after seeing them many times, she realized those who blew them often got spit inside, even if not on purpose. The thought of a child licking and swallowing that made her feel it was unclean.
“I see it,” she said, planning to ignore him.
Xing Pingchun pleaded sweetly, “Mother, please buy it for me.”
“No.” Qian Jiaoniang refused firmly.
Xing Pingchun twisted and squirmed like a pretzel. “Please, Mother—good Mother—just this once!”
