Zhou Mu had been recruited into the marquis’s residence as steward and was always cautious, never daring a single mistake. Though the marquis didn’t handle household matters, that Miss Feng was sharp and meticulous—any mistake meant punishment. But ever since the marquis went mad, Zhou Mu noticed that Miss Feng suddenly started making all sorts of unusual expenditures, taking out silver regularly without informing him. He only found out from the accounting clerk, who told him in secret. Miss Feng had told the clerk that it was money the marquis had promised her, a loan for her cousin to buy farmland.
The more Zhou Mu thought about it, the colder his back became with sweat.
Miss Feng was clearly preparing her escape! If the marquis died and she ran, the accounting deficit would all fall on him. Zhou Mu didn’t want to be the scapegoat. But Miss Feng ran the household, so after a lot of deliberation, he took a desperate gamble and called out the legal wife—Qian Jiaoniang.
Fortunately, the madam turned out to be sharp. She told him to gather the marquis’s former subordinates. Zhou Mu had hoped they wouldn’t be the unreasonable, thuggish types—but instead, they shackled him in chains, even though he was the one who’d tipped them off!
At least he still had a voice.
As he thought it over again, Zhou Mu suddenly saw an opportunity in this dangerous game. The village-born madam was illiterate, the marquis was insane—he could take this chance to embezzle a huge sum and pin it all on Miss Feng. No one would ever know he’d played a part. And if he got caught, well, he’d just have his wife and kids flee—and die himself if he had to.
But he never expected this country bumpkin could not only do math—but be so clever!
“Madam, I was muddled—I was heartbroken over the marquis’s condition, that’s why I became careless… Let me go back and recheck the books, go over every account…” Zhou Mu pleaded from the floor, voice low and desperate.
“No need. Whether you recheck them or not, what’s the difference? You didn’t report how many tables, how many candles, how many catties or taels of tea—are they sold by the catty or the tael? You think you can fool me? Or do you just look down on me? Is this the kind of account you showed Feng Yuyan too?”
Zhou Mu paused, then quickly stammered, “This…”
Xing Muzheng did not get angry. He had already noticed something was wrong by the second or third time Zhou Mu came to report the accounts. But such matters were not worth his anger. He had assumed that Jiaoniang remained silent each time because she didn’t understand—only now did he realize she simply didn’t care to respond.
Qian Jiaoniang returned to her seat and pointed to the broken, useless table for Wu Shunzi to haul away. She grabbed a woven fan and fanned herself a few times. “Steward Zhou, you’ve got guts! What do you think I’d find if I looked into your earlier account books?”
“Madam, this servant didn’t… this servant…” Zhou Mu wished he could slap himself. He’d underestimated her—he really had.
“Ah Da, Wang Yong, seize this embezzling, crooked steward. Let him confess how much silver he’s stolen from the marquis’s household!”
“Yes, ma’am!”
“Madam, please! This servant knows his guilt! Please spare me, spare me—”
Qian Jiaoniang fanned herself hard, her gaze fierce as she stared Zhou Mu down. “No one can spare you. If the silver you return doesn’t match the numbers in my check, then you’ll…” She paused, eyes narrowing, the pressure in her tone rising.
Qingya stepped forward and whispered in her ear, “Be thrown in prison.”
“Right—then you’ll rot in prison!” Qian Jiaoniang flicked her hand. “Take him down for questioning!”
The marquis stood up and clapped his hands, laughing out loud.
***
“Jiaoniang, you were really something today,” Qingya said as the evening sky burned red with sunset clouds. She pulled up a small stool to sit in the shade under a tree in the courtyard, lazily fanning herself while watching Jiaoniang tend to her precious grapevines.
Since the marquis moved in, the grape trellis had been trampled and toppled so many times it was impossible to count. But the vines were hardy, and after pulling, propping, and burying them back, they still managed to live. Jiaoniang expertly used dry twine to secure them to the bamboo frame. Glancing at the marquis, who was sitting on a rocking chair rubbing his belly while gazing up at the flaming sky, she fastened a final knot and said, “I couldn’t take it anymore. That Zhou Mu really thought he could toy with people like monkeys? If you’re gonna put on a show, at least make it a good one—this kind wouldn’t even draw applause on the street!”
“Are you planning to take over managing the household?” Qingya asked.
“I’m not,” Jiaoniang said, lifting a vine into place. “Isn’t there another steward? That Ding Zhang guy? Let him handle it.”
Xing Muzheng couldn’t see them clearly through the clouds, but he could hear everything. He was slightly displeased.
Jiaoniang secured the vine and gently placed a surviving little grape cluster on the frame. Pleased, she clapped her hands. “I once had a dream—my grape trellis was heavy with fruit, and then in the blink of an eye, every cluster turned into golden grapes. Pure gold! Gleaming so bright you’d think they were celestial. Then—this immortal appeared and said they were a gift from him, and asked if I liked them. I said of course I did!”
“You were dreaming of gold so hard you went nuts,” Qingya scoffed.
“I was dirt poor back then—could barely scrape together a meal, practically chewing dirt to survive. I guess it’s like they say: think about something all day and you’ll dream it at night. But do you know what happened next?”
“What?”
“I got so excited, I swallowed a whole cluster of gold grapes. And then—I choked to death.”
Qingya froze for a moment, then burst out laughing, hiding behind her fan until her stomach ached. She clutched her belly, wheezing, “Oh heavens—I thought it was a good dream! Turns out it was a nightmare! Hahaha! Jiaoniang, you’re too much!”
Jiaoniang glared at her. “Laugh, laugh, laugh—what’s so funny? Don’t you know dreams are the opposite of real life? One day I will grow a garden full of golden grapes!”
“Yes, yes, you will! Hahaha! You will!” Qingya couldn’t stop laughing, giving her a big thumbs-up.
Qian Jiaoniang rolled her eyes and turned toward the corner where Qingya had planted two flower pots. The leaves were curling at the edges—she couldn’t bear to look. “You really need to fertilize those two, or they’ll never bloom!”
Qingya instantly replied, “If they don’t bloom, so be it. You grow yours, I grow mine. No need to interfere.”
Qian Jiaoniang turned away in disgust and scooped a ladle of water to sprinkle on her field. “I really don’t get you flower growers—must be too full with nothing better to do.”
From the kitchen, Ah Da received the marquis’s dinner from the maid. The chicken was deboned, the fish carefully de-boned too—everyone was terrified Dingxi Marquis might choke. Jiaoniang saw this, washed her hands in a clean bucket, wiped them dry on her clothes, and walked over. “It’s cool today. Let’s eat outside.”
Wang Yong smartly dashed indoors to grab a dining table.
The marquis seemed to smell the food. He sat up and grinned goofily at Jiaoniang. She pulled up a chair and sat beside him. “Eat properly. After this you can have goat milk.”
The marquis beamed even brighter—his smile outshone the sun. Jiaoniang looked away. Nope—still too much to handle.
“So grown and still obsessed with milk. No wonder you’re too embarrassed to speak,” she muttered. Thanks to him, Xing Pingchun now had to drink a bowl of goat milk morning and night too.
Xing Muzheng felt a bit awkward. Goat milk was something from his childhood; he’d long forgotten the taste. Who knew this ghost of a thing would be so obsessed?
Wang Yong brought the table, and Ah Da set the hot dishes neatly in place before the two left to tend to other things.
The marquis was always fed by Jiaoniang. If left to himself, he’d grab everything with his hands and make a mess. She carefully mashed the fish meat, double-checked there were no bones, mixed it into white rice, and spooned a bite into the marquis’s open mouth.
When the marquis ate, he was rarely violent. Even Qingya dared to get close. She sat beside Jiaoniang, fanning herself while watching her feed him. “Jiaoniang, back to what we were saying earlier—are you really not going to take this chance to seize control of the household? If you miss this opportunity, it might not come again. What if Feng Yuyan makes a comeback…”
Jiaoniang curled her lip and stuffed a bite of rice with chicken into the marquis’s mouth. “Why should I fight for that? What does it have to do with me?”
“If it’s nothing to you, then why’d you bring the marquis into your courtyard?” Qingya raised a brow.
Jiaoniang silently fed another bite. “…The marquis is sick. I couldn’t just watch him die.” She paused, then added, “He is still the hero general in the hearts of the people, after all.”
“Just that?” Qingya’s gaze shifted back and forth between her and Xing Muzheng, suspicion written all over her face. “There’s not even a shred of affection between husband and wife?”
Qian Jiaoniang let out a sharp laugh, as if Qingya had told a joke. “Affection? What d*mned affection?!”
Xing Muzheng was startled.
“Hey… don’t be so crude…”
“Crude?” Jiaoniang sneered. “I can be cruder. He bought me into the Xing family just to leave behind a heir. Then he vanished for nine years without a word. I had to honor the old and raise the young—I worked harder than a donkey at the mill! When I finally heard he’d won a great battle and returned as a high official, I thought, great, this old lady can finally enjoy some good days. Who knew the moment I stepped into the manor, he’d give me a slap in the face—d*mn that Miss Feng, d*mn that so-called equal wife! I hadn’t even warmed the seat before he kicked me aside. Do I look like a wife? Did he ever treat me like one? Xing Muzheng might have lived up to his name before all under heaven, but he sure as h*ll didn’t live up to me, Qian Jiaoniang!”
She had held those words in her heart for a long time. Now, finally, she could let them out. Jiaoniang exhaled deeply, feeling unburdened.
Xing Muzheng stared at her, watching her face flush with anger. So that’s what she had been thinking all this time.
Dingxi Marquis choked on his food. He dry-heaved repeatedly, his hands clawing at the air. Jiaoniang quickly set down the wooden bowl, grabbed his hand, and slapped him hard on the back. The marquis vomited a mouthful of rice onto the floor. Jiaoniang leapt to the side just in time to save her shoes from disaster.
Qingya went to grab a broom and dustpan from the corner. Jiaoniang told her to get some ash first, so she went to the backyard for coal ash. When she returned, Jiaoniang was wiping Xing Muzheng’s face and clothes. Qingya scattered the ash over the mess and asked, “If the marquis wronged you so badly, why are you still taking care of him?”
Jiaoniang scrubbed at the marquis’s tunic with rough force, her expression blank. “Didn’t I say? He may have wronged me as a wife, but I’m still a citizen of this land, and he’s a hero to our people.”
The marquis stared blankly at Jiaoniang.
Xing Pingchun returned from school, pushing open the courtyard gate and hopping in. “Mama, I’m back!”
“Chou’er’s back.” Jiaoniang turned and smiled.
Qingya had just finished sweeping up the mess and also smiled at the boy, holding her tongue.
