Qian Jiaoniang truly hadn’t expected that not only would Xing Pingchun remember Liu Ying’s earlier scolding, he’d defend her so righteously. Her life’s blessing was all in this son. How could she ever bear to leave him?
She almost wanted to grab her son and kiss him hard. She held back a smile and watched Liu Ying’s face shift through a range of awkward expressions.
Tian Bilian said, “You little rascal, how ungrateful! My mother stood up for you, and this is how you repay her?”
“Great Aunt is good to me, just like my real grandmother. But if my mother was wronged, and Great Aunt says sorry, then my mother won’t feel hurt anymore,” Xing Pingchun replied.
Liu Ying laughed awkwardly. “I’m the elder, your mother is the junior. How can elders apologize to juniors? Even if I wrongly scolded your mother, she should just bear it—that’s proper manners.”
Xing Pingchun’s eyes widened. “How could that be right? To know your mistake and correct it—there’s no greater virtue! That’s what the sages say! Last time, my mother wrongly blamed me and she apologized. She said people will always make mistakes and hurt others, but when they do, they should apologize—so no one stays sad.”
Xing Muzheng paused at those words.
Liu Ying snapped, “That’s just because your mother doesn’t understand proper etiquette. That kind of nonsense throws the rules into chaos!” She flung down her bowl and chopsticks and stormed off. Tian Linwen sighed heavily and also stood up, flinging his sleeves and leaving.
Tian Yongzhang said, “Xing Pingchun, you made my father and mother upset. They’re your Great Uncle and Great Aunt—you should go apologize!”
Xing Pingchun furrowed his brow, his clear black-and-white eyes full of confusion. He didn’t understand—right was right, wrong was wrong. Why did apologizing mean you were rude? He hadn’t said anything wrong. Why should he say sorry?
He grew restless and unsure of what to do. Then Xing Muzheng spoke up: “Eat.”
Hearing this, Xing Pingchun finally relaxed and went back to gnawing on his rabbit bone.
And so, the matter passed without further consequence. That night, everyone slept soundly in their wagons or tents.
In the middle of the night, Qian Jiaoniang quietly got up, not disturbing Qingya beside her. She lightly jumped off the wagon. The wagons and tents formed a semicircle around a central bonfire. Wu Shunzi sat dozing by the fire, hugging a sword.
It was silent all around. A half-round silver moon hung in the sky, surrounded by countless stars. The light was so bright it illuminated the ground, down to each pebble. Bathed in moonlight, Qian Jiaoniang silently walked into the woods.
The grove wasn’t large, and moonlight still filtered in. Another kind of light fluttered among the trees, dancing around her. Qian Jiaoniang watched the fireflies with a smile, then took out a palm-sized hollow bamboo ball she’d made earlier in the evening out of boredom. She opened the lid, lined it with a thin layer of gauze, and gently swept it through the air where the green lights flitted. A cluster of glowing bugs flew into the ball—fireflies.
She caught about ten of them, and the bamboo ball glowed brightly like a luminous pearl. Qian Jiaoniang was pleased—she’d give it to Xing Pingchun tomorrow to play with. After how much he stood up for her today, she had to pamper him a bit.
Satisfied, she wiped sweat from her brow, and the sound of running water nearby caught her ear. The little creek wasn’t far off, its surface glimmering in the moonlight. Sticky with sweat, Qian Jiaoniang walked over, scooped up some water to splash her face, then used her sleeve to wipe her arms. She instantly felt fresher. Still not satisfied, she placed the bamboo ball aside, took off her shoes and socks, rolled up her pants, and dipped her feet into the water.
The nighttime water was even cooler, but her body was warm, and the soak felt just right. She played in the water, lifting her toes and lazily humming a song:
“There is longing, beyond the great southern sea.
What need is there to ask for tokens from you?
Twin pearls, hairpins of tortoiseshell—
I bound them with fine jade thread.
But if you have a change of heart,
I shall burn them all.
Burn them, and scatter the ashes in the wind.
From this moment on, no more longing—
My love for you is ended.”
“Plop!”
Something suddenly splashed into the water, sending droplets onto Qian Jiaoniang’s face. She jumped in fright, staring at the rippling, silver-lit surface of the water, but it quickly returned to stillness.
What the h*ll was that? Could it have been some dead object falling from the sky? Qian Jiaoniang turned her head and saw that XIng Muzheng was somehow already sitting on a large rock not far away, staring at her with a sullen face.
Did he walk without making a single sound? Was this man an assassin in his past life?
“That was unpleasant to hear. Sing another tune,” Xing Muzheng ordered her.
She was singing her own song—what business was it of his whether it was pleasant or not? And yet he had the face to demand she sing something else. Qian Jiaoniang was annoyed and turned away from him, refusing to respond. She thought he would leave if he got bored, but Xing Muzheng, hearing no more singing for quite a while, didn’t leave either. Qian Jiaoniang glanced at him out of the corner of her eye and saw his gaze—fixed on her legs.
In Xie Dynasty, proper girls didn’t show arms or legs. Qian Jiaoniang had once heard of a blacksmith’s daughter who refused to marry her father’s apprentice, so the apprentice followed his master’s advice and snuck off to the river to watch her wash clothes. When he saw her bare arms, she had no choice but to marry him.
Qian Jiaoniang didn’t fuss over small things. When working, she often rolled up her sleeves because they got in the way—but her legs had never been seen by anyone… except Xing Muzheng.
Now it felt like countless tiny fish were brushing against her underwater. Her whole body felt uncomfortable. Her toes curled up under the surface as she shouted lowly, “Don’t look!”
Xing Muzheng tilted his chin slightly. “You’re my woman—why shouldn’t I look?”
Expressionless, but his words were arrogant and overbearing. Qian Jiaoniang was so angry she wanted to stuff a clump of mud into his mouth. Who was still “his woman”? He was the one who dismissed her, and now he wanted to pretend otherwise? Was there anyone in the world with thicker skin?
“How come Marquis still acts like a fool under a love spell, forgetting even the imperial decree?”
Xing Muzheng’s face darkened at her calling him a fool. Why did she keep bringing up how he lost his mind? He clenched his back teeth. “I’ve recovered. There’s no need to mention the curse again.”
Qian Jiaoniang feigned confusion. “Why not mention it? Honestly, Marquis, don’t take it to heart. You may have been cursed and foolish, but you weren’t so bad. Just like now—sitting there, quiet, smiling without saying anything. That’s actually quite nice.” What a shame he could move and talk.
“I said don’t bring it up again.” She was clearly doing this on purpose.
“Then Marquis, when will you give me the divorce papers? We should pay respects at parents’ graves and bring this matter to a proper close. At the very least, give mother peace in the afterlife.”
Properly bring things to a close, huh? Xing Muzheng sneered, “That matter also needn’t be brought up again. And don’t go speaking nonsense at Mother’s grave.”
“This can’t be brought up, that can’t be brought up—what, does Marquis plan to cut out my tongue?”
Xing Muzheng plucked a weed from a crack in the rock and said slowly, “Cutting out your tongue is too troublesome. There’s a type of grass—if someone eats it, they’ll never speak again.” Just wanted to scare her, so she’d stop saying things that got under his skin.
Sure enough, men were heartless—they really could do anything. Qian Jiaoniang’s fingers dug into the grassy earth.
“Hiss—hiss—hiss—” Suddenly, a dangerous sound reached their ears. Both turned to look and saw a green snake, as thick as two fingers, slithering between them. It stopped eerily, lifting its head and looking left and right, its tongue flicking red in the moonlight.
