The brilliant glow of eight glazed lamps illuminated a delicate and captivating young girl’s face.
Her forehead hair was disheveled, her shoes and socks stained with mud. Having crouched in the dirt ditch for too long, her fair cheeks were smudged with streaks of gray and black, each detail clearly visible under the lamplight.
An oval face, round eyes, narrow shoulders. The slightly downturned corners of her eyes made her appear exceptionally innocent.
Nan Yang was dazzled by the light, raising her hand to shield her eyes. In her ears, she heard the voice of the Huaiyang Marquis speaking.
A familiar-sounding male voice said, “Quite bold. Did I say you could move?”
Nan Yang: “…”
She had no choice but to close her eyes, standing still in place, like a student just starting their education listening to the teacher’s reprimand, answering whatever was asked.
The one who came forward to question her was Mr. Ming from the Huaiyang Marquis’s camp, and his tone was actually quite gentle.
“May I ask, Second Miss Wei, how old are you this year?”
“Sixteen.”
“What month is your birthday?”
“February.”
“A birthday at the beginning of the year? Not that young anymore. Why aren’t you staying at the Wei residence in the capital waiting to be married off, but instead were sent to Ping An Town?”
“I fell ill and was sent to the countryside estate to recuperate.”
“What illness?”
Nan Yang hesitated briefly, closing her eyes and answering truthfully, “Father suspected that my madness had flared up, afraid it would harm the other sisters in the family, so he moved me to the countryside to recuperate.”
There was an unexpected moment of silence from the other side.
“Madness?” The one who responded this time was the Huaiyang Marquis.
These two uncommon words seemed to evoke some interesting meaning, as the other party repeated them twice between his lips and teeth.
“What kind of madness?”
Nan Yang hesitated for a while. Mentioning madness inevitably led to her mad mother. But she didn’t really want to recount the process of her mother’s madness in the Wei Family to unrelated outsiders.
She trimmed away the minor details, sticking only to the main points, summarizing everything in two sentences from start to finish.
“Last autumn and winter, I lost my temper at home. Father suspected that my madness had flared up and sent me to the countryside before the New Year. That’s all.”
“That’s all.” Xiao Chengyan repeated with interest.
“A daughter loses her temper at home, and her father suspects she’s gone mad? Is it you who’s mad, or is it your father, the Yongxing Earl, who’s mad? Doesn’t sound much like the truth.”
The bright lamplight shone on her face, dazzling her vision into a white blur. Nan Yang opened her eyes and then closed them again, honestly clasping her hands behind her back:
“It’s the truth. Before, I rarely lost my temper at home. Occasionally losing my temper once scared Father. Father thought I was either possessed or ill, with illness being the more likely possibility.”
A scoff sounded in her ears, “Sounds like a pitiful little thing. Hard to tell if it’s truly pitiful or if she’s deliberately acting pitiful in front of this Marquis.”
Nan Yang had heard worse gossip before; this comment was nothing.
She kept her mouth shut but muttered inwardly: Who are you calling pitiful? I’m not pitiful, you’re the pitiful one. Nearly fell to your death while riding, and within half a month you’re galloping on horseback again. Have your injuries even healed yet…
But Grandma behind her erupted.
“Why mock Second Miss! Outsiders have no idea how difficult Second Miss’s life has been in the inner quarters of the Wei Family!”
Grandma, her eyes red, tried to rush forward but couldn’t break through the wall of people. Blocked outside, her voice trembled with agitation.
“Second Miss is not mad! Second Miss’s birth mother wasn’t born mad either; she was driven to madness by mistreatment! They want to drive Second Miss mad too!”
“Second Miss has endured it all at such a young age. Marquis Xiao, someone as exalted as you, looked up to by tens of thousands, why must you make fun of our Second Miss!”
Nan Yang was blinded by the lamplight, hearing only a muffled thud nearby as Grandma knelt and kowtowed in the distance: “Second Miss has lived this long with great difficulty!”
“Please, Marquis Xiao, show mercy and spare our Second Miss a way out!”
A click of the tongue sounded nearby as the Huaiyang Marquis said, “You’re giving me a headache. Throw her out.”
Another dull thud followed, and the person was thrown somewhere unknown. Nan Yang turned in shock: “Grandma!”
“Where do you think you’re running? Get back here!”
Xiao Chengyan, his head throbbing from the noise and the lingering pain of his recent injury, dismounted with a hint of irritation, passing through the wall of his personal guards.
“Take another step, and I’ll show you quite a spectacle.”
He took a Glazed Lamp and waved it before Nan Yang.
The young girl obediently closed her eyes, standing perfectly still as she awaited questioning.
The threatening words of “showing a spectacle” never had a chance to be fully elaborated.
Xiao Chengyan paused to examine her.
From afar, he hadn’t noticed, but up close, something seemed off.
A sixteen-year-old girl wasn’t exactly young, so why was she so short? How did the Wei Family raise their daughters? He could lift two of her with one hand.
Xiao Chengyan lowered the lamp slightly, its light illuminating the expression on the girl’s face.
What an obedient expression.
Her features were gentle, her movements unhurried, and she didn’t appear particularly sharp or clever.
He had seen plenty of people putting on an act in front of him.
Xiao Chengyan observed her for a moment before asking casually, “Have you been taught poetry and literature at home?”
“Yes,” Nan Yang replied truthfully. “The family hired a female tutor. I studied women’s education and the Admonitions for Women from a young age. I’ve also read the Thousand Character Classic, Exhortation to Learning, and the Three Hundred Poems of the Book of Songs.”
“How is your handwriting?”
“…Acceptable?”
Xiao Chengyan gave an ambiguous smile. So, she was a girl who had studied and practiced calligraphy since childhood.
Outwardly, she seemed more obedient than clever, but who knew if she was hiding her true abilities?
Abruptly changing the subject, he said, “Let me see your handwriting.”
Nan Yang was handed a brush and made to write on the spot.
Seven of the eight lamps were moved away, leaving only one for illumination. The elusive Huaiyang Marquis… stood behind her.
Leaning over her shoulder, he looked down at her hand holding the brush. He was almost pressed against her back, his unfamiliar breath brushing the nape of her neck, where a small patch of fair skin beneath her collar quickly prickled with goosebumps.
Nan Yang appeared calm as she held the brush, ready to write, though her little finger curled slightly.
“July’s fire star westward goes,” he recited half the line from behind.
Nan Yang lifted her brush and wrote: [July’s fire star westward goes.] She added the next line: [In September clothes are made.]
Just as she was about to set the brush down, a deep voice from behind said, “Did I tell you to stop?”
“…”
Nan Yang silently continued writing: [July’s fire star westward goes, In September clothes are made. In days of first month…]
The character that followed was obscure—she knew how to pronounce it but not how to write it. She had stopped attending school at ten and remembered few rare characters.
The feeling of her brush pausing on the paper was dangerous… Nan Yang quickly drew a circle, skipping the character she couldn’t write, and completed the line:
[In days of first month o blows, In second month blows cold air. Without clothes, without coarse wear, How can we get through the year?]
She whispered, “I forgot one of the characters in between.”
A noncommittal hum came from behind.
The handwriting of this delicate and obedient Second Miss of the Wei Family could only be described as straight and even, slightly better than a dog’s scrawl.
As for her memory…
She couldn’t even recite the entire poem “July,” hardly the mark of a clever person.
But a truly clever person might just be pretending to be foolish.
The tone behind her suddenly shifted. “Your wet nurse is quite loyal. I suppose you two have relied on each other for survival, sharing a deep bond?”
Nan Yang nodded in acknowledgment. “I beg Marquis Xiao to show mercy and spare Grandma. I—”
She hesitated. The Huaiyang Marquis had nearly fallen to his death by the water’s edge while galloping on high ground. When he was dragged ashore, he was already unconscious, clearly not having recognized her.
But that slap in the water that knocked him out—he had been fully conscious when he received it. It was impossible he wouldn’t remember.
A young nobleman of imperial lineage, newly enfeoffed as a marquis, had likely never been slapped in his life. If she confessed what happened by the water, would he repay the favor or seek revenge on the spot…
Nan Yang silently closed her mouth.
It was better to avoid unnecessary trouble. Saying nothing might lead to no trouble, but speaking up would likely bring trouble.
…Most of the time, her predictions were right, but not always.
Like now.
She kept quiet and focused on writing, but a faint voice drifted from behind her. “Your wet nurse is still alive now. But whether she lives to see tomorrow morning depends on your skill.”
Nan Yang: …??
Grandma had been “invited” over.
These past few days, Grandma had been suffering from severe motion sickness and vomiting. Just now, she had exhausted all her strength in fiercely defending Nan Yang and now stood unsteadily, swaying.
Magistrate Yang was also carsick. Tossed about in the two-horse carriage until he was disoriented, he had vomited messily by the roadside. Weak-limbed and barely standing, he too was dragged to the front of the crowd.
Two cold, long blades were pressed against Grandma’s and Magistrate Yang’s necks.
Grandma’s face was deathly pale; Magistrate Yang’s was ashen.
Nan Yang stared in shock at the glint of the blades against their necks.
The Huaiyang Marquis continued pacing behind her. Seemingly amused by the scene before him, his tone carried a hint of pleasure.
“Wei Er Niang’s handwriting is only slightly better than a dog’s scratch—hardly worth looking at.”
“Next, let’s test your knowledge.”
“We’ll only test the Book of Songs. I’ll recite the first line, and Wei Er Niang will supply the next. Whether the Wei Family’s wet nurse and Magistrate Yang live to see tomorrow morning depends on Wei Er Niang’s memorization skills.”
Nan Yang: “…”
Instinctively, she clasped her hands behind her back, assuming the posture of a student called upon to recite from memory.
From behind, a leisurely voice intoned, “High mountain, I look up to it.”
This was a famous line from the Book of Songs. Nan Yang’s tense nerves relaxed slightly, and she immediately continued, “High mountain, I look up to it; great road, I travel it.”
“Wise and discerning.”
“Wise and discerning, to preserve his person.” Nan Yang replied swiftly.
She answered quickly, and the voice behind her followed even faster. “Day and night, never slackening.”
“Day and night, never slackening, to serve one man.”
“People also have a saying.”
“People also have a saying. The soft they swallow, the hard they spit out. Only Zhong…”
She couldn’t recall the next line no matter how hard she tried.
Nan Yang stumbled, “Only Zhong… only Zhong…”
Over by Grandma, her shoulders trembled slightly as she closed her eyes in agony. Magistrate Yang’s expression grew even grimmer.
“Only Zhong Shanfu!” Magistrate Yang shouted.
Nan Yang’s spirits lifted, and she continued, “Only Zhong Shanfu! Soft he does not swallow, hard he does not spit out—”
Suddenly, the voice behind her interrupted, “The beasts of ancient times.”
Nan Yang instinctively continued, “The beasts of ancient times, still do not eat the young of their own kind… Ah!” Realizing something was wrong as she spoke, she abruptly shut her mouth.
But it was too late.
A hand with distinct knuckles reached from behind, gripping her small chin and forcing it upward.
Nan Yang’s face was now directly illuminated by the Glazed Lamp, its piercing light glaring in the darkness. Blinded by the white light, she squeezed her eyes shut.
A low, hoarse, and amused laugh sounded by her ear:
“—Got you.”
Not far away, Grandma wore a bewildered and confused expression.
Magistrate Yang was the complete opposite, closing his eyes in pain.
[Even the beasts of ancient times would not devour the young of their own kind.
Yet today’s Huaiyang Marquis feasts on the hearts of children and the flesh of maidens—cruel and wicked to the extreme, is he not inhuman?!]
The final line of the questioning did not come from the Book of Songs.
It was from the letter Prefect Lu had personally written, entrusted to Magistrate Yang to deliver to Nan Yang, hoping she would take it to the capital!
Nan Yang exchanged a silent glance with Magistrate Yang.
No wonder tonight involved both writing and testing knowledge… So this was the trap waiting for her!
Marquis Xiao paced back and forth behind her. In this chaotic, disorderly night, he seemed to be the only one satisfied.
From behind came a leisurely, appreciative voice.
“Wei Erniangzi’s handwriting may not be impressive, but her memory is quite sharp.”
“A letter hastily read over ten days ago, yet remembered so clearly to this day. Presumably, after arriving in the capital, Wei Erniangzi plans to transcribe it in full and present it to your father, Lord Wei, to charge this Marquis with a crime?”
Nan Yang had a rather bad premonition.
Her own and Magistrate Yang’s two little lives were likely to be lost tonight in these desolate mountains and wilds.
Should she mention the incident of pulling Marquis Xiao out of the water?
If Marquis Xiao found out that the one who slapped him unconscious, dragged him ashore like a sack, and witnessed the most wretched moment of his life was actually her…
Would revealing the secret herself earn gratitude and rewards, or would it lead to an even more miserable death?
To tell or not to tell? Time was running out.
Nan Yang crouched on the ground, hugging her knees in distress.
Why, in the dead of night, couldn’t everyone just lie down and sleep? Why did she have to face a life-or-death multiple-choice question?