7
Mu Mingtang never imagined that the second time she met the Marquis of Wu’an, it would be under such circumstances.
That young man had saved her from the Jie barbarians and told her: if she could walk, then walk forward. Living wasn’t easy—dying was far too simple.
Later, those words became Mu Mingtang’s spiritual pillar. She was right—her parents had sacrificed their lives to buy her a chance to live. How could she speak lightly of death? If she could walk, she would walk forward. As long as she still had breath in her body, even if she had to crawl, she would crawl to safety.
Xiangyang was engulfed in flames. Mu Mingtang stumbled forward, following the direction in which the young man had galloped away on his horse. Later, she left the city and, along with tens of thousands of refugees, trailed behind the young man’s army as they headed north.
It was from other refugees that she learned the young man who had rescued Xiangyang was the Marquis of Wu’an. The Marquis had originally been sent by the emperor to campaign against the Later Shu. During his withdrawal, he discovered that Xiangyang had fallen. In truth, Emperor Wu of Zhou had prepared reinforcements to aid Xiangyang, but the cowardly prefect had fled without putting up any resistance.
The Marquis of Wu’an, having just finished his campaign against Later Shu, noticed something wrong while returning to the capital. He was in a hurry to get back to the capital at that time, but he could not stand by and watch a city be ravaged by the Jie before his very eyes. So, he took his most elite personal guards, broke away from the main army, and rode swiftly to slaughter the Jie marauding in Xiangyang.
How could Mu Mingtang, a mere commoner fleeing with the masses, have known that the Marquis was rushing back to the capital because Emperor Wu of Zhou, Guo Rong, was gravely ill, and the Xie family intended to seize the throne? Mu Mingtang did not even know that the Marquis of Wu’an was Xie Xuanchen himself.
The Marquis of Wu’an was the title that Emperor Wu of Zhou, Guo Rong, had bestowed upon Xie Xuanchen. Later, when the Xie family replaced the Zhou, Xie Xuanchen became Prince Qiyang. After Xie Yi died and Xie Rui ascended the throne, no one even remembered Prince Qiyang’s past, much less his former title, the Marquis of Wu’an.
Mu Mingtang traveled all the way to Chenliu, where she and Granny Zhou decided to settle down. Along the entire journey, she kept her savior, the Marquis of Wu’an, in her heart but the class divide was too steep. As a commoner, how could Mu Mingtang know the movements of high-ranking nobles and officials? The most she could do was remember the Marquis’s name and, when she could no longer endure the hardships of fleeing, silently recite it twice before gritting her teeth and pressing on.
Later, by a twist of fate, she was taken in by the Jiang family and entered the circle of capital officials but she lacked the status and capability to match that world. The Jiang family had never intended to raise her as a daughter. Madam Jiang kept her confined, training her daily in matters of dress, food, conduct, and speech. No one taught her the interpersonal relationships of the capital’s elite, nor did anyone let her enter social circles. Everything she knew about the capital came from the idle chatter of maids and older female servants.
What the maids and older servants cared about were naturally household affairs. They would embellish tales of Prince Qiyang’s madness—how severe it was, how many people he had killed the last time. As for the political significance behind these stories, even they had no idea.
So, in Mu Mingtang’s heart, Prince Qiyang and the Marquis of Wu’an had always been two different people. She quietly tried to inquire about the Marquis of Wu’an’s whereabouts, but the maids knew nothing. She dared not ask Madam Jiang. Later, when the governess’s ruler came down on her hands, Mu Mingtang became even more afraid to ask anything at all.
She could only pray silently for her savior’s safety. She harbored no inappropriate feelings for the Marquis of Wu’an. Some people stand on mountaintops, but far more crowd at the foot of the mountain, looking up at heroes. That was how humble and ordinary Mu Mingtang’s admiration for the Marquis of Wu’an was.
It was the faith of an ordinary commoner in a hero during those chaotic times—unrelated to romantic love, but rather a spiritual pillar. More than once, she thought of how her savior was young, handsome, and extraordinarily skilled in combat. He looked only a few years older than her, yet he had already become a marquis. Surely, she thought, her savior’s life would be smooth and prosperous—he would achieve great deeds and leave his name in history.
She never imagined he had become like this.
After crying, Mu Mingtang wiped away her tears, rolled up her sleeves, and immediately began thinking about what to do next. Her father had said that in this life, one could owe anything except a debt of gratitude. The Jiang family had merely taken her in, but the Marquis of Wu’an had genuinely saved her life.
So, it was him. Since it was him, now that he lay unconscious, it was only right that she attend to him and care for him for the rest of her life.
Mu Mingtang was no longer afraid. This was her savior, the heroic young man in her heart. He was not some madman or killer. She dried her tears, looked around, and considered what needed to be done now.
The Jade Qilin Hall was vast, but having been unattended for so long, many places were covered in dust. Moreover, the hall was hung with countless drapes, which not only collected dust but also blocked the light, making the entire building appear gloomy. Mu Mingtang went forward, gathered all the drapes, tied them back to the pillars, and at last, the hall became much brighter.
Then Mu Mingtang went outside to fetch water, intending to wash Xie Xuanchen’s face and body. Xie Xuanchen had been unconscious for a long time; his three meals a day and basic hygiene were handled by designated personnel. But the maids and servants in the residence had been replaced several times over, and currently, the guards stationed outside were all soldiers. What kind of care could these rough men be expected to provide? Xie Xuanchen’s basic hygiene was intact, but there were dried, clotted bloodstains on his face and body.
Mu Mingtang had lived on the streets before; she was extremely efficient at manual work. And when Granny Zhou had fallen gravely ill, Mu Mingtang had cared for her, so she had plenty of experience nursing the sick. Fortunately, the guards outside dared not approach and would not let her leave, but they also dared not neglect her requests. Before long, the guards brought a bucket of hot water, placed it at the entrance of the Jade Qilin Hall, and then retreated far away to resume their duties.
Fine, Mu Mingtang thought. She would have to carry the water in herself. During those six months in Chenliu, she had done all kinds of work to earn money; carrying a bucket of water was nothing. To save herself extra trips, she carried the water all the way to the innermost sleeping chamber, fetched a washbasin, and mixed in cold water until the temperature was just right. Then she took out her own handkerchief, soaked it completely in the water, wrung out the excess, knelt on the edge of the bed, and carefully began to clean Xie Xuanchen’s face.
First, she wiped his entire face. Then she rinsed the handkerchief, wrung it dry again, and slowly, bit by bit, cleaned the bloodstains from his features. The bloodstains looked several days old; they had already turned black and crusted over. Mu Mingtang simply dared not imagine whose blood this was.
Mu Mingtang had to lean in close to wipe the blood from his face. Seeing him from such close range, she realized just how handsome Xie Xuanchen truly was. Perhaps due to years of never seeing sunlight, his complexion was strikingly pale, almost luminous in the dim hall. The bone structure of his face was smooth and refined—high brow, long and delicate lashes, a tall and straight nose bridge, and thin lips that, weakened as he was, held little color at the moment.
After she finished cleaning him, Mu Mingtang sincerely marveled at how good-looking he was and how fine his skin was. The famous Prince Qiyang, Xie Xuanchen, was far more handsome than those pretty-faced men outside who made their living off their looks. She rinsed her handkerchief and next planned to wash the limbs of the pretty-faced young man—ah no, Prince Qiyang.
As for undressing him, she didn’t yet have the nerve for that.
Mu Mingtang climbed back onto the bed and pulled back the covers, only to discover that there were iron chains on Xie Xuanchen’s arms.
She was utterly shocked. She threw back all the bedding immediately and saw that not only his hands but also his feet were bound.
These chains were pitch-black, rough and cold to the touch, and looked extremely heavy. And all of this was fastened onto a sick man like Xie Xuanchen.
He was already so weak, his wrists as slender as a mere stick, yet they put iron chains on him?
Mu Mingtang suddenly couldn’t hold back her tears. “How can they treat you like this? You are the hero who saved Xiangyang! Now you lie gravely ill in bed—how can they treat you like a prisoner?”
Crying as she spoke, Mu Mingtang examined Xie Xuanchen’s wrists. The wounds on his hands were shocking to behold. He had clearly struggled against this humiliating iron restraint more than once, but weak as he was and without the key, he could only rely on brute force, leaving bloody gash after bloody gash on his wrists. Layer upon layer of blackened blood had formed scabs in some places, sticking to the bedding.
Just looking at it made Mu Mingtang ache for him. She wanted to peel away the bits of fabric stuck to his wounds, but she was afraid of hurting him. Instead, she used her handkerchief to moisten the blood scabs little by little, gently dissolving away the tiny fibers and cloth.
Perhaps she touched a sore spot, or perhaps simply exposing the iron chains crossed Xie Xuanchen’s bottom line. Suddenly, his hand moved. Mu Mingtang was so startled that she scrambled backward and fell to the floor with a thud. “Don’t kill me!”
That fall was hard. Grimacing in pain, Mu Mingtang rubbed her lower back and watched warily for a long time. When she saw that Xie Xuanchen made no further move, she slowly and cautiously crawled back. “I am… well, I’m the new princess consort, here to take care of you. I swear by everything, I would never harm you.”
Mu Mingtang felt too awkward to call herself his wife in front of Xie Xuanchen, so she settled for a different explanation. Fortunately, Xie Xuanchen made no more movements afterward. Though her heart was still in her throat, she continued cleaning his wounds, and he remained peacefully asleep.
Mu Mingtang silently breathed a sigh of relief. A basin of clean water quickly became dirty. She ran out to empty it, then refilled it with warm water. At one point, there was a spot that was difficult to clean. Mu Mingtang tried to lift the iron chain, but even just one link—large enough to lock around a wrist—required all her strength to move.
Straining with all her might, she shifted the iron link up along Xie Xuanchen’s arm, finally exposing the wound beneath. That one effort left Mu Mingtang’s entire body sore and weak, gasping for breath.
Holding her lower back, Mu Mingtang examined the iron link. “What kind of iron is this made of, that it’s so heavy?”
She studied it for a good while, then looked back at Xie Xuanchen’s bruised and battered wrists. With chains this heavy, no wonder he was so badly injured.
A sour, bitter feeling rose in her heart. The spirited young general of those bygone days—now reduced to being treated like this.
Mu Mingtang changed the basin water several times and even went out to have the guards boil another bucket of hot water. Only then did she finally manage to clean the blood from Xie Xuanchen’s wrists and ankles. Fortunately, though Xie Xuanchen lay unconscious, all kinds of medicines were fully stocked in the hall. Mu Mingtang rummaged through a chest and found some wound powder, which she carefully sprinkled onto his wrists. “These wounds are so deep. How much they must have hurt back then. And honestly, with wounds this severe on your hands, has no one thought to bandage them? You are someone who wields a blade and fights for the realm—your hands are precious, far too precious to be injured.”
It was August, and Mu Mingtang did not dare wrap his wounds in gauze for fear that the lack of air circulation would cause them to fester. If they became infected, it would be even worse. Fortunately, Xie Xuanchen could not move. As long as she diligently cleaned and applied medicine, it should be fine.
By the time she had applied medicine to every wound on his hands and feet, Mu Mingtang was completely exhausted. She wiped the sweat from her forehead and smiled wryly. “After just a few days of playing the proper young lady, my body has gone soft. This was hardly much work, yet I’m sweating from exhaustion.”
Today was her wedding day. She hadn’t slept well the night before, had been roused early, and had been tormented by various wedding rituals all day long. Now, late at night, she had been rushing around doing heavy physical labor by herself. Mu Mingtang could barely go on. She desperately wanted simply to bury her head and sleep. But looking at the puddles of water on the floor and the piles of dirty cloths, she forced herself to get up, throw out all the soiled rags, fetch a dry cloth, and wipe the floor clean.
Fortunately, there were plenty of laborers outside. She only needed to carry the water and garbage to the doorway. If Mu Mingtang had to do absolutely everything herself, she wouldn’t get a wink of sleep tonight.
After everything was tidied up, Mu Mingtang brought over a brand-new, bright red bridal quilt and gently laid it over Xie Xuanchen. As she tucked the corners of the quilt around him, she remarked, “Thank goodness I’ll never be able to afford a house this big. If I had to clean it all by myself, it would be far too tiring.”
Once the quilt was properly arranged, she climbed down lightly from the foot of the bed. Picking up the lamp stand she had set aside, she turned back and said to Xie Xuanchen with a smile, “Today is our wedding day. Even though you don’t know it—and probably wouldn’t approve—it’s still an auspicious day after all. Newlyweds should sleep under a red quilt, so that their future will be prosperous and healthy.”
As expected, no one answered. Mu Mingtang didn’t mind. She extinguished the lamps in the sleeping chamber one by one, took a small lantern for herself, and felt her way back outside.
She had already claimed her own little space and had no intention of sharing a bed with Xie Xuanchen. After all, she was still a young woman. She had felt too shy before when she didn’t know his identity. Now that she knew he was the very person who had saved her back then, she felt even more awkward.
After Mu Mingtang left, silence returned to the room. Because the light had gone out so suddenly, her eyes hadn’t yet adjusted to the darkness, and she was disoriented for a good while. Naturally, she did not see Xie Xuanchen’s fingers twitch ever so slightly.
**