“Sigh.”
The area around the Xie Family’s Zhuangzi was mostly farmland as Tu Nan had described, with only a small patch of woodland nearby.
However, what frustrated Zhao Su Rui the most wasn’t the terrain, but Shen Shiqing’s physical condition.
Weak! So terribly weak!
Her legs lacked strength, her waist had no muscle tone, and with the slightest jolt she swayed like a tree battered by chaotic winds.
After riding back and forth along the woodland path twice, Zhao Su Rui felt as if every bone below his neck no longer belonged to him.
Well, they never did in the first place.
Having cursed “Shen San Fei” thousands of times in his heart, Zhao Su Rui stubbornly persisted in riding for two hours.
When he finally stopped, Tu Nan came forward to help him dismount, but he defiantly shook off her assistance.
Then he nearly face-planted because he couldn’t lift his foot from the stirrup.
Utter humiliation! Unbearable disgrace!
Supported by Tu Nan’s shoulder to land safely, the Zhaode Emperor seethed with rage.
“Tu Nan, fetch me… get me a fifty-jin stone lock. I refuse to believe…”
A fifty-jin stone lock?
Tu Nan couldn’t help glancing at her mistress’s slender waist – it wasn’t even as thick as that stone lock.
“Miss, if you wish to build your strength, perhaps we could start with having A Chi make two ten-jin sandbags for daily training?”
Zhao Su Rui remained silent, inwardly wishing he could kill a few people to vent his frustration.
Ten-jin sandbags? He’d consider them too light even for knocking down rabbits! That useless Shen San Fei!
Stomping forward a few steps, Zhao Su Rui felt his thighs burning as if scalded by fire. He knew the skin had been chafed during riding, fueling another wave of anger.
He, Zhao Su Rui, had begun learning archery and horsemanship at six, practicing martial arts daily without fail. Even imperial guards found it difficult to approach him. During the northern campaign against Du Qin, he had led troops on a three-hundred-li forced march, arriving at Jinyang able to immediately ascend the city walls to survey the enemy. What magnificent prowess was that?
Trapped in Shen San Fei’s feeble body that would likely collapse from exhaustion while fleeing for one’s life, let alone leading troops to victory on the battlefield? How could he, Zhao Su Rui, be confined to such a pathetic vessel?
Glancing back, he saw Tu Nan casually following behind with two horses in hand, and envy washed over him.
Even if he had to be a woman, being strong and agile like Tu Nan would be far better than his current state. As for status – though Tu Nan was a servant, her martial skills meant she could draw her sword and roam the world freely, living more comfortably than he did now.
Ultimately, everything was Shen San Fei’s fault!
Unable to kill anyone, Zhao Su Rui kicked a small stone flying from his path.
As they passed a stretch of wasteland, Zhao Su Rui faintly heard commotion ahead.
Turning to look, he saw several men viciously kicking and punching a crumpled form on the ground before a derelict hut, hurling abuses all the while. Occasional pitiful whimpers emerged from the beaten figure.
Already filled with riding-induced rage, how could Zhao Su Rui tolerate others acting more arrogantly than himself? He waved a hand and told Tu Nan:
“Deal with these scoundrels.”
Tu Nan nodded acknowledgement, her long sword already drawn.
These were merely local ruffians who only bullied the defenseless. Against an expert like Tu Nan, they soon lay cowering on the ground, not daring to move.
Zhao Su Rui wanted to lead the two horses but lacked the strength, so he left them behind and dragged his legs slowly toward the lump they had just been beating. He had assumed it was a dying old dog, but it turned out to be a person.
The person was emaciated, filthy, with matted hair worse than a stray dog’s, and blood trickling from their nose and mouth.
In the bleak autumn wind, Zhao Su Rui tightened his cloak and watched as Tu Nan tied the assailants together in a line with rope.
He smiled leisurely and said,
“Beating someone until they suffer internal injuries, with blood from the nose and mouth, and scalp wounds—this warrants fifty lashes. Start by giving each of these people fifty strikes.”
He didn’t even bother with an interrogation.
Tu Nan nodded to her young lady, turned, and took the horsewhip from her waist.
Watching the assailants writhing on the ground like rolling gourds, Zhao Su Rui felt somewhat relieved. He would have liked to sit and enjoy the spectacle slowly, but the pain in his thighs made him reluctant to move, so he remained standing.
After a short while, the beaten lump on the ground, barely recognizable as human or animal, finally stirred awake. Though Zhao Su Rui had ordered Tu Nan to whip the attackers, he felt no sympathy for this person and merely asked,
“Were you stealing or robbing? Why else would you be beaten like this?”
Theft warranted at least eighty cane strikes, robbery at least a hundred. Given how severely injured this person already was, in Zhao Su Rui’s eyes, they were as good as dead.
“Cough…” The person on the ground tried to stand, clutching a handful of withered grass for support, but failed to move even an inch.
Their somewhat clouded eyes turned to the woman standing nearby, and suddenly they widened in recognition. The person stammered, “Second… Second Young Madam.”
From the voice, it was clear the beaten person was a woman—and one who knew Shen Shiqing?
Zhao Su Rui frowned. “You know me?”
“I… I am Qing Ying, formerly a maid serving in the Lady of the Manor’s courtyard.”
Zhao Su Rui narrowed his eyes. Though Ning’an Lord Manor had fallen into decline, most maids who had served the Lady were married off to servants or stewards. How could one end up in such a state? Most likely, she had committed a grave offense and was either sold off or hastily married off.
Just a disloyal servant.
Straightening up, he said casually,
“Tu Nan, she claims she was once a maid at Ning’an Lord Manor. Do you recognize her?”
A Chi kept her word. After breakfast, while her young lady went horseback riding with Tu Nan, she had several maids carry cotton and cloth to the innermost courtyard, instructing Xie Feng’an’s four concubines and their maids to make winter clothes together.
The cotton was harvested from the Zhuangzi itself, ginned into lint, but without a bow to fluff it, they had to tear it apart by hand to use as filling for quilts. Liu Tian-Xing, playful by nature, found this task more fun than needlework and set to work with two young maids.
An Nian-Nian was in charge of cutting the cloth, while Xia He and Cui Jin-Niang, along with their deft-handed maids, took on the sewing. Several other young maids evenly spread the cotton filling over the cut fabric.
A Chi assigned tasks clearly to everyone and picked up a few strips of cloth to start making frog fasteners for the clothes.
With each woman busy at her task, silence fell for a time. After an hour, as clouds gathered in the sky, A Chi couldn’t help glancing upward repeatedly.
The young lady had been out riding for half the morning, and no one knew whether she had gone far or if she could return before the rain began to fall.
Taking advantage of her distraction, Cui Jin-Niang shot a meaningful glance at her maid.
The maid glanced at Xia He, who was seated at another table, then stood up without a word, went inside, and brought out a charcoal brazier.
The brazier contained remnants from last night’s fire, with a few scattered embers still glowing. When it was thrown onto Xia He’s skirt, it burned several holes in the Huzhou green silk long jacket she wore.
These concubines had arrived in haste, and all their daily necessities had been arranged by A Chi. Naturally, she hadn’t provided them with bronze braziers for warmth, only having a few clay pots filled with ordinary charcoal mixed with bean stalks and sawdust instead of premium red charcoal. The clay pot shattered upon impact, scattering debris and ashes everywhere. Not only was Xia He, who was closest, affected, but even An Nian-Nian and Cui Jin-Niang, who were farther away, were splattered.
Given Xia He’s sharp-tongued and aggressive nature, anyone who ruined her clothing in front of others would surely provoke a scene.
Cui Jin-Niang had orchestrated this precisely to incite such a reaction, hoping her maid could slip out of the courtyard in the ensuing chaos.
Having competed against each other for years, these concubines were well-acquainted with one another’s temperaments. Liu Tian-Xing immediately darted behind An Nian-Niang to hide, while An Nian-Niang pulled two maids standing near Xia He back to avoid collateral damage.
Yet, contrary to everyone’s “expectations,” Xia He merely brushed off the ashes, examined the small holes in the hem of her clothes, and sat back down.
This unnerved them more than if she had flown into a rage.
Liu Tian-Xing crept over like a pecking chick, mustering the courage to touch Xia He’s forehead.
“She’s not ill,” she declared, then scurried back behind An Nian-Niang.
Xia He paid her no mind.
Holding a needle as she sewed a cotton-padded jacket, the woman with slender, upturned eyebrows lowered her gaze, exuding an indescribable air of despondency.
She knew the others were watching her, but she couldn’t muster the energy to care.
The most awkward person in the courtyard at that moment was Cui Jin-Niang’s maid, who had already assumed a posture of being beaten and begun pleading for mercy—only to realize her performance was entirely superfluous.
“Xia He, is something troubling you?” asked An Nian-Nian. As the eldest among the concubines, she not only could rein in Liu Tian-Xing but also commanded a degree of respect from Xia He, as long as it didn’t involve vying for favor.
Xia He paused her needlework.
She looked up at An Nian-Nian.
“Sister An, do you remember Qing Ying, who served the mistress?”
“Yes, I remember her. She was very beautiful and skilled at embroidery. She made two forehead bands for the matriarch, both exquisitely crafted.” What An Nian-Nian left unsaid was that everyone in the household had assumed the gentle and obedient Qing Ying would be bestowed upon the second young master as a concubine. No one expected Qing Ying to suddenly fall out of the mistress’s favor and be banished to the Zhuangzi. Instead, it was Xia He—whom everyone considered too assertive—who was given to the second young master.
“Indeed, her hands were clever. At the same age, she even had to teach me needlework.”
The second young mistress was still in mourning and thus ineffective, An Nian-Nian was pregnant, and the second young master was utterly captivated by Su Yao’er, visiting her Lotus Blossom Courtyard daily. The mistress wanted to find another trustworthy maid to serve as the second young master’s concubine.
Everyone assumed it would be Qing Ying.
She had thought so too.
She had loved the second young master.
So she made an excuse about wanting to make gloves for her father but being unable to do them well, and begged Qing Ying to help modify the pattern.
Kind-hearted Qing Ying re-embroidered the design with cranes and pine trees for her, whereupon she had her mother slip the gloves into the needlework intended for the Earl.
She still remembered Qing Ying being dragged away, telling her she had never thought of being with the Second Young Master.
Xia He refused to believe it. If she believed, she would be ruined—destroyed by her own heart.
Now, Qing Ying was going to die, in a place very close yet invisible to her.
Tears fell on her hand holding the needle. Her fingers trembled, making it impossible to continue sewing.