Incident Eleven

Yingshi felt that the entire side of her body pressed against him was cold to the bone.

She bit her lip. “Elder brother… Am I making things difficult for you?”

In the stillness of the room, Liang Yun’s voice was clear and deliberate. “You need not be afraid, and you must not let such shameless words trouble your heart.”

With that, he spoke more firmly to the maidservants behind Yingshi. “Take the young madam upstairs and settle her.”

So, he didn’t want her to remain here…

Yingshi fiddled with the rumpled sleeve she’d creased while walking. She turned her head to glance at him, but saw that Liang Yun had already turned his back to her.

He had told her not to take it to heart, yet now he acted as if desperately avoiding suspicion.

Yingshi hesitated, but in the end, she left first. Her steps were slow, and as she reached the stairs, the uproar behind her erupted.

It seemed the guards had surged forward, all shouting, “Cut out their tongues!”

“Give them a proper beating!”

But those who only moments before had drunk and laughed as if nothing in heaven or earth could frighten them, suddenly revealed themselves as cowards. Just now, their words had been wanton, full of lewd jesting. Now, at the sight of danger, the effects of their drink vanished in an instant.

One after another, they fell to their knees, kowtowing, begging, and making excuses.

“Oh! My mouth deserves a beating! I’d drunk too much—please, sir, don’t take my ramblings to heart!”

“Yes, yes! You must have misheard, we weren’t talking about you at all…”

Yingshi paused mid-step, then turned and poked her head back around the stairwell. Looking down at the chaotic scene below, she feigned innocence. “If you weren’t talking about my brother, then were you speaking of me?”

“No, no, you must have misheard! We would never dare speak of you!”

“Enough nonsense! Since your mouths can’t speak properly, we’ll beat you until they can!” Liang Zhi, who had just arrived, was not one for patience; he shouted in fury without another word.

Liang Zhi was notorious for his temper, never letting a grievance go. Now, having heard from the guards what had been said, he was like a powder keg ready to explode.

The Liang family prized their reputation above all else—no matter how dire the situation, they would keep up appearances. And what had those men just been saying? Was it not as if they’d ripped the faces off the Liang sons and trampled them underfoot?

Could the Liang family let that go?

Yingshi no longer cared for the petty squabbles in the parlor and headed for her upstairs room. Sure enough, she’d only gone a few steps when the sounds of fists landing on flesh and men’s screams echoed up from below.

The blows were heavy, dull—like beating a dead pig.

Yingshi did not find it cruel; on the contrary, she tasted a strange, indescribable satisfaction.

If she’d been alone with just her two maids, she would have been terrified, uncertain what to do—not daring to argue, only hoping to avoid those men and escape their harassment.

But now? They’d kicked an iron wall, and she was only too glad to see these tough men deal with them.

Suddenly, Yingshi almost laughed, and all the gloom in her heart dissipated.

She couldn’t help but sigh softly, drawing the attention of Xiangyao.

“Mistress, why do you sigh for no reason?”

Yingshi replied, “I was just thinking, power is such a wonderful thing…”

Her thoughts shifted so abruptly that Chunlan and Xiangyao were left baffled, but Yingshi went on, almost talking to herself, “No wonder—if it weren’t so valuable, why would everyone fight for it?”

If it were worthless, why would men—so driven by profit and self-preservation—flock to the court, eager for success and glory?

But alas, she was a woman.

Her parents had made her a woman, so she could only struggle within the inner chambers, dependent on the whims of the Liang family…

Evening fell.

Downstairs, the kitchen had prepared food, and Zhang Ping, one of the guards, brought the trays up to the women’s quarters.

By then, Yingshi was already resting. She still remembered glancing toward the kitchen earlier and truly had no appetite. She instructed Zhang Ping to take everything away; a few snacks would suffice to fill her.

Zhang Ping took the food back downstairs. Some of the men dining there witnessed the scene.

Liang Zhi glanced at the untouched dishes. “Sister-in-law hasn’t eaten?”

Zhang Ping replied, “The young madam said she has no appetite.”

Liang Zhi frowned.

Surely it only looked coarse—why couldn’t she eat it? Ordinary folk survived on just this.

“We really shouldn’t have brought women along. How could a lady bear such hardship?” he muttered.

At the table, Liang Lingji, who had gone hungry all day—a youth still growing, accustomed to the luxuries of his noble family—was so famished his vision blurred.

He’d long abandoned decorum, biting off half a chicken leg in a single mouthful, wolfing it down as he waved at Zhang Ping. “If Third Sister-in-law isn’t eating, bring it to me.”

He’d been hungry all day, and this tableful wasn’t enough for him alone.

Having spoken, he turned to Liang Yun, still sitting apart. “Brother, why aren’t you eating?”

Liang Yun turned his head slightly, his gaze lingering on the dregs of chicken soup in his brothers’ bowls, the greasy film clinging to the sides.

He looked for a moment, then withdrew his eyes.

“I’m not hungry. You all eat.”

Liang Yun had sat for a long time, not even touching the tea the guards had brought him.

They had brought ample supplies, but as the saying went, even the cleverest cook cannot prepare a meal without rice; with only guards in their party, there was little enough to cook.

Liang Yun had no appetite himself, but wouldn’t stop his brothers from eating.

And as Liang Zhi had just said, if he could endure hardship, he should eat his fill.

But his sister-in-law had traveled all this way, and he’d heard of her motion sickness—it must have been hard enough. One couldn’t ask someone to suffer hunger on top of everything else.

Though propriety dictated they avoid each other, this was no time to leave her uncared for. Liang Yun instructed his cousin, “Lingji, when you’ve finished, go to a clean peasant household and buy some proper food to bring back.”

Though of the same generation, Liang Yun was not like the others. As the eldest legitimate son of the main branch, since his father’s death, he’d been head of the Liang family, inheriting the Duke of Mu’s title and holding high office at court.

The eldest brother was like a father; though Liang Yun was always gentle and loving toward his brothers, none dared treat him as an equal. Even among his peers, he was respected—almost feared.

Lingji, hearing the order, quickly finished his meal, took a silver pouch, and set out, prepared to ride to buy food.

But as soon as he left, his stomach began to rumble strangely.

Liang Zhi, having just finished eating and intending to check on the horses, met Lingji rushing back, clutching his stomach, his face ashen. He bumped into Liang Zhi without even stopping.

“Hey! What’s the hurry?” Liang Zhi barked, annoyed at being struck.

But in that moment, he too felt a sharp pain in his gut.

The two exchanged glances—

“There’s poison in the soup!”

...

Lingji suffered through the night with food poisoning, and Liang Zhi’s complexion was pale as well, though he stubbornly refused to show weakness.

The guards seized the shifty innkeepers for questioning, but no matter how they interrogated them, nothing came of it.

In the end, the task of buying food fell to Zhang Ping.

It was nearly dark outside. Alone, Zhang Ping rode from house to house in search of provisions.

Finally, he reached the nearby town, only to see several unfamiliar troops—clearly not from Hengzhou—gathered on an open field, questioning passersby.

Zhang Ping’s face changed. He tied up his horse and approached an old man to ask, “Sir, these aren’t our Hengzhou troops, are they?”

The old man replied, “Looks like soldiers from the neighboring region. They’ve been here for several days now—”

Hearing this, Zhang Ping’s eyelid twitched.

Just today, they’d heard rumors that Hengzhou and Shuofang might be colluding behind the scenes—could Hengzhou have thrown in with the traitors so quickly?

And who was the commander of Shuofang?

A traitor to the Great Qian! Years ago, during the turmoil after the young emperor’s ascension, he’d allied with the barbarians to invade the He Luo region, plunging the people into misery and causing the death of their late lord!

He and the Liang family were mortal enemies!

If Hengzhou knew the Liang family was here on their land, surely—

...

Late at night, Yingshi was oblivious to the turmoil outside.

She called for hot water, undressed, and sank into the bath, intending to enjoy a good soak.

Just as she was drifting off, her head resting on the tub’s edge, she was startled awake by a sudden commotion from downstairs.

She woke with a start and called for Chunlan.

“What’s happening downstairs?”

Chunlan and Xiangyao had heard the noise too; one went to the door, the other began helping Yingshi dress.

Before Xiangyao could open the door, a sharp knocking sounded, making both mistress and maid catch their breath.

Yingshi nearly slipped from the edge of the tub.

She steadied herself with Chunlan’s help, eyes wide with alarm.

“Who is it?”

“Young madam, it’s me!” It was Zhang Ping.

“Something’s happened—we must pack up quickly and leave tonight.”

There was urgency he could not hide in his voice.

Yingshi was puzzled but did not dare delay. She pinned up her hair, threw on a gauzy dress, and opened the door.

She followed Zhang Ping downstairs.

...

Just moments before, the hall had been full of uproar; now it was empty except for Liang Yun.

He was neatly dressed, immaculate, though his hair was only half-done.

Jet-black and thick, it fell over his shoulders, glistening in the candlelight like silk, lending his handsome features an extra measure of allure.

The ends of his hair were still damp.

Yingshi guessed he, like herself, had been bathing not long ago.

She noticed, as she walked, that Liang Yun was truly fastidious.

According to Chunlan, it was always Zhang Ping who helped her draw hot water for bathing, since Liang Yun insisted on bathing every day.

This was a rare thing among the nobility; few men managed it.

Most, weary and covered in sweat, would simply collapse into bed, waiting for the stench to evaporate with their body heat—perhaps using incense to mask it—before emerging once again as spotless gentlemen.

It wasn’t just men; even among women, many only bathed once every half month, or washed their hair once a month.

But it seemed… Liang Yun was unwavering in his daily ablutions.

More than once, when Yingshi was near him, she caught a faint scent of bath powder on his person.

“This place is likely on the verge of mutiny. There’s no time to lose. Forgive me, sister-in-law, but you must come with me—we’ll leave Hengzhou under cover of night.”

Liang Yun’s tone was level, as calm as ever.

But outside, the hubbub of voices and horses made it clear that the night would not be peaceful.

Hengzhou?

Yingshi couldn’t help but recall.

In her past life, she was not ignorant of the state of affairs; everywhere, great clans had carved out their own territories, raising troops, with regional lords rivaling the imperial court.

The Liang family, for instance, held Hedong—an entire region that was, for all intents and purposes, their domain.

Hedong’s troops were privately employed by the Liang family; the officials were appointed by them; their marital ties extended throughout the court.

But what had ever happened in Hengzhou before?

She could not recall.

She was certain, though, that nothing like this had occurred in her past life. She’d never heard of the Liang family facing any mishap while escorting Liang Ji’s coffin home.

Or perhaps they’d hidden it from the women of the household? Or was it her involvement that had delayed the journey and thus changed events?

A flood of thoughts raced through her mind, but she trusted Liang Yun—trusted his judgment.

After all, in her past life, he’d risen to the highest rank of the Three Excellencies at a young age, commanding all officials. How could he be an ordinary man?

Yingshi did not hesitate. She even wanted to instruct Chunlan not to bother packing; nothing was more important than leaving at once.

The Liang men were already waiting outside. As the two emerged one after another, Liang Zhi stepped forward. “The carriage and horses are ready. Brother, sister-in-law, the two of you must go first. We’ll remain to escort our third brother’s coffin.”

Liang Zhi spoke calmly, yet to Yingshi, it sounded like a farewell to the dying.

Since her rebirth, she’d always viewed events from a lofty, detached vantage, but now, with trouble at her own door, these words stirred a tumult of emotions within her.

How worthy was Liang Ji, to have two brothers who cared so deeply for him…

“It would be best to leave Shungong’s coffin behind for now. It’s only a body. The dead are dead—nothing else matters,” Yingshi tried to advise.

Never mind whether it was Liang Ji’s or anyone else’s—even if it were the emperor’s remains, once dead, the living shouldn’t risk their lives for them.

As soon as she finished, she noticed Liang Yun’s deep, searching gaze fixed on her.

As though he were scrutinizing her.

As though… probing her very soul.

In that instant, Yingshi’s heart leapt into her throat.

She cursed herself inwardly—why meddle? Let them risk their lives for a corpse if they wish.

She had no intention of sacrificing her own life here.

“Don’t worry, sister-in-law. We are not in mortal danger—the only ones at risk are our eldest brother and you,” Liang Zhi said.

Yingshi was stunned, and then understood.

As head of the family, Liang Yun must not fall into danger; everyone would protect him at all costs.

And as for herself—a woman’s reputation was paramount. How could she suffer capture? How could her name be sullied?

As the new bride of the Liang family, with their pride, they would never allow her to fall into enemy hands.

No doubt, if the time came, Liang Yun would take matters into his own hands.

Very well then—no pity for others.

The one most in need of pity was herself, from the very beginning…