“During the prefectural exam your brother’s talent shone like a lamp,” Qin Shao said with a smirk. “He made quite an impression on the presiding prefect. Before the official leaves town, we should slip a few coins out of that little vixen’s purse and grease the right palms…”
Qin Jin didn’t need to be told twice. He understood at once.
If he passed the provincial exam, became a juren, with a prefect to vouch for him and a war chest to hand out, replacing that weak-willed county magistrate would be child’s play. With the right doors opened, a post in the capital could be within reach.
A real man knows when to bend and when to stand tall. Qin Jin only paused a moment, then nodded and strode toward the fishing village.
Li Ying had just seen off a table of customers when Granny Sun came stumbling in, wild-eyed and disheveled as if she’d been in a scuffle. She nearly collapsed at Li Ying’s feet.
“Ying—bad news!”
Granny Sun’s voice trembled. “I—oh, I’m useless. Mianmian—Mianmian’s been taken by her father!”
Taken? Li Ying’s face went cold.
Most of the villagers were already out setting up night-market stalls or working at the canning plant and the chicken farm; the town was quiet except for the old and infirm. Qin Jin had clearly picked the moment, struck while she was unprepared, and snatched her child.
“I didn’t want to give her up,” Granny Sun sobbed. “But he kept saying he’s Mianmian’s blood father, that I’m an outsider with no right to keep her from her own parent… I—”
Li Ying barely heard the rest. She told A Man to watch the shop and vaulted onto her black mare, racing straight for the Qin residence.
Qin Jin had likely expected her. He was standing on the steps when she arrived, a smile pasted across his face.
“Ying,” he drawled.
She didn’t bother with pleasantries. “Where is Mianmian?”
His smile didn’t falter. “Don’t be afraid. I’ve heard how the whole village believes your Mianmian is a lucky charm. Besides, father and daughter share a bond—she’s been raised sharp and clever by you, but as her father, I can’t stand by and watch anyone harm her.”
He moved into his practiced, tender tone. “Ying, we were young and foolish once. I know you still care for me—love can turn to anger when it runs deep. You’re a woman out here on your own, always exposed to gossip and hardship. I pity you. For Mianmian’s sake, so she won’t be shamed later, we should mend what’s broken between us.”
Qin Jin’s eyes were fixed on her as if he already saw the future. “I’m going to sit the provincial exam soon. When I top the list and win honors, I’ll make sure you and the child have silk and gold. I can even secure you an official title—won’t you come back to me then?”
Li Ying looked at him, incredulous. “Top the list? An official’s wife with a court title? That’s rich.”
“Cut it out, Qin Jin. Don’t pretend you care about me.” Her voice was low, hard. “I know what you want—you’ve had your eye on my hotpot shop. We’re divorced. I don’t want the title you promise. Give Mianmian back, or I won’t be polite about it.”
Qin Jin’s face went cold. So ungrateful, he thought.
“You say you love your daughter, but you’ve turned her into some peasant,” he spat. “You parade about with no decorum; a Qin child belongs to Qin household. Without a father, people will talk, Ying. I’m taking Mianmian to keep her with her true family.”
He meant to use the child as leverage.
Before Li Ying could answer, a voice like ice cut through the air from behind her. “Who says your daughter has no father?”
Qin Jin spun around, only to find Lu Xunguang—who must have followed her—standing there. Qin Jin’s arrogance was ill-placed on his own turf. In an instant Lu’s movement was a blur: he seized Qin Jin’s wrist and drove a swift kick into the back of his knee. Qin Jin yelped and dropped to one knee.
“Ying is with me now,” Lu said quietly. “If you want to keep your hands, return my girl. The county exams are near—if you value that right hand of yours, you’d do well to step back.”
Lu’s grip tightened; Qin Jin felt his wrist protest with a sharp crack and panicked. “Bring out the child! Now!”
Li Ying was faster. She snatched Mianmian from the handmaid and examined her—from the damp cheek to the plump little fists. The baby was unharmed. Only then did Li Ying breathe.
Lu released Qin Jin, giving him a hard, humiliating shove that sent him stumbling backward. He gathered Li Ying into an arm and started to turn away, calm and steady.
Qin Jin, furious and wounded in pride, called after them. “Lu Xunguang, don’t be fooled by this harpy’s charm! She’s trash—you don’t need her!”
Lu paused, then turned slowly. His eyes were cold and assessing in a way that made Qin Jin feel naked and small.
“She either is hers or she isn’t,” Lu said. He glanced at the baby in Li Ying’s arms; the child, still teething, gave a slobbery grin. Lu’s face softened for the first time, but then his voice hardened. “Ying and her child are the most precious things in my life. If you want to try laying a hand on them again, you can test whether you’re willing to die for it.”
Qin Jin stared. The look in Lu’s eyes was like a snake’s—silent, patient, deadly. When the two of them finally walked away, Qin Jin drew breath and flexed his stiff limbs, anger and humiliation roiling inside him.
Qin Shao, who had been lurking at the edge, had been watching the whole scene. He stepped forward, flipping his fan idly.
“Brother, why so distraught?” he said. “That woman was never going to suit you. Now she’s running off with some new man and his swagger—perfect. We can use this. Tell the prefect about her and her lover; it’ll ruin their reputations.”
He leaned in and murmured a few conspiratorial words into Qin Jin’s ear. At that, Qin Jin’s expression loosened into something eager and assured.