“…Because of that, you can drive Ju Shuang to the brink and force her to beg you for mercy.”
“Madam, it isn’t like that. I never forced Ju Shuang. I respected her wishes—”
“Your ‘respect’ is deciding for her without asking,” Yi Qing cut him off with a cold laugh. “Some men are outright scoundrels; you’re a sanctimonious one. You lied to Ju Shuang, and you lied to yourself—telling yourself you’re a gentleman who would never coerce anyone. In truth, you stood aside and watched, stirred the waters, all to serve that secret purpose of yours.”
Madam Di tugged at Yi Qing’s sleeve when she saw Huang Haoyun’s face blanching with shame; the gesture said plainly: don’t pile on.
After a long, shaky beat, Huang Haoyun bowed awkwardly. “Madam… I am ashamed. My little schemes are plain as day before you. I truly like Ju Shuang—have liked her since we were children.”
“Liking someone isn’t a crime,” Yi Qing said coolly, “but liking someone and not being able to give them anything, and then pretending you’re noble about it—that’s the problem. If once you’d fought for her, I could have respected you as a man. Instead you accepted your family’s arrangements, took the benefits from the Yue household, and all the while schemed for Ju Shuang. It’s ugly.”
Huang Haoyun fled in disgrace.
Madam Di sighed. “Your tongue… it embarrasses me sometimes. If I had half your sharpness, I wouldn’t have been treated so shamefully.”
All the talk of being a tiger-warrior’s daughter and a skilled fighter—against a rotten man it all dissolved into nothing.
“You needn’t worry now,” Yi Qing said. “You’ve pulled yourself out of the mire. Come, let me take you to eat, then we’ll go watch how this plays out.”
That afternoon, sated and lazy, Yi Qing sprawled against the windowed raised bench of a tea house room, idly drumming a string of beads across her fingers. Madam Di sat opposite, watching.
“You like prayer beads?” Madam Di asked. “I have some fine purple sandalwood beads, consecrated by a high monk—I'll send them to you.”
The twenty years she had missed as a mother—Madam Di wished she could pour it all on Yi Qing. But she had her own life, and she wasn’t one for secrets; Madam Di feared she might let slip something about Xiao Jinghan, so she kept her distance.
Yi Qing smiled. “No. I don’t believe in gods—only myself. Rolling the beads keeps my mind sharp. You should try it when you have time.”
Mostly, she was just bored.
Madam Di laughed at her. “You’re always entertaining.”
“Here they come.” Yi Qing sat up, eyes narrowing as someone hurried into the pawnshop. A mischievous glint flickered across her face. “Come look.”
Madam Di moved to the window. A moment later two constables in black arrived from the pawnshop, escorting the man who’d gone in before.
“Isn’t that him?” Madam Di asked, puzzled.
Yi Qing smiled. “Do you think he’s that stupid? He denied pawning anything in public two weeks ago—then he had the nerve to come and redeem it again. But this fellow is certainly his messenger. Follow the thread and the rest will be caught. Whether the fake being pawned as genuine will cost him a heavy sentence—that’s another question.”
By pawnshop custom, if a pledged item marked as genuine turned out destroyed or fake, the shop had to pay out ten times its value. Yi Qing had known this rule and had planned accordingly.
If the Marquis of Huaien had been content to walk away with his face intact, nothing much would have come of it. But he coveted that thirty thousand taels and so he walked into the trap.
The pawnshop had reported the counterfeit to the authorities—so it was officially stamped as fake. When the Marquis’s man came to redeem the pledge and the pawnbrokers pressed him with the broken pieces, he hurriedly confessed. The constables, waiting like hunters, took him away.
Madam Di admired her daughter in awe and could not hide her pride.
That night, when Xiao Tian learned how it had unfolded, his first question surprised Yi Qing. “How did you know the pawnshop’s rules? Did you pawn things yourself before?”
Yi Qing was caught off guard.
“Did you?” he pressed.
“Yes,” she replied. “I pawned some clothes that didn’t fit me—gone for good. I heard the shopkeeper talking about it.”
She was telling the truth, but the sorrow in Xiao Tian’s eyes puzzled her.
“I’m sorry,” he said softly. “You shouldn’t have had to suffer that. I won’t let it happen again.”
Yi Qing blinked. Why was he apologizing? What did it have to do with him? Maybe he thought he’d come too late. The sentiment seemed a touch overwrought—but she accepted it nonetheless. “It’s fine. Just treat me well from now on. Really, you’re doing fine—just keep it up.”
She was almost afraid he’d spoil her.
The moment turned awkward after her remark, the melancholy evaporating. He cleared his throat and steered the subject. “You’ve been getting close to your mother. That’s good.”
“I think so too. She doesn’t force me; we’re becoming friends. Xiao Tian—do you know anyone connected to the Commissioner of Capital Affairs? Could you see that the Marquis is punished severely?” Yi Qing tapped her chin, a guilty-pleasure light in her eyes at the thought of mischief.
“Knowing someone doesn’t change the law,” Xiao Tian said. “The state has its statutes; households have their rules.”
“Bah,” Yi Qing rolled her eyes.
“But I can bring this to the emperor,” he added. “If the Marquis tries to buy his way out, that won’t work.”
Yi Qing snorted. The ruler was a weak creature who would probably muddle things. She didn’t trust him either.
Xiao Tian must have read her thought. “The emperor could strip him of the title,” he said. “He’s wanted to do that for some time but hasn’t had an excuse.”
“That’ll be fun to watch,” Yi Qing said. “I want to see him stripped of everything and then watch that lady—what’s her name, the one surnamed Wen—keep fawning over him.”
No power, no money—did she love him for his age or for his lack of baths? The Marquis had unpleasant days ahead. People suffer most when reality falls short of their illusions; let him learn.
“I’m glad I meddled in this,” Yi Qing said smugly.
Xiao Tian loved to watch her animated like this; a fond smile softened his mouth.
They were interrupted by Baozi, who came in hugging his dog, flaring with indignation. “Mother, tomorrow I’m taking the dog to the academy.”
Yi Qing noticed a bruise on his temple and felt a small stab of worry, though she kept her face calm. “You lost a fight? Need the dog to bail you out?”
Baozi erupted. “I can’t beat the Bai brothers alone. You didn’t give me a younger brother, so I have to recruit the dog!”
Yi Qing went speechless. Her son had a flair for dramatic demands: wanting a sibling on demand was not something his mother could conjure.