Early the next morning, Xie Changgeng saw the mother and child off beyond the city walls and returned to find that his elderly mother had already risen. He set aside his affairs and hurried over to pay his respects.
His mother had already learned that Mu Shi had taken in an adopted son and brought him along — a surprise that greatly displeased her. Seeing that only her son had come to greet her, and neither Mu Shi nor the child was in sight, she asked questions, and learned that the pair had left early that very morning.
Though the old lady despised Mu Shi and had even less fondness for the ready-made “grandson,” she felt slighted and neglected at the fact that she had only arrived the evening before, and by morning, the woman had taken the child and gone — not even presenting herself to serve her mother-in-law. And it was plainly with her son’s blessing. She also thought of how her usually obedient son had defied her again and again, refusing to agree to the matter, and her mood grew darker still. She sat in brooding silence, not saying a word.
Knowing his mother was unhappy, Xie Changgeng explained: “Mother, since you dislike Mu Shi, I sent her away so she would not anger you.”
His mother let out a contemptuous snort: “Prettily said! In your heart, you are most likely blaming me for mistreating your beloved, aren’t you? You had her sent away after I had been here barely one night. Are you saying that in your eyes, I am some monstrous tiger who eats people alive?”
Xie Changgeng smiled: “What has gotten into your head, Mother? You traveled a thousand li to come and see me, and I am deeply moved. She was not able to attend to you well in any case. If you were to ruin your health getting angry at someone like her, it would be my fault entirely.”
Hearing her son put it this way, the old lady’s irritation eased somewhat, and she said: “Even if her own belly refuses to cooperate, what possessed her to go and take in an adopted son? Geng’er, let Mother make this perfectly clear to you — do not let her think that wild child will ever carry your surname!”
Xie Changgeng had always known his mother’s temperament to be petty and narrow. In the past, this had never stirred much feeling in him. He had merely kept in mind that she had raised him through hardship in her early years, and so he accommodated her in all things. But now, hearing her speak of that child in such a tone, he thought suddenly of this morning — of how he had seen mother and child off beyond the city, of how Mu Shi had stayed hidden inside the carriage the entire time without showing her face, while the child, as the carriage pulled away, had quietly poked his head out from the window and kept turning to look back at him. Something unsettled him inside.
He did not reply to what she said. He kept the smile on his face and said respectfully: “Mother, do rest well. I have many matters to attend to these days and cannot accompany you today. I will take my leave.”
He instructed the steward to see that his mother was attended to properly, then turned and left.
Xie Changgeng had said he was leaving on account of his many affairs, and it was no mere excuse — he was genuinely occupied, and in the midst of his busy schedule, several days passed in the blink of an eye. On this day, as night fell and the lamps were lit, he was still in the yamen, deliberating over a certain matter with his aide Liu Guan and others.
To the west of Hexi, past the Qilian Mountains, lay Yumen Pass. Beyond the pass, deep in the vast desert where northern tribesmen were frequently active — beneath the snowy peaks of the Tianshan range — stood a small city called Jincheng. Originally under the jurisdiction of this dynasty, it had long maintained a garrison of one thousand soldiers who manned beacon towers and monitored the movements of the northern tribespeople. But several decades ago, Jincheng was seized by the northern tribes, and after careful deliberation, the court relinquished its administration of the area.
Several years ago, Xie Changgeng had recaptured Jincheng and sent soldiers back to garrison it. But maintaining the garrison at Jincheng came at considerable cost. In terms of provisions and fodder alone, even just transporting supplies: setting out from Hexi across long stretches of exposed border, through treacherous terrain, with the constant threat of harassment from northern cavalry — a single soldier tasked with transporting grain would consume rations along the road equivalent to feeding ten soldiers. And beyond its function as a boundary marker, the territory held little practical strategic value. This had been one of the reasons the court originally abandoned Jincheng.
The governor of Jiaocheng responsible for coordinating grain and fodder supplies in Hexi, Xu Ke, had submitted accounts on several occasions, arguing that provisions were limited and recommending the abandonment of Jincheng, pulling the defensive line back inward.
This was what they were now debating. Most of those present were in agreement, believing it was indeed unnecessary to continue bearing such steep costs to maintain the Jincheng garrison. When the discussion concluded, all eyes turned to Xie Changgeng in his seat, awaiting his decision.
Xie Changgeng was silent in thought for a moment, his gaze sweeping over the faces before him, then he spoke: “One thousand garrison soldiers — what they guard is not merely the single outpost of Jincheng, but the Tianshan range, the snow-capped peaks, and all the land south of those peaks. To abandon Jincheng is to surrender territory and hand it over to others. It would also be a desecration of the soldiers who gave their lives to take Jincheng back. Even if that land is a barren thousand li — so long as I, Xie Changgeng, hold the post of Military Governor here for even one day, let alone ten times the cost — even a hundred times — I will not yield a single inch of ground!”
He tossed the account book back to Xu Ke.
“This matter is settled. It shall not be raised again. The supply problem can be solved by eliminating redundant troops. What Hexi needs is not a large army, but elite soldiers.”
The Military Governor had spoken with finality and provided a solution besides — who dared say otherwise? All immediately agreed.
Xie Changgeng kept Liu Guan and several others behind, and ordered the summoning of all military clerks to begin sorting through the military rosters as quickly as possible — culling the weakest among the elderly and infirm soldiers and redirecting them instead to clearing wasteland and cultivating farmland.
As they were speaking, he noticed the steward peering in from outside the hall as though there were something to report, and called him in.
The steward said that the old Madam had personally gone to the kitchen to cook a full table of dishes for him, and had not eaten herself but kept her stomach empty the whole time, waiting for him to return. She had just now sent the steward over to urge him along.
Xie Changgeng glanced outside.
The sky was pitch black — night had fully set in.
He withdrew his gaze and saw Liu Guan and the others all watching him. Only then did it register that the hour was late. The men had very likely been hungry for some time, and those with families at home likely had wives waiting for them to return for dinner. He called for the meeting to adjourn, instructing them to get to work the following day.
His subordinates took their leave. Not wishing to keep his elderly mother waiting any longer, Xie Changgeng also hurried back to the rear quarters, and indeed found a lavish table laid out in wait for him. He hastened to help the old lady to her seat.
“Mother, there was no need for you to go to such trouble. You have come all this way, and I have not even been able to fulfill my filial duties properly — and now you have gone to the kitchen and waited all this time for me. I am truly ashamed of myself.”
His mother called Qi Lingfeng out and said with a warm smile: “Feng’er helped, so Mother did not have to work hard at all. Feng’er, you have been busy half the day — sit down and eat with us.”
Qi Lingfeng quickly waved her hands: “Feng’er would not dare. Please, Old Madam and brother-in-law, take your meal. I will attend to the Old Madam.”
“I told you to sit, so sit!”
His mother had Qiuju set a place for Qi Lingfeng, and seeing she still would not comply, pretended to be displeased: “Will you not sit down? Are you going to defy me as well?” Qi Lingfeng stole a glance at Xie Changgeng across the table — he was looking at her, not saying a word — and finally perched herself on the edge of a stool and sat down.
Only then did his mother brighten up. She told Qiuju to pour wine for her son, and kept piling food into his bowl herself.
“Eat more. Feng’er is a wonderful cook — all of these dishes were made by her hands. You will know it once you taste them. A man with a household and a wife, yet grown so thin — whatever is that wife of yours good for? It pains me just to look at you.”
Xie Changgeng was indeed hungry. But hearing his mother nattering away in his ear, saying things he had no desire to hear, his appetite vanished all at once. Unable to refuse his mother’s affections, he forced himself through one bowl of rice without touching much of the food, then stood up, personally filled his mother’s bowl and ladled her soup, and said: “Mother, I actually had a few bites at the front hall just now and am quite full. I still have matters to see to. Please take your time, Mother — and remember to rest early tonight.”
He left the dining room and went straight to the study.
As the hour grew late — the end of the first night watch — Xie Changgeng sat bent over his desk, and gradually began to feel the wound on his back aching again with a dull soreness. He could not help but think of the woman who had stabbed him there. He slowly set down his brush, and just at that moment heard the faint sound of light, soft footsteps approaching from outside, growing closer. There was a gentle knock at the door. He came back to himself — and through the doorway came the silhouette of a woman, drifting in unhurriedly.
Qi Lingfeng entered, a tray in her hands bearing a bowl, and came to a stop before him, her eyes gazing at him with tender longing.
“Brother-in-law, the Old Madam said you hardly ate anything at dinner and feared you might be hungry. She asked me to make a late-night snack and bring it to you. I hope you do not mind.”
She set the tray on the table, lifted the bowl cover, and then stood to one side, quietly watching the handsome man behind the candlelight.
Xie Changgeng was about to tell her to go back, but then hesitated and changed his mind. He slowly set down his brush and said: “Qi Shi, my mother brought you on this journey — do you know what her intentions are?”
Qi Lingfeng flushed, her voice barely above a whisper: “The Old Madam mentioned it to me a few times…”
Xie Changgeng nodded.
“My mother has also spoken of it before me, and I have replied to her more than once. Has she conveyed this to you?”
Qi Lingfeng lowered her head and said nothing.
Xie Changgeng continued: “My mother wishes me to take you as a concubine — a way of repaying the debt of gratitude owed for your saving her life. I do not think this is appropriate. For you, and for your Qi family, it would be far too great a slight. I believe your late mother’s spirit would not wish it for you either. My intention is for my mother to take you as her adopted daughter and arrange a proper marriage for you — to see you wed in fine style. This is how the debt of kindness should truly be repaid.”
Qi Lingfeng raised her head. The flush that had been on her face just moments ago had already drained away completely.
“Brother-in-law, I know I am nothing remarkable in appearance and would not dare to hope for anything beyond my station. But all these years, the feelings in my heart for you, brother-in-law — Heaven itself can bear witness…”
She gazed at the man behind the lamp, tears gathering in her eyes. Slowly, she sank to her knees on the floor.
“Brother-in-law, I truly do not care about a proper title. I am willing — more than willing — to be a concubine. As long as I can spend this lifetime serving at the side of the Old Madam and yourself, I will have everything I need. Please, brother-in-law — do not be so heartless…”
Xie Changgeng said: “I already have a wife. There is no need to take a concubine. As for the bond between you and my mother — that too can be fulfilled as mother and daughter.”
Qi Lingfeng’s figure went rigid.
“Qi Shi, your act of saving my mother’s life all those years ago — I am deeply grateful for it and have never forgotten it. If an opportunity presents itself in the future, I will repay you many times over.”
Qi Lingfeng stiffened for a moment, and then tears began to fall.
“Brother-in-law…”
“Qi Shi,” Xie Changgeng cut her off.
“From now on, you may address me by my official title, or as elder brother — either is fine. The hour is late. You have spent the whole day accompanying my mother, and must be tired. Rise. I will call someone to escort you back to rest.”
He said this, then rose and walked toward the doorway.
Qi Lingfeng scrambled to her feet. “Please do not trouble yourself, my lord. I will go on my own. I understand my lord’s intentions now. I am willing to abide by my lord’s arrangement — to recognize the Old Madam as my adoptive mother — so as not to cause my lord any further difficulty.”
She kept her head bowed, tears streaming, and hurried away.
The night had grown deep. Xie Changgeng found no trace of drowsiness in himself. He had no wish to return to his room, and no heart for any more work. He wandered slowly to the study window, pushed it open, and gazed out.
The night sky was blanketed in dark clouds, and within those layers, lightning flickered faintly. The wind blew with fierce strength, sweeping great armfuls of withered leaves from the autumn branches in the courtyard and sending them to the ground in a rustling cascade.
It seemed as though rain was coming again.
Xie Changgeng thought of the words that child had told him that night, and gradually fell into a trance.
Just then, another set of footsteps sounded outside the door — a quick, shuffling patter. The person reached the door and knocked twice in hasty, careless fashion, then shoved it open.
A’Mao came running in, crying out: “My lord! Miss Qi went back to her room just now and has been weeping the whole time. The Old Madam has started making a scene in her room and sent me to fetch you — she wants you to come see her right now!”
Xie Changgeng felt a wave of vexation.
He had not the slightest desire to go and face his mother. As he wavered, he suddenly heard, from beyond the courtyard gate, the distant but unmistakable voices of his mother and a rough-handed serving woman, drawing closer. Realizing she was heading this way, he wasted no more time in deliberation. He seized his sword, and said: “A’Mao, remember — when the Old Madam arrives, you tell her I am not here. You have not seen me. Understood?”
He stepped out of the study and turned quickly toward a side gate — only to find it padlocked when he reached it. He looked around briefly, then leaped up, grabbed the top of the wall, and hauled himself over. From there he made his way to the stables on his own, retrieved a horse and a rain cape, and left through the main gates of the Military Governor’s residence. He instructed the gatekeepers that if any of his subordinates came looking for him on urgent matters, they were to send word to the northern mountain pasture, and on no account were they to let the Old Madam find out.
The gatekeepers all agreed.
Xie Changgeng swung himself into the saddle and rode off without looking back. Man and horse dissolved quickly into the night and vanished.