Chapter 2
After he left, Shi Wei returned to serving the Dowager Princess Consort.
She was diligent, meticulous, and considerate, and the old lady was pleased enough with her to grant her a little extra protection.
One day, the Madam came to pay her respects. Their idle conversation turned to Jing Ting.
“Ting’er won another battle and distinguished himself. It is time he settled down.”
“Do you have a suitable family in mind?”
“Grand Tutor Tong’s daughter. She is clever and graceful, with a gentle nature. She and Ting’er would be an excellent match.”
Dusk had fallen. Shi Wei was quietly filling the lamps when her mind wandered. Only when a drop of burning wax struck the tender skin on the back of her hand did she come to herself.
She did not know how much more the two ladies discussed before she heard them say:
“Some of the girls are grown now. We might as well release them, give them a little silver, and let them find good husbands.”
Every scrap of courage Shi Wei possessed gathered in that instant. She dropped to her knees before them and begged for a way out.
The Dowager Princess Consort and the Madam each had her own reasons for agreeing.
The Dowager pitied Shi Wei and wished to grant her freedom.
The Madam thought Jing Ting would soon marry, and it would be better to clear away all the women around him beforehand.
So Shi Wei left the estate and returned home. Her parents were long dead; only her brother and sister-in-law remained.
Her sister-in-law feared she might stay for good and immediately began seeking a marriage to send her away.
But Shi Wei was no longer a virgin. No matter how widely they searched, they could only consider widowers.
Shopkeeper Qi, the widowed owner of a silk shop on East Street, had a child and had long admired the Shi family’s beautiful, delicate daughter.
A matchmaker soon came to settle the arrangement.
Shi Wei did not want to become a stepmother, but for every extra day she stayed, her sister-in-law would smash bowls, strike her daughters, and curse indirectly, “A house full of money-losing wretches, all rotting at home. What bloody luck.”
Shi Wei’s brother was weak and thoroughly cowed by his wife. He also tried to persuade her.
“Little sister, I only want what is best for you. One more mouth would not ruin us, but I cannot care for you forever. When you are old, what will become of you?”
It was hardly fair. Most of the money Shi Wei had earned at Prince Jin’s Estate had gone to support this household.
Yet she was a frail young woman, not a market shrew who had honed her tongue through years of public quarrels. She could never outargue her sister-in-law.
Shi Wei met Shopkeeper Qi at a pavilion banquet.
He was in his early thirties, more than ten years older than she was. The silver-tongued matchmaker encouraged her from the side.
“An older man knows how to cherish a wife.”
For no reason, Shi Wei wondered whether the Young Prince might learn to cherish people when he grew older.
She shook off the thought and returned her attention to the matter at hand.
Shopkeeper Qi looked perfectly ordinary, possessed an ordinary temperament, and had modest means.
Nothing about him was especially good or especially bad. He was simply a man with whom one might pass an ordinary life.
Her heart was a blank expanse. She had no idea what lay ahead.
Through the curtain, Shopkeeper Qi could make out her soft, graceful figure, and his heart was already more than half melted.
Her body was alluring, yet her snow-pale face and limpid eyes looked pure and refined.
That contradiction made her a rare beauty. Even the most commonplace man could find reckless courage before such a woman—enough to spend a fortune, climb mountains of blades, or cross seas of fire for the hope of one backward glance and smile.
On his side of the curtain, Shopkeeper Qi had already filled his heart with tenderness and dreams.
On hers, Shi Wei merely lowered her head and weighed reality.
She was clever, and clever people did not reach for the impossible. They spent their strength finding the most suitable, least broken road through a miserable situation.
Being a stepmother was still better than being a concubine. At least she would be the legal wife rather than a woman kept out of sight.
She considered status, temperament, and family. Only one thing never entered her calculations: whether she liked him.
What use would that be? A woman like her had no right to ask for love.
She was still thinking when the bead curtain rattled. A pair of black boots caked in mud appeared before her downcast eyes.
Her gaze traveled upward and collided with a pair of eyes as savage as a tiger’s. Her heart began to pound chaotically.
Jing Ting had returned—and caught her meeting another man.
She had every right to be there. The Madam had released her, and Jing Ting was nothing to her.
Yet guilt rose in her for no reason, robbing her of confidence.
He was still coated in the dust of travel, his cold, rigid armor not yet removed. Dark stubble covered his jaw, making him look like a demon risen from hell. Bloodshot eyes seized hers as he growled:
“Little one, who gave you the courage to meet another man…?”
Furious, he gripped both her arms and loomed over her. The hard armor scraped her tender skin through her thin silk sleeves. With every harsh word, she felt colder. Her shoulders shook uncontrollably, and her eyes reddened further.
She only wept. Heaven knew he had barely begun scolding her.
Before he could finish, she was already crying like pear blossoms in the rain, her pale little face pitiful and lovely.
Women’s tears gave him headaches, especially the tears of this infuriating girl.
He stopped his savage expression in time, forced himself to endure, and asked with great restraint, “Why are you crying? I haven’t even done anything to you.”
She looked up through blurred eyes, pointed to the icy armor grinding against her arms, and murmured with delicate brows drawn together, “It hurts…”
Jing Ting released her awkwardly, his voice gone hoarse.
At that moment, Shopkeeper Qi rushed from behind the curtain without understanding the situation. Knife in hand, he was ready to defend the bride he had nearly secured.
The anger Jing Ting had just suppressed flared up again.
In the end, Shopkeeper Qi lost both bride and battle. Jing Ting was a general, but a bandit of a general who cared nothing for propriety. He defended what he considered his with almost savage force, and beat the shopkeeper mercilessly.
If Shi Wei had not clung to him with all her strength, someone might have died.
He slung her over his shoulder. At first she kicked to escape, but each kick earned a slap on the backside and a stern threat: “Kick again and I will keep you up all night.”
The last time he had said that, she had been unable to walk the following morning.
She let her legs hang obediently and dared kick no more. She could only whimper and sob, not daring to say a word.
But he had no intention of sparing her. To punish her, he dragged her into the study and bullied her across the desk piled high with the Four Books and Five Classics. Confucius, ritual, honor, and shame were all crushed beneath her while he tormented her with the obscene talk of army camps.
“Little one, has your lord failed to satisfy you?”
Eyes swimming with tears, she shook her head wildly.
He continued crudely, “If you were satisfied, why did you go looking for some wild man?”
He was the wild man. There was nothing between them at all.
She frowned in silence. When he became too cruel, her sobs broke apart.
“What is it? Crying already?”
She felt wronged, but he was full of grievance too.
How he had missed her. In Yangcheng, after the men drank, they always went looking for women. The women there were bold and passionate, and his brothers said that a man who came to Yangcheng without sampling them had wasted the journey.
Every time he rejected their invitations, he cursed and said, “Too much trouble. I have no time. Next time.”
Behind his back, some of them wondered, “Can Jing Ting not perform?”
Who could not perform? Those brothers received several punches for the suggestion.
He was merely particular. Why hunt wild game when delicacies waited at home? Besides, he found them dirty.
He was no elegant gentleman capable of perfect restraint. He missed her until it hurt. In dreams beneath wild skies, high mountains, and moonlit nights, he saw her a thousand times—delicate, tearful, and soft.
Longing for her had nearly driven him mad.
He returned in triumph, desperate to see her, only to find her meeting another man.
She actually meant to give herself to someone else—and a widower at that. Even a widower was good enough for her.
Jing Ting could not tolerate betrayal.
All the concern he had never voiced seemed to mock him now.
So he tormented her again, fierce and unforgiving.
As she began to cry beneath his cruelty, a dazed thought drifted through her mind. He was so fierce, so overbearing, forever bullying her. Would he treat his new bride with the same brutality?