The Prime Minister’s Daughter and the Marquis’s Fool – Chapter 281
by Little PandaBonus Chapter 17
Ying-meimei’s fondness for me — which kind of fondness is it?
Sharing a bed, dreaming different dreams — Qu Ning slept poorly and woke drained. When she opened her eyes, the other side of the bed was, as expected, already empty.
She rose and dressed, and was about to call for wash water when Zhao Ningying came in from outside.
Seeing her awake, Zhao Ningying smiled. “Ning-jiejie is up.”
“Mm.” Qu Ning stared at her, momentarily lost. Then her gaze dropped to the basin in Zhao Ningying’s hands. “Thank you.”
Zhao Ningying’s brows curved. “Ning-jiejie needn’t be polite with me. I only took it in passing.”
A soldier had brought the water from outside; she had simply received it at the door.
Qu Ning nodded, her eyes still on Zhao Ningying. A little stiffly, she rolled up her sleeves and walked to the basin — but no sooner had her hands touched the water than she glanced sideways again. “Don’t do little chores like this anymore, Ying-meimei.”
“Why not?” Zhao Ningying asked, puzzled.
Qu Ning turned her face away, scooping up water to scrub her cheeks. “You’re the highest-ranking commander at this post. It isn’t fitting.”
A general should look like a general. What business did she have waiting on someone else — even if that someone was the Imperial Crown Princess?
As Qu Ning went on washing, Zhao Ningying passed a towel over from the side. Qu Ning lifted her head, saw the cloth, and blinked in confusion. Hadn’t they just settled this?
“No one can see in here.” Zhao Ningying said it with a soft smile.
Qu Ning smiled helplessly. There was simply no doing anything about her.
Zhao Ningying knew perfectly well that Qu Ning meant it for her own good. But as she saw it, even doing such things for Zhu Qianjie was no trouble at all.
A general had family too, didn’t she?
Breakfast was laid out in Zhao Ningying’s quarters. Over the meal, Qu Ning and Qiao Jin kept right on discussing the tuntian project.
That wasn’t Zhao Ningying’s domain — but if soldiers were to be moved, the responsibility was hers.
Between bites, Qiao Jin said, “The people regard food as their foundation — only with full granaries can soldiers grow strong. The land already parceled out is enough for now, but if we want the whole army provisioned this way, we’ll need more. Those broad hills to the east could be opened for farming — though reclamation is backbreaking work. If we order the soldiers out there now, complaints will fill the camp. We must let them taste the sweetness after this first harvest; otherwise, pushing the scheme further will only get harder.”
Qu Ning nodded, picked up a morsel, and set it in Zhao Ningying’s bowl. “Jin-jiejie, see to the spring planting first. How many troops to detail — settle that between you and Ying-meimei. As for the reclamation, leave that to me.”
Qu Ning had always loved gnawing on the hardest bones. Qu Sheng’s decisive ruthlessness in the field and Lin Xizhao’s gift for reading people — she wielded both with practiced ease.
Leaving the tent, Qu Ning went to the central command tent and sent for Ma Mingzhong.
Still shaken from the previous day, Ma Mingzhong dared not linger an instant when the summons came; he ran the whole way.
Qu Ning sat in the commander’s seat, Zhao Ningying standing at her side. The two sipped their tea, and when Ma Mingzhong entered, they began to play off each other.
Qu Ning frowned at Zhao Ningying, her words deliberately harsh. “This palace orders you to detail men to reclaim the eastern land, and you make excuse after excuse. Must this palace kneel down and beg you?”
Zhao Ningying’s face darkened. She rose, dropped to one knee, and saluted with a cupped fist. “Your Highness does not know the whole of it. It is not that this subject is unwilling — but reclaiming wasteland is no small matter. It must be reported to the court, and military funds allocated, before any men may be moved. And even with funds enough, the soldiers would still be unwilling. This subject has only just taken command here; there is still distance between us. If they are forced out to break ground, their hearts will chafe, and this subject will struggle to hold command afterward. I beg Your Highness to be understanding — do not make things hard for this humble subject.”
Qu Ning rose to her feet, all patient, earnest sincerity. “This palace says it for your own good. If we run to the Mother Emperor for everything, where does our merit lie? Don’t you wish to see the Zhao family add to its honors — to be appointed general and enfeoffed as marquis1?”
Zhao Ningying lowered her head, trouble written across her face. “Your Highness, press this subject no further. This is the extent of my ability. I have never dared dream of generalships or marquisates. I wish only that the people of our Quzhao are clothed and fed, the country prosperous and its people at peace.”
“Rotten wood cannot be carved2. You are dismissed!” Qu Ning seemed genuinely angered; she turned away, unwilling to look at Zhao Ningying any longer.
Zhao Ningying let a troubled look show, saluted, and withdrew.
Qu Ning stood where she was, unmoving. Ma Mingzhong, who had entered the tent, had seen the whole performance and understood exactly what the quarrel was about. After a long moment, he made a small noise.
“Your Highness.”
Qu Ning turned back with a frown, and seeing him, looked puzzled. “Why are you still here?”
Ma Mingzhong gave a dry laugh. “Your Highness has not yet told this subject what you summoned him for.”
Impatience flickered across Qu Ning’s face. “This palace rides today. Go have the horse brought out.”
At that, Ma Mingzhong beamed. “Yes — this subject will see to it at once.”
Watching him go, Qu Ning let a sly smile steal across her face.
The weather was superb. Qu Ning came back from racing beyond the camp looking thoroughly refreshed. She tossed her whip to a soldier and walked, smiling, into Qiao Jin’s tent.
“Jin-jiejie.” She called out the moment she stepped in.
Qiao Jin was drafting official papers. She looked up at the sound and moved to rise in salute, but Qu Ning lifted a hand. “Ah — stay seated. I’ve good news for you.”
Qiao Jin watched her — a rare glimpse of girlish delight on her face — and asked, “What is it, Ning-meimei?”
Qu Ning kept her in suspense a moment, pouring and drinking a cup of tea before her eyes curved. “The reclamation — Ma Mingzhong has already taken it on.”
Qiao Jin blinked. Qu Ning laughed. “The man is a born schemer and easy to keep on a string. He wants merit — so I’ve given him the chance. And it spares us a great deal of trouble.”
Qiao Jin nodded, smiling. “General Ma truly is the perfect choice.”
Qu Ning nodded too, then glanced around. “And Ying-meimei? I haven’t seen her since I got back.”
“Oh — she’s gone to the town. Qianjie-meimei is unwell, so she went to look in on her.”
Qu Ning nodded, a faint loss crossing her face. “What’s wrong with Qianjie?”
“She says the water and soil here don’t agree with her3 — her stomach’s upset,” said Qiao Jin.
Qu Ning’s lashes fluttered. “Ying-meimei knows medicine. It’s good she went,” she murmured.
Qiao Jin gave an “Mm” over her writing. Qu Ning watched her busy at her brush for a moment, smiled faintly, and went out.
Evening came, and still Qu Ning did not see Zhao Ningying return.
By the time Zhao Ningying returned it was the small hours. Zhu Qianjie’s trouble was not the water and soil at all — she had simply eaten herself sick. One day in town, and she had made a clean sweep of every delicacy it offered. How could her stomach not rebel?
“Is Her Highness asleep?” Zhao Ningying asked, glancing toward Qu Ning’s tent as she came up to her own.
The guard on watch answered, “General, Her Highness has not come out since nightfall.”
Puzzled, Zhao Ningying asked, “And dinner? Has Her Highness eaten?”
“No. Her Highness never asked for anything to be brought.”
“She doesn’t ask, so you simply don’t bring anything?” Zhao Ningying shot back.
The guard hurried to explain. “Her Highness gave orders that no dinner was to be sent.”
Zhao Ningying froze for a beat. “Did Her Highness say she was unwell anywhere?”
The guard shook his head. “No.”
Unease crept through Zhao Ningying. Qu Ning kept a martial artist’s constitution, but that hardly made her immune to the water and soil.
Zhu Qianjie’s illness was mostly gluttony, with some of the water-and-soil trouble mixed in — and now worry tugged at Zhao Ningying. Her feet carried her, unbidden, toward the door of Qu Ning’s tent.
The guard saluted. Zhao Ningying kept her voice low. “Has Her Highness gone to bed?”
“Her Highness put out her lamp and lay down at the Xu Hour4,” the guard whispered back.
Her worry deepened. Zhao Ningying stared at the tent flap a long moment, then lifted it with the lightest of hands.
Inside was not fully dark — torches burned outside, lending a faint glow — but her eyes had yet to adjust as she slipped in.
Guided by her memory of the daylight layout, she made straight for Qu Ning’s bedside. Five or six steps in, the shapes around her resolved.
Qu Ning was indeed abed. Zhao Ningying hesitated a few breaths, then bent and drew her wrist out from beneath the covers.
Her fingers read the pulse — steady, ordinary, nothing amiss. She was about to release it when Qu Ning’s voice sounded abruptly.
“You’re back.”
Zhao Ningying startled and snatched her hand away.
“Mm. I woke Ning-jiejie.” She retreated two steps without thinking.
Qu Ning sat up, tilting her head to look past the half-drawn bed curtain. In the dark, she saw more clearly than Zhao Ningying did.
Qu Ning let the apology pass. “How is Qianjie-meimei?”
Zhao Ningying’s eyes shifted faintly. “She took her medicine and is much better.”
Qu Ning’s lashes lowered. “Good.” Then: “Will you go again tomorrow?”
“If nothing comes up at camp, I mean to look in on her again.” Zhao Ningying was still uneasy. Zhu Qianjie truly had been raised in a golden jar, doted on like stars around the moon — cosseted all her life, more than either her or Qu Ning.
Qu Ning looked over and nodded. “Good. As you should.”
After a brief silence, Qu Ning asked, “Were you worried about me just now?”
Zhao Ningying pressed her lips softly together. “I heard Ning-jiejie hadn’t eaten since the afternoon, nor gone out at all. So I came to see you.”
Qu Ning gave a small laugh. “I’m fine. Just tired — I slept more than I meant to.”
The pulse she’d taken had indeed shown nothing wrong. “Then I won’t disturb Ning-jiejie’s rest. I’ll head back.”
At the words, a reluctant light rose in Qu Ning’s eyes. As Zhao Ningying turned, she said quickly, “I’ll come with you tomorrow.”
Zhao Ningying’s half-turned body stilled. She looked back slowly. “Is that proper?”
“What’s improper about it? Qianjie isn’t only your meimei — she’s my younger cousin too.”
Zhao Ningying’s brows curved. “All right. When I set out tomorrow, I’ll come tell Ning-jiejie.”
Qu Ning nodded, watching Zhao Ningying turn and go without a moment’s hesitation — and the hollow in her chest deepened.
In the darkness, Qu Ning stared at the wooden screen standing before her, fingertips slowly pressing into her own skin.
A helplessness — the feeling of a grip slipping loose — spread through the pit of her heart.
Perhaps it had only ever been her own wishful thinking — taking the sisterly affection Zhao Ningying bore her and embellishing it, stroke by stroke, into fantasy and vain hope.
Outside the tent, Zhao Ningying lifted her face to a sky full of stars and let out a long breath. She turned back to look at the tent flap, and color tinged her eyes.
She had done her utmost to hide it. But hearing the sadness in Qu Ning’s voice, she could not stop herself from aching along with it.
She had seen too many faces of Qu Ning to be fooled; she knew each response by heart. The carefulness just now, and the loss buried beneath it — she had felt them both.
Early the next morning, Zhao Ningying saw to the camp’s affairs. Close to midday, she took Qu Ning to the town — both on fast horses, which saved a good deal of time.
The little town courtyard had been made over completely fresh. In and out, Zhao Ningying had reassigned men to guard it.
At word of Zhao Ningying’s arrival, Zhu Qianjie hurried out — but the instant she spotted Qu Ning at Zhao Ningying’s side, she spun on her heel, clutching her belly, and marched straight back the way she had come.
Watching her play sick all over again, Qu Ning and Zhao Ningying exchanged a glance and laughed in spite of themselves.
“Qianjie-meimei.” Zhao Ningying called as she drew near.
At the sound, Zhu Qianjie wanted to flee — but had no choice but to look over.
“Ying-jiejie is here!” Zhu Qianjie broke into a dazzling smile. “And Ning-jiejie too.”
In a moment the two were before her. Seeing Zhu Qianjie still clutching her middle, Zhao Ningying asked, “Feeling better?”
Zhu Qianjie nodded. “Almost all better.”
Qu Ning watched that hand pressed to the belly, and reached out — whereupon Zhu Qianjie sucked it in and thrust herself backward. Qu Ning’s hand found nothing. She fixed Zhu Qianjie with a look. “Your Ying-jiejie says you ate yourself sick. Have you been greedy again today?”
Zhu Qianjie shook her head at once. “No! I only had a little plain congee today. Ask Mu-jiejie if you don’t believe me.”
Hearing the two had come, Qu Zhimu emerged from the house and stood at the end of the corridor. She had assumed Qiao Jin would be with them — but it was only the two.
“Mu-jiejie.” Both turned to look at her.
Qu Zhimu curved her lips, answered, and lifted a hand in greeting. Coming over, she asked, “Why didn’t Jin’er come along?”
“She’s swamped with official business — couldn’t get away,” said Qu Ning.
The smile on Qu Zhimu’s face dimmed somewhat. “Once she starts on paperwork there’s no end to it. Keep an eye on her for me — don’t let her wear herself down.”
“We will,” Zhao Ningying said with a smile — and drew a letter from her sleeve, holding it out before Qu Zhimu’s eyes.
At the graceful script on it, Qu Zhimu knew Qiao Jin’s hand at once. She took it, and her face bloomed again. “So the book nerd isn’t entirely blind to romance after all.”
Zhao Ningying laughed. “Our Jin-jiejie is no book nerd. She even sent word with us — says she misses you, and she’ll come see you as soon as the urgent work is off her desk.”
Qu Zhimu knew full well that part had been Zhao Ningying’s own invention. She pursed her lips. “Who asked her to come see me.”
Zhao Ningying laughed — and, without meaning to, glanced toward Qu Ning.
A faint smile graced Qu Ning’s face; but when her eyes met Zhao Ningying’s sideways glance, something bitter settled beneath.
Zhao Ningying kept her courteous smile and looked away, toward Qu Zhimu. “Is there anything to eat? We came straight over without lunch.”
Qu Zhimu nodded. “There is. Qianjie had just sent for dishes from the restaurant — planning a little drink — when word came you were here.”
“Mu-jiejie, don’t go making things up! I never said anything about drinking — the restaurant sent it,” Zhu Qianjie hastened to explain.
Remembering how Zhu Qianjie’s belly had carried on just yesterday, Qu Zhimu smiled. “Yes, yes — the restaurant sent it.”
Zhu Qianjie nodded vigorously in agreement.
Looking at that adorable figure, Zhao Ningying reached out and ruffled her head. “Good — all the more for Ning-jiejie and me, then.”
Zhu Qianjie slanted a look at Qu Ning — and found her staring fixedly at Zhao Ningying.
Qu Ning felt the look and turned to meet it; Zhu Qianjie whipped around at once. “Stop standing out here — let’s go in and eat.”
“All right.” Zhao Ningying agreed, then looked back at Qu Ning. “Come along, Ning-jiejie.”
Qu Ning nodded and followed behind them.
Inside, they found a table laden with dishes and several pots of clear wine.
Qu Ning’s eyes went from the wine to a sidelong glance at Zhu Qianjie. Sent, nothing — it was plainly bought. But she had no wish to expose her now. She wanted a drink too.
Zhao Ningying poured for Qu Ning and Qu Zhimu. Zhu Qianjie watched on tiptoe, lips smacking. “Me too.”
Zhao Ningying looked up. “No. Your stomach hasn’t recovered. In a few days.”
Zhu Qianjie pouted. “Fine.”
Qu Zhimu had finished Qiao Jin’s letter and joined them at the table. Zhao Ningying and Qu Zhimu talked; Qu Ning drank, alone and unattended.
Zhu Qianjie sensed something off in Qu Ning and scrambled up, eager to please, to refill her cup.
Qu Ning raised her eyes. Zhu Qianjie giggled and dragged her stool over to sit beside her. Qu Ning smiled back. “Is the belly feeling better?”
Zhu Qianjie bobbed her head. “Lots better. As long as Ning-jiejie doesn’t send me back, I’ll be well in no time.”
Qu Ning’s mouth curved faintly. She raised the brimming cup and drank it down. Zhu Qianjie hastily filled it again.
“Ning-jiejie, eat something.” Zhu Qianjie picked up food for her.
Qu Ning glanced down, smiled, and ate it.
Across the table, Zhao Ningying was still talking with Qu Zhimu. By the time she noticed Qu Ning’s side of things, two pots of wine had gone down.
Watching Qu Ning drink without pause, Qu Zhimu’s gaze slid to Zhao Ningying — who was watching Qu Ning too — and something like a guess took shape in her mind.
“Ning-jiejie, stop drinking.” Worry rose on Zhao Ningying’s face.
Qu Ning looked over at the sound. Her face showed little change — but in the eyes she fixed on Zhao Ningying, a feeling spread that she could no longer hold back.
“All right.” Qu Ning’s expression turned soft and obedient, and when she smiled there was something yielding in it.
Looking at that gentle, pliant face, Zhao Ningying’s heart softened in answer. She turned to Qu Zhimu. “We’re about done eating, and Ning-jiejie’s had a lot. Let me help her to rest a while; we’ll head back to camp later.”
Qu Zhimu rose to help support Qu Ning — but Qu Ning was already on her feet.
Zhao Ningying hurried to steady her, and Zhu Qianjie lent a hand.
Qu Ning swayed, her weight tipping toward Zhao Ningying. “Much obliged, Ying-meimei.”
Qu Zhimu’s hands came up to help, then drew back. As Zhao Ningying and Zhu Qianjie walked Qu Ning out — nearly to the room kept for Qu Ning — Qu Zhimu called to Zhu Qianjie.
“Qianjie, come help me brew some hangover soup.” Qu Zhimu said it deliberately.
Zhu Qianjie turned at the call, hesitating — and Zhao Ningying said, “Go on. I’ll look after Ning-jiejie.”
Zhao Ningying trained with the long spear; she had strength enough.
Zhu Qianjie nodded and let go, leaving Qu Ning’s whole weight against Zhao Ningying.
She trotted to Qu Zhimu’s side, heart not quite at ease, still turning back to check on Qu Ning.
Once Zhao Ningying had guided Qu Ning inside, Qu Zhimu slipped an arm around Zhu Qianjie’s shoulders. “It’s all right. With your Ying-jiejie there, Ning’er will be fine.”
Thinking of Zhao Ningying’s medical arts, Zhu Qianjie did feel steadier. She watched them disappear inside, then went, easy at last, with Qu Zhimu toward the kitchen.
Zhao Ningying helped Qu Ning onto the bed, slipped off her shoes, and laid her legs down. She leaned in to undo Qu Ning’s robe — and Qu Ning’s hand suddenly pressed down on hers at the sash.
Zhao Ningying glanced sideways, smiling gently, coaxing. “Sleeping in your clothes is uncomfortable. Let Ningying take them off for Ning-jiejie, hm?”
Qu Ning was deep in her cups, but not so far gone she didn’t know who stood before her. She stared at Zhao Ningying — so close, murmuring soft coaxings — and the grievance in her heart swelled several times over in an instant. Out of nowhere she asked, “Do you hate me now?”
Zhao Ningying blinked, utterly at sea. “Why would Ning-jiejie think that?”
“I feel like you hate me.” Qu Ning’s voice, soft and hoarse, insisted again.
The smile left Zhao Ningying’s brow. She looked at the tension on Qu Ning’s face and curved her brows in helplessness. “I don’t. How could Ningying ever hate Ning-jiejie?”
“Then you don’t like me?” Qu Ning pressed.
Her fingers were still pinned beneath Qu Ning’s hand. She tried to draw them back — and Qu Ning closed her fist around them.
Their eyes met. From the moment Zhao Ningying had seen Qu Ning drinking without restraint, she had known it was because of her.
Two hearts that had drawn close — and then one had suddenly pulled away. How was the other to bear it?
The fault was hers. She should never have been so confident, back then, as to believe the two of them could come together.
“Let go of me first.” Zhao Ningying said it softly.
Qu Ning’s lashes trembled; her throat moved once. Seeing Zhao Ningying stare at her with not a trace of a smile, the fingers she had clasped slowly loosened.
Zhao Ningying drew her hand back, curling it in. She looked down at Qu Ning, who had never once stopped watching her, and the corner of her mouth curved faintly. “It isn’t that I don’t like Ning-jiejie either.”
As if liking were a thing one could simply switch off. If she didn’t like Ning-jiejie, she would never have volunteered in the first place to accompany her out here.
“Then you do like me.” Some of the frost around Qu Ning’s eyes and brows thawed.
Zhao Ningying didn’t answer that. Her lips curved, soothing. “Mu-jiejie and the others have gone to brew hangover soup. Drink it when it comes, sleep a while — there’s no hurry to go back.”
She made to leave — and Qu Ning’s hand shot up and caught the corner of her skirt. “Don’t go.”
Qu Ning pulled at her, pleading.
Zhao Ningying looked down at the grip on her skirt, thought a moment, and could only come back, helpless. Standing at the bedside, she watched Qu Ning’s fear of her leaving — eyes like someone losing what her heart treasured most — sighed inwardly, and sat down.
Seeing that Zhao Ningying meant to stay, Qu Ning’s hand on the skirt belatedly registered its own presumption, and slowly let go.
“Ying-meimei.” Qu Ning called softly to the back turned to her.
Zhao Ningying’s gaze flickered at the sound. After a long moment she glanced sideways, composure deliberately assumed, and gave an “Mm.” “Does Ning-jiejie want some tea?”
Qu Ning stared into those lying eyes, ignored the question, and said, “The like Ying-meimei feels for me — which kind of like is it?”
Zhao Ningying’s expression stilled. She met Qu Ning’s gaze — clear, sober, and unmistakable — her lashes trembling faintly, her eyes beginning to dart away.
Watching those evasive eyes, Qu Ning’s chest swelled tight. “Answer me.”
Her voice rang out like a struck stone — impossible to ignore.
The author has something to say:
Qu Ning: “Shifu-mom5, I’m throwing straight pitches6.”
Qu Sheng: “Excellent.”
Footnotes
- 拜将封侯 | bai jiang feng hou | Classical idiom for the pinnacle of military glory: to be formally appointed a general and granted a noble marquisate, the highest honor a martial house could earn.
- 朽木不可雕 | xiu mu bu ke diao | From the Analects: Confucius's rebuke of a hopeless student — 'rotten wood cannot be carved.' Used to dismiss someone as beyond teaching or improvement.
- 水土不服 | shuitu bufu | Traditional belief that a traveler falls ill when their body is unaccustomed to a region's water and climate; a common explanation for stomach ailments away from home.
- 戌时 | Xu shi | The Xu Hour, one of the twelve traditional two-hour periods of the Chinese day, spanning 7 to 9 PM.
- 师傅我妈 | shifu wo ma | Internet meme: addressing someone as 'master' and then upgrading to 'mom,' a joking way of showing ultimate deference to someone whose skill one admires.
- 打直球 | da zhiqiu | Modern slang borrowed from baseball: to be completely direct, especially in confessing feelings, without feints or subtlety.
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