"Why can't I feel anything?" Jing Xunche asked, puzzlement creasing his brow as he looked at Mu Fengqie.
Mu burst out laughing. "Tsk— the baby wasn't moving before. I was only letting you feel it for show. You're being dramatic."
Jing froze. Not moving? Why—
He stared at Mu's rounded belly, disbelief written in his eyes. Then, before he could gather his thoughts, Mu yanked Jing's hand and pressed it flat against his abdomen.
A tiny, unmistakable kick jabbed against Jing's palm.
His eyes went wide. He stared at Mu's belly, then at Mu himself, scarcely able to form the words. "It—it's moving?"
Mu watched him fumble for words and nodded, amusement softening his features. "Your son just kicked you."
Carefully, reverently, Jing laid his ear to Mu's stomach and listened to the soft, rhythmic thumps inside. The feeling was new and strange and full of some tender, terrible joy.
He was still smiling, his hand gently stroking Mu's belly, when Anye barreled into the room like a gust of wind.
"Master—!" Anye blurted, then as if remembering something, half-rushed back out. He froze in the doorway, rigid with embarrassment, certain he'd come at the worst possible moment. He felt like he was done for.
Jing's face darkened as he glared at the doorway. He ground his teeth. "Is that how he normally comes and goes from your room?"
If so, Jing thought grimly, then there's no point living.
Mu chuckled. "No. He wouldn't. He must've seen you here and come because something urgent needed your attention."
Jing's expression softened marginally at that. He turned his glare on Anye. "Well? What is it?"
If the messenger couldn't explain himself, Jing knew very well what would follow.
Anye swallowed and produced a map. "The Jiang family sent word. The secret tunnel's been found, and with it the place where they've been hiding contraband."
He slapped the map down; at its center a red circle had been drawn. That was where the Jiang clan stashed their poisons.
Jing narrowed his eyes. "Tell them to be ready. Move in within two days."
The Jiang family had been allowed to run rampant for far too long. It was time to bring them to heel.
*
Zi Zhu went to visit the melancholy Fourth Miss Jiang that afternoon and didn't come back on her feet. One moment she was standing, the next she hit the floor in a spray of blood.
"Madam! Madam, are you all right?" The maids scrambled, hauling Zi Zhu up. Someone ran for the physician, others went to fetch Master Jiang.
Zi Zhu lay on the bed, unconscious, blood staining the sheets. By the time the physician arrived, the child she'd been carrying was gone.
The doctor shook his head with regret. "Master Jiang, I'm sorry. The madam's pregnancy was still young, and she was recently frightened. Today she fell hard—I'm afraid the child couldn't be saved."
Master Jiang's face went a deathly shade. He looked at the servants around him with rage burning in his eyes. "Speak! What happened?"
All the courtyard servants dropped to their knees. One trembling maid pushed herself forward, voice shaking as she explained, "Master, the madam came to inquire after Fourth Miss Jiang, who had been in low spirits. But Miss Jiang took offense—she accused the madam of trying to take her mother's place. In a fit of anger she shoved the madam; the madam struck the table and fell. Forgive me, Master, it was my fault for not watching her better."
Blood rushed to Master Jiang's face. This was the child he'd waited for—and now, because of that ungrateful girl—
"Where is the Fourth Miss? Where is she!" he demanded.
"Miss—she went out," someone stammered.
"Bring that wretched girl to me at once!" Master Jiang roared. Zi Zhu had bled her child to death, and the girl still had the cheek to walk the streets!
They found Fourth Miss Jiang strolling with her companions, shopping as casually as if nothing had happened. "Father, what's going on? My friends are waiting," she said, petulant and impatient.
"You insolent child!" Master Jiang screamed, and slapped her hard across the face.
She stared at him, bewildered. "Father, you hit me!"
He wanted to strangle her. "What does it matter if I hit you? I ought to kill you! Because of you—because of you, Zi Zhu lost her child! How dare you harm this household? A daughter like her—what mother could have raised such a daughter!"
When he told her the child was gone, Fourth Miss Jiang's face registered something like satisfaction. The wretched woman's child was dead? The heavens were clear-eyed, she thought.
"It’s dead—so what? Get another woman to bear you a child," she said carelessly.
Master Jiang's regret flared cold and cruel. He thought back to how he'd dealt with her mother—why hadn't he disposed of the daughter then? He expelled her instead. "You are no longer my daughter. Go live with your mother."
For all the years he'd raised her, he could not bring himself to kill her. He cast her out instead.
Fourth Miss Jiang went white with disbelief. She protested, but there was nothing she could do.
In the days after, Master Jiang drifted like a sleepwalker. Overwhelmed by grief and the thought that the lost child might have been a son, he fell ill.
Jing and his men took the chance. That night Jing himself led the operation to surround the Jiang estate.
"Search it!" Jing ordered, staring at the heavy gates of the Jiang house.
"Yes, sir!"
Soldiers burst the doors open and poured into the courtyard, fanning out to comb the rooms.
Master Jiang, lounging in bed and sipping the medicine Zi Zhu had fed him, heard the commotion and spat a mouthful of blood across the covers. "Why are they searching the Jiang house?" he cried, incredulous.
His anger left him blind to Zi Zhu's calmness. She nonchalantly wiped the blood that had spattered onto her skirt. "He's nearly done for," she thought. "I'm tired of feeding him those drugs every day."
"Master, don't worry," she said smoothly, hovering at his back, soothing him. "Perhaps it's only a mistake. We have nothing to hide. Let them search."
But a terrified Master Jiang could not be reassured. He ignored their attempts to hold him down and pushed himself out of bed.