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Xie Qi had long accepted that his lord was not what one would call⊠normal.
Most men, when faced with childhood tragedy, developed personality quirks. Xie Zheng developed a reputation. His father died a gruesome death on the battlefield, his mother committed suicide shortly after, and somewhere between grief and adolescence, the boy decided that subtlety was overrated and vengeance was a perfectly reasonable life goal.Â
Just to add to the ongoing drama, his uncle raised him with an iron hand and hardly paid any attention when his own son, Wei Xuan, bullied the orphaned Xie Zheng. Others would call it negligence, but Wei Yan called it though-love.
But Xie Zheng didnât succumb to fate and cried. He took back a lost city and repaid its fall with mathematical precisionâone city for one city, one massacre for one massacre. The court called it justice. The enemies called it horror. The capital called it 'promotion'.
Thus, before the age of twenty, Xie Zheng became Marquis of Wuâanâyoung, terrifying, and about as emotionally approachable as a brick wall.
For a man who spent most of his life facing death, he probably didnât think he had the luxury for such things. He spoke little, worked relentlessly, and looked at people like he was already planning where to bury them.
Naturally, no one expected him to marry.
Not because he couldnâtâon the contrary, there were plenty of noble ladies who would have gladly volunteered to become Marchioness of Wuâan, despite (or perhaps because of) the very real possibility of early widowhood. But, Marquis of Wuâan wasnât a trophy husband material, nor did he have time for romance (as Xie Wu jokingly said, Hou-ye would rather assemble weapons in his spare time than entertain girls).
Even though the Marquis of Wuâan had his quirks, Xie Qi truly respected him. The entire Blood Clad Cavalry mourned him when he thought he was dead.Â
Thankfully, that only lasted a moment. There was a rumour that he was alive. Then, Master Gongsun confirmed this. That was the first surprise.
The second surprise didnât come until weeks later, when he and Xie Wu heard that his stubborn, hot-tempered, terrifying Hou-ye was involved in a dispute with the Linâan magistrate⊠over a woman and a house deed.
A woman. And she wasnât just any woman.Â
Imagine. Marquis of Wuâan, the man who rejected the Emperorâs decree to marry into his family, went straight from allegedly being in the morgue to being married.Â
Xie Qi accepted the rumour with a pinch of salt. (He did try to ask Master Gongsun, but the man insisted that the detail was classified), while Xie Wu had assumed this was either misinformation, slander, or a collective hallucination brought on by a poor diet.
Who was this person? A general? A strategist? A weapon, perhaps? The last option was the only one that sounded probable.
At this point, Xie Qi decided reality had officially lost credibility.
Xie Wu, ever the voice of reason, said, âLetâs not jump to conclusions.â
Xie Qi agreed. This was clearly nonsense.
Until they passed through Linâan on their daily intel-gathering routine, and as if ordained by the gods, they saw the stall.
âWhat is that?â Xie Qi asked, narrowing his eyes. A stall brimming with people, mostly screaming ladies. The sign had the word âFanâ on its banner.Â
âXinyang Restaurant,â Xie Wu replied, without interest. âFan pork stall.â
Xie Wu gave him a deadpan look. âI can read.â
They were about to move onâbecause they were, in fact, trained operatives with important dutiesâwhen Xie Qi froze.
There, behind the stall, sleeves rolled up, was a tall, composed man with the sharp jawline and incredibly perfect nose. He had mysterious yet familiar phoenix eyes⊠smiling faintly at the customers.Â
Customers who were, for reasons unknown, mostly hysterical young women.
Xie Qi stared a moment longer, just in case his eyes were staging some kind of rebellion.Â
ââŠDoes that man look like Hou-ye to you?â Xie Qi asked carefully, as though speaking too loudly might shatter the illusion.Â
Same face that had once terrified entire battalions into reconsidering their life choicesânow illuminated by the warm glow of a cooking fire, calmly discussing the weight of the pork slice with the customers. Xie Qi felt personally betrayed by those cheekbones.
ââŠWhy is he selling braised pork?â
Xie Qi narrowed his eyes like a man confronting a philosophical crisis.
He considered it seriously. Perhaps someone had uncovered a terrible secretâsomething so devastating that even the Marquis of Wuâan had no choice but to submit.
Anyone who attempted to blackmail his lord would not live long enough to explain their reasoning. In fact, they would not live long enough to finish the word âblackââ.
Which left a far more disturbing possibility.
He was doing this⊠willingly.
Xie Qi felt his understanding of the universe wobble.
How? How did one take a man who treated human life like an inconvenient statistic and turn him into a⊠friendly vendor? A smiling one, no less. Since when did Hou-ye smile at strangers instead of evaluating their burial options?
And whyâhe squinted harderâwhy did he look⊠domesticated?
Like a well-trained household entity that had been properly socialised and no longer posed a threat to the general public.
Like a man who might, at any moment, say âwelcome backâ and ask if youâve eaten, and then mean it.
Xie Qi was not prepared for this version of reality. He did not consent to this development.
The root of all calamity.
The origin of this⊠phenomenon.
She stood there like she owned the stall, the street, and quite possibly the trajectory of his lordâs entire life. This unnamed Marchioness spoke sharply, decisively, issuing instructions as though commanding troopsâexcept the troop in question was the Marquis of Wuâan.
And most alarming of allâ
Listened. Without interrupting. Without killing anyone. (She also, in fact, glared at him when one of the girls flirted openly with him).
Xie Qi felt the reality he once believed existed began to crumble. This was NOT the Marquis of Wuâan he knew. This must be his kind, peace-loving doppleganger.Â
âShe could be his colleague,â he offered, clinging to dignity.
âYes,â Xie Wu nodded gravely. âA colleague he married.â
They fell silent again, watching as their fearsome, blood-soaked, empire-shaking Marquis of Wuâan handed a skewer of braised pork to a crowd of blushing young ladiesâwith patience.
The same man who once solved logistical delays by removing the problem entirely.
Xie Qi felt something inside him shift.
ââŠWe should go,â Xie Wu said, in the tone of a man retreating from a supernatural encounter.
âYes,â Xie Qi agreed, equally shaken.
They turned and left. Neither spoke, because some truths were too dangerous to acknowledge out loud.
And Xie Qi, for one, refused to live in a world where his lord could transition from mass slaughter to marinating pork within the same lifetime.
(Although, in fairnessâpurely from an objective standpointâthe pork did appear to be exceptionally well-seasoned.)
