Chapter 71: The Palace Banquet of the Qixi Festival (1)

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After leaving the Hall of Diligence, the group walked in silence. Meng Yuanheng held Shen Qianmo’s hand tightly, his face tense, not uttering a word the entire way. Shen Qianmo understood the unease in his heart, but she knew he would come to terms with it, even if he could not accept it for now. She was already used to his awkward temperament; in front of her, he was like a child who never grew up, his intelligence seemingly dropping by half.

After passing through the East Flower Gate, Shen Qianmo took her leave of Lu Ziqing. Earlier in the Hall of Diligence, Emperor Mingde had issued an order: as Lu Ziqing had solved the case, he would be promoted to Minister of Justice. No doubt, the Ministry of Personnel was already drafting the appointment. As a formality, she offered her congratulations.

“Congratulations to Lord Lu on your promotion.”

Lu Ziqing looked deeply at Shen Qianmo. “In truth, the credit for solving this case so smoothly belongs to you, Qianmo.”

At the sound of “Qianmo,” Meng Yuanheng’s expression instantly changed. His gaze turned icy, and his tone was frigid. “Lord Lu, have you forgotten your station? Is it your place to call her Qianmo?”

Lu Ziqing, unperturbed, saluted Meng Yuanheng respectfully. “Qianmo and Your Highness have not yet wed. It seems inappropriate to address her as Princess Consort, so I chose this form of address instead. Qianmo, do you mind?”

His gaze was intent upon her, yet his expression remained calm as ever. Shen Qianmo, of course, did not mind. To her ear, being called by her name was far more pleasant than being addressed as Princess Consort. She gave Lu Ziqing a faint, unconcerned smile. “Of course not, Lord Lu, as you wish.”

She cast an exasperated glance at the fuming Meng Yuanheng. Why must he take issue with someone merely calling her by name? She recalled the time at the Suzhou villa when Yun Yi called her Qianmo—Meng Yuanheng had worn the same murderous look.

Oh, she truly was at her wit’s end with him.

Lu Ziqing was pleased to receive Shen Qianmo’s approval, and could not help but return her smile. In her memory, she had never seen Lu Ziqing smile before. Now, perhaps because he was usually so stern, his features had grown stiff; when he smiled, it appeared rather unnatural, which amused her even more, deepening her own smile unconsciously.

Seeing the two exchange smiles, Meng Yuanheng’s jealousy only intensified. With a cold snort, he pulled Shen Qianmo’s slender waist into an embrace, and said unhurriedly, “I hear Lord Lu is to marry in a few days. Truly, a double blessing—congratulations are in order.”

Lu Ziqing is getting married? Shen Qianmo had never heard such news and offered him sincere congratulations. “So Lord Lu is both promoted and soon to be wed—a double blessing indeed, worthy of celebration.”

Lu Ziqing’s expression seemed somewhat unnatural. “Thank you. It is merely following my family’s arrangement, taking a concubine, not a wife.”

He was right, of course. In the Da Sheng Dynasty, there was a clear distinction between marrying a wife and taking a concubine. He did not know why he was so eager to clarify this—perhaps it was a subconscious wish to let Shen Qianmo know he was not truly marrying.

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Meng Yuanheng smirked inwardly. Only he knew that once Lu Ziqing took a concubine, no matter how he explained or behaved, he would never have a chance with Qianmo. For Qianmo desired “a lifelong, exclusive bond.” Hmph, even if Lu Ziqing were told, could he live up to it?

On the way back, Meng Yuanheng naturally would not let go of the chance to enjoy a tender moment alone with Shen Qianmo in the carriage. He insisted on escorting her home. However, as the Prince Xuan’s carriage was too conspicuous, Shen Qianmo ordered it to stop at a street corner not far from the Duke’s manor.

She did not wish for a repeat of the last time when the entire household turned out to welcome her—a spectacle she found distasteful, for she was not one to seek attention.

Before parting, Meng Yuanheng was reluctant, holding her tightly and refusing to let go. Shen Qianmo understood that her earlier refusal to marry had unsettled him. Years of illness and isolation had left Meng Yuanheng with a pronounced sense of insecurity. Yet, for the sake of his recovery, she had to harden her heart.

Patting his back gently, she spoke softly, “Ah Heng, every ten days, when it is time to draw Xiaoguai’s blood, I will come to the Prince Xuan’s manor to see you. Also, I will keep sending meals every day through He Qing. Remember, you must eat on time, understood?”

“Mm.” Meng Yuanheng knew that everything Qianmo did was for his sake, but he simply could not let her go. He felt as though he was poisoned, not by the cold toxin, but by something called “Shen Qianmo.” Having tasted her goodness, he could no longer forget or stop craving it.

The only thing he could do was to kiss her forehead, her eyes, her cheeks, her lips, again and again, as if trying to erase the faint unease in his heart.

By the time Shen Qianmo managed to soothe this insecure, clingy man-child and returned to the Duke’s manor, lamps were already being lit.

As she stepped into the Fenghe Courtyard, Xiaoguai’s white figure shot into her arms like an arrow. It lifted its head, two large eyes shimmering with emerald light, gazing at her moistly as it whimpered, clearly missing her.

She had indeed neglected it these past days, busy investigating cases, performing autopsies, and caring for Meng Yuanheng. Stroking the faint scar on its leg—the mark from the last bloodletting—she felt a pang of guilt, knowing there would be a dozen more such scars to come.

“Xiaoguai, you’ve had a hard time,” she murmured, smoothing its snowy fur, her heart aching for it.

But for Meng Yuanheng’s health, she had no choice but to let Xiaoguai endure a little hardship.

Xiaoguai whimpered and nuzzled her face, smothering her in kisses until she squirmed with laughter.

Green Bamboo and Blue Reed, hearing the commotion, came out from the inner room. Seeing Shen Qianmo, they greeted her with smiles.

“Miss, you’re finally back!” Green Bamboo exclaimed joyfully, taking her sleeve and beaming. “Miss, the Emperor rewarded you with so many silks, jewels, and ornaments—several whole chests full! I was dazzled just looking at them. You must come see!”

Blue Reed, equally delighted, nodded vigorously.

“You’re such a fuss-budget,” chided Nanny Xu, poking her head out with a smile. “Miss must be tired and hungry after such a long day. Go set the table, let her eat first.”

Shen Qianmo raised a brow at the chests piled in her room. The old Emperor was indeed generous, though she wondered whether he was truly rewarding her or trying to assuage his guilt toward Meng Yuanheng. Still, since the gifts had been bestowed, she would not refuse them. After all, the Emperor had already given her the only imperial pardon in the realm—these silks and jewels were trifles.

She selected a few things to gift to Nanny Xu, Green Bamboo, Blue Reed, and even the cleaning maids received some silver. She kept only a few useful items for herself, sending the plain jewelry to Jadefall Pavilion to be sold. She rarely wore gold or jade; to her, even the finest adornments were not as practical as a scalpel.

As for items bearing the imperial insignia, those could hardly be sold in the market, so she simply stored them away.

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After dinner, with hours left before nightfall, Shen Qianmo, as usual, had Blue Reed prepare tea and sat by the window to study the medical texts Old Master Duan had left her. With Sitongong’s guidance, she had already grasped the basics, so reading them now was no longer as difficult as before.

Noticing Green Bamboo hovering nearby with a hesitant look, she asked, “What is it, Green Bamboo? Is something on your mind?”

Green Bamboo, tongue-tied, finally relayed the news she’d gleaned from Rulan.

Rulan, a maid in the Cui household, was on good terms with Green Bamboo. According to her, Shen Qianxue had come to the manor in tears a few days ago, complaining to Lady Cui that Meng Yuncai had contracted a venereal disease.

Green Bamboo blushed as she spoke. At first, she hadn’t known what the illness was, but Nanny Xu explained it to her, and she was embarrassed to realize its nature.

Venereal disease? Shen Qianmo paused, recalling she’d seen mention of it in Old Master Duan’s texts. Flipping through the book, she found a detailed entry.

This so-called “venereal sore,” in modern terms, was a typical sexually transmitted disease—commonly known as syphilis. Wandering so often among the brothels, how could Meng Yuncai escape unscathed? This was the price of promiscuity.

Still, Meng Yuncai had frequented those places for years; with his experience, how had he been so careless? She suddenly recalled his recent inappropriate behavior toward her—could it be Meng Yuanheng’s doing behind the scenes?

Venereal disease was not incurable. In modern times, penicillin would do the trick, but here, she could not produce such a drug, nor was she an expert pharmacologist. However, Old Master Duan’s texts contained several remedies, including the Tianshui Detoxifying Pellet, reputed to be quite effective.

The disease was infectious; if Meng Yuncai had it, Shen Qianxue and his other concubines were likely to contract it as well.

No wonder Shen Qianxue was weeping.

But Shen Qianmo had no fondness for Meng Yuncai and would not volunteer her help—he was, after all, the heir of Prince Rong, with ample means to hire the best physicians.

Moreover, she had no time to concern herself with this, for the annual Qixi Festival was fast approaching.

Each year at Qixi, the palace hosted a grand banquet. The Emperor, Empress, concubines, princes, princesses, and all royal kin would attend, along with the families of high-ranking officials and nobility.

At the banquet, all unmarried women were required to perform a talent, and the unmarried men present would select the best performance. The winner was granted a wish by the Emperor.

Thus, the Qixi Palace Banquet was a major event for both the royal family and the noble families of the Da Sheng Dynasty.