Chapter 127: Man Not Equal to Tiger

The next day Shen Miao received an invitation—not from a friend but from Qin's Princess Ming'an, asking her to call at the mansion on Yanqing Lane.
The gate servant brought it in; Guyu handed it to Shen Miao. At first they thought Feng Ning'an had invited her out—opening it, they found Ming'an's seal.
Jingzhe worried. "Could it be fake? Why would Ming'an invite you? You barely know her—someone impersonating?"
Guyu shook her head. "There's the princess's seal—it should be real." She looked at Shen Miao. "At tribute she lost face because of you—she may want revenge. Better decline—if she plots something terrible—"
Jingzhe nodded fast. "Yes—tell Master and Madam—let them decide."
Shen Miao thought, shook her head. "Don't tell them. With their temper they'd use force. Qin and Ming Qi are already tense—if it's only me and the princess, fine—but drag in my parents and court affairs—make things worse."
"Without telling them—" Jingzhe asked—"will you accept?"
She did not want Shen Miao alone with a hostile princess on foreign ground—if harm came, too late to save.
"No matter." Shen Miao said. "She invited me—the note is in my hands—if something happens to me at her house, she cannot escape blame—Qin crown prince would stop her. She won't dare real harm—petty tricks only—I don't fear."
"But—" Guyu still worried.
"Enough. Two days from now I go—tell no outsider. Mo Qing will follow. Keep the note here—if worst happens, Bai Lu and Shuangjiang take it to my eldest brother."
They agreed unwillingly—ten thousand refusals in their hearts, no choice.
The same day, at the outermost mansion on Yanqing Lane where Qin royalty lodged, Ming'an received the reply. She opened it—anger flared—slammed the note on the table. "Bold enough!"
"What's wrong now?" A man entered behind her, frowning at her face.
Ming'an stood, walked over, handed him the note, coquettish. "Crown Prince brother—look at Shen Miao—I sent an invitation and she answered—agreed to come. She truly fears nothing!"
"You sent it—if she refused, you'd call her bold. She accepted and you're angry—don't be unreasonable." Huangfu Hao knew her temper—he poured cold water, not comfort.
"Crown Prince brother!" Ming'an stamped. "Are you helping me or her? At tribute she shamed me—made me bite the apple—clearly humiliation—Qin lost face. You won't help Qin recover honor—you blame me—what logic is that! Back in Qin before Father—even that won't hold!"
Huangfu Hao looked coldly at Ming'an—remembering tribute, his face darkened. Her story was not wholly true—she had proposed the archery match. Yet Shen Miao's apple trick had been aggressive—her light words carried mockery. He was unsure if deliberate—but news in Qin would bring the emperor's rebuke. He always found Shen Miao odd—that bow others needed days to learn, she handled as if she had drawn it a thousand times. Sometimes when she glanced over, faint hostility showed.
Qin and Ming Qi were not enemies yet—why hostility toward him and Ming'an? They had never met—only because Ming'an troubled her? Her vengeance ran deep.
Seeing him silent, thinking, Ming'an's eyes widened. "Brother—you're not bewitched? What good is that little wretch! Don't forget—before this she obsessed over Prince Ding—the whole realm knew—rough as sackcloth. That calm ease—someone coached her behind—don't lose your mind!"
Huangfu Hao waved impatiently. "Where are you going. You—Father's orders in Qin—don't forget. Do what you want to Shen Miao—I don't care—but not in this mansion. Elsewhere as you like—just leave no handle. One Shen Miao is nothing—Wenhui now relies on Shen Xin—touch Shen Miao and Shen Xin turns—alliance with Ming Qi ends. Think of the big picture."
Ming'an took the lecture—surface eased—look closer, rage burned brighter. She smiled. "Rest easy, brother. I won't bring trouble on us. I invite her to see what sort she is. If I strike—I won't do it in Qin's name. Remember childhood—we loved watching dogs fight dogs. Ming Qi has many dogs—find one to work for us—not hard."
Huangfu Hao smiled too. "You have sense—that's enough."
……
Darkness gathered over Shen Residence. In the old West Court, small lamps lit—Chen Ruoqiu and Chang Zaiqing talked.
Chen smiled. "Poetry on this handkerchief—so lovely. Miss Qing's verse—even academy ladies cannot match. I never knew what 'clever hands and heart' meant—seeing you, I understand completely."
Zaiqing smiled modestly. "Madam flatters. I can help little here—eating and lodging free weighs on me—so I embroider handkerchiefs—not worth much—hope Madam won't despise."
"Never." Chen folded the piece carefully into her sleeve. "Such treasure—I must hide it. Else Yue girl sees and wheedles it away—whatever she likes in my room she must have. This work is too fine—I can't bear to give it."
Zaiqing laughed. "Glad Madam likes—if Second Miss wants one, I'll embroider another."
"That would be kind—" Chen smiled—"then I won't fear Yue stealing my favorite." She looked at Zaiqing. "Speaking of what I said before—how have you considered?"
Earlier in chat Chen had raised Shen Xin's matter. Zaiqing had met everyone in Shen house except the moved-out first branch. Chen proposed—as Old General Shen's comrade's daughter, Chang Hu having saved the general, Shen Xin would not reject Zaiqing. As eldest son of the old general, by reason Zaiqing ought to pay a visit.
Hearing this, Zaiqing hesitated, smiled, shook her head. "I already trouble Madam—how dare disturb General Shen. I came to Ding only to escape that official's son—when it passes I leave. Better General Shen not know."
"I said you're too polite." Chen feigned anger. "Chang and Shen are one family—what intrusion. I heard when you were young my brother saw you—you're his sister—how would he mind. If you stay in Ding and don't visit, he'll be angry when he learns."
Zaiqing silent—Chen patted her hand. "Besides—for hiding from Liuzhou people—brother's place is easier. Many soldiers, tight guard—even if they chase to Ding, they won't act rashly for brother's sake. I treat you as family—I'll tell you plainly—brother's house is where you are truly safe."
At Liuzhou, Zaiqing's color shifted—wavering again. Chen said: "Miss Qing—go to elder brother's as guest—what worry?"
"Third Madam doesn't know—" Zaiqing forced a smile. "So many years—whether General Shen remembers me is unknown. And Madam Shen, Fifth Miss, Eldest Young Master—a stranger lodging—much disturbance."
"Rest easy on that." Chen laughed. "My sister-in-law has the best temper—heroine from martial house—straight, frank, no schemes, kind—hearing your story she'll pity you. Brother has no other women—sister-in-law lacks someone to talk to—seeing you she'll be good. Brother's son and Fifth Miss are sensible—no quarrel with you."
Seeing Zaiqing waver, Chen smiled. "So—if you agree I'll have someone write an invitation in your name—not from Shen mansion—no misunderstanding. Visit brother once—see his attitude—if unsuitable, don't go again."
Zaiqing thought long, nodded as if decided, grateful smile. "Third Madam thinks of everything for me—I thank you."
"You grow more polite." Chen stood. "Late—I won't disturb your rest. Tomorrow I'll send the note—you need do nothing—such a clear clever soul—no one dislikes—brother and sister-in-law may be glad for another sister."
Zaiqing demurred again. After Chen left, Nurse Zhao cleared the table—had heard all. "Miss—why did Third Madam Shen raise General Shen—drive Miss from the house?"
Zaiqing sneered. "I didn't know what she wanted—now I do. Her abacus clicks well—she means to use me against someone."
Zhao startled. "Miss—what does she want?"
Zaiqing sat, face unreadable. She was no fool—Chen's hints were clear. Only Shen Xin can shelter you—live in his house forever, Liuzhou people cannot touch you. Luo Xueyan is martial, frank, no schemes—meaning Luo is stupid, easy to handle. Shen Xin's rear court lacks women—more obvious—if Zaiqing enters, besides a not-so-clever Luo, no worry.
She said: "Since she values me so—I should see what's really there."
"Miss will go to General Shen's?" Zhao blinked. "Knowing her bad intent—you still go?"
"Used well—it's not bad intent." Zaiqing waved. "Shen house isn't long-term—I must plan my future. No matter—just look—if wrong I won't jump in."
"If—" Zhao studied her.
"If it's not bad—" Zaiqing smiled faintly. "Third Madam suits my heart after all."
……
Night spread over Ding—every house lit lamps—prosperous glow. Besides the palace, the liveliest stretch was south city—wine shops, song and dance, laughter, zither and harp woven—strangely moving.
At Prince Rui Manor lamps were finer—gold thread on lantern rims—night glitter—passersby coveted, wanted to steal one and sell the thread—seeing grim guards at the gate, they tucked thief's courage and slipped away.
That was Great Liang Prince Rui's property—who dared steal?
Inside was quiet—as if empty. At the far end—a great courtyard, an exquisite pavilion by clear pond—water jade-green, moon alluring. In summer lotus breeze—now near early winter—sitting in the pavilion brought chill.
A man sat there—flowing gold-purple robes nearly covering the bench. Handsome youth—in gentle moonlight daily martial air softened—fine features mild. Head bowed—teasing the cub in his arms.
Forced against his chest, uncomfortable—the cub twisted, tried to bite the hand scratching its head—neck too short or hold too firm—failed again and again—yet undaunted, kept chewing his purple sleeve.
Xie Jingxing pulled his sleeve free—stared at the saliva-soaked patch—then flicked the cub's head. Soft "awoo"—at last it turned, claws playing on his fingers.
From the thicket two heads popped. Nightingale stared at man and tiger, disbelieving. Xie Jingxing had severe fastidiousness—disliked animals—even close people must not touch his things—now a beast smeared his sleeve and he was calm. "Has Master gone mad—holding a tiger all day—meals, sleep, even bath today—will he take it back to Liang as Princess Rui?" No answer—she turned. "Huolong—say something."
Huolong cupped her face, watching the pavilion. "Master is so good to that cub—look how gentle his eyes are. Such grace—if I were her I'd rather be a tiger—sleep and bathe with Master." She said it plainly, no shame—sighed, shook head. "Pity—man not equal to tiger."
"You're possessed." Nightingale scorned her.
In the pavilion Xie Jingxing pressed the cub's head nearly into his chest—it struggled—flopped to his neck—licked his face.
"You stole a kiss." He laughed low, lifted it by the scruff, watched it kick midair, raised a brow. "People and tigers—the same breed."
The cub clawed the air. He kissed its head. "Good."
Nightingale flattened forward. "Master's mad."
"I'll kill that tiger." Huolong bristled with murder.
Tieyi appeared in the pavilion. Xie Jingxing set the cub back in his arms. "What is it?"
"Reporting, Master—today Princess Ming'an sent Fifth Miss Shen an invitation."
"Oh?" His finger on the cub paused.
"Ming'an invites her to the mansion for a visit. Fifth Miss accepted—for two days hence." Tieyi bowed.
"Understood." Xie Jingxing waved. Tieyi glanced at the cub in his arms—mouth twitched—vanished into night.
"Bold enough." He put a finger in the cub's mouth—it had eaten, slept, bathed with him—familiar now—gnawed without biting, only played.
"Go?" he asked the white cub.
"Awwo"—eyes bright on him.
"Want to?" He raised a brow. "As you say."
……
Two days passed.
That morning Shen Miao rose early. Jingzhe and Guyu dressed her—winter came early and cold in Ming Qi—rain had dampened heavier clothes—Guyu found a cloak at the bottom of a trunk. "This one's dry—thick—but today is bitter cold—won't look odd."
Shen Miao looked at the cloak in Guyu's hands—snow white, fox fur top to bottom, rare white fox, not one stray hair—even after years, bright as new—fine peltry.
Two years ago when she left Ding with Shen Xin, staying at a farmhouse, the next morning this cloak had appeared mysteriously. The farmers had no such thing—she did not know its origin—planned to pawn it—Shen Qiu forbade—white fox worth a fortune—keep it.
It did not fit—too large—pressed under the trunk, never worn—Guyu's find almost made her forget.
She stared—remembered. Xie Jingxing had climbed into her room at night—said they had met at that farmhouse two years ago—she was drunk and remembered nothing. This cloak must be his. That night was blank except his nonsense—her face warmed.
Jingzhe and Guyu saw her unease, exchanged glances. Jingzhe said: "Miss?"
She recovered, looked at the cloak, irritable. "Find a time—pawn it."
"But Eldest Young Master said the fur is precious—don't pawn?" Guyu puzzled.
"Precious or not I don't want it—pack it—send to Fengxian pawnshop. Master Ji loves treasures—he'll be 'pleased.'"
They dared not argue—shrugged—found another cloak, lilac brocade with rabbit trim. After grooming she left on a pretext. Luo Tan was easy to satisfy—Shen Xin at the Ministry until evening—without old Shen spies, much freedom.
Mo Qing drove again—now Shen Qiu's man, yet often Shen Miao's errands—she often told him not to report to others. He seemed more her confidant—used to it when she called him out.
Today even Mo Qing was startled—Qin crown prince's mansion. Her tribute deeds had spread through Ding—he knew. Ming'an meant harm—he worried—she looked confident—he held his tongue.
At the Qin mansion gate guards saw her note—made her wait outside—would report to their master—and never returned.
Long wait. Jingzhe could not bear it. "Half an hour—still no word? Clearly the Qin princess is tormenting you. Even with a brazier in the carriage—outside is freezing—if you fall ill—what will she say?"
Guyu: "Too much—she invited you—leaving you at the gate?"
Guests with invitations were usually received inside—even royalty had limits—not half an hour cold with no courtesy.
Mo Qing: "Miss—shall we go back?"
She shook her head. "Since we came—we wait. Face must be kept—we cannot let etiquette fall on their side."
In Qin, Ming'an loved this game—deep winter, early morning, "chat" in the icy garden—hours—sometimes all day—then a maid: "Something came up—can't come." A wasted day. Same shallow tricks—last life she endured—this life, half an hour was nothing.
Inside, Ming'an sat by a brazier of silver-thread charcoal, sipped tea, pleased.
She asked the servant outside: "Has that wretch left?"
"Reporting, Highness—Fifth Miss Shen's carriage is still at the gate—has not left."
Displeasure flashed. "Such patience." She had hoped pride would send her home in rage—then a pretext for disrespect.
Unexpected composure—she smiled. "Waited so long—patience must be thin—a new method is fine. Someone—bring Shen Miao in."