Work Text:
Qi Shu shook her head. “That fox! That rogue! ‘Yan Zheng’, indeed. What does he think he’s doing?”
“A very good question,” said Jianjia. “The Marquis cannot really have married Mrs Fan, can he?”
“Did you see the besotted look on his face, when he looked at Mrs Fan? Entirely bereft of any sense,” said Qi Shu. “Consider also, Mrs Fan’s lack of guile. If she says that they married properly, with a formal ceremony, I don’t think she’s making it up.”
“Foolish girl,” said Jianjia.
“No, no,” said Qi Shu. “Mrs Fan is not stupid. She’s just the most honest person I have ever met in my life. The Marquis is going to be in big trouble when she finds out that he has concealed his real identity.”
As they walked through the camp, she heard Xie Qi saying to one of the other generals, “No, Advisor Gongsun confirmed that they really did—” He broke off as he saw Qi Shu. “Shh. Come over here.”
Qi Shu wasn’t going to get anything out of Xie Zheng’s men, that was clear. But what about Fan Changyu’s men? She had never imagined that such insolent men could exist, until she’d tried to scale the mountain. On the other hand, they were brave and devoted to Mrs Fan, and most importantly of all, she doubted that they had the capacity to dissemble.
She and Jianjia wandered around, pretending to be on errands, until they found the Northwestern Pig Butchering Squad making their swaggering way down the camp concourse.
Qi Shu waved her arms and said as loudly as she dared, “Northwestern Pig Butchering Squad! Hello! How are you?”
The four men came over. “Oh,” said the lead man, Jin Yuanbao, looking her up and down in a speculative way, as if he were imagining what she looked like under her clothes. “It’s the Royal Physician. Recovered from the Boss throwing you up the mountain yet?”
“Mostly,” Qi Shu said, as Jianjia eyed Jin Yuanbao with disapproval. “I thought I should tell you the good news! Mrs Fan has found her husband, among the wounded. Don’t tell her I told you—let her surprise you—but it’s lovely, isn’t it?”
“Is the matrilocal husband m-m-missing a leg, Miss?” said Man Wu.
Qi Shu stared at him in surprise. “No. No, he is not missing a leg. Yan Zheng is only lightly wounded.” Then her brain caught up and she said, “This Yan Zheng, he really became Mrs Fan’s matrilocal husband? In a public ceremony?”
The men nodded. “Oh, absolutely,” said the plump Pig Butcher, Man Cang. “They say that pretentious scholar Song Yan tried to ruin the wedding ceremony—if we’d have been there, we’d have beaten him to a pulp—but Older Sister threw him out anyway. He wasn’t ever worth of her.”
The plot thickened. Qi Shu sensed an opportunity to press. “So… do you know how Mrs Fan met Yan Zheng?” She clasped her hands to her breast. “I’m both fascinated and moved by her devotion.”
“Older Sister found Yan Zheng in the snow and saved his life, after bandits attacked him. He was like, this t-t-totally hopeless refugee with no money or papers, almost dead, and his leg was total sh-sh-shit…” said Man Wu.
Jianjia clicked her tongue.
“Don’t worry about it,” said Qi Shu, gesturing, and feeling annoyed with Jianjia for cutting off this flow of information. “I’ve heard worse.”
“That bastard Yan Zheng still beat us up with his crutch, even when he was half dead,” said Jin Yuanbao. “This was why I told Boss Fan that he wouldn’t die easily. I told her, didn’t I, boys?”
“You did, Older Brother Jin, you did,” the other men chorused behind him.
“Unusual for a man to become a matrilocal husband, these days,” said Qi Shu, invitingly.
“It’s kind of our fault,” said the youngest, skinniest Pig Butcher, Man Di, very shyly. “Older Sister’s uncle pledged her house to the gambling den, and we got told to take the title deed to satisfy his debt, so then Older Sister asked Yan Zheng to be her matrilocal husband, so she could tell her uncle to get lost in the magistrate’s court.”
“Bit pathetic for a man to agree to become a matrilocal husband, no matter how desperate the situation was, Miss Royal Physician,” said Jin Yuanbao. “Still, Boss Fan dotes on that matrilocal husband—won’t let anyone touch a hair on his head—and so we’ll tolerate him.”
“I just want to check that we’re talking about the same person here,” said Qi Shu. “Very tall and thin, handsome face, almond shaped eyes, mole beside his nose, doesn’t smile much?”
“Yeah. Yan Zheng doesn’t s-s-smile much, except when Older Sister is around,” said Man Wu. “Now there’s a man who’s led around by his—” He squawked as Jin Yuanbao hit him.
“Remember, the Royal Physician is a lady,” said Jin Yuanbao, sternly. “Boss Fan is the best, bravest and prettiest woman I ever met, begging your pardon, Miss Royal Physician. Can’t criticise Yan Zheng for wanting to do anything for her: he’s hardly alone.”
“S-s-sorry, Older Brother Jin,” said Man Wu.
“How lovely that they are reunited then,” murmured Qi Shu. “Thanks for explaining that to me. I’ll take my leave now.”
“Wotcha, Miss Royal Physician,” said Jin Yuanbao. “We’ll go get some wine for Boss Fan, so’s we can all celebrate.”
They went swaggering off, as Qi Shu watched them.
“How improper,” said Jianjia.
“We’re incognito,” said Qi Shu. “Anyway, by letting them speak, we got much more information out of them. This is so fascinating. It looks like Xie Zheng actually did marry Fan Chengyu as a matrilocal husband, in her local village.” Then it hit her. “Yan Zheng! That’s Xie Zheng’s name without the radicals, just the central characters! That’s clever.”
“But even his Imperial Majesty could not force the Marquis into a matrilocal marriage,” said Jianjia. “This is scandalous.”
“Xie Zheng has finally fallen for someone, after all those years of moping around unhappily, saying that he wasn’t interested in marriage,” said Qi Shu, with pleasure. “And it turns out that she’s not only a commoner, but a pig butcher, and he’s prepared to become a matrilocal husband for her! Of all the glorious things!”
“Prime Minister Wei will not be happy,” said Jianjia.
“Extremely unhappy, I’d guess,” said Qi Shu. “We’d better keep this marriage under wraps, and most particularly, we must wait until Xie Zheng builds up the courage to tell his wife who he really is.”
“But how can Mrs Fan not realise?” said Jianjia. “Surely, she noticed the Marquis’s poise, his address, his education…”
Qi Shu sighed. “Jianjia, we’re talking about a woman who honestly believes that my name is Qi Bengong—and constantly calls me Miss Overburdened! She wouldn’t recognise courtly language, poise or address if it hit her on the head. I’m not even sure that she’s literate—there’s an interesting question. I don’t mean this as a criticism, simply as an observation.”
“They might divorce,” said Jianjia. “The Marquis is the opposite.”
“There’s about as much chance of that as there is that I will turn into a fish,” said Qi Shu. “My guess is that Xie Zheng will defy the entire court, rather than divorce his wife. In fact, the greater risk is that Mrs Fan might try to divorce him when she finds out who he is—she’s very proud, and fiercely honest—but I don’t think he’ll agree.”
That evening, Xie Zheng suddenly appeared in her tent. “Um, your Royal Highness, I have to ask you a favour.”
Qi Shu eyed him. “You don’t want me to tell your good wife who you really are? Xie Zheng, Xie Zheng. You crafty devil. It turns out that I don’t know you at all!”
“I’ll tell Changyu who I really am!” said Xie Zheng, looking sheepish. “It’s just—I have to find the right moment.”
“There will never be a right moment,” said Qi Shu. “Personally, I’d do it quickly: the faster you do it, the more time you have for her to calm down.”
Xie Zheng looked utterly woebegone. “You think Changyu’s going to be angry?”
“Furious,” said Qi Shu. “And the longer you leave it, the worse it will get. You did not seriously become her matrilocal husband, did you?”
Xie Zheng didn’t answer.
“That’s a yes, then,” said Qi Shu. “It gives me utmost joy to know that even the glorious Marquis of Wu’an can lose his head entirely over someone.”
“About Gongsun—” said Xie Zheng.
“Get out! Don’t mention him to me,” said Qi Shu. “Sort out your own mess first, Xie Zheng.”
“Yes, your Highness,” said Xie Zheng.