Chapter 328

Chapter 329: The rough-hewn Tang Mo returned

Seeing that Madam Zhang was still thinking about personal gain at a time like this, Wei Liang Cai felt utterly drained.

He admonished her with weary pragmatism: “Stop thinking about it, and do not say anything from now on. You have seen it yourself. This marquis’s residence is not as simple as we imagined, and other great houses are more complicated still. I cannot rest easy leaving our two girls here. Do not let it come to where we have no help and only trouble.”

He truly could not trust Tang Rong; from now on, let any dealings remain distant.

Madam Zhang began to cry, grieving for the silver, grieving for the rich son-in-law who had never materialized, and feeling she had been deceived by Tang Rong. She choked out through tears: “Let us go. I do not want to stay.”

She admitted defeat. She was no match for Madam Wang and would not come to the marquis’s residence again.

She thought of herself as a dignified, well-regarded wife when accompanying her husband in office, yet here she lived under another’s roof, watching faces and still unable to outmaneuver anyone. The thought alone was suffocating.

As for Tang Rong, she thought bitterly, [he is useless].

With Madam Zhang no longer roaming all over the manor, both Xin An and Madam Wang felt vastly relieved. After several more busy days, the sky turned overcast, the wind cut like knives, and there was a sense that wind and rain were about to break. Xin An had just finished her business in the household and returned to Qiu Shi Courtyard when, immediately behind her, Tang Mo entered, travel-stained and battle-worn.

After only a few days apart, he had grown rough beyond recognition. Xin An froze, blinked, and teased with dismay: “I expected you would suffer, but I did not expect your face to collapse. Where has that earlier handsomeness gone?” [I cannot bring myself to kiss this face now. What am I to do?]

Tang Mo strode forward, pressing a hand dramatically to his chest, and complained with mock injury: “I hurried back because I worried you might be at a disadvantage, yet the first thing that greets me upon entering is your disdain. Where is your conscience?”

The wind and snow had been merciless; the moisture in his cheeks had been stripped away. Not only were they rough and cracked, his lips had split open, two beads of blood welling up. He looked like a man-eating monster blown in from outside.

Xin An shook her head and sighed, her voice softening: “You are too pitiful.”

Cui Ping took one look and immediately ordered water to be heated. Chun Yang and Chun Lv were likewise startled by Tang Mo’s appearance and were already wondering whether to prepare a beauty-nourishing porridge for the second young master. It truly had not been easy.

Indoors, Xin An circled him once and asked, attentive: “Are you unhurt?”

Tang Mo felt a little nervous. He knew he must look terrible, yet Xin An’s attitude still “hurt” him. He pointed to his mouth and asked like a child seeking pity: “Does a wounded mouth count?” The blood had already crusted into scabs again, making him look even more pitiful.

Xin An suppressed a laugh and replied, half coaxing, half chiding: “It counts. Before you left you were a handsome young lord. How did you come back like this, as if a monster had sucked you dry?”

Tang Mo swiftly drew her into his arms and declared with playful certainty: “It must have been you, you monster. I did not notice before I left, and only after a few days did the effects show.” He lowered his voice in mock menace: “You truly are a formidable demoness. Once I have recovered, I will see to you properly.”

Xin An finally could not hold back and laughed, brushing his coarse cheek with her fingertips, then winced at the rasp: “You are rough enough to scrape my hand. This demoness cannot bring her lips down. What should we do? Shall we nurse you back first and wait until your skin is tender again before I bite?”

He grinned and leaned in, lips scabbed and puckered, aiming for a kiss, and said with shameless cheer: “It does not matter. So long as you, demoness, remain tender, that is enough.” Xin An bent backward at once and begged for quarter with a smile: “Spare me, good sir.”

Before Tang Mo could land the kiss, Chun Yang arrived and rescued Xin An by announcing that Tang Gang had sent someone to summon Tang Mo to speak with him.

Xin An’s eyes turned, and she tousled Tang Mo’s already slightly messy hair until it was truly disheveled, instructing with a strategist’s air: “Go play up your misery. The hot water will take a while yet. Time it right and come back without delay.”

Tang Mo kept an arm around her waist, unwilling to let go. Xin An leaned farther back and protested between laughter and scolding: “I truly cannot endure that saw-like mouth of yours.”

“You heartless woman,” he groaned, half laughing, “can you not at least disguise your disdain?”

Xin An slipped out a teasing answer, slick as a tongue’s stumble but bright with affection: “I treat you with absolute candor. Why would I disguise anything?”

His gaze dipped, a wicked smile tugging at his mouth, and he murmured suggestively: “Indeed, we should be absolutely candid.” Xin An punched him once, thinking with exasperated amusement, [this bastard, already wandering into improper thoughts again].

He relented and promised briskly: “Wait for me. I will be right back.”

Watching him leave in a rush, Xin An allowed herself a small smile. Chun Yang came in with a grin and teased: “Young mistress, do not smile so much. You must be reserved.” Xin An feigned innocence and asked, airy and unconvinced: “Was I smiling?” Chun Yang replied, brimming with mirth: “Smiling very happily.” She nearly laughed out loud herself. Xin An would not believe it and insisted, perfectly proper: “You must be imagining things.” Chun Yang, snickering, changed out the tea and declared with a straight face: “Our young mistress is the very picture of reserve. She did not smile at all just now.” She spoke with convincing seriousness, then turned away and grinned wider than anyone.

In his disheveled state, Tang Mo reached the front courtyard. The moment Madam Wang saw him, her eyes reddened. Tang Gang’s brows drew together. He had planned to reprimand Tang Mo for not coming to greet his elders first and only knowing to run back to his own small courtyard. [Is your wife really that fragrant?] But seeing his sorry appearance, he let it pass and simply said: “Come in and speak.”

Tang Mo entered, paid his respects to the two elders, and asked with unforced frankness: “Father, what is so urgent? I had meant to tidy up a little before coming to pay my respects to you and Mother.” He added with gentle humor, glancing at his mother’s eyes: “It should not be serious enough to make Mother cry.”

There was reproach in that look. Tang Gang took a slow breath. The pleasant days of the last few had ended, and the familiar feeling of being driven to rage returned. He then asked for an account of what Tang Mo had seen and heard on his journey.

Tang Mo did not conceal anything. He summarized the situation and emphasized the assassination attempt: “At first I thought the target was Commander Liao, but Commander Liao was certain they came for me. If they were aiming for him, they would have been masters, not wandering swordsmen who can be hired with silver.” He ended with a direct request: “I do not know whom I have offended. Father, please help me investigate.”

[If Tang Rong wanted to make a move, then let the old man investigate personally. If Father uncovers the real culprit, we will see how he plans to cover it up.]

Madam Wang, alarmed, asked at once: “Did you offend someone on the assignment? Last time you and your Father returned, your Father was injured. Was it the same group of people?” Her protective instincts surged and she declared flatly: “This assignment cannot continue.”

In a mother’s eyes, nothing is more important than her son’s safety.

Tang Gang frowned deeper, then stated that he would certainly catch the mastermind, but he insisted with a leader’s firmness: “The assignment must still be carried out. There is no task without danger. Be more careful yourself. If you do not have enough men, I will assign two more to follow you.”

Tang Mo felt that very necessary. [Barring accidents, he had no intention of taking another clandestine shot at Tang Rong for the time being, and he did not mind a couple more pairs of eyes on him.]

How could Madam Wang be at ease? Tang Mo comforted her for a long while. Tang Gang even remarked that a loving mother ruins a son, to which Madam Wang turned her head and snapped back without missing a beat: “You are no better.”

“Ow, ow, ow.” With his face weather-beaten, Tang Mo sank into the bath. The moment the hot compress touched his cheeks, the sting made him bare his teeth; beads of blood welled anew along his split lips.

Xin An stood by, eyes on him, and instructed with brisk tenderness: “Keep the compress on. There is a skin-nourishing salve I mixed for you outside. When you come out, apply another layer. Even if you have not suffered before, I dare say Commander Liao is not as bad as you are now.”

“Can I compare with him?” he muttered. Once the sting passed, comfort seeped in. He peeled the cloth from his face and groused with comical self-pity: “He is thick-skinned. This bit of wind and snow is nothing to him. I am not the same.” [He does care deeply about his face. After all, this heartless one judges by looks.]

He added, grateful beneath the tease: “If you had not prepared everything for me, galloping back alongside him would have broken my legs.” Then, casual but anxious, he asked: “While I was away, nothing happened, did it?” [He was afraid this heartless one had met with trouble. That is how spineless he is.]