The Imperial Envoy had decreed, "On this journey to Lindong, the priority is caution and steadiness, so there is no need to rush."
Indeed, after leaving the capital, the convoy had been traveling for only a few hours. The sky was still bright when they reached the first post station, and An Sheng ordered the group to stop and rest there for the night.
The stationmaster and attendants at this post station had already made all preparations, waiting in strict readiness. Upon hearing that the Imperial Envoy would be staying here, they redoubled their efforts, meticulously attending to every detail, terrified of incurring his displeasure.
When the accompanying officials had all alighted from their carriages and were standing by, only then was the curtain of the carriage designated for the Imperial Envoy himself drawn aside.
An Sheng, dressed in his official robes, emerged. His thin lips were tightly pressed, the corners slightly turned down, his face a mask of gloom. His narrow eyes were half-squinted, their gaze carrying an unfathomable chill, deep and mysterious. As his sharp eyes swept over the assembled company, an inevitable sense of dread and unease washed over them.
The scene fell into dead silence.
An Sheng stepped down from the carriage and stood before the crowd. Seeing them all staring at him expectantly, his irritation flared. He lifted his chin high, his expression one of pure impatience. Raising an eyebrow, he gave a cold snort, his voice dripping with sarcasm, at a moderate volume: "What? Just because we're stopping at a post station, you're all waiting for me to say a few words and arrange things for you? The court keeps you all on the payroll for nothing! Are you all dead and idle? What are you standing around for? Get on with your business, now!"
The crowd: ...
Then one quick-witted official stepped forward to flatter him: "Lord An is right. Everyone, stop standing around like fools. I will go into the station immediately to arrange lodging and meals for the staff."
An Sheng shot him a venomous sideways glance: "Then get lost!"
The crowd promptly scattered.
Only the trembling stationmaster and a few officials of notable rank remained, along with An Sheng's trusted aides. The others could leave, but they neither could nor dared to.
At that moment, Zhou Yujun, looking woeful, couldn't help muttering quietly to the grim-faced Tan Yanzhi and Pang Xiangzhen: "No wonder they say Commander An of the Eastern Factory is vicious, capricious, and unpredictable. Just the way he talks is harsh enough. Sure enough..."
Before he could finish, An Sheng, with his sharp ears, shot him a fierce glare. Zhou Yujun immediately fell silent, baring his teeth at An Sheng in a perfectly stereotyped smile.
An Sheng gave another cold snort, then turned around and extended his hand toward the carriage curtain. His voice, which had been frigid a moment before, softened as he said gently, "My lady, come down."
Everyone saw a slender, fair hand emerge from behind the curtain. Then the hand drew the curtain aside, revealing a woman in a pink blouse and long skirt, with a delicate, charming face and a slender figure.
The woman naturally placed her hand in the Imperial Envoy's, and he helped her step down from the carriage. She looked around at her surroundings.
Perhaps the stares from the few nearby were too obvious, but the woman showed no timidity. She met their gazes, nodding and smiling lightly. Then she looked up, apparently at the sun, and turned to the Imperial Envoy. Her voice, crisp and soft like a young girl's, carried over.
"Husband, the sun hasn't even set yet. Why aren't we moving on?"
A Mei had unknowingly voiced the question everyone dared to think but not ask.
At these words, even Tan Yanzhi, who usually kept a blank expression, couldn't help but look at A Mei.
From A Mei’s perspective, she saw the corners of An Sheng's mouth slowly turn up into a defiant smirk. His glance flickered venomously over the bystanders, but when his gaze landed on A Mei's face, it suddenly softened. Still, a hint of chill was hard to conceal as he said, "I said we're not moving. That's it. It's my whim, and there's no reason beyond that."
A Mei blinked and instinctively said, "Oh." Then she looked down at her feet, frowned, and muttered, "Oh no, they're dirty."
An Sheng followed her gaze down to the traces of mud on the shoe of her left foot. Then, with narrowed eyes, he traced the path from her feet to the station's entrance road, his expression turning grim.
Perhaps because An Sheng's air was too ominous, the stationmaster felt his heart drop. He wailed inwardly, Oh my god! This—this dirt road can't avoid mud and sand! Is this Imperial Envoy's wife really this fussy?
He actually had A Mei all wrong. A Mei wasn't usually this delicate or particular about cleanliness. She just happened to be wearing a brand-new pair of shoes today and had casually mentioned it to her husband.
Trembling, the stationmaster stepped forward, intending to apologize and call for the ground to be carefully swept.
But just as he raised his hands in salute and opened his mouth, accompanied by a small, surprised yelp from the envoy’s wife, the Imperial Envoy bent down and, in a swift motion, swept her up into his arms. Under the astonished gaze of the crowd, he held her close.
Then, his cold, deep gaze casually settled on the stationmaster. The corner of An Sheng's mouth twitched as he said, "Lead the way."
The stationmaster swallowed hard and scurried ahead to guide the way, as obsequious as a lapdog.
A Mei, suddenly lifted up, was momentarily startled and instinctively wrapped her arms around An Sheng's neck. Thinking of how many people were watching, she gave him a playful scolding glare. But then, realizing that her husband must have acted because he heard her mutter about her shoes getting dirty,... A Mei felt a rush of sweetness and secret joy bubbling up in her heart.
An Sheng looked down at her shy, pleased little expression. He deliberately gave her a gentle toss, tightening his arms. The arms around his neck gripped tighter still. A momentarily uncontrollable grin spread across his face as he strode steadily forward. "My lady, rest assured, like this, you won't step on any mud."
Wu Da and Xiao Zhengzi, An Sheng's trusted followers, fell into step behind them, looking as usual—utterly unperturbed and matter-of-fact.
When An Sheng’s figure had finally disappeared from sight, Zhou Yujun of the Ministry of Rites rubbed his eyes. He looked left at Tan Yanzhi, then right at Pang Xiangzhen, and finally broke the silence, speaking just loudly enough for the three of them to hear.
"So that's Madam An! My father once told me that a eunuch like Commander An of the Eastern Factory was actually henpecked. I thought it was a great joke back then. But as it turns out, he's quite..."
Tan Yanzhi abruptly stiffened his face and said severely, "Yujun, temper your words!"
Zhou Yujun immediately shut his mouth, glancing around guiltily as he agreed, "Alright, alright, I know."
But he couldn't stay quiet for more than two breaths. He couldn't help but ask, "Tell me—Commander An is a eunuch, and he married such a young girl. Huh, that's a curious thing. I'm really dying to know."
Tan Yanzhi frowned: "Know what?"
Zhou Yujun adopted a lazy, flippant air. "Why, about how their married life works, of course!"
His eyes lit up with gossipy enthusiasm, and he blurted out indiscreetly, "Especially since Commander An, as a eunuch, lacks the equipment down there. How do they manage to sleep together?"
"And do eunuchs even have such needs? How would they go about it?"
Tan Yanzhi was exasperated. "Zhou Yujun! Watch your tongue!"
