The Princess’ Shadow Guard – Chapter 1

The Intruder in the High Tower

Shouts, gasps, and the panicked shuffle of someone being shoved up the stairs.

“Your Highness!”

            

A maidservant anxiously reported through the door, “Some officers are here! They say a wanted fugitive has escaped and they want to come up and search.”

A tea needle¹ tapped slowly against the window frame, the sound grating on the ears.

“They’re from the Capital Prefecture²…” the maidservant explained, terrified the woman inside would erupt in anger.

            

“Mm,” came a soft, rather listless hum.

The iron chains were unwound, loop by loop, their clanking failing to drown out the clamor from outside.

The moment the lock hit the floor, the impatient officers rudely shoved the door open. A clatter of armor and boots followed as four or five men filed in. They offered a perfunctory bow toward the screen, and without waiting for a response, began to rummage through chests and cabinets.

            

Besides the rows upon rows of books and journals lining the shelves, the walls were hung with all manner of landscape paintings and calligraphy. On the vanity sat several boxes of jewelry and gold hairpins, and a silk robe was tossed carelessly aside. Even the most ignorant officer could tell that every single item was extraordinary, and the more they searched, the more unnerved they became.

Wasn’t she supposed to be a crippled Commandery Princess³ imprisoned in the Capital, a mere hostage to keep the Prince of Yu in check? Yet here she was, surrounded by such wealth, a far cry from the rumored image of a princess abandoned by the imperial family.

Never mind a fugitive; after their ostentatious search, they hadn’t found so much as a chicken feather. Thinking of their earlier insolence, the men all felt a flush of shame.

            

The maidservant moved the screen aside. The lead officer, his confidence gone, bowed low and clasped his hands, raising his head with a deferential expression. “Your Highness, please don’t take offense. This fugitive is extremely cunning. This subordinate⁴ was merely worried he might have climbed up to the Cangyue Tower and disturbed you, which is why we came up to check.”

The woman reclining on the daybed had her back to the window. She had remained utterly unresponsive to the noise the men had created, but now, she finally lifted her eyes.

She leaned against a tea table, toying with a tea set. It was not yet late autumn, but a thick fox-fur robe was already draped over her from the waist down.

            

Her gaunt, hollowed cheeks were free of heavy makeup. Only her elegant lips were painted with a lip rouge⁵ so dark it was nearly black, making her skin appear even more like snow.

A few silver strands threaded through her ink-black hair, which was loosely pinned up with a single gold hairpin⁶. Aside from the deep red garnet⁷ earrings dangling from her lobes, she wore no other adornments.

Yet even so, her features were as lovely as a painting, like a solitary plum blossom in deep snow, making one want to reach out and taste her cold, sharp fragrance.

            

The group of men stared, momentarily stunned.

“Is that so?” The woman’s lips, no longer pressed shut, parted to speak.

She looked at them, her tone casual. “Then what great crime did this fugitive commit, that it gave you the nerve to bring a group of men into a Commandery Princess’s private chambers in the middle of the night?”

            

“This…” The officers froze, stammering and exchanging glances.

As if she had already anticipated their inability to give a straight answer, she said softly, “How very diligent of you.” Her voice was so light it felt as if the wind could blow it away.

“It’s just… this palace⁸ was truly unaware that catching fugitives had become the Capital Prefecture’s business.”

            

Seemingly unconcerned by their silence, she smiled with open mockery. “The Crown Prince is a diligent ruler, managing all the affairs under heaven before he has even ascended the Dragon Throne. What? Are you all… following the example set by your betters?”

The youngest-looking officer, blushing with shame, retorted hotly, “This has nothing to do with His Highness the Crown Prince! We simply received a report and were concerned for Your Highness’s safety!”

As if to prove his point, he looked toward the large, south-facing window and shouted, “The fugitive must have gotten in and out through here!” With that, he leaned half his body out the window, but his arm slipped. He nearly tumbled out of the tower, causing his companions to scramble in a panic to pull him back to safety.

            

The officers heard the Commandery Princess let out an undisguised pfft of laughter, and every one of their faces turned the color of pig’s liver.

None of them had expected the tower’s roof tiles to be polished with oil, making them impossibly slick. Not even a sparrow could find a foothold. The Cangyue Tower was the tallest building in the Capital aside from the imperial palace itself; a fall from this height would be beyond the help of even the gods.

The lead officer seethed inwardly but could only leave empty-handed, leading his men away in disgrace.

            

The Commandery Princess took a leisurely sip of tea, waiting for the maidservant to finish tidying up and descend the stairs. Outside, the heavy iron chains were once again locked, layer by layer.

Only when silence fell did she set down the teacup in her right hand and lift the fox-fur robe from her lap.

Huddled beneath the fur was a woman. She slowly rose, carefully avoiding any contact with the Commandery Princess. She forced down the taste of blood rising in her throat, and once she was standing beside the daybed, she gave the princess a solemn bow and spoke with sincerity. “Many thanks to Your Highness for your help.”

            

“If I didn’t know you were one of the Emperor’s pet hawks and hounds⁹, this palace wouldn’t have helped you,” the Commandery Princess said, her tone indifferent. She poured a fresh cup of tea and smoothed her skirt, the gold-embroidered silk covering her lower body completely.

Hearing this, Ming Qin, dressed in night-walking clothes¹⁰, stared with wide-eyed astonishment. [Image: A figure in traditional Chinese night-walking clothes, including a face covering]

When she had first appeared at the window, looking highly suspicious, she had expected the Commandery Princess to scream or cry.

            

Who would have thought the princess would just look at her calmly, continuing to brew tea without missing a beat? And who would have thought that upon hearing the commotion, she would silently lift the fur robe, gesturing for her to hide? Now, she had even managed to accurately deduce her origins.

Ming Qin lowered her head and took the cup from the princess’s hands, seemingly unafraid of the heat, trying to hide the surprise in her eyes. She would wait for the tea to cool, drink it, and leave once the officials were far away.

How foolish, the Commandery Princess thought.

            

Anyone able to climb the Cangyue Tower without falling to her death couldn’t be an ordinary thief.

This tower was a prison built specifically for her by the Crown Prince. Every tile had been skillfully polished by artisans, leaving not a single groove for a foothold. If a common thief could come and go as they pleased, all the Crown Prince’s painstaking efforts would have been for nothing.

Besides, if the woman had meant her harm, she would have struck the moment they met. She certainly wouldn’t have hidden under a fox-fur robe and obediently allowed her neck to be held at the point of a tea needle.

            

She was completely scentless, dressed in night-walking clothes in the Capital, familiar with imperial etiquette, and possessed such skill. She could only be a Shadow Guard, one who answered directly to His Majesty.

If not for the lingering affection she held for the Emperor, her uncle, and the timely arrival of the Crown Prince’s pet mad dogs, she wouldn’t have intervened on a whim.

The two of them drank their tea in silence, each lost in her own thoughts.

            

Ming Qin felt a little awkward. She gazed out the window. From the height of the Cangyue Tower, she could see the flickering lights of every home below.

With her excellent vision, the Shadow Guard could even make out the plaque of the teahouse in the Eastern Market¹¹. The night market wasn’t as bustling as it was during the day. A few young men were pushing carts to close up their stalls, oil lamps hanging from the front, swaying with every step.

She was watching, mesmerized, which prompted the Commandery Princess to turn her head and look out as well, though she couldn’t make out anything special.

            

“What are you looking at?” the woman on the daybed asked.

Ming Qin’s gaze left the window. She answered without thinking, “The Eastern Market. The pastries sold by the vendor in front of Tianfu Hall are delicious.” Realizing that might have been inappropriate, she added, “This subordinate means, from here, one can see the entire Capital.”

“Yes,” the Commandery Princess said, setting down her teacup. Her voice was flat. “The entire Capital. I’m afraid there is no cage with a better view.”

            

Ming Qin was at a loss. She could only fall silent, her fingers tightening around the empty teacup as she pressed her lips together.

“This palace is tired. Go back the way you came,” the woman said. She pulled the gold hairpin from her hair, not sparing Ming Qin another glance. Her tone was one of clear dismissal.

Ming Qin understood. She set down the teacup, bowed deeply once more, and without hesitation, gathered her energy and leaped onto the nearest windowsill. In a single bound, she was gone, vanishing into the inky blackness of the night.

            

So, she really won’t fall to her death.

Murong Yan retracted her downward gaze and removed her earrings, tossing them carelessly onto the tea table.

Pushing herself up with her arms, she slowly sat upright. Step by step, she moved to the nearby vanity. Facing the mirror, she wiped the rouge from her lips. Her pupils reflected a gaunt face and startlingly white hair.

            

So ugly.

Murong Yan thought.

She touched her own cheek, a deep frustration rising in her heart.

            

But a moment later, she couldn’t help but laugh.

She was probably the only one who, having fallen to such a state, would still care so much about her appearance.

Murong Yan had loved beauty since she was a child, and she had been fortunate enough to be born with a beautiful face.

            

Everyone around her knew it.

If the Crown Prince wasn’t certain that she was unwilling to leap to her death and be smashed into a pulp, or to die like a hanged ghost with her tongue lolling out, how would he dare imprison her alone in a high tower, with guards posted only at the door, tolerating her refusal to let anyone attend to her?

The Crown Prince. That ungrateful son of a bitch. He deserved to die.

            

At the thought of that man, Murong Yan’s right leg began to throb with a phantom pain.

She struggled to the head of the bed and lifted her skirt, revealing her feet. Although a carpenter’s fine carving made it difficult to tell at a glance, when the shoes and socks were removed for a closer look, the prosthetic on Murong Yan’s right leg still showed a cold luster, different from the color of her skin.

She roughly tore off the leather straps, exposing the stump that ended at her knee. The prolonged wear had caused the wooden prosthesis to chafe her skin raw and swollen. She bit her lower lip hard, not wanting to look at the ugly, maimed limb, but the ever-deepening pain screamed at her, forcing Murong Yan to confront its existence.

            

Actually, it would be fine if you were a villain.

Since you have the ability to climb the Cangyue Tower, you must also have the ability to kill me without shedding blood, right?

To end my suffering, to make me whole again, to let me die a dignified and beautiful death, and to terminate these five years of endless torture and nightmares.

            

She collapsed onto the bed, dizzy, her body breaking out in a cold sweat. Before she lost consciousness, a single thought echoed in Murong Yan’s mind…

Anyone will do.

If you can end all this pain, then take me away, please.

            

I’ve had enough.

Kill me.

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The author has something to say:

            

The author writes for joy, and everyone reads for fun ~

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Murong 『Yan』 is pronounced the same as 『yan』 (flame).

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