The Princess’ Shadow Guard – Chapter 22
by Little PandaShijie and the Idiot Couple
When Master entrusted Ming Qin with delivering a letter outside the city, she was willing.
To be more precise, Ming Qin had accepted this month-long mission with tears of gratitude, and it wouldn’t be an exaggeration to say she practically fled the city in panic.
Under the scorching summer sun, the Shadow Guard, clad in a long black robe, sat atop her horse drenched in sweat, her mind a tangled mess of chaotic thoughts.
Ever since that kiss, Ming Qin’s usually uncomplicated mind hadn’t stopped spinning for a single moment.
She’d never heard of testing whether one’s rouge1 was properly set by kissing.
She’d asked every single shimei in the Shadow Guard Camp. Even Qin-shimei, who was the most skilled in cosmetics and frequently went undercover in brothels, had never heard of such a practice being some exclusive imperial technique.
From that day on, whenever Ming Qin saw Murong Yan, she couldn’t help but think of that silk-like sensation, reflexively licking her lips.
The young Shadow Guard couldn’t help but clutch her head. For her to be so daring and thoughtless—wasn’t she just the same as those lecherous flower-thieves2?
When she bid Murong Yan farewell before leaving the Capital, the woman had remained entirely serene and unreactive, even upon hearing that Ming Qin would be gone for a month. She’d merely handed her a small jade jar in silence right before she left. Inside was a custom-made scented balm she’d personally prepared.
Touching the jar tucked inside her sleeve, the rider felt utterly bewildered, unable to fathom why Murong Yan would suddenly give her such a thing.
Ming Qin, of course, had never used scented balm in her life.
A Shadow Guard had to move in absolute secrecy and blend into the crowd; their bodies had to be clean, without a single trace of scent left behind.
Yet Murong Yan’s scented balm exuded a gorgeous peony fragrance just like the woman herself. Its brazen aroma seemed to loudly announce her presence to anyone nearby—something she, as a Shadow Guard, could absolutely never use.
Ming Qin fretted, feeling she badly needed a way to vent.
A sharp, piercing sound sliced through the air.
Showing no surprise, Ming Qin looked up, spun around, and snatched the incoming arrow clean out of the air.
Seeing a dozen masked men behind her, weapons drawn and eyes filled with murderous intent, she couldn’t help but sigh.
“What a pity.”
She vaulted off her horse and dashed forward.
With a sharp shring, Ming Qin materialized directly in front of the archer, her sword in hand and a smile on her face. Before the man could even register her presence, her blade swept upward, slashing his chest open.
Seeing that she’d closed the distance in a mere breath, the surrounding men roared, raising their weapons and charging at her.
Amidst the flashing blades and spraying blood, Ming Qin casually kicked up a cloud of dust. The once-clear field of vision instantly blurred as a dark silhouette brandished her sword at will through the crowd, and agonized cries rose here and there.
Within less than half a ke3, she was the only one left standing in a pool of blood.
Ming Qin rolled her shoulders, letting out a couple of satisfying cracks, and exhaled a long breath.
“What a pity for you indeed,” Ming Qin said, wiping her blade on the sleeve of one of the corpses. “My mind was in a terrible mess just now, and I happened to badly need a fight.”
Bright red blood splattered her face. Though her words sounded apologetic, her expression remained calm, and she offered a pure, innocent smile as if she didn’t have a care in the world.
“I’m really so sorry.”
Murong Yan stared listlessly out the window. She’d been holding the same book for half a shichen4, yet she hadn’t turned a single page.
Ah Qin had been out of the city for over half a month now, and she missed her terribly.
Remembering the way Ming Qin had looked the last time they met, Murong Yan couldn’t help but chuckle.
She’d still been at a complete loss, not daring to look her in the eye, her gaze darting about as her fingers tightly gripped her sleeves.
Yet, as if afraid she’d worry because she was gone for too long, she’d rambled on and on about how simple the mission was, anxiously nagging her to eat well and sleep well.
Occasionally, she’d stare blankly at Murong Yan’s lips, only to quickly avert her gaze the moment she looked back.
She was adorable, as if she were committing some monumental crime.
Replaying the memory of Ming Qin involuntarily licking her lips after looking away, Murong Yan felt a wave of delight.
Although her mind was slow, her body was honest enough.
A low, soft chuckle escaped her.
Coming back to herself, she realized she could no longer read the book in her hand. Just as she was about to blow out the candle and retire for the night, she caught several strange noises coming from outside the window.
It can’t be Ah Qin, Murong Yan thought.
Not only because Ah Qin was away on a mission, but also because Ah Qin always came and went without a single sound.
Who else would scale Cangyue Tower in the dead of night?
Yet those in the Capital capable of scaling Cangyue Tower could be counted on one hand. Who could it possibly be?
Could it be some lecher?
Murong Yan pulled out the hairpin from her hair, gripping it tightly. Holding her breath, she steeled herself to stab the intruder the instant they made a move.
The moment the window creaked open, Murong Yan lunged to pierce the intruder with her hairpin, only for a woman to hastily shield her own neck and gasp, “This subordinate is Qinqin’s shijie! Your Highness, please stay your hand!”
The sharp tip remained pressed against the climber’s skin, not budging a fraction.
After several tense breaths, Murong Yan asked in a low, cold voice, “Under which tree at the Shadow Guard Camp is Li-shixiong’s wine buried?”
“Qinqin doesn’t have a shixiong named Li. If you mean Lin-shixiong, his home-brewed plum wine is buried under the third tree to the right of the Shadow Guard Camp’s west gate. Even though Qinqin was the one who found it, I’ve almost finished stealing it all,” the woman blurted out in a rush.
After a pause, Murong Yan, still holding the sharp weapon with a fierce expression, finally said, “You really are Ah Qin’s shijie.”
Looking Song Shuqing up and down, Murong Yan withdrew her hairpin and loosely pinned her hair back up. Her weak body, pushed past its limit, swayed as she began to collapse to the side. Song Shuqing reached out to support her, but Murong Yan barked sharply, “Don’t touch!”
She then braced herself against the daybed, slowly pulling her body onto it, maintaining her royal dignity as a Commandery Princess even in her fragile state.
Only then did Murong Yan lift her eyes to Song Shuqing and ask, “What urgent matter brings you to seek this palace in the dead of night?”
Unfazed by her icy demeanor, Song Shuqing offered a respectful bow and said composedly, “This subordinate is named Song Shuqing, Ming Qin’s shijie. I deeply apologize for my impudence tonight, but I have a letter that must be delivered to Commandery Princess Chongwen.”
Reaching into her sleeve, she withdrew a secret letter sealed inside a bamboo tube and presented it to the Commandery Princess.
Taking the letter, Murong Yan read it thoroughly, her brow furrowing slightly.
After one cup of tea’s time5, she held the paper over the flame of the oil lamp. Extending her arm out the window, she let the letter burn nearly to the edge before releasing it, letting the ashes scatter into the night breeze.
After pouring herself a cup of tea, Murong Yan suddenly spoke.
“It seems the Fifth Prince passed away today?”
Song Shuqing paused, then nodded slightly.
“He passed away today during the hour of the Monkey. The news hasn’t leaked yet.” Song Shuqing had always known she was monstrously clever—with the memories of an entire past life, her mind leaped through concepts so fast that Master often called her a freakish genius.
Usually, it was Song Shuqing who left others in awe. Yet here was Commandery Princess Chongwen, a woman who had lived her entire life bound by feudal traditions, imprisoned in a high tower, who could nevertheless deduce the entire political landscape of the court from a few brief lines and the urgency of the Shadow Guard Camp. Such intellect and sharp wit, completely on par with her own, was truly shocking.
“No wonder,” Murong Yan murmured.
Taking a calm sip of her tea, she instructed, “Tell your Master not to panic. As long as you keep the Emperor alive, the Crown Prince won’t make any reckless moves for the time being… This palace understands him well enough.”
She let out a mocking, cold snort.
“Then Master asked this subordinate to inquire about what Your Highness previously promised?” Song Shuqing probed.
“This palace is not one to break her word. If it truly comes to the final hour, there’s naturally no reason to back out.”
Murong Yan waved her hand with a trace of impatience, then narrowed her eyes as if remembering something, her tone suddenly turning stern. “Tell your Master he had best believe this palace’s words, and not to play any crooked schemes on Ah Qin.”
“This subordinate thanks Your Highness,” Song Shuqing said, bowing with clasped hands. “Ming Qin-shimei is a member of the Shadow Guard Camp; Master would never dare plot against her.”
A long silence stretched between them.
It lasted so long that Song Shuqing’s back began to ache before Murong Yan finally spoke in a chilling voice, “So, you’re the shijie who frequently takes Ah Qin to the pleasure quarters to listen to songs?”
“…Currently in the Shadow Guard Camp, Ming Qin-shimei has only ever called one person shijie. So, I believe Your Highness is indeed referring to this subordinate.” Hearing the Commandery Princess’s quiet interrogation, Song Shuqing felt her scalp tingle for the first time in ages, keeping her head lowered as she replied.
Murong Yan stared intently at Song Shuqing for a long moment before speaking again. “Then you must also be that exceptionally clever and beautiful shijie whom Ah Qin praises day in and day out?”
Her tone seemed to grow even more hostile.
Song Shuqing bent her waist lower and lower, feeling as though she were not just folding her body, but shaving years off her life.
Steeling herself, she said, “This subordinate didn’t know Ming Qin-shimei praised me so to Your Highness. Her description is far too generous.”
“Indeed.”
Murong Yan knitted her brows, looking slightly troubled. “It’s indeed far too generous.”
Dammit!
Was this what people called 『idiot couples6』?
A couple completely absorbed in their own romantic world, ignoring everyone else’s feelings, with only each other in their eyes.
A public nuisance.
Song Shuqing swallowed her highly disrespectful inner monologue along with the urge to roll her eyes, her mind racing to find a reply that wouldn’t seem rude to the Commandery Princess.
Fortunately, Murong Yan didn’t seem to mind her silence. As if suddenly remembering something, she asked on her own, “Now that I think about it… the shijie who had Ah Qin work as a dancer in a brothel was also you?”
Alarm bells blared in Song Shuqing’s mind, a cold sweat breaking out on her forehead.
“The… the brothel matter… was strictly out of operational necessity for the Shadow Guard,” she stammered.
“Is that so?”
Surprisingly, Murong Yan didn’t seem angry in the slightest. Instead, a trace of a smile graced her lips. “Then this palace must truly thank you.”
“Huh?”
The panic on Song Shuqing’s face instantly gave way to a look of utter bewilderment, a rare sight for her.
Late that night, as Song Shuqing left Cangyue Tower to report back, her arms were filled with a heavy bundle of gold and silver jewelry, yet she felt as though she’d left at least five years of her lifespan behind.
Not only was Cangyue Tower incredibly difficult to scale, but she’d also nearly fallen to her death despite being fully prepared.
The Commandery Princess inside was truly a formidable woman.
If she hadn’t been so quick-witted just now, her neck might have been pierced right through.
When discussing Qinqin, the protectiveness and possessiveness in her eyes made it seem like she wanted to eat her alive. Then she’d inexplicably smiled and bestowed a special reward upon her, even as her hair stood on end.
How on earth did Qinqin manage to get along with such an unfathomable woman?
Master was right indeed.
Even if the Prince of Yu had ten—no, a hundred daughters—she’d still flee as far as she could.
The author has something to say:
Over a hundred bookmarks already?! This is such an unexpected surprise.
At first, I only started writing out of necessity.
After all, this isn’t a popular genre, and I feel like my style and pacing are quite different from the mega-hits, so I didn’t have much expectation.
I never expected so many people to like it in such a short time. I’m actually a little touched~
.
I don’t know if it’s because of the genre or my writing style, but I always feel like the readers who support me are exceptionally mature and gentle (?) They always give me so much encouragement and warmth. This kind of mutual connection is truly wonderful~ Please feel free to recommend this to friends who love reading too!
.
P.S. I’ve hoarded chapters up to Chapter 40 now, and basically every single chapter has some sweetness in it—some very subtle, others very direct. So I won’t be labeling whether there’s fluff in the chapter teasers anymore!
As a detail-obsessed writer, I recommend reading slowly and savoring every bit~
.
Also, I don’t know why, but the further I write, the more I manage to make even the most ordinary things sound incredibly suggestive. I’m constantly worried about being penalized by the green app, yet I find it hilarious.
.
What kind of useless talent is this~ (facepalm and bitter smile)
.
As always, hope you have a great weekend!
Footnotes
- Yānzhi (胭脂) is a traditional Chinese rouge made from crushed safflower petals, used as both lip color and blush.
- Cǎihuāzéi (采花贼), literally 'flower-plucking thief', is a classical Chinese term for a rogue or libertine who sneaks into women's quarters to defile them.
- A kè (刻) is a traditional Chinese unit of time equivalent to fifteen minutes, making half a kè about seven and a half minutes.
- A shíchen (时辰) is a traditional Chinese unit of time equivalent to a two-hour period, meaning half a shíchen is exactly one hour.
- Yī zhǎn chá (一盏茶) is a traditional Chinese measure of time, roughly equivalent to ten to fifteen minutes.
- Bèndàn qínglǚ (笨蛋情侣) is modern slang for 'idiot couples'—lovers completely wrapped up in their own little world, oblivious to everyone around them.
Really stark difference of treatment from the princess between Senior Sister and Junior Sister lol. No lie tho, MQ’s pretty scary having that “innocent” side whilst still having the ability to easily kill men. Her and the princess actually match each other
Really stark difference of treatment from the princess between Senior Sister and Junior Sister lol. No lie tho, MQ’s pretty scary having that “innocent” side whilst still having the ability to easily kill men. Her and the princess actually match each other
Thank you for the chapter!
Glad you’re back. I was really worried when the links to the site weren’t working and when searching on google didn’t work.
Thank you for the chapter !!
Thank you for the chapter!
Glad you’re back. I was really worried when the links to the site weren’t working and when searching on google didn’t work.
Thank you for the chapter !!