The Princess’ Shadow Guard – Chapter 30

Our Eldest Young Lady (Spoiled)

Beside the warm stove.

Stroke by stroke, Ming Qin gently dried Murong Yan’s damp hair with a cloth. Watching the silver threads nestled within the locks of the woman before her, which seemed more numerous than before, her eyes trembled slightly, and her movements grew even more tender.

            

Wrapped in a quilt, Murong Yan narrowed her eyes comfortably, tilting her head slightly like a cat being stroked. Her slender, jade-like feet dangled over the edge of the bed, their soles tinged with a delicate pink from her recent bath.

After a while, she seemed to grow drowsy; while her hair still held a faint trace of dampness, her body leaned softly into the embrace of the person standing beside her.

“We still need to eat in a little while,” Ming Qin said, her voice laced with worry. Murong Yan had not eaten properly for days. “Sleep after you’ve eaten, alright?”

            

“Mm.”

A soft sound of assent slipped from Murong Yan’s throat, but her hand gripped the clothing of the person before her tightly, as if in protest.

Ming Qin gently patted Murong Yan’s hand to soothe her. “I’ll go check on the kitchen first,” she whispered before stepping out of the room. Outside, she ran straight into an inn hand who was coming to deliver a message.

            

“Ah! Miss, you’re just in time.”

“What is it?”

“The proprietress wanted to ask what your young lady would like to eat.”

            

“Prepare the very best of everything, of course. Our eldest young lady is very picky.”

As their voices drifted down the stairs and faded away, Murong Yan, who had been listening through the door, smiled as she began to comb her hair.

『Our eldest young lady.』

            

She repeated the words over and over in her heart.

It truly was a novel form of address.

It carried the air of a wealthy merchant family, and coming from Ah Qin’s mouth, it sounded particularly swaggering and roguish.

            

But she did not dislike it.

Murong Yan pulled out the black hair cord to tie back her hair, then cast aside the quilt draped over her. Picking up the garments Ming Qin had prepared nearby, she began to dress herself in a slow, unhurried manner.

By the time she had tied her sash and smoothed her sleeves, Ming Qin had returned, nudging the door open with her shoulder as she carried in the food.

            

“The food here really can’t compare to the Capital.”

Ming Qin set the tray down on the table, then lifted Murong Yan’s soft body and settled her onto a cushioned chair. She grumbled, “Besides, I think that cook’s skills are seriously lacking. At most, they’re just a tiny bit better than shiniang’s.”

She stuck out her pinky finger, gesturing in the air.

            

Murong Yan found the standing woman’s indignation rather amusing. “If your shiniang heard those words, she’d probably be angry.”

“But I’m not lying. Still…” Ming Qin replied as she scooped out some rice. Her gaze swept over the glistening, braised pork trotters on the table, and she sighed. “I suppose the proprietress did her best.”

When the proprietress saw the generous handfuls of copper coins Ming Qin had produced, demanding the best food the entire inn had to offer, she had indeed made an effort.

            

Aside from the pork trotters, she had also prepared several dishes of green, leafy vegetables that were hard to come by in the dead of winter. If time had permitted, she probably would have gone out to the courtyard to slaughter a chicken herself.

Ming Qin didn’t want to fault the proprietress’s good intentions, but this small mountain town truly had no fine dishes to speak of, nor any skilled cooks.

She could only blame herself for not having the kitchen maids at the Shadow Guard Camp teach her a trick or two back then.

            

After handing the bowl and chopsticks to Murong Yan, the Shadow Guard served her some food, silently praying that the woman before her would eat as much as possible to make up for the few jin¹ of weight she had lost over the past few days.

Looking at Ming Qin’s pitiful expression, Murong Yan felt a touch of amusement. Though the dishes before her failed to arouse any appetite, she showed none of her usual pickiness and began to eat with a calm countenance.

The slightly yellowish rice was somewhat hard, nothing like the fragrant, soft, and translucent white rice usually prepared by the imperial chefs, but it was still far better than the dry rations that had scraped her throat over the past few days.

            

The vegetables were limp and rather bland, while the braised pork trotter was both too salty and too greasy.

Presumably, the proprietress had overcompensated in her eagerness to show her sincerity.

Yet using more oil, salt, and sauce didn’t necessarily make food taste good, Murong Yan silently remarked to herself, making an effort to swallow each mouthful with a bit of rice.

            

She still forced herself to eat nearly half a bowl, but after that, she simply couldn’t manage another bite.

Ming Qin knew her well and didn’t try to press her. Instead, she unhesitatingly devoured the remaining food like a whirlwind sweeping away clouds.

Although she enjoyed good food and knew how to appreciate fine cuisine, she was never a picky eater.

            

For a Shadow Guard, eating was merely a means of maintaining physical strength.

Whether it was a delicacy of a hundred flavors, tasteless coarse grain buns, or even leftover scraps, they were all just tools for survival.

Ming Qin could swallow any of it.

            

The sky had grown dark. After they finished eating, Ming Qin carried the dishes downstairs and brought a basin of hot water out to the well. In the freezing cold, she mixed it with the icy well water to wash her body, ensuring that as a Shadow Guard, she bore no trace of any scent.

When she was done, she went to the carriage to change her clothes, checking on the horses and the carriage wheels on her way. Upon returning to the room, she saw that Murong Yan hadn’t yet retired. She was simply staring out the window at the falling snow, her hand resting on her stomach, her brow slightly furrowed.

“Are you feeling unwell?”

            

Murong Yan turned back, offering a reassuring word to the anxious Ming Qin. “Just a bit of bloating.”

Yet in her heart, she couldn’t help but mock herself.

She truly was a coddled Commandery Princess.

            

Without fine rice, refined flour, and imperial palace cuisine, her body was actually protesting as if it had been thoroughly spoiled.

Wasn’t she just like a long-caged canary that had escaped, unable to survive once its master stopped tossing it food?

Truly detestable.

            

Ming Qin stepped forward and gathered Murong Yan into her arms as the woman reached out. Carrying her back to the bed, she began to gently rub her stomach, apologizing, “I was careless today. I’ll be more careful from now on.”

“Today has already been wonderful. I have nothing to complain about.”

Suppressing her inner self-loathing, Murong Yan reclined halfway, turning her head to look at the guilt-ridden Ming Qin sitting on the edge of the bed. She offered a bitter smile. “I’m simply too delicate. Ah Qin, you mustn’t apologize to me.”

            

“You’re not delicate at all.”

Ming Qin protested, her gaze earnest. “Every feeling of yours is something I ought to cherish.”

Murong Yan’s heart trembled. She placed her hand over Ming Qin’s on her stomach, their fingers interlacing. Her suppressed tone remained calm. “If Ah Qin continues like this, what shall we do if you spoil me completely?”

            

Ming Qin’s movements stopped. She stared into the woman’s eyes. “You’re meant to be deeply loved by the entire world. You should live freely and be happy every day. How could there ever be any talk of being spoiled?”

After answering without the slightest hesitation, Ming Qin lowered her eyes and thought to herself.

Those who mercilessly stripped away her freedom, those who broke her wings, those who silently choked her by the throat—they were the ones who deserved to die.

            

And she would cherish and support her, so that Murong Yan could live freely and unburdened.

She had to protect her from those people who deserved to die.

Ming Qin stared at her hand clasped with Murong Yan’s, a rare surge of wild fury and ferocity swirling in her eyes.

            

Feeling her hand tighten unconsciously, she feared she might hurt the soft fingers intertwined with hers. Within the span of a single breath, Ming Qin’s expression cleared back to its usual clarity, and her palm resumed its gentle rubbing on the stomach of the woman resting beneath her.

Unaware of Ming Qin’s brief lapse, Murong Yan simply stared blankly, immersed in the words she had just heard. As she turned them over in her mind, a lump seemed to rise in her throat.

It was like this once again. Ah Qin could always pull her into an embrace the very moment she was about to lose control and plummet into the abyss. She could slip through the walls of her heart so easily to soothe her emotions.

            

It had been so when she first saw the prosthetic limb, when the phantom pain struck, when they escaped Cangyue Tower, in the forest, and now as well.

Time and again, so easily, she could ease her tension and banish her distress.

It was as if, with her around, she could live as willfully as she pleased, knowing she could turn back at any moment and find a safety net woven of gentle care.

            

In the silence, she raised her free hand and covered her eyes with the back of it, as if to suppress the warmth rising from her chest to her eyes.

Ming Qin merely assumed she was tired, so she silently blew out the oil lamp.

Once she felt the woman on the bed breathing steadily, she prepared to turn and leave, only to have the hem of her robe caught in the dark.

            

“Ah Qin, don’t go.”

A quiet plea.

“Stay with me.”

            

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