The Princess’ Shadow Guard – Chapter 33

“Ah Qin, I’m Hungry”

Driving the carriage all the way north, Ming Qin arrived at the inn where they would rest for the night just before darkness fell. By her estimate, the timing was about right.

The carriage she had sabotaged must have overturned by now. She hoped the kiss of hungry wolves would claim that wretched man’s life, or at least bite off his limbs.

            

Had she not been in such a rush, she would have preferred to personally sever his head and give it to Murong Yan to play with like a ball. Ming Qin pondered the thought for a moment before shaking her head vigorously.

How could such a foul, bloody thing be fit for the celestial Murong Yan to lay eyes upon?

“Ah Qin?” Feeling Ming Qin shake her head so strangely, the woman in her arms wrapped her arms around her neck and asked with concern, “What’s wrong?”

            

“Hmm? It’s nothing.”

Looking down at Murong Yan—whose breathtaking beauty was as dazzling as sunset clouds—Ming Qin suppressed the dark, bloodthirsty images in her mind. She gently settled her onto the hard wooden bed and said, “Rest for a moment. I’ll go check the kitchen in the back.”

Murong Yan tightened her arms around Ming Qin for a moment before letting go. “Go on.”

            

The inn they stayed at tonight was not as lively as the one from the day before. Only a single worker minded the front. Its simple, almost threadbare furnishings combined with the age of the building gave the place a rather dilapidated air.

Ming Qin went downstairs and followed the worker to the kitchen. Seeing a hearth even more primitive than the last one and iron pots scattered across the floor that could hardly be considered clean, she knit her brows.

The further north they traveled from the Capital, the scarcer the inns became, but she had not expected even the kitchen to be this crude.

            

Her gaze swept over the cook squatting in the corner, smoking tobacco. His fingernails looked as though they had not been trimmed in half a month, caked with black grime, and his greasy sleeves were carelessly rolled up to his elbows.

No matter how much silver she offered, this place would never be able to produce food that would satisfy Murong Yan.

No—more accurately, she would absolutely never allow food prepared here to enter Murong Yan’s mouth.

            

Ming Qin tugged at her hair in frustration, at a complete loss for what to do.

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In the room, Murong Yan changed her clothes and fell into a deep, exhausted sleep. By the time she woke, the sky was already pitch black. Outside, the howling wind whipped with fine snow, making the wooden window frames rattle.

Compared to the howling wind outside, the charcoal brazier in the corner had not been allowed to die, keeping the entire room warm and cozy.

            

The oil lamp lit by the bedside cast a warm yellow glow, illuminating the black-clothed figure sitting on the floor, nodding off with her back against the bed.

For some reason, Murong Yan did not want to make a sound. She merely shifted herself quietly behind Ming Qin, bending down to peer at the uninjured side of her face.

The garnet ear stud on her earlobe—a piece of her own jewelry—cast a deep red gleam. The oil lamp brushed her eyelashes with a golden light, and her chest rose and fell in time with her steady breathing.

            

Even in sleep, her back was held perfectly straight. With her eyes closed, her peaceful expression lacked her usual straightforwardness, instead carrying a touch of martial heroism and a trace of unfamiliar coldness.

Murong Yan felt a faint sense of unease, as if the person in front of her might shake off her hand and depart at any moment because of that trace of coldness.

Tucking a stray strand of hair behind her ear, she leaned down, tilted her head, and pressed her lips to Ming Qin’s.

            

As her breath brushed Ming Qin’s cheek, the shadow guard’s eyes suddenly snapped open, revealing the clear gaze Murong Yan knew so well. Her heart settled, yet she did not stop leaning forward.

Feeling the familiar moisture on her lips, Ming Qin was afraid Murong Yan would strain herself. She turned around and knelt high, pulling Murong Yan into her arms.

Murong Yan’s softness brushed past her closed teeth, like a silent command gently coaxing them open.

            

Having long since become well acquainted with the woman’s nature, Ming Qin obediently complied, gently licking and tasting her.

“Ah Qin…”

Just awake, Murong Yan was overwhelmed by Ming Qin’s gentle, lingering kiss. Catching her breath, she murmured, “Don’t hold back on my account.”

            

“But that’ll hurt you,” Ming Qin said, her fingers sliding along Murong Yan’s cheek to gently stroke the soft curve of her ear.

“I want you to be a bit rougher, okay?” she urged, her arms wrapping tightly around Ming Qin’s neck.

Ming Qin knit her brows in slight distress. “But…”

            

“Yanyan begs Ah Qin,” her voice softening, sounding as if she would burst into tears if rejected.

Unable to bear refusing her, Ming Qin compromised by cupping the back of Murong Yan’s head, saying with a touch of helplessness, “If it’s too much, push me away, okay?”

“Okay…”

            

No sooner had Murong Yan replied than her breath was stolen away. The shadow guard pressed close, loyally carrying out her request.

She who was usually so obedient and gentle now had eyes filled with possessiveness, and the kisses that rained down like a storm possessed none of their past tenderness.

After a long while, Ming Qin stopped, propping herself up to look down at Murong Yan.

            

“Are you crying?” Panic flashed across her face, followed by deep remorse. “I’m sorry.”

Her lips had been bitten to a vivid red. She raised her hand to touch her face, and her fingertips indeed caught the tears trailing down her cheeks.

Seeing how incredibly worried she was, even as she panted for breath, Murong Yan still felt a faint urge to laugh.

            

Ming Qin reached out to wipe the tears from her cheeks, hanging her head in guilt. “I was too rough. I’m sorry.”

Feeling her body so soft it felt as if it were melting, Murong Yan reached out, gesturing for the person kneeling over her hips to help her up. She rested her chin on Ming Qin’s shoulder to catch her breath.

Her breath brushed against Ming Qin’s earlobe, which bore the garnet. After a moment, Murong Yan whispered, “It didn’t hurt. I cried because I’m happy.”

            

Those were tears shed from nearly reaching the peak of bliss.

Seeing the uncomprehending look on the shadow guard’s face, Murong Yan laughed softly, trying to chase away the lingering sensations in her body. She changed the subject. “Ah Qin, I’m hungry.”

Hearing this matter, which to her was more important than the heavens, Ming Qin immediately cast her guilt and confusion to the wind. “Right, right, right! Eating comes first!” With one arm, she gathered Murong Yan up and carried her to the table.

            

A blanket sat on the wooden table. Ming Qin pulled the blanket back to reveal an inverted iron pot. Underneath the pot lay several still-warm sweet potatoes, along with two boiled eggs, a few small plates of pickled vegetables, and a bowl of glistening, translucent white rice.

“Look!” Ming Qin gestured proudly as if presenting a rare treasure. After setting Murong Yan down, she pushed all the food in front of her, then sat down opposite her, looking at her expectantly.

“This…” Looking at the simple, plain food on the table—which was remarkably clean and not at all greasy—Murong Yan was surprised. “Ah Qin, did the inn’s cook make this?”

            

Ming Qin shook her head and said proudly, “I found these outside the inn!”

Looking at the heavy snow outside the window, Murong Yan felt it was rather strange. “It is a vast expanse of white out there. Where did Ah Qin find this?”

“I went to a neighboring village, asked the villagers there if they needed help, and traded with them,” Ming Qin said calmly, as if she did not care in the slightest that even the nearest village was thirty li¹ away, or that she had to run swiftly through a blizzard in the dark forest to get there.

            

“When I first arrived at the village, I knocked on doors one by one, but no one believed me. Later, an old man had me chop wood for him because his back was bad.”

As Ming Qin spoke, she peeled an egg and placed the smooth, tender boiled egg into the bowl in front of Murong Yan. “These two eggs are what that old man gave me. Later, when the other villagers saw I was telling the truth, they all came to ask for my help.”

Looking at the even more severe frostbite on the shadow guard’s fingertips, Murong Yan merely held her chopsticks in a daze, silent.

            

“I also knocked on a lot of doors asking if anyone had white rice.”

Ming Qin picked up a sweet potato and began to peel it, continuing to chatter. “As it turned out, only the village chief’s house had any. That grandpa wasn’t willing to give it to me at first because he wanted to keep it to make congee when he falls ill. No matter how much I begged, he wouldn’t give it to me—he was so stubborn! It was only after I went into the woods and caught two snow rabbits for him that he finally agreed to give me the white rice.”

Even with her extraordinary senses and martial prowess, catching rabbits in a pitch-black forest in the middle of a blizzard was extremely difficult. But as long as she could let Murong Yan have a good meal, anything was worth it, Ming Qin thought happily.

            

“Hurry up and eat!”

Seeing that the princess still had not moved her chopsticks, Ming Qin grew a bit anxious. She held the sweet potato to Murong Yan’s lips. “Try some! I roasted this myself; it’s delicious! In the past, when my shixiong² and shijie couldn’t stomach the food made by shiniang, we’d always sneakily roast sweet potatoes in the camp. This is the only thing I know how to make.”

Under the direct gaze of Ming Qin’s bright, clear eyes, Murong Yan opened her mouth numbly and took a bite of the still-steaming sweet potato. Its soft, fluffy texture and honeyed sweetness bloomed across her tongue.

            

Yet she chewed for a very, very long time.

Her throat felt tight, as if choked by a stone, and her nose stung with a sharp ache. She no longer knew what the food in her mouth tasted like.

Even though the sweet potato had been chewed to a pulp, its sweetness mixing with her saliva, she still could not bring herself to swallow.

            

She merely stared blankly at the person in front of her, her heart aching terribly.

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