The Princess’ Shadow Guard – Chapter 4
by Little PandaHating Herself for Wanting to Live
She rode south on horseback. A dark jinguo1 was casually wrapped around her head. The biting wind howled, and the tail of the scarf tucked into her collar fluttered behind her in the gale.
On the open plains, the moonlight illuminated the silhouette of a single rider and her horse. Ming Qin’s expression was fraught with anxiety.
Her mission this time was to rendezvous in the Min region2 with her shixiong, Cao Yun, who had gone to Nanyue. From there, they were to carry secret letters and split into two separate routes back to the Capital.
Before she left the Capital, shijie’s expression was grave; she must have learned from Cao Yun’s missives that the situation was far from optimistic. Yet, seeing everyone’s worried faces, Ming Qin felt only an inner calm.
She had never understood the winding complexities involved in these missions. But she had always possessed one excellent virtue: she never bothered to stress over things she couldn’t understand.
As long as she obeyed Master’s orders and completed the mission, all would be well. After all, Master was so brilliant.
However, when the agreed-upon day arrived, there was no sign of her shixiong, nor did the scheduled carrier pigeon appear. This left Ming Qin unsettled. After sending a message back to the Capital, she spurred her horse south toward Nanyue.
After a full day of restless, unceasing gallop, the road stretched into a dense forest. The vast expanse of darkness was extraordinarily eerie.
Ming Qin halted her horse. She focused her hearing. Faint shouts and the jagged noise of clashing metal drifted through the air.
She hid her horse in the shadows, channeled her qinggong3, and swiftly vanished into the woods.
Concealing her presence, she crept toward the sounds. Her cat-like steps made not a single sound against the fallen leaves. A faint trace of blood caught her nose.
Straining to track the barely discernible scent, she advanced through the pitch-black forest. When the stench of blood grew thick, she called out in a hushed voice, “Shixiong… shixiong. Ah-Yun-ge.”
A muffled groan sounded from behind a massive tree. Ming Qin hurried over. Brushing aside the scattered branches and leaves, she found Cao Yun curled in on himself, blood trickling from the corner of his mouth.
Anxious, she checked his internal breath. Frantically, she fished an emergency pill from her sleeve and slipped it into his mouth. Then she stripped off the man’s outer cloak, tore open his robes, and sprinkled medicinal powder over a bone-deep wound on his waist where the pale flesh had split wide.
A few breaths later, a sliver of life returned to Cao Yun’s blackened face. He struggled to open his eyes and spoke weakly, “Secret letter… in the belt.”
“The Crown Prince hired Dongying4 warriors to kill…” These few words nearly drained the last of his strength. He panted softly. “Take the letter… go…”
“I won’t.” Ming Qin cut him off. “I won’t leave alone.”
Cao Yun furrowed his brow, looking at his stubborn shimei5 with helpless resignation. “Warriors… there are over fifty of them. Your qinggong is fast. Go.”
“Master said two people, splitting up to return to the Capital.” Ming Qin stared straight at Cao Yun, her voice utterly blunt. “Two people. Both of us must return to the Capital.” With that, she pressed her palm against his chest, circulating her energy to soothe his internal injuries.
“You…” Cao Yun tried to evade her touch but lacked the strength.
“Shixiong, you’re talking so much today,” Ming Qin said, a small smile playing at the corners of her lips as her hands kept working. “Even though you usually treat your words like gold.”
Half a quarter-hour passed before Ming Qin finally withdrew her hands.
She left all the medicine bottles she kept on her person with Cao Yun. Standing up straight, she decisively stripped off her own outer coat and threw on the man’s cloak. She tucked the secret letter into the cloth pouch at her waist.
“I’ll go lure them away.” Ming Qin rolled her wrists and gave Cao Yun the location of her tethered horse. “Wait until sunrise, shixiong, then head north. Once you enter the Min region, take the water route.”
Before Cao Yun could speak again, Ming Qin draped her discarded outer coat over him and concealed his figure beneath leaves and dead branches.
“Then I’ll see you in the Capital, shixiong,” Ming Qin said, her tone entirely light. With cat-like steps, she melted away into the woods.
As she nimbly wove through the underbrush, the smile vanished from Ming Qin’s face, replaced by heavy solemnity.
Luring the pursuers away was dangerous, but if she succeeded, it would increase her shixiong’s chances of survival.
If both of them managed to escape danger in the end, that would naturally be for the best.
But if her shixiong failed to reach the Capital, Master could still obtain the secret letter in her hands. And if she herself were to carelessly die, she only needed to chew up and swallow the secret letter before drawing her last breath; her shixiong, well-versed in the situation, could at least provide Master with intel from the south once he reached the Capital.
Ming Qin took a deep breath and circulated her internal energy.
The mission was very simple.
Defeat the pursuers. Protect the secret letter.
Defeat the pursuers. Protect the secret letter.
She repeated it under her breath. Her previously silent footsteps deliberately came down with a heavy, echoing crunch in the very next second.
Inside Cangyue Tower in the Capital, the teacup in Murong Yan’s hand cracked under her grip with a sharp snap.
The young man sitting across from her had pitch-black hair. A golden headpiece inlaid with a massive pearl rested atop his head, secured by a jade hairpin carved with a dragon. He was draped in a crimson scholar’s robe secretly embroidered with azure cloud patterns. The white inner lining bore the intricate gold-thread embroidery of nine dragons — a glance was enough to tell it was an item of supreme quality.
The man seemed entirely oblivious to the woman’s rage. He rested his chin on his hand, his eyes curving into slits as he stared at her. “It has been months since we last met. Jiejie6 is just as beautiful as ever.” His tone was exceedingly delighted.
Her answer was the teacup hurling through the air straight at his face. The man tilted his head to dodge. The porcelain struck the bookshelf behind him and shattered with a harsh clatter.
Seeing her unwilling to speak, the man adjusted his lapels and looked out the window at the bare, distant branches. He spoke with deliberate slowness. “Winter has come. The barbarians are invading the pass. Tomorrow, this prince7 must have a thorough discussion with the rations official regarding the distribution of supplies for the Northern Borders…”
Before the man could finish, Murong Yan cut him off. “Your Highness the Crown Prince, not only is your taste in clothes as vulgar and gaudy as ever,” she sneered, her lips curving into a mocking smile, “but your character is just as lowly.”
The Crown Prince, Murong Xiao, did not get angry. He merely looked at his own sleeves and asked with feigned innocence, “Is it really that bad? This prince only wore it because I remembered red is Jiejie’s favorite.”
Too lazy to entertain his hypocritical pleasantries, Murong Yan demanded in disgust, “To what do I owe the honor of Your Highness the Crown Prince’s visit?”
“This prince realized it had been far too long since I saw Jiejie, so I came.” Murong Xiao smiled brightly, his tone light and brisk. Then he added, “The other day, those tactless fools from the Capital Prefecture disturbed Jiejie. This prince has already dealt with them personally.” The smile did not reach his eyes; instead, they revealed a chilling, sinister gloom.
“Is that so?”
Murong Yan cared nothing for his words. The mere sight of the man swaying in her vision irritated her. “If that is all,” she said impatiently, “Your Highness the Crown Prince can roll out of my sight.”
At those words, Murong Xiao’s expression instantly collapsed into a ghastly coldness.
He dragged his steps toward Murong Yan, slowly sinking to his knees on the floor. He rested his cheek against the edge of the couch and laid both hands over the woman’s reclining thighs. Through the thick fox-fur robe, he stroked her legs back and forth with reverent devotion.
When his hands reached the hollow emptiness of her right leg, Murong Xiao’s eyes grew bloodshot, brimming with madness and obsession.
“Let go.” Though her scalp prickled with revulsion, Murong Yan’s face remained perfectly composed.
Seeing Murong Xiao remain unmoved, Murong Yan pulled the hairpin from her hair and pressed its point against her own throat. A lock of black silk cascaded down. “Your Highness the Crown Prince!”
Only then did Murong Xiao lift his head to look at the woman’s face.
Staring at the red scratch forming on Murong Yan’s neck, the man widened his eyes and gave a sinister chuckle. “You cannot do it.”
Murong Yan pressed harder with her wrist. Beads of blood welled up and rolled down her snow-white neck, leaving a glaring trail of crimson. “Care to test that?” Seeing the man’s tightly clamped jaw, she sneered.
The two locked eyes for a long time before Murong Xiao slowly withdrew his hands and stood.
He unhurriedly smoothed his lapels and straightened his crown. Then, acting as if nothing had happened, he smiled faintly. “This prince will come to see Jiejie again.”
“No need.”
The man offered no reply. He simply turned and left without looking back.
The waiting crowd of attendants hurriedly approached the moment they caught sight of the Crown Prince. But his darkened face was like a raging blizzard, a stark contrast to the excellent mood he had been in before ascending the stairs.
“Your Highness, news has arrived from the south,” his leading confidant stepped forward and whispered into his ear.
Upon hearing this, Murong Xiao’s expression eased slightly. “Sending men specifically to Dongying was not a waste, then. Finally, one piece of good news today.” He shrugged off his outer robe as he stepped into the carriage. “This prince wishes to change.”
A young attendant looked confused. “But this robe is the one Your Highness the Crown Prince just spent so long selecting—” Meeting the warning glares of the others, he hastily shut his mouth.
Fortunately, the expressionless Murong Xiao seemed not to have heard him. He only muttered hollowly, “Too ugly. Too ugly.”
“She doesn’t like it.”
Up in Cangyue Tower, it wasn’t until the iron locks were secured once more and the carriage had rolled far away that Murong Yan finally dropped her facade of composure.
Trembling faintly, she threw aside the hairpin in her hand. She rubbed the goosebumps breaking out over her arms and turned her head to dry heave.
Though she had not eaten a single thing all day, she still couldn’t stop the violent retching. Only when she felt the pulsing spasms in her stomach — a pain so sharp it drew cold sweat — did she finally stop.
A thin trail of clear bile still dripped from the corner of her mouth. Her hands shaking, Murong Yan wrapped her arms around herself and curled into a tight ball.
She hated his nauseating presence.
And she hated herself.
She hated that her heart was screaming, yet she was too suppressed to speak the words aloud.
She hated that she lacked the courage to simply slit her own throat and end it.
She hated that tiny, lingering sliver of a desire to live.
She hated herself.
For wanting to live.
Footnotes
- Jīnguó is a traditional headpiece or scarf worn by women, historically associated with female warriors or heroines.
- Mǐn is an ancient geographical name for the coastal region corresponding to modern-day Fujian province.
- Qīnggōng is a martial arts technique that allows the user to move with extreme speed, agility, and lightness.
- Dōngyíng is an ancient Chinese term referring to the Japanese archipelago; 'Dongying warriors' typically denotes Japanese ronin or samurai mercenaries.
- Shīmèi means 'junior martial sister,' used to address a female disciple who joined the same sect or master after the speaker.
- Jiějiě literally means 'older sister,' but can also be used as an affectionate or respectful address for an older female relative or friend.
- Original: gū (孤). A royal self-referential pronoun used by monarchs and princes, meaning 'the solitary one' or 'this prince.'
What the hell
Thank you for the chapter! That prince is really an evil grass, i hope our girl can finally meet up with the princess.