The Princess’ Shadow Guard – Chapter 4

Hating Myself for Wanting to Live

Riding south, a dark jingguo headscarf​¹ was wrapped casually around her head. The biting wind howled, and one end of the scarf tucked into her collar trailed behind her, fluttering in the wind.

Upon the plains, the figure of a lone rider and her horse was illuminated by the moonlight. Ming Qin’s expression was anxious.

            

Her mission this time was to rendezvous in the Min Region with her shixiong, Cao Yun, who was on his way to Nan Yue. Then, they were to take a secret dispatch and return to the Capital via two separate routes.

Before she left the Capital, her shijie had worn a grave expression. It seemed the situation described in Cao Yun’s letters was far from optimistic. Seeing everyone’s worried faces, Ming Qin had remained inwardly calm.

She never understood the twists and turns involved in their missions, but she had always possessed a fine quality: she never tried to trouble herself with things she couldn’t figure out.

            

All she had to do was follow her Master’s orders and complete the mission. After all, Master was so clever.

But when the appointed day arrived, there was no sign of her shixiong, nor of the regularly scheduled carrier pigeon. This made Ming Qin uneasy. After sending word back to the Capital, she spurred her horse toward Nan Yue.

After a full day of galloping without rest, the road led into a dense, dark, and eerily gloomy forest.

            

Ming Qin reined in her horse. Focusing her hearing, she made out faint shouts and the irregular clang of metal.

She hid her horse in the shadows, then used her qinggong to swiftly melt into the forest.

Concealing her figure, Ming Qin quietly approached the source of the sound. Her cat-like steps made no sound on the fallen leaves. Her nose caught the faint scent of blood.

            

She followed the barely-there scent through the pitch-black forest. When the smell of blood grew thick, she lowered her voice and called out, “Shixiong. Shixiong. A-Yun ge.”

A muffled groan came from behind a large tree. Ming Qin hurried over and pushed aside a pile of branches and leaves to find Cao Yun, his body curled up, blood trickling from the corner of his mouth.

Ming Qin worriedly checked his internal breath, then frantically pulled a first-aid pill from her sleeve and placed it in Cao Yun’s mouth. She then removed the man’s outer robe, opened his lapels, and sprinkled medicinal powder on a wound on his waist—a gash so deep the bone was visible, the white flesh turned outwards.

            

A few breaths later, a bit of life returned to Cao Yun’s ashen face. He struggled to open his eyes and spoke weakly. “Secret dispatch… waistband.”

“The Crown Prince… hired Dongying warriors… kill…” The few words nearly exhausted his strength. He panted lightly. “Take the dispatch… go…”

“I won’t,” Ming Qin interrupted him. “I won’t go alone.”

            

Cao Yun frowned, looking helplessly at his stubborn shimei. “The warriors… there are over fifty of them. Your qinggong… is fast.”

“Master said for the two of us to return to the Capital separately.” Ming Qin stared straight at Cao Yun and said bluntly, “Two people. Both must return to the Capital.” With that, she pressed her palm to Cao Yun’s chest, circulating her energy to soothe his internal injuries.

“You…” Cao Yun tried to pull away, but he was too weak.

            

“Shixiong has a lot to say today,” Ming Qin said, a smile playing on her lips, though her hands never stopped moving. “You used to cherish words like gold.”​²

After half a quarter-hour, Ming Qin finally withdrew her palms.

Leaving all the medicine jars she carried on her person with Cao Yun, Ming Qin straightened up. She generously took off her own outer coat, put on the man’s outer robe, and placed the secret dispatch in the cloth pouch at her waist.

            

“I’ll lead them away.” Ming Qin flexed her wrists and told Cao Yun where she had tied her horse. “At sunrise, shixiong, head north. Once you enter the Min Region, travel by water.”

Before Cao Yun could speak again, Ming Qin covered him with the coat she had taken off and concealed his figure with leaves and dry branches.

“Well then, shixiong, see you back in the Capital,” Ming Qin said in a lighthearted tone, then vanished into the woods with her cat-like steps.

            

As she moved nimbly through the trees, the smile on Ming Qin’s face disappeared, replaced by a solemn gravity.

Luring the pursuers away was certainly dangerous, but if she succeeded, it would greatly increase her shixiong’s chances of survival.

It would be for the best if they both managed to escape the predicament.

            

But if her shixiong couldn’t make it back to the Capital, Master could still get the secret dispatch from her. And if she were to die carelessly, she just had to chew up and swallow the dispatch before her last breath. Her shixiong, who knew the situation, could at least provide Master with intelligence from the south when he reached the Capital.

Ming Qin took a deep breath and circulated her internal energy.

The mission was simple.

            

Defeat the pursuers, protect the secret dispatch.

Defeat the pursuers, protect the secret dispatch.

She repeated it in a low voice. In the next second, her previously silent footsteps deliberately came down with a heavy thud.

            

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Inside the Capital’s Cang Yue Tower, the teacup in Murong Yan’s hand cracked with a sharp snap.

Sitting before her was a young man with jet-black hair. His gold coronet was inlaid with enormous pearls and held in place by a jade hairpin carved with a dragon. He wore a bright red Confucian robe, with azure cloud patterns subtly embroidered on it. His white inner shirt was intricately patterned with nine dragons in gold thread—clearly an extraordinary garment.

The man seemed not to notice the woman’s anger. He propped his chin on his hand and watched her with narrowed eyes. “We haven’t seen each other in months, and jiejie is as beautiful as ever.” His tone was exceedingly cheerful.

            

His answer was a teacup whistling toward his face. The man tilted his head to dodge. The cup struck the bookshelf behind him and shattered with a crash.

Seeing that she was unwilling to speak, the man straightened his lapels and glanced at the bare tree branches outside the window. He said slowly, “Winter is here. The Barbarian Tribes are invading the passes. Tomorrow, this lonely one​³ must discuss with the Grain Official the allocation of provisions for the Northern Border…”

Before the man could finish, Murong Yan cut him off. “Your Highness the Crown Prince, not only is your taste in clothes as gaudy as ever,” she said with a scornful smile, “your character is still just as despicable.”

            

The Crown Prince, Murong Xiao, did not get angry. He merely looked at his own sleeve and asked with feigned innocence, “Is it really that bad? This lonely one wore this thinking jiejie likes red the most.”

Too lazy to feign civility with him,​⁴ Murong Yan asked in annoyance, “To what do I owe the pleasure of Your Highness the Crown Prince’s visit?”

“This lonely one missed jiejie, so this lonely one came,” Murong Xiao said with a beaming smile and a light tone. He then added, “A few days ago, the men from the Capital Prefecture were tactless and disturbed jiejie. This lonely one has already dealt with them personally.” But the smile did not reach his eyes, revealing a chilling gloom.

            

“Is that so?”

Murong Yan was completely indifferent to his words. The mere sight of the man agitated her. “In that case,” she said impatiently, “His Highness the Crown Prince can get the hell out now.”

Hearing her words, Murong Xiao’s expression suddenly fell, his features turning frigid.

            

The man slowly walked over to Murong Yan, knelt on the floor, and rested his cheek on the couch. He placed his hands on her reclining thighs, stroking them back and forth piously through the fox-fur pelt.

Feeling the emptiness of her right leg, Murong Xiao’s eyes turned red, filled with madness and obsession.

“Let go.” Though her scalp tingled, Murong Yan’s expression remained calm.

            

Seeing Murong Xiao remain unmoved, Murong Yan pulled the hairpin from her hair and pressed it to her own neck. A lock of black hair fell. “Your Highness the Crown Prince!”

Only then did Murong Xiao look up at the woman’s face.

Seeing the red mark scratched onto Murong Yan’s neck, the man’s eyes widened in a sinister smile. “You can’t do it.”

            

Murong Yan pressed her wrist harder. A bead of blood rolled down her snow-white neck, leaving a striking red trail. “Try me?” she sneered, looking at the man’s tightly pressed lips.

The two locked eyes for a long moment before Murong Xiao slowly withdrew his hands and stood up.

He unhurriedly smoothed his collar and straightened his coronet, then smiled as if nothing had happened. “This lonely one will come see jiejie again.”

            

“Don’t bother.”

The man did not reply, simply turning and leaving without a backward glance.

The retinue of attendants waiting outside hurried to greet the Crown Prince when he appeared. But the Crown Prince’s gloomy face looked as if it were being scoured by a blizzard, a complete contrast to his good mood when he had gone upstairs.

            

“Your Highness, news has come from the south,” the lead confidant stepped forward and whispered in his ear.

Hearing this, Murong Xiao’s expression softened slightly. “It wasn’t a waste to specially send men to Dongying.​⁵ Finally, something good happened today.” He took off his outer robe as he boarded the carriage. “This lonely one must change clothes.”

A young attendant asked, confused, “But Your Highness just spent so much time choosing these clothes…” He hastily shut his mouth when he saw the warning looks from the others.

            

Fortunately, the expressionless Murong Xiao seemed not to have heard. He only muttered vacantly, “It’s too ugly. Too ugly.”

“She doesn’t like it.”

Up in Cang Yue Tower, Murong Yan waited until the iron lock had been refastened and the carriage had driven far away before she finally let go of her forced composure.

            

She trembled slightly, threw the hairpin aside, and rubbed the goosebumps on her arms. She turned her head and dry-heaved.

She hadn’t eaten all day, but she still couldn’t stop herself from retching, feeling her stomach spasming violently. She only stopped when the pain made cold sweat bead on her forehead.

A thin trail of clear stomach fluid still trickled from the corner of her mouth. Murong Yan wrapped her trembling hands around herself, curling into a ball.

            

She hated his vileness.

And she hated herself.

Hated that her heart was full of screams, yet she was restrained and could not speak.

            

Hated that she lacked the courage to simply slit her own throat.

Hated that tiny, lingering desire in her heart to live.

She hated herself.

            

For wanting to live.

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LP: Re-translated on May 31, 2025

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