The Princess’ Shadow Guard – Chapter 44
by Little PandaMerely a Hair Cord?
Winter was more than half over, and the New Year festival had arrived.
Though it was New Year’s Eve, Murong Can still went to the drill ground for training. Murong Yan had no desire to watch the others’ hypocritical posturing, and drank alone in her own courtyard.
Warm wine slipped down her throat, yet her body remained cold.
Looking at the black hair cord arranged neatly across from her on the tea table, the woman felt her throat burn as though torn by fierce flames — and it was only clear wine.
Murong Yan wore a great crimson robe; not a thread of black could be seen on her entire person, but it was not to join the revelers outside in their celebration.
She simply refused to acknowledge it.
As though wearing any other color would be akin to mourning the dead.
She would not accept that.
The woman with a photographic memory since childhood still remembered the same time last year — wrapped in warm arms, Ming Qin lowering her shoulder for her to lean against.
She still remembered their intertwined breath, Ming Qin gazing straight at her, tenderly stroking her cheek and murmuring how beautiful she was.
Still echoing in her mind from time to time: Ming Qin, face flushed and drunk, calling out that she loved her, promising never to leave.
Murong Yan’s chest ached with a swollen pain.
And she herself had been so resolute then, determined to become the person Ah Qin cared about most.
But now everything had fallen apart.
She drained the wine in her cup and reached to pour more, only to find the jade bottle already empty.
Five or six different wine jars still rolled about on the floor.
Murong Yan suddenly laughed.
Covering her face.
As if laughing at this absurd and cruel world, or perhaps laughing at herself for so carelessly making wishes.
An immense exhaustion washed over her, as if it would snap the woman’s perpetually proud posture and her slender spine.
She could bear it no longer.
Like a camel in the desert bearing a thousand in gold — one more thing, even as light as a feather, and it would crash to the ground.
Haggard and spent, she drifted into unconsciousness just like that.
Tears still hung undried beneath her eyes.
Midnight.
Fine snow drifted outside.
In the main hall, the Prince of Yu, having finished the reunion dinner, was keeping the New Year’s Eve vigil1 together with Concubine Liu, Murong Wen and his son — three generations under one roof.
The atmosphere was warm and harmonious.
The young Murong Fu was struggling to stay awake, slumped in Concubine Liu’s lap and murmuring drowsily.
A flurry of disorderly footsteps approached from afar, interrupting the drinking and laughter.
Murong Yan’s eyes were rimmed red, her clothes disheveled, the crimson robe slipping from her shoulders. Without a trace of her usual composure, she shoved the door open barefoot.
Ignoring the others’ startled expressions, she walked straight to the drowsy boy, seized him by the collar, and said in a low voice, “Where is it?”
Seeing the boy still hadn’t come to his senses, only staring blankly at her, Murong Yan’s slender arm wrenched him off Concubine Liu’s lap. She raised her voice and asked again, “Where is this palace2‘s thing?”
“Yue… Yue’er.” The Prince of Yu looked at the woman’s abnormal complexion and tried to mediate. “If Fu’er has done something wrong, let’s talk it through, talk it through. Don’t be rough with the child.”
Drawing a deep breath, Murong Yan forced down the roiling fury and rage, fixing the boy with an unwavering stare. “This palace woke to find a hairpin worth a thousand in gold — a gift from the Late Emperor — missing. This palace asked the servants, and they said you were the only one seen entering this palace’s courtyard tonight. Hmm?”
“Impossible!” Murong Wen panicked at the thought of something so valuable gone missing. “Fu’er, did you really go to your Aunt’s courtyard and take the imperial hairpin?”
“I didn’t!”
Murong Fu’s face was flushed red from being grabbed. He cried out, “I swear I didn’t! I didn’t take the hairpin! I only took a black hair cord!”
The others all breathed a collective sigh of relief at the boy’s words.
But a sneer curled Murong Yan’s lips, her face darkening further. “To think the Prince of Yu’s mansion has bred a thief.”
Beneath her dry, hoarse voice lurked a violence about to erupt. She hauled the boy up by the collar and took a few steps back. “So where is this palace’s hair cord?”
Seeing the boy still dazed, Murong Yan’s voice trembled as she demanded, “Where is the hair cord you stole from this palace?”
“I… I don’t know.” Murong Fu shrank back from the woman before him — her voice quiet, her eyes dark.
“You don’t know?” The woman repeated, lowering her head and setting the boy down.
Just as everyone exhaled in relief, Murong Yan found strength from nowhere, seized Murong Fu by the throat, and pinned him against a doorpost. Through gritted teeth: “You’re saying you don’t know where the hair cord you stole is? Hmm?”
Her fingers tightened. The boy gasped for air.
“Fu’er!”
“Let go!”
“Yue’er! What are you doing! It’s merely a hair cord.”
The people around scrambled to their feet, the Prince of Yu shouting in anger.
“Merely a hair cord?” Murong Yan repeated flatly, her grip still locked tight. She glanced sidelong at the panicking crowd. “And this palace holds merely one life in her hands.”
Her tone was light as air.
“Think carefully.” She looked at the boy in her grip, his face drained of blood, and warned in a low, expressionless voice. “Think carefully about where you took this palace’s hair cord.”
A trace of madness seemed to churn in her eyes.
“I… I…” The near-suffocating Murong Fu’s mind raced.
He had only wanted to get back at this unfamiliar aunt. His father had warned him repeatedly not to provoke her, but why should he — the pampered darling of the household — have to bow and scrape to this arrogant, disabled woman?
And why should the big courtyard where he always played be given up to her the moment she arrived? It had been this young master’s from the day he was born!
Peeking through the crack in the door, he had seen how this woman treasured that shabby cord as if her life depended on it, so he sneaked in to teach her a lesson. That worthless cord wasn’t anything special — he had tossed it into some pond or other without a second thought.
“The pond…” The boy squeezed the words out with effort.
Murong Yan’s grip loosened slightly. “The pond? Which pond?”
Gulping down precious air, Murong Fu hesitated. “Probably… the fish pond in the main courtyard…”
The moment she heard his answer, Murong Yan released him. She didn’t spare a glance for the boy gasping on the ground, and headed straight for the fish pond without looking back.
The woman stepped barefoot into the snow, trudging step by agonizing step toward the fish pond.
The pond was shallow, but the night’s cold had sealed its surface with a thin layer of ice.
Murong Yan stepped forward without hesitation, crushing the ice beneath her foot. The red robe, soaked by the cold water, grew impossibly heavy, but she pressed on until half her body was submerged.
She reached out with hands that had never known the touch of spring water, bent over, and desperately dug through the pond’s mud in the freezing, snowbound night.
Her tender fingers were cut by stones, seeping fine beads of blood, but whether her hands had gone numb from the cold or her mind was too full to notice, she remained utterly oblivious to the wounds.
Ah Qin.
It’s my fault.
I lost your thing.
I’m sorry.
I lost you, too.
Ah Qin.
I’m sorry.
The mud at the bottom of the pond trapped Murong Yan’s prosthetic leg. She lost her balance and fell hard, again and again.
The cold wind beat against the woman, who was soaked through to the skin. Her lips were deathly pale, her whole body drained of color.
Rotten lotus roots were churned up from the mud, and fish bones hidden beneath reeked of decay, but she kept digging.
She didn’t know how long had passed. Murong Yan only felt her body refusing to move, her consciousness drifting away.
The last thing echoing in her mind was Ming Qin.
Ah Qin.
I miss you so much.
dang. her storming in like that and grabbing the brat by the neck was EPIC. i clapped my hands in my heart when reading that part. and her family is full of weak scums ohlawd. how the hell did her father, the pathetic weak sauce, even become general???
dang. her storming in like that and grabbing the brat by the neck was EPIC. i clapped my hands in my heart when reading that part. and her family is full of weak scums ohlawd. how the hell did her father, the pathetic weak sauce, even become general???
Yeeshh, her side of the family is really.. terrible
Yeeshh, her side of the family is really.. terrible
Aw he’s kinda annoying! That’s so rude to beat a tiger and steal something? It’s too much. Wonder when Ming qing will come back
Yikes 😭
This spoiled brat, damn. And thank you for the chapter!
Ahhhh, my hearts hurts for Murong Yan. To lose her only physical reminder of Ming Qin is painful (ಥ﹏ಥ)
Aw he’s kinda annoying! That’s so rude to beat a tiger and steal something? It’s too much. Wonder when Ming qing will come back
Yikes 😭
This spoiled brat, damn. And thank you for the chapter!
Ahhhh, my hearts hurts for Murong Yan. To lose her only physical reminder of Ming Qin is painful (ಥ﹏ಥ)