The Princess’ Shadow Guard – Chapter 5

Cannot Die Before Giving the Commandery Princess Her Gift

Her hair was soaked with sweat, sticking wetly to her face, mixed with dirt and grime.

Her clothes were covered in slashes, her outer robe had long since been lost somewhere. There were several blade wounds on her body, one of which was on her left chest, a testament to the ferocity of the battle.

            

Fortunately, the fight had been dragging on for days. Her shixiong should have already boarded a boat heading for the Capital by now.

Ming Qin took a deep breath and turned to face the dozen or so burly pursuers.

Even though they had discovered that Ming Qin wasn’t their original target, she had wounded more than half of their companions. There was no reason for them to give up the chase.

            

“Aiya, are all you Dongying warriors this persistent?”

Ming Qin subconsciously scratched her head, only to find her hand covered in blood. She casually tossed aside her bent sword, then pulled a long saber from under a nearby corpse and weighed it in her hand. “Let me borrow this, thanks.”

There was no mockery in her tone; Ming Qin spoke politely.

            

But the remaining men seemed to have been enraged by her actions. Several of them charged forward at once, intending to take her down in one fell swoop.

Ming Qin settled into her stance, no longer distracted. With a series of clangs, amidst the glint of sabers and the flash of blades, another fierce battle ensued.

When everyone had fallen, Ming Qin dragged her body over to a tree and leaned against it.

            

As expected, this many people was still a bit too much.

Blood soaked through her clothes, and Ming Qin felt a wave of drowsiness.

In a daze, she recalled Lin Yan saying he had once read a forbidden book in the palace. It described how, after death, people would be carried up to the sky by bird-people wearing white haori,​¹ with golden halos above their heads and fleshy wings on their backs. If she were to die right now, it would be nice to get a chance to see a bird-person.

            

She had no attachments, no lingering fondness for this world.

Raised in the Shadow Guard camp since childhood, her life consisted of eating, drinking, and obediently completing her missions.

Right, missions.

            

What were they again?

Defeat the pursuers.

Protect the secret letter.

            

The pursuers were gone now. She had to eat the secret letter before she breathed her last.

To think that she, who had eaten all manner of delicacies, would have a piece of paper as her final meal.

Reaching for the cloth pouch at her waist, Ming Qin took out an envelope sealed with black wax oil. It looked quite unappetizing.

            

Just as Ming Qin was grumbling internally, a small oil-paper package fell out and landed on her lap.

This is the gift for the Commandery Princess, Ming Qin suddenly remembered.

Back in the Min Region, while waiting for Cao Yun in utter boredom, she had wandered into a teahouse. An old woman inside took one look at Ming Qin, a foreigner speaking the official dialect, and grabbed her hand, refusing to let go. She held up a packet of tea leaves, insisting it was the best rock tea​² in the entire world, her praise so extravagant that heaven’s flowers seemed to fall in disorder.​³

            

Ming Qin, completely taken in, bought the tiny packet of tea that cost her three months’ salary.

At that moment, an image of Murong Yan elegantly sipping tea had flashed through her mind, and she hadn’t felt the sting of the expense at all.

As her thoughts reached this point, Ming Qin jolted, her mind growing clearer.

            

I promised the Commandery Princess I would bring her a gift. If I don’t go back, she’ll be disappointed.

The image of Murong Yan, all alone, imprisoned in that high tower through the changing seasons, forced Ming Qin to rally her spirits.

She had to keep her promise and go back.

            

Using the long saber to prop herself up, Ming Qin tore a clean-looking strip of cloth from a corpse’s clothing. She stuffed the scrap into her bleeding wound and then tied it down tightly with a leather belt.

She dragged her feet slowly toward the mounts the warriors had tethered nearby. Choosing the sturdiest-looking horse, she laboriously swung herself into the saddle, then cut the reins of the other horses. “You’re free now,” she told them.

Ming Qin then patted the neck of the horse she had chosen and said in a low voice, “Good boy, I need you to help me.”

            

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When Ming Qin returned to the Shadow Guard camp, she was carried in.

According to the people at the outpost outside the city, Ming Qin was already semi-conscious when she arrived six days prior. She had used a rope to tie her waist tightly to the horse to keep from falling off. She forced herself to stay awake until the moment after she finished reciting the secret codes, then passed out cold.

She had nearly scared the informant she met half to death.

            

Not counting the minor cuts and scrapes, she had seventeen wounds that reached the muscle, three of which were fatal.

Upon receiving the carrier pigeon’s message, her Master had rushed out of the city in the middle of the night, dragging along a disheveled imperial physician. When the two old men saw the terrible state of Ming Qin’s body, they were so angry they were blowing their beards and glaring.​⁴

Even in her delirium, she had kept a tight grip on a tattered cloth pouch.

            

It later took four or five people, pulling and prying, to finally get the secret letter out from inside.

Fortunately, her life was no longer in danger.

Song Shuqing reported the situation to Cao Yun, who was lying in bed recuperating. The man’s expression was complicated. “It’s all because of me.”

            

He reproached himself. “I should have stayed.”

“If you’d stayed, you’d be dead,” Song Shuqing said, leaning against the doorframe and rolling her eyes. “You should be saying ‘thank you’ to Qinqin, not spouting this sentimental nonsense to me.”

Seeing Cao Yun still looking dejected, Song Shuqing spoke again. “Do you know what you should be doing right now?”

            

She sighed. “You should be sincerely thanking the heavens that the one sent to meet you was Qinqin. If it had been anyone else, you both would have been dead for sure.” Song Shuqing made a hand-knife throat-slitting gesture.

Cao Yun looked at Song Shuqing, his expression suddenly serious. “Have you seen the secret letter?”

Song Shuqing nodded, the playful look gone from her eyes.

            

“His Highness the Crown Prince really killed the Eighth Prince he was secretly keeping in Qiongzhou?” Cao Yun asked. Seeing Song Shuqing nod again, he looked incredulous, then sighed. “I’m afraid the ones left in the Capital are next.”

“Do we not know what kind of character that man has?” Song Shuqing snorted. “Killing his own brothers, poisoning his own father—nothing he does would surprise me.” There was no reverence for the imperial family in her words.

The two fell silent.

            

Seemingly unable to bear the heavy atmosphere, Song Shuqing spoke up. “Hurry up and get better.”

She turned around with a flourish. “With both you and Qinqin recovering, and Da Linzi out of the city, I’m exhausted! I’m going to file a complaint with the Labor Union!”

Just as Song Shuqing left Cao Yun’s room, she heard hurried footsteps approaching from a distance. A young man in a training uniform rushed toward her. “Song-shijie! Song-shijie!”

            

“Why are you yelling so loud? Trying to summon a soul?!”​⁵ Song Shuqing covered one ear with her hand.

The young man said with an anxious look, “Mingqin-shijie is awake, and she’s trying to get out of bed! Song-shijie, please go talk some sense into her.” The moment he finished speaking, Song Shuqing’s face fell. She turned and strode quickly toward the Medical Hall.

As soon as she stepped through the door, she saw Ming Qin, wrapped head to toe in bandages, still struggling to leave. Several white-bearded old doctors could only hover around her nervously.

            

“Qinqin!” Song Shuqing said sharply. “You should be resting.”

“Shijie!” Ming Qin called out, her voice hoarse. “I have to go out.”

Song Shuqing walked forward, extended a finger, and poked Ming Qin hard on the forehead. Ming Qin stumbled backward. “In your current state, you need help just to squat over a chamber pot… no… to use the latrine. Where exactly do you think you’re going?” Supporting Ming Qin, she half-carried her back to the bed.

            

“But…” Ming Qin sounded aggrieved, gesturing wildly with her bandaged hands.

“No buts.” Song Shuqing tucked the blanket in for her, her eyes fierce as she lectured, “Until you escape the fate of being wrapped up like a zongzi,​⁶ you can’t beat me. Do you want me to use violence on you? Like when we were little?”

Ming Qin shrank back, the childhood memory making her afraid to move. “Then… my pouch…”

            

“You mean this?” Song Shuqing rummaged in her sleeve, pulled out a tattered cloth pouch, and handed it to Ming Qin.

Taking the item, Ming Qin eagerly felt inside it. Her tightly furrowed brow finally relaxed. “This is it! Thank you, shijie.” The young Shadow Guard broke into a happy grin, which pulled at a wound on her cheek.

Ming Qin touched her bleeding face, looking utterly wretched.

            

Seeing Qinqin in such a rare, miserable state, Song Shuqing pressed a hand to her forehead. It was both pitiful and funny. She leaned over to tuck her shimei’s blanket in. “Get well soon,” she said, her tone uncharacteristically gentle.

Without you guys to share the workload, I’m so busy I don’t even have time to go to Flower Street to listen to the ballads.

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LP: Re-translated on June 01, 2025

            

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