The Princess’ Shadow Guard – Chapter 6

Foolishly Scammed by Bad People

The twelfth lunar month¹ was approaching, and the cold was biting enough to turn dripping water into ice.

Although she had been granted a full month of sick leave, Ming Qin had only been lying in bed for eight or nine days, yet she already felt as though her body was growing mold.

            

It was only after she spent an entire morning bounding across the rooftops and leaping around the camp to prove she was fine that Master finally relented and permitted her to go out.

“There’s a rumor going around in the markets that a black monster once roamed the jungles of the Western Regions. It looked half-monkey, half-human, possessed a massive body with arms covered in bulging muscles, and could still swing freely through the treetops even after taking three arrows to the chest. This beast was called King Kong.”

Lin Yan looked at his shimei with a hint of bewilderment. Watching her back as she hurried out the door, he added, “Master, I suspect Qinqin and King Kong are distant relatives.”

            

Standing to the side, the half-white-haired old man was bare-chested, his lean, muscular chest crisscrossed with scars. “Qinqin has been acting a bit strange lately.”

“Yes, on her rest and bathe² in the ninth month, she disappeared right after lunch too. Could she have found herself a lover?” Lin Yan chuckled, but after thinking it over, he shook his head, finding the idea unlikely. Qinqin possessed exceptional martial arts skills, but her temperament was as simple as a child’s; she had absolutely no interest in romance. “She probably just found a pastry shop in the market that caught her eye again.”

The old man did not reply. He simply stroked his beard, deep in thought.

            

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With her tattered cloth bag slung across her chest and a freshly bought steamer basket of dumplings in hand, Ming Qin bounded across the rooftops.

Master and the others were truly exaggerating.

She had only lost a lot of blood; it wasn’t as if she were missing an arm or a leg. Yet they were all acting as though they couldn’t wait to tie her to a bed for the rest of her life to heal.

            

Having rested for so long, she had only recovered about fifty to sixty percent, but that was more than enough for her to scale Cangyue Tower without easily falling to her death.

Thinking of her promise to the Commandery Princess, Ming Qin couldn’t sit still for a single second.

She had to get these dumplings to the Commandery Princess before they got cold.

            

Ming Qin picked up her pace, but her foot slipped on a frosted roof tile. Her body plummeted three chi³, and she hastily exerted her strength, her five fingers tightly embedding into the shallow crevices of the wall as she hung there in a rather undignified manner.

A burst of suppressed coughing reached her ears. Ignoring her tearing wounds, Ming Qin gritted her teeth, gathered her inner strength in one vigorous breath, and propelled herself upward. She pushed open the window and flipped into the room.

Murong Yan was slumped weakly over her desk, propping her eyelids open to look at her.

            

Seeing the Commandery Princess’s pale face, Ming Qin quickly set down the things she was carrying. She walked straight over, pulled up the woman’s sleeve, and carefully checked her pulse.

“Pardon the intrusion.” Ming Qin’s expression was utterly focused. She completely missed how Murong Yan’s eyes had widened, staring intently at her own wrist as it was lightly held.

“I didn’t expect you to know medicine,” Murong Yan said flatly, suppressing the discomfort in her eyes.

            

“Just the basics.” A Shadow Guard’s work was like dancing on the edge of a blade. Master had always instructed Ming Qin to study her medical lessons diligently; even if her skills were subpar, she needed to be able to save her own life at critical moments.

Despite her limited expertise, Ming Qin could easily feel that the Commandery Princess’s vitality was severely depleted. The biting chill of the winter had seeped into her lung meridians, and her frail body simply couldn’t fend it off.

“Where is the doctor? Are the rest of the servants just rice buckets⁴?” Usually so mild-tempered, Ming Qin’s face flushed slightly with a rare flash of anger.

            

Ever since she lost her leg, Murong Yan loathed seeing the imperial doctors, and she especially hated having her skin touched during pulse readings. Before she could even reply, a tickle rose in her throat, leading to another bout of agonizing, heart-wrenching coughs.

Ming Qin stepped swiftly to the bed, threw back the canopy, and gathered up the thick quilt in her arms. Returning to the low couch, she wrapped Murong Yan tightly in its heavy folds and supported the woman’s body, gently patting her back.

Murong Yan coughed until she lost all her strength. By the end, she was merely shivering weakly, letting out muffled groans.

            

It pained Ming Qin to watch. She parted the woman’s collar, reached toward her collarbone, and began pressing her thumb into the Tiantu acupoint⁵.

“Don’t be angry. You’ll feel better soon,” Ming Qin coaxed softly, looking down at Murong Yan, whose eyes were glistening with tears from the coughing fit.

Looking up at the audacious person before her, the corners of Murong Yan’s eyes were tinted red as she struggled to catch her breath.

            

At such a close distance, Murong Yan took her first careful look at Ming Qin’s face.

To put it nicely, Ming Qin’s features were regular and proper. To put it bluntly, she was entirely unremarkable—neither beautiful nor ugly, just completely average. Drop her into a crowd, and she would vanish instantly. The perfect face for a Shadow Guard.

Strangely, whenever Ming Qin looked up, Murong Yan found it difficult to pull her attention away from those pure, clear eyes. They were so bright and limpid that they seemed capable of driving away the darkness and illuminating whatever they gazed upon.

            

They hadn’t seen each other in over a month, yet there was no sense of estrangement.

Ming Qin had a patch of gauze taped to her forehead, and a thin cut on her cheek had already scabbed over. Her scent, which used to be crisp and clean, now smelled as though she had been entirely soaked in medicinal wine. She had undoubtedly just come from the medical pavilion.

It took about one stick of incense⁶ before Murong Yan finally managed to catch her breath. The thin calluses on Ming Qin’s thumb scraped against her skin, causing a slight sting that made her shift uncomfortably.

            

Ordering Ming Qin to help her sit up, Murong Yan smoothed her collar, ignored the other woman’s worried expression, and pointed a slender index finger at the steamer basket that had been sitting on the table for far too long.

Only then did Ming Qin remember it. She hurriedly opened the lid, only to find that the crescent-shaped dumplings inside had long since gone cold and stiff.

A wave of frustration washed over her. Ming Qin was just about to put the lid back on when Murong Yan spoke. “Bring it here.”

            

“But it’s already gone cold,” Ming Qin said dejectedly.

Tap, tap.

Murong Yan tapped her fingers against the tea table in a silent command.

            

Only then did Ming Qin reluctantly place the steamer basket in front of the Commandery Princess. Biting her lip, she watched as the Commandery Princess, wearing a placid expression that suggested she didn’t mind at all, picked up a cold dumpling with her chopsticks and placed it in her mouth.

Murong Yan chewed the small dumpling for a very long time. The moment she swallowed it, Ming Qin let out a sudden shout, as if she had just remembered something. The Shadow Guard frantically reached into the front of her robes, pulled out her cloth bag, and dug out a thoroughly grimy, oil-paper wrapped package.

“This is the gift I promised to bring you! Not the dumplings.” She pinched her sleeve and vigorously rubbed the surface of the oil-paper package before offering it to the woman before her.

            

Murong Yan did not show any disdain. She set down her chopsticks and accepted it. Untying the hemp string, she revealed a partially fractured tea brick. She lowered her head and gave it a light sniff. “Green tea leaves? Did you travel to the Min region?”

Ming Qin’s hand, which had been adding charcoal to the brazier, suddenly froze. Utter panic crossed her face.

[Image: A traditional compressed tea brick]

            

Seeing the flustered Ming Qin, Murong Yan understood perfectly in her heart and considerately chose not to press the issue.

Letting out a breath of relief, Ming Qin handed Murong Yan some boiling water and began to chatter endlessly. “I never knew there were so many types of tea before. My head was spinning just listening to the descriptions. The granny at that teahouse said this is the best-tasting tea in the entire world. Only in Min… only their shop sells it.”

Having almost let the location slip, Ming Qin sneaked a glance at the person across from her. Seeing that Murong Yan remained perfectly composed, her hands steadily pouring the water to steep the tea, Ming Qin felt reassured enough to continue.

            

“That granny even patted her chest and swore that if it didn’t taste good, I could come back and find her. I never knew tea was such a rare luxury. This small half-jin⁷ cost me three whole months’ salary. It was really expensive.” She gestured with exaggerated emphasis.

Murong Yan listened while pouring tea for herself. With a slight tilt of her wrist, she raised the jade cup and lowered her head to take a sip.

It was fragrant on the palate—the tea aroma was strong, but it vanished in an instant. There was a faint, lingering floral scent that was barely detectable, and the aftertaste carried a burnt note.

            

Hmm.

Extremely ordinary.

Ordinarily bad.

            

Looking at Ming Qin, who was staring at her with wide, eager eyes, Murong Yan found it deeply amusing.

It seemed she had been scammed by some malicious locals in the Min region.

Truly silly.

            

“How is it?” Ming Qin swallowed hard, looking tense.

“Hmm…” Murong Yan’s throat felt dry and itchy, and she gave a light cough. Looking at the crumpled oil paper that had wrapped the tea, noting the few un-wiped streaks of blood still staining the outside, she uttered a rare lie. “Passable.”

Ming Qin leapt up happily at those words. She poured herself a cup and, heedless of the scalding heat, downed it in a single gulp.

            

“Delicious!” she declared, her expression entirely serious. “I think this tea is absolutely delicious too! It seems the teahouse granny didn’t lie to me—this really is the best-tasting tea in the world! I’ll have to go back another day and buy twenty jin, and properly thank that granny while I’m at it.”

Murong Yan’s hand trembled slightly as she poured Ming Qin more tea, struggling to hold back a laugh.

Given how the girl guzzled water like a cow, how could she possibly taste what made a good tea? But looking at Ming Qin’s earnest expression, she suddenly felt that the tea wasn’t quite so terrible after all.

            

“You can skip the twenty jin,” Murong Yan said, taking another shallow sip of the tea with a faint smile. “Don’t buy any more tea leaves. I don’t drink tea in the winter.” She spun the excuse effortlessly.

Before Ming Qin could reply, Murong Yan skillfully changed the subject, confusing the simple-minded Shadow Guard so thoroughly she couldn’t tell north from south.

The atmosphere was harmonious.

            

It wasn’t until the sky turned completely dark that Ming Qin finally brought herself to leave.

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“Qinqin, come here.”

The moment the young Shadow Guard stepped through the door of her quarters, she saw her Master sitting on a wooden stool, watching her with a severe expression.

            

“We need to talk.”

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The author has something to say:

Thank you to everyone who has read up to this point. I hope you eat well, sleep well, and have a wonderful day. (Or a wonderful tomorrow?)

            

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