The Princess’ Shadow Guard – Chapter 7
by Little PandaGet Out With Your Pity and Compassion (Misunderstanding)
“Master?” Ming Qin looked at the man before her, somewhat surprised by his rare, harsh tone. “Is there a new mission?”
“Qinqin, where have you just been?” Her master, He Jingshou, crossed his arms. Though he was sitting, he made Ming Qin, who stood before him, feel immense pressure.
“Cang Yue Tower on Changshou Street,” Ming Qin answered honestly, her hands placed respectfully behind her back.
He Jingshou’s brow furrowed. “Do you know who lives in Cang Yue Tower?” he asked in a low, heavy voice.
“The daughter of the Prince of Yu, Commandery Princess Chongwen, Murong Yan.” Ming Qin straightened her back unconsciously as she spoke.
With a loud smack, He Jingshou slammed his hand on the table and roared, “You knew who it was, and you still dared to go there!” A deep palm print was left on the rosewood table. “Are you trying to anger me to death?!”
Panic welled up in Ming Qin’s heart. She wanted to explain, but seeing her master’s face flushed red with anger, she could only stand there obediently, not daring to make a sound.
After grumbling and cursing for a while, He Jingshou finally caught his breath. “Your master understands that while your martial arts are superb, you are ignorant of worldly affairs.” Looking at his well-behaved disciple and remembering how she had been on the brink of death to complete a previous mission, the man felt nothing but tender pity.
He sighed, resting his forehead in his hand. “It’s just that the situation in the Capital is turbulent right now,” he said softly. “Your disposition is simple, and you don’t understand the complexities involved. You must not get involved randomly. Don’t see her again.”
Hearing this, Ming Qin, whose hands were hanging at her sides, quickly looked up and cried out anxiously, “But Master…”
He Jingshou stood and shouted sternly at her, “Qinqin! Do not talk back. Behave.” Seeing his disciple shrink back in silence, the man was finally satisfied and left with a flick of his robes.
Ming Qin stood blankly in the room for a long time. Her master had just unleashed a torrent of angry words, but she hadn’t understood most of it.
Why couldn’t she go to Cang Yue Tower just because she knew Murong Yan was there?
What did the turbulent situation in the Capital have to do with going to Cang Yue Tower?
And what had she gotten involved in?
Removing her bandages, Ming Qin sprinkled medicinal powder onto her reopened wound. She had always trusted her master, believing his decisions were always for the best, and she had never questioned him, always submitting to his commands.
But now, she kind of wanted to know the reason why she couldn’t see Murong Yan anymore.
The next day, Ming Qin went to buy breakfast with a pair of panda eyes.1
She listlessly gnawed on a steamed bun under the corridor eaves, watching the snow. She had tossed and turned all night, unable to sleep, trying to piece together her master’s words in her mind. She racked her brains but still couldn’t figure out why she wasn’t allowed to see Murong Yan.
Ming Qin’s gloomy face all day long startled several of her junior martial brothers and sisters.
Lost in her own thoughts with a funereal expression, Ming Qin wasn’t paying attention and accidentally dislocated the arm of her sparring partner, a shidi named Xu Jun. She only snapped out of it when Xu Jun cried out in pain, and she released his arm from her tight grip.
“My apologies.”
Ming Qin was deeply guilty. It was nearing dusk, and the snow was getting heavier. “Let’s call it a day,” she said, dismissing the youths. Before leaving, she didn’t forget to help pop the arm she had just dislocated back into place.
Watching the wind and snow grow stronger, the cold wind whistling as it shook the tree branches, Ming Qin was suddenly struck by a bone-chilling cold. An image of Murong Yan hunched over her desk, wracked by a dry cough, appeared in her mind, and her brow furrowed tightly.
Arriving at the Medical Hall, Ming Qin looked at Doctor Ren, who was examining her wounds, and blurted out, “Doctor Ren, can you help me get some medicine to nourish vital energy, stop coughs, and soothe the lungs?”
Doctor Ren looked at this Shadow Guard, whose face was ruddy and who was full of vigor. Aside from the crisscrossing scabs and scars on her body, she looked perfectly energetic and full of life. He asked in confusion, “Shouldn’t you be asking for a prescription that promotes healing, generates blood, and disperses stasis?”
“It’s not for me!” Ming Qin explained. “It’s for a friend. Her constitution is weak, and she can’t handle the cold weather.”
Doctor Ren agreed. Just as Ming Qin was about to leave the camp happily, a thought struck her, and she suddenly turned back.
Murong Yan’s body was so weak, so delicate. It would be better if she brewed the medicine for her.
Ming Qin swiped a pot and a porcelain stewpot from the kitchen and started a charcoal fire in a corner of her room. Squatting on the ground with a small fan, she periodically stirred and checked the medicinal soup. The low-quality charcoal produced smoke that stung her eyes, making them red and teary.
A little shimei who had come to ask for guidance opened the door to see Senior Sister Ming Qin curled up on the floor, crying with red eyes. The sight scared her so much that she quickly backed out of the room.
The process of brewing medicine was tedious and boring, making Ming Qin yawn repeatedly, but she kept her eyelids propped open and continued to fan the fire slowly.
By the time the medicine was ready, it was already the Zi Hour.2 Ming Qin wrapped the porcelain stewpot tightly in cloth, tied it to her back, and left the camp, using her qinggong3 to move stealthily across the rooftops under the moonlight.
She climbed the tall tower with extreme care, afraid of spilling even a single drop of the medicinal soup from the stewpot.
Peeking quietly through the window, she saw the room was dark, the lamps extinguished. A tiny oil lamp was lit by the head of the distant bed, emitting a faint halo of light.
Using her sharp eyesight, Ming Qin saw the silhouette behind the bed curtains. Murong Yan was already asleep.
Perfect! Ming Qin thought.
This way, she wouldn’t have to see the Commandery Princess. Master said she couldn’t see Murong Yan, but he didn’t say she couldn’t deliver medicine to her.
With a sigh of relief, Ming Qin slipped into the room.
The Shadow Guard placed the porcelain stewpot on the tea table. She turned to leave but hesitated, remembering the Commandery Princess’s difficulty walking. She grabbed a stool, placed it by Murong Yan’s bedside, and set the stewpot on top of it.
Remembering that the Commandery Princess was afraid of the cold, Ming Qin hesitated for a moment before adding some more charcoal to the brazier by the bed to make the room warmer. Then, fearing the medicine in the stewpot would cool too quickly, she moved the small stool closer to the brazier. Finally, she took a brush and ink and wrote down instructions for taking the medicine, leaving the note by the bed.
Only then did Ming Qin nod in satisfaction and leap away.
For seven consecutive days, Ming Qin delivered medicine to Murong Yan. Though she returned late every night, she felt light and refreshed.
The little panda bags under her eyes had long since vanished.
Today, Ming Qin had brewed the medicine early. By the Hai Hour,4 she was already squatting on a treetop, waiting for Murong Yan to extinguish her lights and go to sleep.
Ming Qin’s qinggong was superb. She stood on a single branch amidst the strong wind, her figure perfectly still as snowflakes landed on her shoulders.
But now, Ming Qin was a little worried. Murong Yan seemed to be asleep on the bed, her back covered by a blanket that made her look very thin. For some reason, the window was half-open, and the cold wind gusting in had even flipped the pages of a distant book.
This will only make her condition worse, Ming Qin thought, biting her lip in distress.
Seeing that the figure remained motionless and seemed to be sound asleep, the next second, the branch trembled slightly, and the young Shadow Guard scaled the tall tower.
After slipping inside, Ming Qin quickly closed the window and silently approached the sleeping woman. Looking at her pale face, she bent down, wrapped her in the blanket, and lifted her up.
The body in her arms was icy cold, making Ming Qin wonder if she had been taking her medicine properly at all.
The slender body drooped in her arms like a willow branch, seemingly weightless. The Shadow Guard’s movements became even more gentle.
She carefully placed the person in her arms onto the soft bed and covered her with the quilt. Ming Qin then untied the porcelain stewpot and placed it on the bedside table.
Just as she was about to lower the bed curtains, her eyes met Murong Yan’s, which were wide open.
Her gaze was clear, not at all like someone who had just been fast asleep.
Crap!
Master said I couldn’t see her!
Turmoil surged within her. The instinct to obey, ingrained in Ming Qin since childhood, screamed from every fiber of her being, urging her to leave at once.
But for some reason, a powerful emotion in her heart made it impossible to look away. Her feet felt as if they were glued to the floor, unable to move an inch.
Murong Yan watched the conflicted and chagrined expression on Ming Qin’s face and pursed her lips. Then she spoke. “What? Does my being awake bother you so much?” Her voice was cold and distant. “If you don’t want to see me so badly, why force yourself to come?”
Ming Qin felt as if a thousand-pound weight was pressing on her chest. She could only fidget with her fingers, her tongue tied, not knowing how to explain.
Seeing her frozen expression, Murong Yan became even more certain. “Sneaking up to the tower every day,” she sneered, “it must be such a grievance for you, Lord Shadow Guard.”
She gave a cold laugh as she struggled to sit up.
“I… I…” Ming Qin had never hated her clumsy tongue so much. Seeing Murong Yan’s labored effort to get up, she instinctively reached out to help.
“Don’t touch me.” Murong Yan slapped away the Shadow Guard’s offered hand, suppressing the itch in her throat. “You make me sick.”
Ming Qin stumbled back a few steps, her eyes turning red.
“Get out.” Murong Yan grabbed the medicine by her bed and threw it at the person with the bowed head, as if using all the strength in her body.
“Take your hypocritical pity and compassion, and get out!”
Ming Qin didn’t dodge. The porcelain stewpot smashed against her not-yet-fully-healed left shoulder and shattered.
Scalding medicinal soup drenched her body, but Ming Qin felt nothing. Only at the moment the Commandery Princess told her to get out did she feel as if she had been granted amnesty. Her tense body shot out the window like an arrow released from a bowstring.
Ming Qin clutched the front of her clothes, her heart trembling.
It didn’t hit my heart, so why does it ache so much here?
Inside the room, the woman collapsed weakly onto the bed, unable to stop her dry coughs.
This weak version of herself frustrated Murong Yan. Looking at her own thin wrists, she slowly curled into a ball.
In truth, she was more frustrated with the sorrow she couldn’t stop, and with the cowardly screams echoing in the depths of her heart.
Stay! Stay!
Pity, compassion, whatever it is, just don’t leave me.
Stay!
A bitter, mocking smile slowly formed on her lips.
As expected, she had nothing left.
Not even her dignity.
Murong Yan closed her eyes, praying she could escape this world soon.
Fortunately, she lost consciousness before dawn.
The author has something to say:
I splurged on a cover, buying happiness with money, yeah!
Also, I’ve noticed that sometimes after I publish a chapter, I find a typo. If I fix it, I have to wait for it to be reviewed again, and the wait is agonizing because it takes a long time.
So I’ll try my best not to have typos, but if there are some by accident, as long as it doesn’t affect the reading experience, let’s just let it go~
LP: Re-translate on June 04, 2025
Footnotes
- Literally “panda eyes,” a common expression for dark circles from lack of sleep.
- 子时 (zǐshí) is the first of the traditional Chinese double-hours, corresponding to 11 PM to 1 AM.
- 轻功 (qīnggōng) is a martial arts skill that allows practitioners to move with superhuman agility and grace, as if weightless.
- 亥时 (hàishí) is the twelfth of the traditional Chinese double-hours, corresponding to 9 PM to 11 PM.
This is nice. Just stumbled upon this work. Everything is so goooddd!
Aw they’re both so cute
Thanks for the chapter!