The Princess’ Shadow Guard – Chapter 39

A Deeper Bond (Marriage)

The deep snow had swallowed up more than half of the wheel.

Even the finest of steeds couldn’t pull the carriage through this blizzard.

Ming Qin said to the person inside the carriage, “Looks like we’ll have to wait a day or two for this heavy snow to stop before we can continue on our way.”

Murong Yan did not respond; there was complete silence in the compartment.

Feeling a bit odd, Ming Qin pulled back the curtain and turned to look, only to find the woman collapsed in her seat, shivering uncontrollably.

She didn’t even have a response to the little tiger biting at the hem of her dress at her feet.

This is bad!

Ming Qin leapt down from her mount and hastily opened the carriage door to touch Murong Yan’s forehead, only to be startled by the scorching heat.

The woman in a coma was burning up; her lips were deathly pale, and she was shivering violently despite being wrapped in thick blankets.

Holding Murong Yan’s delicate wrist, Ming Qin’s face turned ashen as she took her pulse. The pulse was floating and weak, a sure sign of a pernicious chill in the body, a failure in the lung’s function to circulate qi, and a faint indication that it was getting worse.

This can’t go on.

As Murong Yan struggled for breath inside the carriage, her consciousness blurring, Ming Qin felt a rush of urgency. She quickly pulled out a map from her bosom and reviewed it.

Then, she wrapped the woman in a blanket, securing it tightly with a belt, and scooped up the fluffy, tumbling bundle beside her, tucking it into Murong Yan’s arms.

“Serve as a makeshift stove, got it?” Ming Qin glanced deeply at the restless little tiger while securing a large fox fur around the woman’s body and tightening the hood.

Ming Qin carried the unconscious Murong Yan out of the carriage, straining to shield her from the wind and snow. With one hand, she wielded a sword to cut through the carriage’s stand and leather straps, led the horses out individually, and with the other, she hefted the woman and tiger onto the horse.

With a firm squeeze of her legs against the horse’s belly, she broke through the cold wind, heading eastward.

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Below a slope covered in trees, a stone house is emitting wisps of blue smoke.

In the deep of a winter night, a series of rough knocks on the door disrupt the peace of a hunter couple’s home.

The husband, protectively placing his pregnant wife behind him, picks up the iron shovel resting by the door, cautiously cracking open the door to peek outside.

As the door opens, a hand, frozen red, immediately clutches the doorframe. Ignoring the sharp shovel the hunter points at her chest, the person in black, despite the imminent threat, barges in holding a woman.

The hunter observes the tall woman, a chain around her neck, shoulders laden with snow; as she enters, she strides directly to the bed and gently lays down the woman in her arms, then turns to add more wood to the stove.

“Hey! You—Ah!” Confronted by the uninvited stranger, the man puffs out his chest in an attempt to intimidate, but he is startled into jumping back by a small tiger that suddenly rolls off the bed.

Ming Qin, her hand against Murong Yan’s forehead, looks unconcerned as she watches the shivering couple huddled together and asks urgently, “Do you have any medicine for common colds here?”

Eyeing the long sword at the intruder’s waist, the man swallows his saliva and replies, “Yes, yes, we do…”

Still holding the iron shovel, he slowly moves to the earthen jar by the stove and tosses the oiled paper package to Ming Qin.

The hunter’s pregnant wife, reassured by the appearance of the black-clad person and the woman lying beside her not seeming like bad folks, muster the courage to ask, “May I inquire if you two have encountered mountain bandits?”

“Bandits?” Ming Qin lifted her head as she sniffed the large medicine pill, black and round as a dumpling, and glanced at the woman with some confusion.

“This area has recently been troubled by bandits,” the man explained, putting down the iron shovel but staying on guard against the small tiger baring its teeth. “Six or seven strong men have been robbing everywhere, and even after reporting it, there’s been no one to deal with them.”

“I’ve already killed those bandits,” Ming Qin stated calmly.

Ignoring the shocked faces of the hunter couple, she grabbed a handful of the medicine, chewed it until it turned mushy, and then leaned over to prop Murong Yan’s neck, feeding the mushy medicine into the mouth of the woman with a high fever.

Gently coaxing the drowsy person to swallow the medicine mixed with saliva, Ming Qin affectionately stroked Murong Yan’s face and then turned to the frightened couple standing aside, saying, “Please allow us to stay for a few days until my companion recovers.”

Afterward, she pulled out a pouch from her pocket and tossed it to the man.

Weighing the hefty sum of silver in his hands, the man seemed unsure of what to do, merely nodding his head dryly and saying, “Alright… alright then.”

The little tiger, probably hungry, began sniffing around the room before starting to gnaw on a table leg. The pregnant woman, initially startled, turned towards Ming Qin with some hesitation and said, “We’ve got a sheep in the backyard that just gave birth, should I have my husband squeeze some sheep milk for the little tiger?”

Ming Qin, feeling the now steady grip of Murong Yan’s hand, let out a sigh of relief. She then turned to the couple and nodded her acknowledgment with a whisper of thanks.

That night, the pregnant woman and Murong Yan slept together on the hardwood bed, while the man went to sleep on the straw in the stable. Ming Qin, however, sat rigidly on a wooden chair, staying awake the entire night.

Looking at the frail woman before her, she was filled with self-reproach.

Indeed.

She knew only how to kill; she was utterly unfit for the job of a protector.

Had she let her senior sister and brother take care of Murong Yan, perhaps she wouldn’t have had to suffer like this.

Ming Qin cradled her head in her hands.

Feeling an unusual sense of dejection.

The next day.

The hunter’s wife, up early, was cooking porridge and glanced at Ming Qin, who was swiftly chopping wood in the clearing in front of the stone house despite the wind and snow. In less than the time it takes an incense stick to burn, piles of neatly stacked wood had accumulated beside her, prompting the wife’s amazement.

A slight movement came from the bedboard, and Ming Qin immediately dropped her ax to check inside the house.

Murong Yan was wrapped thickly in furs, struggling to open her eyes.

With lips somewhat cracked, she slowly opened her mouth and softly called out to the tense figure before her, “Ah Qin…”

Ming Qin helped her sit up, holding her half-embraced, and repeatedly checked the woman’s forehead temperature, “Feeling any better?”

“Mmm…” Her throat was still tight, and her weak voice was a bit hoarse, “Ah Qin, don’t worry.”

Taking the bowl handed to her by the hunter’s wife, Ming Qin carefully blew on the steaming porridge to cool it and brought the spoon to Murong Yan’s lips, “Eat some, okay?”

The woman obediently opened her mouth. The warm, thin porridge was flavorless except for the slight sweetness of the overcooked, mushy rice that traveled down her throat to her empty stomach, bringing Murong Yan a sense of warmth she hadn’t felt in a long time.

When she could eat no more, she waved her hand to signal Ming Qin.

Ming Qin set the bowl aside, took out a few pills and chewed them up, then cupped Murong Yan’s face with both hands and leaned down to block the mouth of the woman before her.

Murong Yan tilted her neck back to swallow the mushy, bitter medicine. She, who always favored sweetness, did not mind the taste and obediently gulped down everything Mingqin fed her.

After a long while, the shadow guard stood up and gently wiped away the traces of moisture from the corners of the woman’s mouth with her thumb.

Just then, the hunter returned from checking his traps, the door swinging open to reveal his frustrated expression—a sign he had come back empty-handed again.

Grasping Murong Yan’s wrist, Ming Qin subtly shifted to shield her, as if to protect the newly awakened patient from being startled by the presence of the man before them.

Murong Yan, in a comforting gesture, tightened her grip on Ming Qin’s fingertips, and, with some effort, addressed the couple, “I’m truly grateful for both of your hospitality.”

Watching the woman before them fully awake, her appearance even more distinguished than when she was unconscious, the hunter couple was momentarily stunned. Then, regaining their composure, the man’s face turned a shade redder as he waved his hands nervously, saying, “It’s alright, it’s alright, your… companion gave us money.”

The little tiger was playing with some fur on the ground, pouncing and jumping around in the room.

Though the stone house was rudimentary, it had the advantage of being warm. Murong Yan fell into a deep sleep once again.

The hunter’s wife, now convinced that Ming Qin meant no harm and leaning against the doorframe with her swollen belly, asked, “Has your master always treated you well?”

“Master?” Ming Qin, while smoothing the hair on Murong Yan’s forehead, looked puzzled at the woman’s question.

The woman gestured towards her neck, signaling towards the chain around Ming Qin’s neck, “If it weren’t for your master treating you extremely well, why would you, a slave, take such meticulous care of her?”

Ming Qin did not argue, and after a moment of silence, she replied, “The master has graced me with kindness.”

“Even though I’m uneducated, I understand the principle that one should repay even the smallest favor with a fountain of gratitude,” the woman nodded in understanding and then smiled, “It’s just that, your master must have given you tremendous favor, for you two do not at all seem like master and servant.”

“Not like master and servant?” Ming Qin tilted her head in confusion.

But in her mind, Murong Yan was the person she had decided to protect for her entire life.

“Yes, not like master and servant,” the hunter’s wife murmured softly, “It feels like there’s a deeper connection between you two.”

Their glances at each other resembled the tender gazes of lovers more than anything else. The woman didn’t voice the strange thought that had suddenly sprung to her mind.

That night, after everyone else had gone to sleep, Ming Qin sat by the dim light of the oil lamp, annoyed by her hair that had grown too long, obstructing her view.

She gathered a lock of hair from her forehead, ready to slice it off with her dagger, but she was stopped by the patting of Murong Yan, who had opened her eyes.

Turning her head to look at the now awake Murong Yan, Ming Qin’s hand still holding her hair had not lowered, and she appeared quite dazed and silly in Murong Yan’s eyes.

The newly awakened woman beckoned with her hand, signaling Ming Qin to lift her up.

Murong Yan straddled Ming Qin, facing the shadow guard with disheveled hair, and took the dagger from her hand. She then held Ming Qin’s face carefully and looked at it intently before slowly trimming the annoyingly long strands of hair.

Ming Qin supported the person on top of her to prevent her from slipping, bowing her head to comply as Murong Yan fussed over her face.

The woman’s concentrated expression was illuminated by the oil lamp, making her eyes sparkle. Ming Qin, with her neck bent, felt the breath of the person in front of her on her face. The warmth emanating from the place where their bodies pressed against each other through the fabric suddenly made Ming Qin feel a bit thirsty.

After a while, the leaning woman slowly pulled back and smiled, “If I make Ah Qin’s hair look ugly, will Ah Qin be annoyed with me?”

Ming Qin shook her head, unable to make a sound, simply using her mouth shape to tell the woman before her, “Of course not.”

Murong Yan silently chuckled, stretched out her hand to stroke the shadow guard’s freshly cut hair, and then also took a lock of her own hair from behind her neck and snipped it off.

She mixed her own hair with the strands just cut from the shadow guard’s and held them up to Ming Qin’s eyes.

“Can you tell which are mine and which are Ah Qin’s?” Murong Yan raised an eyebrow, asking with a somewhat playful tone.

In the dim light, Ming Qin’s jet-black hair and Murong Yan’s soft yet greyish hair seemed to blend together, and even the sharp-eyed shadow guard could not distinguish them.

Watching Ming Qin in front of her shaking her head dazedly, Murong Yan chuckled softly.

Murong Yan put down the item she was holding, wrapped her arms around Ming Qin’s shoulders and neck, and gently yet earnestly kissed her lips with fingers teasingly threading through the raven strands of hair before her.

First, tracing along the shape of her lips, savoring gently, and then invitingly parting her mouth.

Ming Qin understood, cleverly and compliantly invaded, though the hands resting upon the woman’s body involuntarily tightened their grip.

As time passed, Murong Yan unconsciously clenched her fingertips, slightly tugging at the roots of the shadow guard’s hair, unable to resist pressing down on Ming Qin’s head and tightening her own legs.

The two bodies quivered involuntarily, close together, silent yet fervent, yet not loud enough to wake the pregnant woman who was soundly asleep beside them.

“If only there was a piece of red fabric to cover the head.”

Murong Yan said weakly, panting lightly, murmuring to herself as their lips parted.

“Forget it,” she resignedly whispered.

“Things being as they are is already wonderful.”

She reached for Ming Qin’s hand, their fingertips locking tightly.

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LP: Re-translated on February 23, 2024

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