The Princess’ Shadow Guard – Chapter 47

You are the person Ming Qin cherishes the most

Murong Yan saw the new Emperor for the first time at a palace banquet at the end of spring.

As a member of the royal family and the legitimate daughter of Prince Yu, she sat not far from the head table with Murong Can.

As the alcohol flowed and warmed their spirits, the men in the great hall were all tipsy, gazing at the lavish dishes before them. But Murong Yan’s expression remained indifferent, silently sipping her tea.

“Yue’er, today is our birthday. Why don’t you smile more?” Murong Can, reeking of alcohol with a flushed face, moved closer to his mismatched sister and suggested proactively, “Shall I have everyone celebrate for you?”

Without waiting for her to reply, he stood up with his cup and shouted. Several fellow military officers, grinning widely, stumbled forward, giving clumsy salutes to Murong Yan, and bellowed in their roarsest tones.

“Lady Murong, may you live forever!”

“What do you mean ‘lady’? Show some manners—it’s Princess Murong! Wishing you an auspicious birthday, happiness, and good health!”

“Hey hey hey! You’re stealing my lines, what else can I say… A harmonious union for a hundred years! Princess, a harmonious union for a hundred years!”

“Old Wei! Have you lost your mind? My little sister isn’t even married yet, harmonious union with whom?!”

Watching the group of men making a ruckus before her, though they were indeed causing quite a scene, Murong Yan felt only solitude in her heart, her thoughts involuntarily drifting back to her last year’s birthday celebration.

In that tiny room where only two people were present, the dazzling point of light enveloped by a warm palm was more brilliant and thrilling than the bright and splendid great hall.

She lowered her head and took a sip of tea, as if trying to suppress the sourness rising in her heart.

In the latter half of the night, besides Murong Yan, the palace banquet was filled with men, most of whom were coarse fellows accustomed to the military barracks. After a few urns of wine, many were already muddled, starting to crack inappropriate jokes.

Murong Yan listened without getting annoyed, but she felt somewhat vexed. When Murong Can stood up with his wine cup to start the third round of toasting, she quietly left her seat.

It had been nearly ten years since she last entered the palace.

Back then, when her right leg was still intact, youthful and ignorant of restraint, she flaunted her superficial beauty and hardly remarkable literary grace, winning everyone’s favor. She was ostentatiously high-profile, moving freely within the vast imperial palace.

She fear that if she had told her younger self that such arrogance would attract great troubles, that headstrong young girl would not have believed it.

Yet surprisingly, every flower and plant in this courtyard hasn’t changed much from her memory.

People, however, have changed a lot.

Leaning on a cane, she slowly walked along the pebble-lined path, the air moist and carrying the fragrance of grass and earth breaking through the soil.

Taking a deep breath, she unexpectedly came face-to-face with a petite figure.

“Your Majesty.” Murong Yan clasped her hands in greeting and was about to kneel in obeisance but was stopped by the young Emperor.

“No! Please, don’t bow to me.” Murong Wei, dressed in a somewhat oversized robe, extended his hands somewhat frantically, the pearls on his crown clinking together, “Ah… Rise! Please, rise quickly.”

The woman stood up straight, quietly standing there, her slender and lonely figure seemingly even more fragile than the willow branches behind her. Murong Wei, who had also left the banquet early, hesitated before speaking with his still immature voice, “I… not… We, We know you are not in good health; there’s no need for you to pay respects to Us.”

“His Majesty has only just ascended the throne, with countless worries to attend to. It’s truly a dereliction of my duty that Your Majesty is distracted and shows concern for this subject’s health,” Murong Yan said, still with lowered eyelids, her posture respectful but her tone indifferently spoken.

“No, it’s not a bother at all!” the young man hastily waved his hands and said, “It’s because Ming Qin had mentioned you to me, that I…”

Upon hearing this, the woman abruptly lifted her head and asked in a low voice, “Ah Qin, has spoken of me to Your Majesty?”

“Yes,” Murong Wei nodded, “Previously, in the Imperial Academy, we would always chat idly while eating lunch, and every four or five sentences from Ming Qin would be about Chongwen Princess.”

“Ah Qin… what did she say about me?” Murong Yan asked, her voice tinged with a hint of sourness.

The young man tilted his head in recollection, then somewhat shyly scratched his head, “Ming Qin… always said that you are very beautiful, the most beautiful and the strongest woman in the world.”

He recalled the times they sat in the corridor, the woman contentedly gesticulating with excitement while eating the meals sent by the imperial chef.

“Ming Qin, whenever she finds something tasty outside, will always share a bit with me. But if there isn’t enough, she would righteously and sternly refuse me, no matter how much I pleaded… she would never let me have it.”

Murong Wei’s usually too mature expression gave way to a rare, age-appropriate chuckle, “She always says that it should be saved for Chongwen Princess.”

“You are the person Ming Qin cherishes the most.”

Murong Yan closed her eyes tightly and tilted her head back, trying to block the overwhelming heat welling up inside, her voice trembling, “She… is also the person I cherish the most.”

The thoughtful and sensitive young man offered a handkerchief with care, but it was refused by the woman.

“Ming Qin will come back.” He said nonchalantly, hands behind his back, looking sideways at the towering palace walls, “We promised each other that we would be victorious on our own battlefields.”

In the night, the silhouette of the young Emperor and the delicate Princess reflected an indescribable loneliness.

The execution of the rebels was scheduled for early summer.

Though the deposed Crown Prince had not been captured, the successful roundup of his maternal family and the remaining corrupt officials who had clung to power was considered a complete victory.

The new Emperor was benevolent and did not wish to implicate entire clans. He only executed the family heads in the bustling marketplace, while demoting the rest of their families to commoners, exiling them from the capital, with a prohibition on holding office for three generations.

Murong Yan had no desire to go to the streets and be tainted by the blood of these vermin. However, when she was returning to Cangyue Tower by carriage, she unintentionally caught sight of the elegantly dressed young master she had encountered in a village town.

Far removed from the arrogant, pampered young man who had once teased women, the figure of the man now was disheveled and despondent. His eyes were hollow, and on his face was a scar that seemed as if it had been slashed by the claws of a wild beast, stretching from his right cheek to his jaw.

He was seated in a wooden wheelchair, his legs unnaturally bent. His left hand, hidden beneath the sleeve, was missing its palm.

Along the way, some commoners threw rotten vegetable stems at him. Shackled among a group of people, he was berated and driven out of the city by the officers.

The arrogant second son of the Minister of the Ministry of Civil Affairs who had once harmed Ming Qin, was now in such a pitiable and down-and-out state.

With just a fleeting glance, Murong Yan pulled down the carriage curtain. Murong Can, sitting in front of her, asked with some concern, “Yue’er, do you really want to go back to that lofty tower?”

With the downfall of the deposed Crown Prince, Murong Yan was no longer needed as a hostage, imprisoned at anyone’s mercy.

Her own sister could well stay at Prince Yu’s residence in the capital city; if she disliked living with the rest of the house’s occupants, she could also dwell in Changning Palace, which had once been bestowed upon her by the Emperor.

Even, if she were willing, Murong Can could perhaps delay matters of the military, and could take her to roam the rivers and lakes, to sightsee and loaf around, so that his sister needn’t drown herself in this capital city filled with devouring memories.

There truly was no reason whatsoever for her to return to the Cangyue Tower.

Upon hearing this, Murong Yan’s expression revealed no fluctuations; she simply gently stroked the stone on her earlobe, her eyes downcast as she spoke softly, “She would get lost…”

“Hm?” Murong Can didn’t quite understand and tilted his head.

Images of Ming Qin peering over the windowsill, always with a radiant smile and bright, sparkling eyes, flashed through the woman’s mind.

She spoke again, “If I’m not there, she will get lost.” And then, she fell silent.

If she didn’t stay in that place that linked them together, if the foolish Ming Qin came back, she would probably end up panicking, not knowing where to find her at first.

She needed to stay there, waiting.

Just as she had done a year ago, waiting every day for Ming Qin’s arrival.

The author has something to say:

In the next chapter, Ming Qin reconnects~ Where will she appear? (Really curious)

PS. The collection has broken 900, yay (happy sprinkling of flowers and setting off firecrackers)!

I’m actually quite surprised that my collection is still growing a bit even after making it onto the newcomers’ list. After all, I don’t have much exposure and am not good with social media apps…

Despite not being a genre favored by the platform, this story is still holding its own, which really fills me with pride!

Maybe I can be a little greedy and look forward to the day it breaks a thousand collections? (laughs)

If you like this story, I welcome everyone to recommend it to more and more people!

I really want to see how far the story of Yanyan and Ah Qin can go, whether it can at least, to some extent, prove that the stories readers enjoy aren’t just officially promoted ones; that reader-selected stories can still break free from the current platform’s restrictions on genre.

I am very grateful to everyone who loves this story. I hold each word of encouragement and love from each of you close to my heart, and I cherish our encounters~

I hope everyone has a happy and joyous end to 2022, ready to welcome the brand new 2023.

As always, praying for you.

LP: Re-translated on March 05, 2024