Chapter 19

Qingwu curled into a ball, pulling out the corner of her skirt that had been pinned underneath, then gathering her wide sleeves onto her lap. Beside her, Pei Muci sat as still as a statue, his form spread out in immobile meditation.

After fidgeting for some time, Qingwu finally found a relatively comfortable position and settled down, breathing in the crisp, clean scent that wafted from him. She had transplanted a vast grove of deep bamboo into Qingsong Garden, and because of it, Pei Muci always carried a sweet, natural fragrance reminiscent of bamboo leaves—like walking through a cool, shaded bamboo forest after the rain, a comfort that felt like stepping into a paradise.

The old man chuckled kindly and flicked his whip gently against the ox's back. The cart jolted slightly, and with a nimble leap, the old man perched himself on the corner of the wooden board, his feet dangling off the edge.

The distance between the two was very close. Pei Muci, unsettled by the sweet, delicate fragrance clinging to the girl, could only gaze ahead, counting the storefronts as they passed by like paper lanterns. Why did he feel that whenever he went out with Qingwu, the street scenes themselves seemed to grow livelier?

"Grandfather, are we on the right path?" Qingwu asked, noticing that the old man was tapping the cart shaft rhythmically, making no effort to guide the ox, simply letting it walk forward.

"I know these roads like the back of my hand. Do you not trust an old man, little girl?" The old man didn't take offense. His withered frame swayed on the cart, his fingers, gnarled like eagle claws, gripping his staff tightly. "The ones giving out porridge there are good people. I go to the south gate to beg a bowl for my breakfast every day."

Qingwu smiled, her teeth bright. The evening breeze brushed past, tangling her long hair. Almost instinctively, Pei Muci tucked a stray lock, which had caught on her lip stain, behind her ear, revealing a face as luminous as the full moon. She loved to wear this docile, endearing expression, one that made others drop all their defenses in an instant.

"There are city walls on all four sides; why does Grandfather only go to the south?" Qingwu asked. If she remembered correctly, the north gate was closest to the market, and those who did business outside the city should choose the north gate to save time.

"The south city wall is the safest." The old man kicked his legs and sat cross-legged diagonally in front of them, lowering his voice mysteriously. "You might not know this, but the porridge stall at the south wall was set up by the Princess of our dynasty. She is wealthy and kind-hearted, so naturally, no one dares to stir up trouble there."

Qingwu: ...
She had stumbled upon gossip about herself.

The old man, seemingly oblivious to her expression, scanned the surroundings to ensure no one was near before whispering, "They say the chieftain of the southern border is smitten with the Princess’s beauty. He wants the Emperor to grant her to him for a political marriage, so he specifically ordered his barbarians not to cause trouble near the south wall, hoping to leave a good impression on her."

The old man grew more agitated as he spoke, eventually sounding indignant. "That is Princess Rongzhao! Does that toad from the south really think he can eat swan meat?"

Qingwu: Thanks...
But when did this talk of a political marriage start? Why had she never heard of it? Folk rumors are never without cause; either someone was deliberately spreading panic, or news had leaked from somewhere. She had never heard her father, the Emperor, mention it. Could it be that he intended to bestow the title of Princess upon a clanswoman and send her instead?

"Sigh, with all the chaos of war everywhere, who knows what tomorrow will bring?" Qingwu sighed melancholically and shook her head helplessly.

She was the only daughter of the Empress; some things were unavoidable.

The old man looked at her with the kind of tenderness one reserves for a granddaughter. "Indeed. The city is the safest place; why would anyone run to the city gates for no reason?" Piles of refugees fleeing the chaos gathered under those walls daily, and it was inevitable that some malicious characters would mix in. Looking at the pair’s appearance and clothing, they didn't look like people without a home. Could they be lovers eloping? The old man sighed, thinking he was truly getting old and could no longer understand the hearts of young girls.

"Miss, we are almost there." The towering stone city wall stretched out endlessly. The old man stopped the cart by the side of the road and nimbly jumped down to hold the ox.

The cart wheels groaned and turned another half-rotation, causing Qingwu to lose her balance and tilt backward. Pei Muci clenched his hands into fists, then wrapped his arms around her waist, his other hand slipping behind her knees to lift her directly from the cart.

The old man’s eyes crinkled into slits as he watched them with a foolish grin. Pei Muci leaned over, letting Qingwu stand firmly on the ground, and whispered into her ear in a low, seductive voice, "Your Highness, forgive my presumption."

Qingwu clicked her tongue. She suddenly regretted it; she should have stayed at the manor tonight, resting in Qingsong Garden and letting Pei Muci wait on her. Why had her heart softened when she saw the wound on his leg this morning? Fortunately, there was no rush; waiting seven days was safer.

Qingwu’s thoughts drifted miles away, yet she didn't forget her purpose. She fished out some silver and placed it into the old man’s cupped hands. The old man was pleasantly surprised and bowed repeatedly. Good heavens, this girl was truly generous—a single tip equaled several months of his vegetable sales. His wrinkles smoothed out with his smile, overflowing with satisfaction as he thanked her over and over.

The porridge shed was still crowded. Fearing that the workers might make a scene if they recognized her, Qingwu prepared to pull Pei Muci toward the back to find Matron Gu, who managed the stall. The old man, having packed his meager belongings, brushed the ox’s back with a steel-bristled brush and prepared to leave the city. Qingwu waved at him, and he returned the gesture with a beaming smile.

Yet, the moment the old man turned away, his kind face clouded over. His hooked nose and squinted eyes revealed a sharp, vicious glint, carrying a cruel, bloodthirsty aura as he melted into the boundless night.

Inside the porridge shed, the workers were efficient, and the matron was preoccupied with endless trifles, her feet barely touching the ground all day. When the older woman suddenly caught sight of Qingwu, she thought she had worked herself into a daze. She blinked several times and, fearing she might alarm others, feigned composure as she brought over a long bench to settle Qingwu. "Your Highness, it is too crowded and busy right now, and I cannot step away. Please rest for a moment."

"It’s fine! You go ahead," Qingwu said. She sat in the center of the bench, and Pei Muci sat beside her; she shifted slightly to balance the weight.

This Matron Gu was someone she had purchased from a slave trader when she first opened the porridge stall. It was said that after she married, she could not bear a son, and her husband's family, claiming she was beneath their social standing, had cast her out. Qingwu detested such things, so she insisted on giving Matron Gu this position to let her make something of herself. In this world, how could women be any less capable than men? Matron Gu had proven her worth; not only were her hands nimble, but she was also industrious. While she was extremely respectful to the Princess, she never resorted to fawning flattery.

After only a moment, someone called for Matron Gu from the other side. She gave Qingwu an apologetic look and hurried off to help.

Pei Muci stared at Matron Gu’s retreating back and then scanned the area. "What is it?" Qingwu rarely saw him display such a demeanor, his eyes fixed blankly into the distance, as if he were lost in thought.

"It seems that everyone knows the Princess’s name and is quite protective of you." From the old man on the ox cart to this ordinary Matron Gu, their attitude toward Qingwu could be described as devoted. A typical princess, even if favored by the Emperor, would be kept behind closed doors; how could she have such prestige among the common folk?

"The Empress had a difficult labor and could not give birth for a long time. Just as a heaven-sent omen appeared, the entire court submitted memorials to Father, urging him to declare the child in the Empress’s womb the Crown Prince." Qingwu’s tone was flat, as if she were not speaking of herself.

Pei Muci listened carefully, sensitively capturing the way she addressed the Emperor and Empress. Even though they were her biological parents, she referred to her mother with such distance, simply as "the Empress."

"Does that mean Your Highness will be the Emperor in the future?" Pei Muci was slightly surprised. When he considered that the Emperor had left his harem empty and currently had only Qingwu as a child, it was not an impossibility.

Qingwu shook her head. "Those honors were intended for the boy they thought I was." When the Empress gave birth to a princess, she felt a sense of guilt and, despite her frail health, begged the Emperor to immediately revoke all the previous rewards and titles. Although Qingwu pretended not to care, her tone was filled with a lingering sense of loss.

Pei Muci wanted to comfort her, but he did not know where to begin. "The Emperor is very fond of Your Highness now, too."

"Who else is there? I am the only remnant left to him by the one he loved most," Qingwu said, shrugging and sticking out her tongue playfully.

The one he loved most? Was it for the Empress that the Emperor refused to fill his harem? Pei Muci caught the nuance in her words, but before he could ponder it further, Matron Gu waved at them from afar. Qingwu grabbed his wrist and darted into the shed.