Zhao Xiheng woke up after being fed medicine, and it was already dusk the next day. She sighed softly, lying motionless in bed, still lingering in the dream.
Several maidservants, seeing her awake, gathered around to attend to her—inquiring about her well-being, helping her sit up, and feeding her warm water.
Zhao Xiheng’s fever had just subsided, but her head throbbed with pain, her body felt weak and limp, and her stomach growled. The chattering, crisp voices of the women around her only added to her irritation. Cursing Wei Li in her heart, she dismissed them. “I’m hungry. I want Tangyou Baba, Qumi Fish, and Dong’an Chicken.”
These were all dishes from Jinyang.
The maidservants exchanged uneasy glances and stammered, “Young Mistress, these things… they aren’t available in Pingzhou, and it’s difficult to find anyone in the mansion who knows how to make them. Perhaps you could make do for now, and we…”
Zhao Xiheng nodded slightly. “Anything is fine. All of you, leave now. I’ll lie here quietly for a while.”
The door closed gently, and the room fell silent again, save for the crackling of the charcoal fire.
Not long after, hurried footsteps echoed outside. Xiao Tao, now dressed in a thick pink padded jacket with mutton fat applied to her hands to treat frostbite, burst in, knelt before Zhao Xiheng, and cried, “Your Highness~ Your Highness! Wuwuwu, please don’t abandon me…”
Her voice was hoarse and strained, each cry making Zhao Xiheng’s head ache even more. She wished she could throw her out.
“Are you mourning me?” she murmured, her voice slightly raspy. “Save your tears for eighty-five years from now. I plan to live to a hundred.”
Just uttering those few words had already drained her energy. Fortunately, Xiao Tao was obedient and immediately swallowed her sobs.
Though surprised, Zhao Xiheng wasn’t entirely shocked to see Xiao Tao by her bedside. This girl was stubborn and inflexible, refusing to turn back even after hitting a wall. She had no idea how far the procession had traveled, but Xiao Tao had braved the cold wind to return.
“Let me see your hands,” Zhao Xiheng beckoned, muttering, “Risking your life in such cold weather? Wouldn’t it have been better to return to warm and cozy Jinyang?”
Xiao Tao obediently extended her hands, wrapped in bandages, and whispered weakly, “They don’t hurt anymore, Your Highness.”
Zhao Xiheng glanced around, and seeing no one else, asked quietly, “How did you get back?”
“I… When I woke up in the carriage, I didn’t know how far we’d traveled. I took advantage of others’ inattention and jumped off, then ran. But I didn’t expect to get lost and accidentally cross into Goguryeo’s border, where they captured and tied me up.”
“Last night, Wei Li fought with the Goguryeo people, and I was rescued. He knew I was Your Highness’s servant, so he sent me back ahead of time.”
Although Wei Li had saved her, Xiao Tao couldn’t bring herself to feel grateful toward him. Every time she thought about how he had taken her princess away, causing her to fall into Goguryeo’s hands while searching for her, resentment swelled within her.
As she spoke, she began to cry again. Zhao Xiheng hugged her. “It’s fine as long as you’re safe, it’s fine.”
Though Wei Li was a beast, Zhao Xiheng felt a flicker of gratitude for bringing Xiao Tao back.
“Your Highness, he’s still in Pyongyang now, and who knows when he’ll return. Let’s run away!” Xiao Tao urged, her eyes red.
Zhao Xiheng flicked her forehead. “Even if he’s not here, the Ji’an County Governor and his family are still around. I’m still weak right now. Forget escaping—even taking a few steps out of bed exhausts me. I’d likely be caught before even leaving the door.”
“Oh…” Xiao Tao grew even more despondent at this.
Bang!
Before the two could finish their conversation, the sound of something heavy hitting the ground outside interrupted their discussion.
The door was then pushed open again, bringing with it a sweet, metallic scent of blood and a chilling cold.
“Oh, awake?” Wei Li raised an eyebrow as he glanced at Zhao Xiheng, casually removing the cloak from his shoulders and hanging it on the coat rack before standing in front of the blazing stove to warm his hands.
Zhao Xiheng narrowed her eyes, wishing she could shove his head into the fire.
Knock! Entering someone’s room without knocking! May he trip over a ghost the moment he steps out…
“Ugh…”
May he trip over a ghost the moment he steps out!
Before Zhao Xiheng could finish her silent cursing, she suddenly leaned over the edge of the kang and began retching.
Ever since Wei Li had intercepted her two days ago, she had only managed to eat a few bites of chestnut cake on the road to stave off hunger. Yesterday, she had spent the entire day lying in bed, leaving her stomach empty. The smell of blood now irritated her, churning her stomach, but nothing came up.
Wei Li’s face darkened. He withdrew his hands from the stove and turned to look at Zhao Xiheng, his expression murderous as he spat out each word through gritted teeth, “Zhao Xiheng, do I disgust you so much?”
Zhao Xiheng looked up at him, her already teary eyes now brimming with tears from the retching, making her appear even more pitiful. Her face was deathly pale as she shook her head. “Zhu Gong, it’s not that. There’s just a very strong smell of blood.”
At this, Wei Li suddenly leaned in with a smile. The scent of blood on him grew even stronger, and Zhao Xiheng’s face turned pale again as she leaned over the kang, retching once more.
Only then did she notice that Wei Li’s black robe was soaked in blood, frozen stiff from the cold outside. Now that he was indoors, it had begun to thaw, and droplets of blood were dripping onto the floor.
Xiao Tao trembled as she clung to Zhao Xiheng’s arm, hiding behind her.
“Didn’t your maid tell you? I killed quite a few people at the Goguryeo border. Zhao Xiheng, you should know that when I say I’ll kill you, I’m not just joking. You’d better behave.”
Perhaps stimulated by the blood, Wei Li seemed unusually excited tonight, like a snarling, hungry wolf, his bloodthirsty nature almost out of control.
Zhao Xiheng covered her chest, forcing a smile. “Yes, Zhu Gong, I understand.”
Her smile collapsed the moment Wei Li left the room. A trail of blood dripped from his body onto the floor. She grabbed the pillow behind her, pretending it was Wei Li, and slapped it fiercely several times.
Wei Li returned and sat on the edge of her kang, his blood staining her bedding. Zhao Xiheng felt a flicker of disgust but remained calm and composed. She casually tucked the pillow back behind her waist, acting as if nothing had happened, and cleared her throat. “Is there something else, Zhu Gong?”
Under the lamplight, a beauty appears even more beautiful.
Zhao Xiheng’s delicate, timid face looked even more serene and exquisite in the dim yellow light, her slightly pale lips adding to her fragile appearance.
Wei Li pinched her chin and examined her for a moment. Zhao Xiheng feigned shyness and fear, lowering her eyelashes and avoiding his gaze.
His hands were so rough—they scraped her face painfully.
“Once you’re better, we’ll set off for Buxian,” Wei Li said, curling his lips into a smirk.
Leaning against Xiao Tao, Zhao Xiheng coughed until she was breathless, her cheeks flushed and her eyes watery. She then looked weakly at Wei Li, using her actions to show that her illness was severe and unlikely to improve anytime soon.
Wei Li’s face fell. “Stop pretending. It’s just a fever. If you’re not better in three days, this body of yours is useless anyway. I might as well slit your throat and spare you the misery. After I die, we’ll meet again in the underworld.”
He pinched Zhao Xiheng’s cheek again, then truly left this time. “Try to pull yourself together. I’ve killed a lot of people today and don’t feel like killing you for now.”
Damn it.
Zhao Xiheng rubbed her face, her heart a vast, endless grassland. She had no idea why Wei Li had come over in another fit of madness just to scare her.
After Wei Li left, Zhao Xiheng retched again but still brought nothing up. Instead, her stomach burned with hunger pains.
Xiao Tao cleaned up the bloodstains and changed the bedding, which made her feel a little more comfortable.
Dinner arrived half an hour later than expected.
The cuisine in Pingzhou wasn’t refined, mostly consisting of stews, but it looked steaming hot and perfect for winter.
“When Zhu Gong returned today, he hunted wild boar and roe deer. The kitchen prepared extra roasted roe deer meat and a hot pot with pickled cabbage and pork ribs. Princess, try the soup—it’s very warming in winter,” the maids explained.
Jinyang also had pickled cabbage, but Pingzhou’s version seemed different—lighter in color, turning golden when cooked, with a milder sourness, made from suancai (Chinese cabbage).
Zhao Xiheng enjoyed dishes of all flavors—sweet, sour, salty, and spicy—and wasn’t picky about regional cuisines, making her relatively easy to please.
As they said, Pingzhou’s winter dishes were indeed warming. She drank half a bowl of soup, a fine sweat breaking out on the tip of her nose, then followed their suggestion: she picked the meat off the ribs, dipped it in sauce along with the pickled cabbage, and ate a bowl of rice.
The glossy di san xian (stir-fried potatoes, eggplants, and peppers) and vinegar-braised suancai, along with the roasted roe deer leg, were all perfect with rice.
Zhao Xiheng had excellent mental fortitude. Her nausea from the smell of blood was only temporary and didn’t affect her appetite in the slightest.
The Commandery Governor felt the year was going badly. He had only wanted to stay as far away from Wei Li as possible, muddle through if he could, and send this harbinger of doom on his way. Instead, one thing after another kept happening.
He handed over the letter from Qingzhou’s city lord, Wang Zhiyao.
Wei Li felt a headache coming on just looking at the several pages of black characters and kicked the Commandery Governor’s leg. “You read it.”
The Commandery Governor didn’t dare refuse.
Wang Zhiyao’s letter roughly covered two points.
First, he congratulated Wei Li on seizing Pingzhou and becoming its new master. Second, he discussed the matter of Princess Ming’an with him.
No wonder Zhao Xiheng always said Zhao Mingxin’s head was filled with tofu brains.
After leaving Pingzhou unscathed, not only did she not rush back to Jinyang without stopping, she stayed in Qingzhou instead, dragging Wang Zhiyao into her life-or-death drama, demanding he help her avenge her humiliation. She claimed Wei Li had killed her fiancé and insulted her.
Zhao Mingxin had been spoiled by flattery in the palace, always thinking that the Great Zhou of today was still the Great Zhou of her uncle’s time, where all the feudal lords submitted without question. Little did she know that even the current emperor was a figurehead, let alone a princess like her.
She ordered Wang Zhiyao around arrogantly. Having entrenched himself in Qingzhou for years, how could Wang Zhiyao tolerate such disrespect? Originally, he hadn’t wanted trouble and only intended to send her away peacefully, but Zhao Mingxin truly thought she was something special.
So Wang Zhiyao told Wei Li that since the betrothed Princess Jingcheng had gone missing, to consolidate the friendly relations between the two nations, why not have Princess Ming’an marry into Goguryeo? Surely the princess would be more than willing to contribute to the state.
“Missing?” Wang Zhiyao really knew how to lie with his eyes wide open.
The Commandery Governor hesitated as he looked at Wei Li. “Zhu Gong, Goguryeo just attacked our Deer Farm the day before yesterday. Are we truly going to send Princess Ming’an for a marriage alliance?”
“Send her, why not? Our good neighbor, the King of Goguryeo, has lost his wife in his old age. It’s truly pitiful.”
“Send a message to Wang Zhiyao and have him bring her to Pingzhou. I will personally escort Princess Ming’an to Goguryeo.”
The Commandery Governor faintly heard that the face of the emperor, thousands of miles away, had been metaphorically slapped once more from afar.