Chapter 23: Face Forced Against His Chest.
Startled, Zhao Rongzhang’s heart pounded wildly. Before she could think too much, Little Mute leaned forward slightly, nearly slipping sideways. Zhao Rongzhang held him tighter and urged him to drink the medicine.
Little Mute drank the medicine but still seemed unwell, resting his chin on the round stool as if he might fall asleep again at any moment.
However, Zhao Rongzhang wasn’t worried about Little Mute’s constitution. Diseases ran rampant in the Shadow Pavilion, and without medicine, bodies were sometimes dragged out in piles. Little Mute had been there since he was very young, not only surviving but emerging as the final victor, proving his extraordinary constitution. This minor issue wouldn’t pose a problem.
Little Mute’s clothes were disheveled, unlike his usual self. He always had a strong preference for neatness—his sleeves, waist, and legs were always free of wrinkles, and even the patterns on his clothes were perfectly aligned. Whenever she asked him to undress, he would always fold his clothes neatly before setting them aside. Today, he must have been completely dazed, unable to even dress properly.
In this state, he seemed even more provocative than when he deliberately tried to seduce her by groping her chest or pinching her neck.
Zhao Rongzhang decided not to bother him further. She told him to hide somewhere on the ground where she could find him, not up high. Then, she called for servants to bring food. After eating, she discussed important matters with Ming Luo.
Since Little Mute was unwell, Zhao Rongzhang decided not to go out for the next two days to avoid unnecessary trouble. Coincidentally, the wedding ceremony had already taken place the day before, so there was no need to go out anyway. After resting for two or three days, the marriage alliance procession would set off toward the Turkic capital.
In the evening, Zhao Rongzhang carried a lamp to the corner and saw Little Mute sitting hidden behind a curtain. The curtain was a pale bluish-green, and his tightly closed eyes, brow bone, eyelashes, and nose cast shadows on it. With each breath, the curtain fluttered slightly. She glanced at him twice before returning to sleep.
The next day, Zhao Rongzhang had the Imperial Kitchen prepare a variety of breakfast dishes. After eating her fill, she called for Little Mute, but he didn’t come out.
Zhao Rongzhang went to the corner again and found Little Mute still behind the same curtain, even in the same position as the night before. A patch of the curtain was damp, which hadn’t been visible in the dark but now revealed Little Mute’s flushed cheeks behind it. The contrast of green and red made the scene visually striking.
He had been asleep for so long without waking up. Could he really be unwell?
Zhao Rongzhang crouched down and patted his cheek through the curtain. His skin felt burning hot to the touch. It seemed he really wasn’t doing well. She pinched him, but he showed no reaction.
Zhao Rongzhang tried to pull the curtain aside, but a large portion of it was tightly clenched in his grasp. She cupped the back of his neck, placed her hands on his shoulders, and pulled him into her embrace. Half of the curtain remained between them, pressed against her chest and his face, its cool, rustling texture making his skin feel even hotter.
She realized he might have a fever. First, he had soaked in cold water for a long time, then been stimulated by aphrodisiacs, and in his agitated state, cold had invaded his body. Once held in her arms, Little Mute showed a slight reaction, pressing his face lightly against her shoulder as if in discomfort. Zhao Rongzhang held him, playing with his earlobe. “Alright, wake up now.”
Little Mute’s breathing was hot and rapid; if he could speak, who knows what kind of moans he’d be making. Unfortunately, he couldn’t, only his chest rising and falling heavily. Dazedly, he opened his eyes and boldly grabbed her wrist. Zhao Rongzhang let him guide her hand wherever he wished. Unexpectedly, he placed it against his inner thigh, where even through the fabric, she could feel a surge of scorching heat far warmer than the surrounding skin. Zhao Rongzhang heard his throat straining as if trying to force something out, but barely any sound escaped. She turned her face to see his lips so dry they had cracked, the bitten spots a vivid red. His lips parted slightly, his Adam’s apple bobbing repeatedly. Was he actually trying to speak? He must be truly delirious with fever.
Finally realizing he couldn’t speak, he gently placed his other hand on her shoulder. Overwhelmed with discomfort, he rested his head against her body and slowly traced characters on her shoulder with his index finger: Have, for you.
Zhao Rongzhang thought for a moment, then pressed her hand downward, rubbing his swollen tip, and chuckled, “No need.”
Little Mute trembled slightly under her touch, his eyes glazed, and leaning into her embrace, he came from just those few strokes. Her palm was quickly soaked, the fabric of her clothing thoroughly dampened and unable to contain it. Quite a lot, indeed. The air filled with a cold, fishy scent mingled with the fragrance of pine.
Zhao Rongzhang decided to have an Imperial Physician examine Little Mute. They were about to set off on their journey, and he was in no condition to travel. But Little Mute himself refused, clinging to her and unwilling to interact with outsiders. When Zhao Rongzhang tried to order him, he even pretended to be dead, feigning deafness again and again.
Since he refused, getting angry wouldn’t help. Moreover, given his identity, it was indeed best for him not to come into contact with anyone other than her, even those she trusted most. Even her Mother Consort had never met him while she was alive.
Zhao Rongzhang still summoned Imperial Physician Yu, explaining the previous incident of the wrong prescription and that the person now seemed to have a high fever, requiring a prescription to treat it first. Imperial Physician Yu never imagined that the prescription the Princess had truly wanted that day was meant to achieve the exact opposite effect of what he had assumed. This prescription was far more difficult to formulate.
Treating a high fever was straightforward; Imperial Physician Yu wrote a prescription based on the symptoms the Princess described. But for the other prescription she requested, he fell into deep thought. Difficulty in release was essentially due to excessive vitality, so the prescription should aim to clear and purge ministerial fire while stimulating the essence gate…
Upon hearing it would affect vitality, Zhao Rongzhang refused—a Shadow Guard without vitality would be crippled: “Is there no other way?”
Faced with such a question, Imperial Physician Yu couldn’t maintain his composure and rose to take his leave: “Your Highness may consult the elderly palace maids knowledgeable in matters of propriety.”
That line again. Zhao Rongzhang waved him away irritably. This old fool was not only useless but had also caused her trouble.
The fever-reducing decoction was ready. Zhao Rongzhang tried to shoo the cat over to drink it, but the cat remained crouched there. No matter what she said, he only lifted his fever-flushed face to stare blankly at her, not moving an inch. Annoying, yet pitiful to behold. Zhao Rongzhang brought the medicine over, crouched down, and fed it into his mouth, doing so with great impatience, practically pinching his chin to pour it down. For a Princess to serve him like this—was there no law anymore? Medicine dripped from the corners of his mouth and chin, and the cat choked, coughing.
“Go eat what’s on the table,” Zhao Rongzhang commanded. “Otherwise, I’ll force another bowl down your throat.”
Little Mute kept wiping the medicinal broth from his face and neck with the back of his hand, completely ignoring her words. Zhao Rongzhang was growing increasingly irritated and decided to leave him be.
By the third day, Little Mute had finally regained normal mobility. His fever had subsided, his face was no longer flushed, and he could understand instructions. However, he appeared weaker and less alert than before. When Zhao Rongzhang ordered him to drink the medicine, he lowered his eyes and finished it. When she told him to eat, he mechanically stuffed the food into his mouth. She hadn’t expected him to recover so slowly once he fell ill. Several times, Zhao Rongzhang grew so restless she felt like acting on her urges, but she could only suppress them by chewing on ice for now. Once the situation was safer and conditions allowed, she would definitely keep more male companions. This Little Mute had already made her accommodate him far too many times!
Before their departure, Little Mute had fully recovered physically. Though his spirits were still somewhat low, he was once again capable of hiding by her side without being detected by anyone else. However, after the incident with the aphrodisiac, this foolish cat had become less obedient and harder to coax in matters of intimacy. Zhao Rongzhang didn’t care what was going on in his mind—she only cared about whether he was useful. On the night before their departure, she dragged him along once more to relieve her heat toxin throughout the night.
That morning, the sun rose early, its color like freshly boiled egg yolk. Amidst the solemn sounds of horns and bells, the most noble princess of Great Zhou, dressed in lavish wedding attire and wearing a phoenix crown, stepped into a carriage draped in red silk. Officials offered their congratulations, soldiers cleared the way, and a procession of several hundred people marched grandly out of the imperial city, heading into the distance.
The Grand Empress Dowager, despite her aged body and the dissuasion of the ministers, climbed the high city tower to gaze into the distance. Zhao Jue was there as well. Everyone watched the lead carriage adorned with gold and jade, listening as the sound of bells grew fainter with the wind. Unlike the Grand Empress Dowager’s deep and somber worry, the Emperor’s face bore only the satisfaction of victory.
According to protocol, a princess sent for a marriage alliance must wear her full wedding attire throughout the journey. Even when staying at posthouses within her own country, her robes, belts, headdress, and veil must remain perfectly in place. Ming Luo rode a chestnut horse alongside the carriage and heard faint, tinkling sounds from inside. She tapped on the window frame and lifted a corner of the curtain to peek inside. To her surprise, the princess had already taken off her phoenix crown and casually tossed it at her feet, even bending the phoenix feathers strung with pearls out of shape. She was then removing her ceremonial robes, not bothering to distinguish which belt belonged to which, simply pulling them all off to free herself.
Ming Luo hadn’t expected the princess to be unable to endure even until they left the city. Less than two hours after boarding the carriage, she had already stripped off everything that had taken nearly two hours to put on that morning. Still, those garments were hardly fit for human wear. Ming Luo’s own court lady attire, though far lighter and more convenient than the princess’s, was already cumbersome and oppressive enough to make her uncomfortable. Silently, Ming Luo lowered the curtain and secured the window panel tightly.
Zhao Rongzhang stripped off everything, retrieved the everyday clothes she had prepared earlier from the side cabinet, and changed into them. Finally feeling at ease, she drank the Liu’an tea chilled in the ice chest to refresh herself and relieve the summer heat. Just as Ming Luo had said, even with meticulous planning and arrangements, the conditions on this journey would be incomparable to those in the palace. For now, they still had ice to use, but once they left the capital region and ventured beyond the emperor’s reach, no posthouse would be able to afford such luxuries.
Zhao Rongzhang kicked the pile of ceremonial robes aside and lay down on the sleeping platform cushioned with golden silk and a jade mat. Whether it was the rocking of the carriage that made her dizzy or drowsy, she soon fell into a deep sleep.
When she awoke, it was just time for the midday meal. The carriage came to a halt, officials knelt and listened respectfully to the imperial edict. Amidst the cicadas’ cries, people grew restless, unsure how much longer this delay would last. Zhao Rongzhang lifted the curtain and stepped out of the carriage. The palace maids immediately placed a footstool and helped her down. This post station was located on the outskirts of the imperial city, well-equipped. Several officials who had come from other regions to the capital for their performance evaluations had received advance notice and made themselves scarce. The Princess’s sudden appearance startled the attendants, who knelt on the ground, sweating profusely, not daring to look up. A few brave ones secretly glanced up and saw the Princess dressed in crimson everyday attire, her hair adorned simply, her face free of makeup, yet stunningly beautiful, her noble bearing enough to make one tremble at the sight.
Ming Luo still felt uneasy and took out a spare veil, tiptoeing to drape it over the Princess’s head. Zhao Rongzhang understood Ming Luo’s concern and did not refuse.
The marriage alliance procession included the Princess’s own imperial chef, and all necessary utensils such as bowls, chopsticks, plates, and dishes were provided. The maidservants first entered the private room to set up, while the Princess slowly made her way up. The imperial chef entered the kitchen, taking out fresh ingredients prepared earlier by the post station and began cooking on the spot. Zhao Rongzhang sat at the table reading for a while before dishes were served one after another.
Having endured the hardships of the long journey, with many more difficulties and unforeseen incidents ahead, Zhao Rongzhang treasured every meal placed before her, savoring it earnestly. As she ate, she occasionally made simple gestures, and in the time it took to lower her head, half of the eight-treasure duck and half a plate of braised beef she had pointed at would disappear from the table. The maidservants were each occupied with their tasks and did not notice.
After finishing the meal and resting briefly, Zhao Rongzhang returned to the carriage, and the procession continued onward.
After a few days, Zhao Rongzhang gradually adapted to life on the road. After all, she was a Princess accustomed to luxury; her food, clothing, and accommodations were far superior to those of commoners. Although the conditions of the post stations they stayed in deteriorated as the journey lengthened, at least the variety and freshness of the ingredients were guaranteed. The maidservants even carried the Princess’s bedding with them, ensuring she never had to use anything from outside, thus maximizing her comfort for sleep.
If this were a military campaign, life would be far more arduous. Zhao Rongzhang had a premonition that she would one day be involved in the flames of war, though she did not yet know in what capacity. Therefore, how could she complain about these minor hardships? Each day upon waking and entering the carriage, she would first handle the messages relayed by Ming Luo, discussing and confirming with her whether the route was entirely correct and if any changes had occurred to the plan. Over the past few days, unexpected incidents indeed arose almost daily, but they were mentally prepared and adaptable, handling them promptly.
Only one thing made Zhao Rongzhang deeply uncomfortable.
The heat toxin flared up more frequently than before, and now, detoxifying it came with many inconveniences. With ears everywhere and the unfamiliar, complex environment of the post stations, Zhao Rongzhang tried once but found it difficult to focus and fully relieve herself. She did not attempt it again, instead often seizing moments in the carriage to address the issue.
The interior of the carriage was cramped, and each time they could only hastily spread a blanket and begin in a rush. Although there was no need to worry about Little Mute making any inappropriate sounds, it was not easy to cover her own mouth either. As the carriage jolted, Zhao Rongzhang was jostled until her entire body went limp. Unable to hold back a cry, she opened her mouth and bit down on Little Mute’s neck. Little Mute let her bite, timidly and gently holding her body halfway, ensuring she wouldn’t bump her head from the jolts or slip down.
What was even more frustrating was that after Old Yu’s interference, it had become harder to drain him. She was often stimulated to the brink of losing control several times, yet he rarely even showed signs of his gaze growing unfocused, and his mood was clearly not as good as before.
Because of this, Zhao Rongzhang grew irritable. The weather was hot, and she couldn’t help but feel the urge to lose her temper. When holding back her voice, she would bite him fiercely. After three to five days, there was hardly any unmarked skin left on Little Mute’s neck, shoulders, and chest.
Even so, Zhao Rongzhang rarely got her way. She couldn’t help but start thinking about the hints both Imperial Physician Yu and Ming Luo had given her.
Of course, she understood those erotic pictures with their endless variety of techniques, but she still struggled to overcome the mental barrier. Was she supposed to let the little killing tool have his way with her over and over until he was satisfied? Who was serving whom, exactly?
Zhao Rongzhang clutched a long scroll of erotic pictures and called Little Cat into the carriage, staring at him for a long while. The cat knelt on one knee with downcast eyes, his expression devoid of emotion. Zhao Rongzhang grew annoyed at the sight and told him to get out.
After enduring two more days, the further west they traveled, the more scorching the sun became, heating the carriage walls until they were almost too hot to touch. Sometimes, when they hadn’t reached the nearest relay station by noon, the procession would stop. The imperial chefs and kitchen workers would take out the stored ingredients, set up stoves, and prepare a meal. Out in the wilderness, Zhao Rongzhang had even less desire to adhere to elaborate formalities. As soon as she sat under the canopy held up by her maids, she picked up her bowl and chopsticks and began eating.
After finishing her meal, she sat in the relay station pavilion, gazing at the long official road. Dust obscured her vision, and not a cloud could be seen for miles, making her mouth feel parched just from looking. She took a waterskin, drank a few sips, and tied it to her waist. Then she walked out of the pavilion to the horse Ming Luo was riding. Adjusting the saddle and stirrups, she said, “We’re moving too slowly. I’ll ride ahead.”
Ming Luo exclaimed in alarm, “No, Princess, it’s too dangerous!”
Zhao Rongzhang had already mounted the horse and was holding the reins. “There are plenty of dangerous things. What’s this compared to them?”
The horse galloped off at her command, hot wind rushing against her face. Without a second thought, Ming Luo took another horse and followed.
The scenery seen from horseback was entirely different from that inside the carriage. The open view was one thing, but she could also see many pedestrians who hadn’t deliberately moved aside. Here, the customs and atmosphere were already vastly different from those of the capital. When they reached the city walls, she saw yamen officers using whips to drive away ragged refugees, shouting that they were to receive Princess Yingrong’s marriage alliance procession today and couldn’t have them lingering in the way. One refugee, speaking without thinking, spat on the ground and muttered curses against the “damn princess” and the “damn emperor,” which Zhao Rongzhang happened to overhear.
Zhao Rongzhang glanced at the refugee, then at the yamen officers, and gave Ming Luo a meaningful look. Ming Luo nodded.
Ming Luo had a spare travel permit with her and escorted her into the city.
The posthouse was not far ahead. As Zhao Rongzhang passed by, she glanced at it and continued riding slowly through the city. There were many refugees in the city as well, each emaciated to the bone. It was said they had fled all the way from the southwest, their accents vastly different from the locals. If this place refused to take them in, they would continue northward to the capital to seek the Emperor. Zhao Rongzhang wondered whether there had been refugees along the route she had traveled earlier. Her eyes, ears, and senses had been tightly shielded by the officials, and the secret reports she received focused more on distant matters, leaving her largely unaware of such realities.
By evening, the marriage alliance procession arrived belatedly. As Zhao Rongzhang led the way to enter the posthouse, she was stopped until Ming Luo produced the Princess’s token. The accompanying officials tasked with escorting the bride hurried over from behind, scolding the guards before kneeling to pay their respects to Zhao Rongzhang. This grand spectacle frightened the attendants into kneeling as well. Before settling into the posthouse, Zhao Rongzhang ordered all the local prefectural officials to be summoned, intending to hold them accountable on behalf of the Grand Empress Dowager and her imperial brother, questioning how they had managed their duties and fulfilled their responsibilities.
On this sweltering day, with the sun not yet fully set, the officials knelt downstairs while the Princess dined upstairs, listening to them shift blame onto one another. As their excuses escalated into arguments, Zhao Rongzhang raised her hand. Understanding her intent, Ming Luo ordered them dragged away, each to receive twenty strokes of the cane.
The guards knew their limits and did not strike too heavily, but even so, twenty strokes were enough to make these well-fed officials suffer, leaving them subdued and no longer inclined to argue.
The Princess sipped her post-meal chilled tea and remarked lightly, “I am not here to act as your judge. I do not wish to hear about grievances or grudges. I want solutions. Those who can devise a plan will have it reported to the Grand Empress Dowager and my imperial brother, and they will be rewarded in due time. Those who cannot, or who propose foolish ideas, will also have their failures truthfully reported, leaving them to face the consequences.”
Upon hearing this, everyone broke into a cold sweat, the salt stinging their wounds and eliciting another wave of unbearable cries.
One clever official proposed a comprehensive solution, which Zhao Rongzhang dismissed with a scornful laugh, ordering him to carry it out. She would leave someone behind specifically to oversee him until the refugee problem in the city was genuinely resolved. As for the others, if they failed to assist in resolving the matter and she found out, they would lose their official positions.
After dealing with the officials, the Princess ordered them to handle the guards in turn. Until midnight, the lights in the posthouse remained lit, and people from near and far secretly peered in, listening to the alternating cries and pleas for mercy from within.
At dawn, the Princess rode out of the city alone, leaving ahead of the procession.
Passing through several cities in this manner, Princess Yingrong’s reputation spread far and wide. Some commoners even waited along the roads, hoping to catch a glimpse of the Princess. Others, disregarding propriety, chased after the marriage alliance procession, shouting not to send their Great Zhou Princess to barbarian lands.
To Zhao Rongzhang, this was nothing more than a trivial act of whimsy, a mere gesture. She never expected it to provoke such a significant reaction. Ming Luo said that the common people’s judgment of good and evil was the simplest, and she could not imagine it because the suffering of the masses was kept outside the palace walls. No matter how detailed the historical records or secret reports were, they could not compare to witnessing it firsthand. Riding on her horse, Zhao Rongzhang recalled the Grand Empress Dowager’s profound remark about fortune and felt a faint unease stirring within her once again.
Ten days later, a heavy rainstorm struck midway through their journey. The downpour arrived suddenly, and as dark clouds swiftly approached from the distance, the entourage quickly sought shelter at a relay station for the Princess to rest. Zhao Rongzhang, seated inside the carriage, had little to worry about. She even dozed off for a while inside the carriage, listening to the pitter-patter of raindrops. After days of scorching heat, she had often wondered if the carriage might crack under the sun.
Halfway through her nap, the carriage window suddenly shifted, and a flash of light passed outside. Frowning, Zhao Rongzhang opened her eyes, only to see Little Mute with his dark brows furrowed. Little Mute would never barge in without her command unless something unexpected had occurred. Realizing this immediately, Zhao Rongzhang sat up straight. The cat-like figure moved his dark, moist eyes and half-knelt to wrap his arms around her waist.
When Zhao Rongzhang asked him what had happened, he tilted his neck and merely held her body in a rough, clumsy embrace. Zhao Rongzhang felt a few cold, slender fingers cradle the back of her head, forcing her face against his chest. Then, the world spun, and her center of gravity shifted repeatedly with his movements.
When she landed again, Zhao Rongzhang found herself at the foot of a hill, a full hundred zhang away from the carriage. Outside, heavy rain pounded down relentlessly. Little Mute still hadn’t let go, holding her as he cautiously retreated backward until they entered a small cave barely large enough for one person. He placed her inside, then quickly cut some branches with something to cover the entrance. The opening was thoroughly concealed. Zhao Rongzhang parted the leaves to look out and saw Little Mute’s back, drenched by the continuous downpour. Just as she was about to shift her gaze, he suddenly turned around, his dark, animal-like eyes looking down at her. He gestured briefly and clearly with his fingers: “There are assassins. I’ll go kill them.”
Zhao Rongzhang was about to tell him to make sure to protect Ming Luo when, in a flash, his figure vanished right before her eyes. Her heart pounded wildly as she kept shifting angles to look toward the direction of the convoy. Through the blinding curtain of rain, she only saw several bolts of lightning strike down fiercely. Faintly, she could hear the frightened cries and shouts of the crowd.