Chapter 48 (Revised) The Princess Catches Fish to Feed the Cat…

Dappled sunlight fell upon her body, a dry, hot breeze brushed past her ears, and the lush weeds by the water’s edge rustled faintly. Among them, delicate pale-pink flowers were dotted with white cabbage butterflies. Listening to the Princess’s heartbeat and his own breathing, Guan Xuan felt himself truly alive.

The Princess’s clothes had dried in the sun. Guan Xuan retrieved them and began inspecting the torn areas, but before he could examine them closely, the Princess reached out and snatched them away. Zhao Rongzhang had no mind to care whether the clothes were torn or not, simply draping them over herself.

Guan Xuan was about to go hunt for the Princess when she grabbed his wrist, lying back on the worn straw mat and saying, “The sun is at its peak; it’ll be gone soon. Aren’t you cold after being in the water for so long?”

Little Mute explained that eating until full would warm him up, more effective than warming by the fire or basking in the sun.

The Princess frowned slightly and tugged again. “Sleep.”

The Princess wanted him to lie down so she could hold him while sleeping. Guan Xuan’s ears flushed with warmth, yet he couldn’t bear to let the Princess sleep on an empty stomach.

Seeing his hesitation, Zhao Rongzhang grew impatient. She hooked her leg around his, trying to pull him down. Whether from lack of strength or not, her tone carried a hint of coquetry. “Sleep with me.”

Guan Xuan relented. The fire burned, hot and warm. The Princess’s cheek pressed against his, her chest against his. His heart wanted to tense, but his body was weary. He truly wished to fall asleep like this.

The river shimmered with rippling light, the glimmering reflections receding with the sun as it sank behind the western hills, the sparkling spots turning coppery red. The cooling evening breeze roused Zhao Rongzhang. Not fully rested, she instinctively sought warmth, burrowing into the cat’s embrace. Little Mute’s eyelashes rested peacefully closed, the corners of his lips curved naturally, his expression serene. Zhao Rongzhang held him tighter.

The wilderness lay empty, with only the sounds of beasts and insects stirring, the wind growing colder. Zhao Rongzhang gradually felt lonely.

She harbored ambitions, aiming to achieve great deeds, yet in the end, things had turned so disastrous, worse than a month ago. Now the cat was severely injured, pursuers could arrive at any moment, and her stomach was still empty.

Could she truly succeed? Would she die halfway someday, becoming a laughingstock for ages? Likely, the Zongrenfu had already struck “Princess Yingrong” from the records; she might not even have a place in history.

Zhao Rongzhang thought of waking the cat to make food for her, but he looked pitiful. She stood up, rolled up her sleeves, and tended to the nearly extinguished fire. Recalling how the cat had built the fire earlier, she arranged dry branches in a grid shape to encourage the flames. The fire indeed grew stronger, briefly rekindling her dampened spirits. The Princess slapped her knee and strode purposefully toward the river.

Whether she could succeed or not could wait; filling her stomach came first. Zhao Rongzhang stood by the river, carefully selecting a branch of just the right length and thickness. She returned to the cat, rummaged on him, and found a short dagger, then began whittling.

Her knife skills were poor, leaving the branch uneven, thicker on one end and thinner on the other, but she managed to sharpen it. She watched the water intently, spotting a fish leisurely swimming over. Unconsciously, she held her breath.

The fish was leisurely, seemingly lost in thought, darting closer one moment and drifting away the next. Zhao Rongzhang was too conflicted—one moment thinking now is the time, the next telling herself to wait until it came a little closer, just a little closer, and she would definitely strike. But as she waited, it swam farther away. In pursuit of the perfect moment, she waited until the sun dimmed, watching fish come and go, one after another. The shadows deepened along with the color of the water, turning murky and making it harder and harder to see.

She couldn’t wait any longer. Zhao Rongzhang gritted her teeth and thrust the stick forward.

The strike was too forceful, splashing water everywhere, the tip of the stick sinking into something thick and muddy. Her heart sank. She pulled it out and jabbed wildly in the direction the fish might have swum.

She refused to believe she couldn’t catch a single fish—her horsemanship and archery were excellent. And every time Little Mute caught fish, it looked as effortless as picking up stones. Something so simple—she couldn’t accept her own failure.

But the more she tried, the more the Princess bristled.

Sensing a familiar presence behind her, the Princess turned and glared. “Don’t scare my fish.”

Guan Xuan crouched beside her, cradling his face, his arm submerged in the water. The surface churned with splashes from a thrashing fish tail. Soon the splashing stopped—he had caught the fish and killed it. The Princess’s eyes widened, as if about to erupt in anger again. Guan Xuan carried the dead fish farther away, tore open its head and belly along the gills with his bare hands, discarded the innards, scraped off the scales, and headed toward the fire. The Princess might fail to catch fish herself, but he couldn’t let her go hungry.

Zhao Rongzhang turned back, her anger fueling her as she continued stabbing at the water.

A moment later, her sleeve was tugged again. The Princess shook him off. She was holding a torch over the water, preparing to roll up her sleeves and wade in to catch fish herself.

Guan Xuan persisted, tugging again. Without turning her head, Zhao Rongzhang said irritably, “Go eat it yourself.” She could catch her own.

Guan Xuan didn’t give up, gesturing and writing in the air: “Princess eat first, then catch fish for Little Cat.”

Zhao Rongzhang glanced at him. The moonlight made his eyes seem larger and brighter, like a cat waiting to be fed. For some reason, she felt a flicker of satisfaction. Lifting her chin, she tossed the stick aside and walked back to the fire.

The fish had been roasted by Little Mute, fragrant and well-cooked. Zhao Rongzhang ate while pondering how to catch one. Little Mute crouched at her feet, brushing mud off the hem of her skirt.

After finishing, Zhao Rongzhang patted her clothes and stood up to resume fishing. Picking up the stick, she noticed a small knife tied tightly to it with black cloth strips. Little Mute had already gone to gather herbs as she’d instructed. She gazed into the deep forest but saw nothing.

The knife was sharp. Drawing lessons from her many failures, Zhao Rongzhang refined her strategy. After just a few attempts, she managed to spear a fish about an inch long.

Too small—not enough for Little Cat. She didn’t have time to feel proud. Walking briskly along the river, she moved to another spot to continue fishing.

By the time the moon’s reflection drew closer to the water, Little Mute had returned with the herbs. He had gathered a large bundle, cradling it in his clothes to show her just how much he’d collected. It was indeed a lot, so Zhao Rongzhang didn’t urge him to gather more. But she still hadn’t caught enough fish and had no time to deal with the herbs.

A moment later, his familiar presence returned. Zhao Rongzhang glanced back and saw Little Mute crouching beside her, watching intently as she fished. Beside him lay piles of herbs he had gathered on each trip.

Four or five fish of various sizes lay half-dead on the ground. The princess was quite satisfied. Resting with hands on hips for a moment, she handed the torch to Little Mute, then crouched down to learn from him how to gut and clean the fish.

As a noble daughter of the imperial family, the princess had never engaged in manual labor. Even embroidery, which all women in the rear palace were required to learn, was something she had scarcely touched. That Princess Yingrong, Zhao Rongzhang, would personally handle the killing and cleaning of fish was simply unbelievable, a fantasy tale. If word got out, she would likely be ridiculed to death by those people. But Zhao Rongzhang didn’t care; she was quite happy at the moment.

She skewered the fish on wooden sticks and set them over the fire to roast. Little Mute watched from the side. The firelight danced and crackled in his dark, beautiful eyes, shimmering with an utterly captivating brilliance.

The fish cooked quickly. Zhao Rongzhang waved a hand and handed one to him: “Eat.”

Little Mute held both ends of the stick. His lips touched the fish—it was hot, and though he knew it was hot, he still wanted to eat. Zhao Rongzhang told him to blow on it, but the tip of his upper lip was already scalded a bright red.

Zhao Rongzhang pressed down his hand. Little Mute lifted his dark, round eyes. Zhao Rongzhang leaned in, carefully examining his lips in the firelight, gently wiping them with her soft fingertips.

“It’s scalded raw. Raw means it hurts, understand?” She was exasperated. “Does it hurt?”

The princess had been asking him all day if he was in pain. Even while eating fish, she asked. Guan Xuan lowered his lashes, unwilling to answer, but the princess wouldn’t have it. She patted his cheek and asked again.

Guan Xuan had no choice. Holding the small fish, he nodded.

The princess laughed. “It’s delicious, isn’t it? I’ve never seen you get scalded while eating before.”

Guan Xuan simply bit into the fish.

Waves of light, buoyant water surged in Zhao Rongzhang’s heart. In all the years she had raised him, she had never seen him eat anything with such relish. The silly cat had finally learned what good food tasted like.

She roasted as many as he ate. By the time she reached the last fish, the princess, who had always been impatient, finally grew annoyed. She glanced back and saw Little Mute still watching her with his two dark, round eyes, quietly waiting for her to roast his fish. That annoyance faded away. Zhao Rongzhang flipped the fish over and scoffed, “Raised a foolish cat who doesn’t know when he’s full.”

Her control over the fire was improving. She could now roast the fat on both sides of the fish without burning the flesh on its belly. As someone so clever, of course nothing could stump her. Zhao Rongzhang felt a great sense of accomplishment. She took the last roasted fish and continued watching the cat eat.

He was starting to learn how to eat fish properly. He would first eat the oily, rich part near the fins, then the tender belly, and finally the crispy tail. The fin area was the fattiest, roasted until the oil dripped out, the outer skin charred and sticky—a perfect texture and flavor. The belly meat was the most tender and thick, satisfying with every bite. The tail, though full of small bones, gathered all the oil by the end of roasting, becoming crispier and more fragrant the longer it cooked.

Little Mute had never eaten fish this way before; he used to just hold the fish and eat from the front to the back.

Zhao Rongzhang felt the joy of raising a cat. “I’ll catch more fish for you tomorrow.”

Little Mute cleaned himself up, then fetched water for her to wash her hands and face.

Zhao Rongzhang was indeed tired, but she remembered there was still serious business to attend to. Summoning her energy, she ordered Little Mute to take off his clothes.

Little Mute removed his clothes carelessly. Zhao Rongzhang clearly saw that his inner robe had stuck to the wounds on his back, yet he stubbornly tried to tear it off. Seeing this ignited a fire in her heart. She scolded, “Stop! Foolish cat.”