After Transmigrating into a Novel, I Turned on Easy Mode - Chapter 7

“Assassins! Protect His Majesty!”

Without another word, Wu You also moved to help. She hadn’t expected the female thief to make it in. Suddenly someone tugged her sleeve—looking down, it was Zhao Qingzi.

Maybe it was her imagination, but Wu You thought she saw worry in those eyes. She assumed it was for the emperor’s safety. Personality-wise that didn’t quite fit, but he was her jiujiu after all.
(TN: jiujiu = maternal uncle.)

She patted the hand gripping her sleeve. “It’s okay. I’ll help in a moment. That thief won’t hurt the emperor.”

Zhao Qingzi parted her lips, thinking: Silly girl, I’m worried about you. Who would worry about that spineless emperor? She didn’t want Wu You to rush in, but she didn’t dare reveal the truth in her heart.

What Wu You liked was the surface—this gentle, obedient façade. If one day Wu You learned she was a monstrous, cold-blooded traitor, would they still have what they had now?

Zhao Qingzi let go and put on a mask of urgent concern. “Mm—A-You, be careful.”

Wu You sensed something off, but the thief had already clashed with the imperial guards. The woman’s skill wasn’t low, and ordinary guards couldn’t subdue her.

The situation was urgent. Wu You stopped thinking and sprang, skimming the lake to join the fray. She carried no weapon, so she traded blows barehanded. Wu You aimed to capture; the thief aimed to kill. With that mismatch, Wu You fell slightly on the back foot.

Another figure flashed in from the side, joining with a folding fan in hand. Wu You’s pressure eased; a glance showed Zhang Boyu.

Both Wu You and Zhang Boyu were capable, but the thief was small and nimble; the two of them still couldn’t take her quickly.

The guards, useless for now, could only watch the three-way fight.

Anxious, the thief realized the plan had failed. She steeled herself, took Wu You’s palm head-on, used the force of the strike to hurl herself backward, and dropped into the lake. A thread of red spread on the surface—likely her bl00d.

Wu You looked at her palm. The thief had eaten her strike; Wu You hadn’t expected that and now sported a cut from the exchange.

Fortunately it wasn’t deep. She let out a small breath—though inwardly she bared her teeth. Life in ancient times was lethal. That hurt.

The guards began dragging the lake and organizing the pursuit. Wu You didn’t join the bustle.

Through it all, His Majesty had been remarkably calm—truly someone used to great scenes. He duly commended both Wu You and Zhang Boyu.

When he asked what reward Wu You desired, her mind went blank. In the original’s memories, there was little beyond martial arts, Zhang Boyu, and her father.

And Wu You herself, as a modern transplant, had no particular ambitions here. So she answered, “This subject-daughter… does not know.”

The emperor regarded the bewildered girl and, recalling the city’s rumors, his gaze flickered. He picked up brush and paper and began to write.

Wu You kept her head down. When the emperor didn’t reply for a while, nerves prickled. Had she said something wrong and angered the Son of Heaven?

Suddenly a pair of bright yellow boots appeared before her. She didn’t need to look up to know who it was. A folded slip of paper entered her view.

“Then let Zhen keep this for you for now. It is Zhen’s suggestion. Read it when you return.”

Wu You accepted the ink-scented paper, offered thanks for the imperial grace, and returned to her seat. As she rose, her eyes met Zhang Boyu’s; he turned away with obvious distaste.

Tch. That temper! No wonder you’ll grow old alone!

After the scare, the banquet proceeded. Even so, the mood had sagged. The emperor and empress withdrew to the palace.

Naturally, Li Yingying had to go with them. Wu You spotted the princess pouting glumly, chin on the table, eyes still glued to Zhang Boyu.

He, too, looked a bit regretful, face tinged with helplessness as he mouthed to her—Wu You read his lips: “Next time for sure.”

Wu You was secretly shipping the CP when someone took her right hand. Looking down, she found Zhao Qingzi frowning as she examined Wu You’s cut.

The girl’s expression was intent, her brows shaded with worry. Then she drew out a handkerchief and carefully bound the wound.

Wu You’s heartbeat quickened. Catching herself, she startled inwardly. No wonder she’s the big bad—I almost fell for it. This must be the mask. All I have to do is play the amusing clown she likes. Don’t overthink.

Forcing calm, Wu You reminded herself: this person is dangerous. She can’t possibly care about me.

While she bandaged Wu You with care, darkness grew in Zhao Qingzi’s heart.

You dared hurt her! I’ll find you. I’ll make you regret ever entering this world!

The bandage was tied and yet Zhao Qingzi still hadn’t let go, lost in thought. Feeling the warmth of that palm, Wu You’s face heated slightly.

“A-Zi, what is it?”

Snapped from her anger, Zhao Qingzi lifted a gentle smile, as usual. “Nothing. A-You, you never take care of yourself.”

Wu You glanced at the snowy handkerchief—embroidered with bamboo, clearly fine material. Handkerchiefs were a lady’s intimate item; with bl00d seeping through, she’d no doubt stained it.

Feeling guilty, Wu You said, “I’ll wash it and bring it back to you.”

Unhappy, Zhao Qingzi replied, “No need. I have plenty. Besides, compared to the hairpin you gave me, what’s this?”

That’s not what I meant!! I meant it’s… personal. Who asked for equal exchange!

She remembered the paper the emperor had given Wu You and couldn’t help asking, “What did His Majesty write?”

“He told me to open it at home. I don’t know.”

“Oh~.” Curiosity prickled, but she was too shy to ask to see.

Watching her fidget, Wu You had a thought. Maybe she wants to read it too?

A glance around showed no one paying attention. Wu You leaned closer and whispered at her ear, “When the banquet’s over, I’ll show you.”

Warm breath brushed her ear; Zhao Qingzi’s right ear tingled, and her face flushed again.

For the moment, she pressed down the violent thoughts and nodded lightly.

The banquet proceeded as normal. Neither had many bosom friends to meet. The original scorned delicate noble girls and always ran with wastrel buddies, whom Wu You now avoided. Zhao Qingzi, with useless legs, stayed indoors and didn’t like going out; news came to her via subordinates. She had no real friends either.

Before Zhao Qingshu fell for Li Yingying, Zhao Qingzi hadn’t even known what this biaojie looked like—never having met her. The other princes and princesses, even less so.
(TN: biaojie = older female cousin from the maternal side.)

So while others clustered in twos and threes, the two of them simply watched from the sidelines.

Finding it dull, they agreed to leave early. One was the little tyrant of the capital; the other, the capital’s famous cripple. No one was likely to make trouble for them.

Once outside, Wu You handed the slip to Zhao Qingzi and turned to fetch the dagger.

Opening it, Zhao Qingzi’s eyes widened.

Wu You returned with the boxed dagger, only to find the girl staring hard at the paper, eyes wide.

What could shock the big bad like that? Wu You stepped up, about to peek—when Zhao Qingzi hastily folded the paper shut.

Puzzled, Wu You asked, “What is it? What did His Majesty write?”

Keeping her face smooth, Zhao Qingzi answered, “Nothing much. His Majesty wishes to choose a wife for you.”

Wu You nearly fumbled the box. Her voice shook with disbelief. “Choose… a wife?”

Expression unmoved, pulse steady, Zhao Qingzi said, “Yes. He intends to select a wife for you.”

Wu You’s face went a bit green. Absurdity welled up. Were rulers in this world all so humorous? Was it because she’d confessed to Zhao Qingzi?

Watching the shifting emotions on her face, Zhao Qingzi thought of the paper’s contents again. For some reason, she didn’t want Wu You to know.

Wu You recovered from her shock and remembered the dagger. She extended the box. “This is for you—for self-defense. Though its name is… not great.”

Zhao Qingzi accepted it gently. For some reason this person loved red; not only her clothes but even the box was red.

Smiling, she slipped the imperial slip of paper beneath the dagger. “Thank you, A-You. You’re hurt—take care.”

Wu You waggled her hand to show it was nothing. Not seeing the usual maid with Zhao Qingzi today—and knowing her legs made travel risky—Wu You escorted her to the Yongding Marquisate’s gate.

There they parted.

Back in her room, Zhao Qingzi found her gege still slumped over the table asleep. A smile crept into her eyes.

Then she remembered she was the culprit and stuck out her tongue at herself.

It was chilly—winter drawing near. She fetched a thin quilt to cover him and carefully tucked the corners.

Sitting by the window, she opened the box. Inside lay a black dagger—on its hilt, the name “Little Black.”

She recalled the indescribable look on that person’s face and couldn’t help a low laugh. Then she spread open the paper again.

A thoughtful glint passed through her gaze. Why was the emperor so eager to push her and Wu You to marry? Was there trouble on the frontier?

She had meant to destroy it, but a sliver of private desire made her keep it.

With a sigh, she folded the paper neatly and placed it with the dagger and the butterfly hairpin from last time, then locked them away with care.