Queen O's Timid Fugitive A - Chapter 18

18

“Say it again?!”

Jiang Ciqing frowned, her hand pausing mid-motion as she wiped her forehead with a white cloth. Nearby, the iron furnace blazed with scorching heat, and a freshly quenched dagger lay beside it.

Di Changjie couldn’t help but show a hint of pity.

Look at our family head—she can’t even believe the bad news, making me repeat it three times already.

“I said Miss Xu sent the osmanthus cakes back,” he emphasized once more.

“The ones you delivered this morning?” Jiang Ciqing pinched the corner of the cloth between her fingers, nearly twisting a hole into it.

“Yes.” Di Changjie replied, relieved that his family head was finally facing reality.

“Why?!”

“How would I know?” Di Changjie spread his hands wide.

Jiang Ciqing gritted her teeth, regretting the guilt she’d felt the day before. “You delivered the osmanthus cakes—how could you not know?”

“But when I delivered them this morning, her guards accepted them. Who knew they’d send them back by noon?”

Jiang Ciqing glanced up at the sky. The sun was setting, casting an orange glow over the green mountains and bamboo forests…

“Why are you only telling me now?!”

“Didn’t you say no one was allowed to disturb you while forging? You’ve been in there all day—how was I supposed to tell you?” Di Changjie scratched his head, speaking as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.

It was all because of yesterday’s disastrous incident. The lingering scent of lavender had been so irritating that even after two baths, Jiang Ciqing couldn’t shake it off. Tossing and turning in bed, she’d eventually gotten up and headed straight to the forging room.

Jiang Ciqing’s expression shifted through a range of emotions, her anger flaring up again and again until she finally lashed out with a kick—straight to the man’s shin.

“Agh!” The burly man instantly hopped on one foot, barely holding back a curse as he glared at Jiang Ciqing, his eyes welling with grievance.

Jiang Ciqing felt a chill run down her spine. Watching this six-foot-tall, dark-skinned, muscle-bound brute act like a wronged wife made her want to kick him again.

Di Changjie, now wiser, ignored the pain in his leg and hastily took a step back. “Family Head, what was that for?”

“Get lost.” Jiang Ciqing snapped, too annoyed to deal with him further as she hurried away.

Then, remembering something, she stopped abruptly and turned back. “What are you standing around for?! Hurry up and follow me!”

“Didn’t you just tell me to get lost…?” Di Changjie scratched his head, confused.

Jiang Ciqing smiled coldly. “Roll back here. I’m going into the city, and you’ll be guarding the horses outside the gates.”

“But—” Di Changjie’s face fell. He’d been hoping to get home early to his wife.

“Now!”

“…Yes.”

Though Nanliang had no curfew, there was a rule prohibiting entry or exit from the city after nightfall. The last time Jiang Ciqing had left the city late, she’d used the Jiang family’s name and the excuse of attending the Third Princess’s banquet.

This time, however, she couldn’t risk drawing attention. If anyone noticed her entering the city without a trace, suspicions would arise. The only option was to scale the city walls. With no ongoing wars, the guards were lax, and Jiang Ciqing had plenty of experience. Finding a gap, she stepped on Di Changjie’s shoulders and vaulted over, then slipped through the less-frequented alleys toward Wuyi Lane.

But just as she reached the wall, she hesitated. The osmanthus branches hung heavy with blossoms, their fragrance lingering in the air. The stars above were bright, with the North Star shining clearly.

Jiang Ciqing kicked the base of the wall, her face twisting with indecision. Only when drunken footsteps stumbled around the corner did she finally grit her teeth, plant her right foot firmly against the brick, and leap upward. Grabbing the top of the wall, she vaulted over and landed inside.

Pebbles and osmanthus petals scattered in her wake. Her loosely tied white shirt billowed in the wind, revealing a glimpse of her collarbone.

—Thud.

Her boots landed steadily, but she immediately took half a step back, startled by the sight before her.

A woman in a soft white cotton dress stood beneath the osmanthus tree. The thin straps of her dress threatened to slip off her shoulders, the fabric clinging to her curves. The loose V-neck hinted at a swath of moonlit skin, while the unruly wind tossed her silver hair toward it.

Jiang Ciqing met the teasing glint in her eyes and felt a pang of guilt, quickly averting her gaze.

“Is this Jiang the Artisan’s first time playing thief? Hesitating outside the wall for so long before finally climbing in?” Xu Fusheng’s lips curved, her tone hovering between anger and mockery. Her striking peach-blossom eyes shimmered like rubies fished from water.

Jiang Ciqing pressed her lips together, her gaze flitting to the woman’s bare shoulders before she blurted out, “Why aren’t you wearing a coat?”

It was unclear whether the question was born of concern or sheer awkwardness.

Xu Fusheng nearly laughed. “If someone hadn’t been kicking the wall outside in the middle of the night, I’d already be tucked under the covers, ready to sleep.”

Then, her tone shifted, laced with amusement. “What? Jiang the Artisan climbs over the wall at this hour—not to play the flower thief, but to tuck me in like a good Samaritan?”

Jiang Ciqing, never one for words, stiffly changed the subject. “Why did you return the osmanthus cakes?”

Xu Fusheng raised an eyebrow, her smile enigmatic. “Jiang the Artisan doesn’t know?”

At the same time, she stepped forward leisurely, like a Persian cat strolling along a moonlit wall, her silver hair gleaming like the finest silk.

Jiang Ciqing instinctively retreated. “Because of yesterday?”

“What happened yesterday?” The Persian cat tilted her head, feigning ignorance.

“Aunt Sun made me go…” Jiang Ciqing guiltily looked at the ground. Though it was the truth, her heart pounded uneasily.

“Oh.” Xu Fusheng chuckled, the sound winding like a coiled thread—a claw lightly grazing its prey.

The Alpha was backed against the osmanthus tree, once again cornered. The rough bark dug into her spine, and the already-loose petals rained down with each movement. A pale yellow petal caught on her lashes, only to be discarded with the next blink.

Xu Fusheng advanced unhurriedly, as though taking a leisurely stroll through the garden.

Outside the alley, a drunkard muttered to himself. In the distance, a sleepless young lady played the zither alone. Further still, the night market bustled with lights.

She stopped just inches away, her cool fingertips brushing Jiang Ciqing’s cheek as she plucked a stray osmanthus petal from her hair. Then, her thumb pressed against the Alpha’s earlobe, her voice soft and sweet.

“Forced into it, were you?”

Jiang Ciqing stayed silent, her Adam’s apple bobbing faintly.

“That Miss Chu is quite pretty—docile and charming,” Xu Fusheng praised lightly.

“I heard her pheromones are a soothing lavender scent, too.”

Jiang Ciqing’s back stiffened, a cold sweat breaking out on her forehead.

The Omega’s lips curved, the earlobe beneath her fingers growing warm. “What does Ciqing think?”

“I don’t know,” the Alpha rasped, her voice nearly unrecognizable.

“Oh?”

“You didn’t smell it when you held her?” The woman in white closed the distance between them, leaving no space.

The Alpha instinctively reached out to pull her closer but caught herself, her fingers digging into the bark behind her. “I only steadied her when she stumbled.”

“What kind of steadying requires pulling her into your arms?” Xu Fusheng’s tone was airy, as if it didn’t matter.

“I just caught her when she was about to fall,” Jiang Ciqing bit her tongue. The strange sensation against her body—cool yet burning—made her break out in a thin sweat.

“Is that so?” Xu Fusheng’s brows arched slightly, her eyes narrowing. Her striking face seemed veiled in a haze of peach blossoms, her crimson pupils mesmerizing, like shimmering lake water—misty and deep.

“What about the barbarian from the wastelands?”

Omegas were acutely sensitive to their Alphas. The moment Jiang Ciqing had stepped within ten meters, Xu Fusheng had noticed. While half-heartedly entertaining the Fifth Prince, she’d kept her Alpha in her periphery, watching everything unfold.

“I already warned her to watch her words,” Jiang Ciqing replied, studying the woman before her. The same domineering, possessive, petty Omega she knew. If this were the past…

Her neck and wrists ached with phantom pain.

“Oh.” Xu Fusheng nodded, then countered, “Then, Ciqing—do you like me or her?”

Jiang Ciqing’s lips twitched. “Miss Chu and I are strangers. Yesterday was the first time we met.”

The implication was clear: they’d just met—how could there be any question of liking? As for the other person in the question, she avoided answering altogether.

This response didn’t satisfy the jealous Omega. Her fingers trailed down to Jiang Ciqing’s palm—rough and scorching hot—as though she were a curious child exploring every callus and knuckle.

The Alpha neither spoke nor resisted, enduring the pain silently. She knew Xu Fusheng was marking her territory, erasing any trace of the other woman—even though there’d been none to begin with, scrubbed away by Jiang Ciqing’s own hands.

A rich, intoxicating wine fragrance coiled around her legs, climbing higher, stealing osmanthus blossoms along the way.

“I don’t like her,” the Omega murmured, her mischief hidden beneath a facade of docility as she rested her forehead against Jiang Ciqing’s collarbone, nestling into the Alpha’s embrace.

“The Jiang and Chu families have never had ties, and there won’t be any in the future,” Jiang Ciqing said vaguely.

“And you?” The Omega, tired of evasive answers, laced their fingers together.

“I am the head of the Jiang family—” Before she could finish, she was cut off.

Rumor had it that the Ministry of Justice employed a torture method involving bamboo slips threaded with rope. The prisoner’s fingers were placed between the slips, and when the rope was pulled tight, the pain was excruciating—some never regained full use of their hands afterward.

Jiang Ciqing hissed as pressure crushed her fingers.

“I’m talking about Eleven—the one I marked,” the kitten finally bared its fangs.

Jiang Ciqing’s eyes darkened. “I don’t know who you’re referring to.”

“You really won’t admit it?” Xu Fusheng tightened her grip.

“What does it have to do with me?” Jiang Ciqing clenched her jaw, forgetting she’d come here to make amends.

“Eleven…”

Before Jiang Ciqing could retort, Xu Fusheng rose onto her toes and sank her teeth into the Alpha’s scent gland. For both Alphas and Omegas, this was the most sensitive and vulnerable spot—usually untouchable, let alone bitten with such force.

The earlier pain paled in comparison. Jiang Ciqing’s vision whited out, cold sweat drenching her, her lips trembling.

“Eleven,” Xu Fusheng repeated, not loosening her grip.

Jiang Ciqing pressed her lips together.

“Eleven.”

Still, the Alpha refused to speak. The pain felt like having her bones scraped clean.

The metallic tang of bl00d filled Xu Fusheng’s mouth. Silver and black hair tangled together. Here, beneath the osmanthus tree, the respected Alpha—untouchable in the outside world—was ruthlessly tormented by a surrendered general, their fingers locked in a cruel embrace.

“Eleven,” Xu Fusheng said again, making it clear she wouldn’t let go without an answer.

Jiang Ciqing knew what response she wanted but refused to give it. Her jaw was set, her eyes glistening with unshed tears, her body shaking with pain.

“Ten—” Xu Fusheng began but suddenly stopped. Frustration and irritation churned inside her. She’d always considered herself short-tempered, yet she kept bending for Jiang Ciqing. She was supposed to be the pampered Omega, but the other woman kept stepping on her landmines.

Was it because she’d spoiled her too much?

Did she really have no other choice?

The scent gland beneath her teeth was mangled, the bamboo fragrance mixing with bl00d, overpowering the osmanthus.

Xu Fusheng’s eyes turned icy. At her core, she was the untouchable queen of the wastelands—pride etched into her bones, tolerating no disrespect.

She abruptly released Jiang Ciqing and stepped back, watching coldly as the weakened Alpha collapsed to the ground.

“Get out.” She spat, her voice frostbitten, devoid of earlier anger—as though addressing a lowly commoner.

The Alpha’s lips parted, but in the end, she could only watch as the other woman turned and shut the door behind her.

She closed her eyes.