Queen O's Timid Fugitive A - Chapter 19
19
The news of the Jiang family heir’s injury spread throughout Nanliang in a single day.
It was said that forging General Chen Ya’s saber overnight had left her physically exhausted, with chaotic pheromones. No one found this particularly surprising, as Jiang the Artisan’s frail health was already common knowledge.
Not long ago, the Crown Prince had even sent his personal physician to examine Jiang Ciqing and prescribe medicine—reportedly using rare and precious herbs—yet it had little effect. Before that, there were rumors of irregular heats and suppressants losing half their potency.
Though no one dared say it outright, many privately speculated that the Jiang family suffered from some unspeakable hereditary illness. The previous family head had died young, and the one before that hadn’t lived past fifty. On a planet where the average lifespan reached one hundred and twenty, this was an exceptionally rare and severe matter.
Today, the physician sent by the Emperor accidentally let slip that Jiang Ciqing’s collapse was related to her glands. According to the description, the fragile gland was a mangled mess, the injury extremely severe.
Physical weakness after forging a blade led to chaotic pheromones, which then caused her to lose her senses and injure her own gland?
People speculated wildly, but the Jiang family remained tight-lipped. Jiang Ciqing, citing the need to recuperate, shut her doors and refused visitors. Everyone was itching with curiosity but had no answers. The only consensus was that the Jiang family line would likely end with Jiang Ciqing.
The Chu family, which had previously shown interest in a marriage alliance, suddenly fell silent, quietly turning the page on the matter.
Sunlight streamed into the room, illuminating the Alpha nestled in the bedding. Her sharp features appeared even more gaunt and severe, her pallid skin translucent under the light, veins and muscles faintly visible—like a porcelain figure that would shatter at the slightest touch.
Knock, knock-knock.
At the sound, Jiang Ciqing barely managed to open her eyes and weakly uttered, “Come in.”
An elderly woman entered, her expression grave. The deep wrinkles on her face furrowed further, her demeanor solemn and grim. In her hands were a bowl of medicinal broth and a plate of osmanthus cake, the liquid undisturbed as she walked.
“Family Head,” she called softly as she placed the medicine on the bedside table, then sat on the small chair beside the bed.
Jiang Ciqing lifted her eyelids slightly in acknowledgment.
Aunt Sun couldn’t help but nag, repeating the same old advice about taking care of herself. However, she made no mention of the blind date from two days ago, as if it had never happened.
Jiang Ciqing occasionally responded with a weak murmur.
Aunt Sun, frustrated, finally stopped her lecturing and helped Jiang Ciqing drink the medicine. The osmanthus cake was meant to counteract the bitter taste, but Jiang Ciqing refused it, claiming she lacked the strength to swallow. With another heavy sigh, Aunt Sun muttered a few more words before leaving.
The wooden door closed, and the sound of footsteps faded away.
Suddenly, Jiang Ciqing propped herself up on her arms and staggered toward the bathroom, her steps unsteady and hurried, as if fleeing from some beast.
A dry heave sounded, followed by the medicine being vomited out. But it didn’t stop there—Jiang Ciqing gulped down water, forcing herself to vomit again. This cycle repeated several times until her eyes were rimmed red, droplets of water clinging to her lips. The wound on the back of her neck tore open from the strain, staining the gauze red.
In the mirror, the Alpha looked shattered and frail, her expression dark as she stared at her reflection. Then, as if mocking herself, she tugged the corner of her lips upward.
Without lingering, she stumbled back out, sweat beading on her forehead. This time, her weakness wasn’t feigned. To prevent the imperial physician from discovering the truth, she had used a blade to carve away the bite marks on her gland.
Glands were fragile to begin with—how could they withstand such abuse? If she truly had the constitution the rumors claimed, Jiang Ciqing would already be teetering on the brink of death. Even now, she wasn’t much better off. This time, she’d have to stay bedridden for at least half a month.
No sooner had she lain back down than someone scaled the wall, vaulting over the balcony railing and rushing inside. His face was dark with anxiety—it was Di Changjie, who had accompanied Jiang Ciqing into the city the night before.
“Family Head!” he called hoarsely as he entered, his usual carefree demeanor replaced by guilt. The veins on the back of his hands bulged; if not for his restraint, the porcelain bowl would have been crushed to dust.
He had been drowning in regret all night. If only he had handled things properly, the Family Head wouldn’t have had to rush into the city in the middle of the night. The memory of Jiang Ciqing clutching her neck, barely alive, as he waited with the horse outside the wall made him wish he could slap himself to death.
If not for him… if not for…
The burly man’s eyes reddened.
The wooden door creaked again, this time with a familiar, unique rhythm. Only after Jiang Ciqing spoke did the person dare enter—a young man with a clean-shaven face, who hurried to the bedside.
“Family Head,” he said anxiously.
Jiang Ciqing finally spoke. “Is it done?”
Ah Fu immediately replied, “The longsword has been delivered to General Chen Ya. He inquired about your injuries and sent many medicinal herbs.”
Clearly, the rumors in the capital about Jiang Ciqing slashing her own gland had originated from this.
Jiang Ciqing gave a slight nod, then winced as the motion tugged at her wound.
Ah Fu took a frantic step forward before catching himself, his worry deepening. “The news of your collapse is everywhere in the capital. All the noble families have sent tonics, and their servants have been probing ours for information…”
“What did our people say?”
“The same as what we’ve been spreading in the city.”
“Good…” Jiang Ciqing lifted her gaze, then glanced at the motionless figure beside her. With a faint smile, she scolded, “What are you standing there for? Aren’t you going to give me that medicine?”
“Huh? Oh! Right, right!” Di Changjie snapped out of his guilt and hurried over, handing her the freshly brewed medicine. This batch had been prepared secretly at home and delivered discreetly to avoid prying eyes. The bowl was still warm, just right for drinking.
Too weak to hold it herself, Jiang Ciqing had to let Di Changjie tilt the bowl for her.
Her frailty was undeniable. After just a few sips, she was drenched in sweat. Di Changjie and Ah Fu helped change her bandages, and by the time she was settled back under the covers, she was panting, her face even paler.
Di Changjie’s expression grew heavier, his usual humor nowhere to be found. After a long silence, he blurted out, “Family Head, would you like some osmanthus cake?”
The person on the bed froze, her gaze drifting to the osmanthus cake Aunt Sun had brought. Her eyes were distant and complicated.
Misunderstanding her hesitation, Di Changjie quickly explained, “I bought a fresh batch this morning,” before pulling out an oil-paper package from his robes.
It was only noon—who knew how this man, after staying up all night to brew medicine, had found the time to queue in the city?
Jiang Ciqing parted her lips, the refusal on the tip of her tongue, but in the end, she said, “Give it to me.”
Di Changjie’s guilt eased slightly as he unwrapped the oil paper and broke off a piece the size of a fingertip, carefully bringing it to her lips.
Jiang Ciqing barely ate, only taking a small nibble before shaking her head. The bitterness on her tongue was masked by the osmanthus fragrance—proof of the shop’s century-old reputation. Even now, she could taste a hint of sweetness.
She spoke slowly, “No need to queue for it anymore.”
“Huh?” Di Changjie was momentarily stunned. The three-year routine, unwavering through wind and rain, had finally been called to a halt.
“He didn’t do anything wrong. No punishment.” Jiang Ciqing said, glancing at the other man.
Ah Fu, who had been contemplating how to discipline this useless fool, stiffened before reluctantly agreeing.
Jiang Ciqing waved them away, too exhausted to deal with anything else.
Outside the window, the day remained bright and stifling. The secluded cottage, far from the front courtyard, was peaceful, with only the rustling of leaves reminding her she was still alive.
The Alpha covered her eyes with her forearm, unsure if she was sleeping or simply resting. The faint osmanthus fragrance was soon overpowered by bitterness.
As the sun began its descent, a trembling whisper escaped her lips:
“Mother… was I really wrong?”