Queen O's Timid Fugitive A - Chapter 20

20

Yuan Kang Seventh Year, Spring.

Jiang Ciqing had just turned fifteen, a child raised under the doting care and protection of her mother and elders. Her youthful features brimmed with the carefree audacity of adolescence, her shoulder-length black hair tousled by the breeze, casual and unrestrained—like a bottle of orange soda freshly pulled from the icebox.

Having stayed up all night catching cicada nymphs, she merrily delivered them the next morning to the home of an elder in the back mountain village.

The villagers didn’t entirely see themselves as Jiang family retainers. More often, they simply regarded Jiang Ciqing as a mischievous yet endearing child, spoiling her even more than their own children.

The randomly chosen Uncle Xu Ling happily accepted the cicada nymphs she handed over. After preparing them, he worried she wouldn’t have enough to eat, so he dug out his youngest son’s hidden stash, mixed the two batches together, heated oil in the iron wok, and tossed them in with a sizzling crackle.

Xu Ling’s youngest son, clutching his ear after being coerced, squatted nearby, his gaze frequently drifting to the little Jiang family head sitting on a small stool, sipping her exclusive milk. Last night, while hunting for cicada nymphs, she had already made him catch extra, yet even the little he kept for himself was snatched away by his father.

Xu Yao’er was frustrated, but then it occurred to him—every time Jiang Ciqing shared the spoils, she gave him half, with her portion always larger. That meant he was still coming out ahead!

Swallowing his saliva, he eagerly eyed the fragrant stove.

Cicada nymphs were mostly a treat for children. To make them more flavorful for Jiang Ciqing, Xu Ling deliberately added extra chili and sesame oil, vigorously stirring before scooping them into two porcelain bowls—one large, one small. With a decisive scrape of the spatula, he divided the cicada nymphs, handing the larger portion to the little family head.

Before Jiang Ciqing could even say thank you, he cheerfully announced, “Your Uncle Liao bought some good meat today. He wants you to eat at his place.”

This wasn’t a dismissal or a fear that Jiang Ciqing would eat too much at his home. It was genuine indulgence, a worry that his household might fall short compared to others, depriving Jiang Ciqing of a good meal.

Jiang Ciqing was accustomed to this. Holding the large bowl, she smiled brightly and agreed, munching as she headed down the right-hand path.

Xu Yao’er, who had been waiting impatiently, rushed forward and peered into the small bowl—only the tiniest four or five cicada nymphs remained. Not only had he failed to gain an advantage, but he’d also lost out. His face fell instantly.

Xu Ling had no patience for his antics, giving him a kick on the backside. “What are you staring at? Hurry up and take this to the table. We’ll eat later.”

Well, even those four or five weren’t his alone—they’d be shared among the whole family…

Xu Yao’er’s heart ached. Holding the small bowl of golden, crispy cicada nymphs, he felt like he wasn’t his father’s biological child. Then he heard his dad muttering about whether he should buy some good meat too, since A-Ci hadn’t eaten at their place in a while…

Xu Yao’er sighed. He was definitely biological—only a biological child could be treated so harshly. But then he perked up again. His father’s braised pork was exceptional.

Meanwhile, Jiang Ciqing had just arrived at the Liao family’s doorstep when Auntie Liao eagerly pulled her inside. Uncle Liao, skilled in woodworking, spent his free time carving wood. He had specially crafted a small bamboo-leaf-patterned bowl and stool for Jiang Ciqing.

Several children sat sullenly at the table. Before Jiang Ciqing arrived, Uncle Liao hadn’t allowed them to touch their chopsticks.

“Why are you so late?” Uncle Liao’s stern face softened as he looked at her, his tone coaxing.

Jiang Ciqing scratched her head sheepishly, lifting the small bowl. “Uncle Xu Ling just fried these cicada nymphs for me.”

Uncle Liao frowned disapprovingly. “Xu Ling’s cooking is barely edible. Next time, come here. I’ll add sesame seeds—guaranteed to taste better than his.”

Auntie Liao, seating her, chimed in, “Your uncle’s right. Xu Ling’s skills are lacking. Look at all this chili—he must’ve burned them and added extra spice to cover it up.”

“Exactly.” Uncle Liao agreed with a smile.

No sooner had Jiang Ciqing sat down than her bowl was piled high with meat, alongside a small bowl of soup that had been set aside to cool.

The Liao family’s youngest daughter reached for a cicada nymph on the table, only to have her hand slapped by her mother, who scolded, “Those are A-Ci’s. If you want some, go catch your own.”

The little girl pouted. She wasn’t stupid—she’d just ask A-Ci for some later.

Around the same age as Jiang Ciqing, she adored sticking close to the little family head. Grinning, she scooted her stool closer to Jiang Ciqing.

Jiang Ciqing didn’t have a big appetite, and with her mind on the cicada nymphs in the other bowl, she couldn’t possibly finish the mountain of twice-cooked pork. Peeking over her rice bowl, she seized an opportunity to stealthily transfer a few slices to the girl’s bowl.

The Liao girl cooperatively held out her bowl.

In the blink of an eye, the exchange was complete.

The two children shared a conspiratorial smile.

The Liao parents smiled too, not only ignoring the mischief but rewarding Jiang Ciqing with extra meat and clams.

Thus, through Jiang Ciqing’s efforts and the Liao couple’s encouragement, Little Jiang finally finished her meal just as she was about to burst. Before she could even set down her bowl, Auntie Liao snatched it away, urging her to go play outside now that she was full.

Jiang Ciqing scratched her head, embarrassed. “I’m not a kid anymore…”

Uncle Liao nodded perfunctorily. “Yes, yes, our A-Ci is all grown up.”

Then, changing the subject, he added with a chuckle, “Are you going horseback riding with Changjie later? Or setting bamboo traps by the river with Ah Fu? The sun hasn’t set yet—better hurry before it gets too dark to see.”

Jiang Ciqing grinned and scampered off with her bowl.

The Liao children, seeing this, also abandoned their meals and rushed out the door after the little family head. Unfinished meals didn’t matter—as long as Jiang Ciqing was around, their parents wouldn’t scold them.

Thus, sharing cicada nymphs and stuffing their faces, a group of kids with chili-stained lips gathered more friends along the way, eventually arriving at a flat, low-lying area in the mountains.

A few small horses were tethered in the grove, all carefully selected by parents for their docility. A fair-skinned youth waited ahead.

Despite his youthful appearance, Ah Fu was five years older than Jiang Ciqing and already a successfully differentiated Alpha. Seeing the little troupe, he first wiped their chili-stained mouths with his sleeve, then lifted them onto their horses one by one.

Jiang Ciqing, having ridden since childhood, was an expert. Without Ah Fu’s help, she flicked the reins, and her little white horse obediently trotted forward.

The sun neared the mountains, the pale crescent moon already visible in the distant sky. A breeze rustled the tender grass, carrying the stifling heat unique to summer evenings.

Ah Fu shepherded the children from behind, occasionally glancing ahead—until…

The little white horse suddenly accelerated, its hooves pounding faster and faster, as if determined to break free, leaving everyone far behind.

“A-Ci, slow down!”

“A-Ci, be careful—don’t fall!”

The children who couldn’t keep up shouted after her.

Ah Fu, alarmed, spurred his horse to chase, but the gap was too wide to close quickly. He could only watch as her figure grew smaller and fainter in the distance.

Jiang Ciqing laughed, as if deaf to their cries, mischievously leaning low against the horse’s neck, relentlessly cracking her whip. The wind whistled past her ears, her eyes reflecting the orange glow of the setting sun, brimming with the brightness of youth. At that moment, she believed she could outrun time itself.

Yuan Kang Seventh Year, Summer.

The Jiang family welcomed a long-absent bustle of activity. The sole heir of the Jiang family had displayed talent far beyond ordinary people in her first attempt at forging a blade.

On her very first furnace opening, she challenged herself with the most complex type—a two-handed longsword. Not only did she incorporate the family’s Damascus steel, but she also perfectly resolved the common issue of an overly light blade paired with an excessively heavy hilt, which often caused the sword to waver during swings.

Most apprentices would start with daggers—shorter, simpler, and less time-consuming. Even the most reckless wouldn’t attempt a two-handed sword, opting instead for a two-foot-long, broad-bladed ox-tail saber at most. Merely hammering out a blade blank would earn praise from their master.

A two-handed sword was something even apprentices with two or three years of experience wouldn’t dare attempt lightly. The only regret was that Jiang Ciqing hadn’t yet differentiated, preventing her from using psychic energy to inscribe a magic core into the blade…

But that was fine. The imperial capital already had standards for early ABO differentiation testing. The Jiang family, cautious, tested three times before confirming Jiang Ciqing would differentiate into an Alpha. The margin for error was already tiny, and with previous Jiang family heads all being moderately high-level Alphas, everyone had immense confidence in her.

On the day Jiang Ciqing successfully forged her blade, well-wishers bearing gifts lined up from the mountain peak to the base, encircling the capital.

Some even personally hauled materials and presents to the Jiang family, preemptively commissioning blades from Jiang Ciqing.

Their eagerness was understandable. The current Jiang family head, due to health reasons, rarely fired up the forge, producing at most two longswords a year. Now that the young heir had come of age—and was a prodigious smith—their excitement was inevitable.

But the child was playful, ignoring them entirely. Dressed in luxurious brocade, she galloped through the mountains with Ah Fu, Di Changjie, and others, her eyes alight with youthful pride, oblivious to her mother’s worry. That day, she was hailed as the brightest forging genius in the imperial capital, lavished with praise by royalty and nobility alike.

That year, Jiang Ciqing turned sixteen—the prime of her youth—eagerly awaiting her differentiation.

Yuan Kang Seventh Year, Winter.

The queen of the barbarian lands, Xu Fusheng, suddenly went mad searching for a servant named Eleven. The bounty rose from a thousand gold to a fourth-tier magic core, and finally, any lead on Eleven’s whereabouts earned ten thousand gold.

Jiang Ciqing remembered that winter as bitterly cold, the snow knee-deep. Pursuers trailed her endlessly. She buried herself in the snow for a long time before daring to emerge, fleeing desperately toward home.

But it was too late.

Frozen half to death, barely recognizable, Jiang Ciqing knelt in the snow, staring blankly at two graves—one for her mother, who had died when she was young, and the other for her mother, whom she hadn’t even seen one last time.

Memories of warmth surfaced—her birth mother, ordinary but always smiling, skilled with the shakuhachi; her mother, who often teased her for being scatterbrained.

Like when Jiang Ciqing, as a crying infant, was soothed (or rather, further frightened) by the shakuhachi’s mournful tones, making her wail louder, much to her mother’s amusement.

Or during her first birthday, when she predictably grabbed the miniature hammer, delighting the elders—only for her birth mother to insist she also hold a tiny shakuhachi, declaring, “The Jiang family needs an heir, but my Bai family’s shakahuachi legacy mustn’t die!”

Her mother had relented, letting her learn the shakuhachi first, then forging at nine.

But those warm days were gone, their warmth fading like the last embers of a fire.

Jiang Ciqing clawed at the frozen earth, covering the grave mound with damp red soil, calling out, “Mother, Mother, A-Ci is back.”

Her voice, scraped raw by the cold, sounded like a rusted erhu’s screech.

“Mother! Why won’t you answer me?”

“Mother, I lost the bet…”

“I don’t want to gamble anymore. I want to stay with you.”

“Mother, I was wrong…”

Jiang Ciqing covered her face, the rest of her words dissolving into sobs. But this time, no one would hold her or comfort her. There was no one left in this world bound to her by bl00d.

That winter was the coldest she had ever known.

Yuan Kang Tenth Year, Autumn.

Since her last gland injury, Jiang Ciqing had been bedridden, secluded for over a month.

Summer faded into autumn’s chill. The endless forests of the mountains stood bare, old trees draped in brown moss, their wrinkles hidden. Even the evergreen bamboo groves seemed desolate.

The frail Alpha lay half-reclined in bed, her eyelids drooping like wings, her loose robes slipping off her shoulders. Lost in thought, she seemed frail and solitary.

Ah Fu, holding an empty medicine bowl, hesitated before softly calling, “Family Head?”

She snapped out of her reverie and asked, “When is the autumn hunt?”

“The day after tomorrow,” he replied promptly, his expression conflicted.

The autumn hunt was one of Nanliang’s grandest festivals, celebrating the empire’s equestrian origins and reminding descendants not to neglect martial skills. Every early autumn, the royal family led the first hunt in the imperial gardens. No prince, noble, or aristocrat dared miss it—especially newly matured Alphas eager to make a name for themselves.

But Jiang Ciqing, weakened this year, hadn’t planned to attend. Before she could submit her excuse to the emperor, a palace envoy arrived at her doorstep.

The emperor’s decree: If the Jiang family head’s old injuries persist, she may attend the hunt by carriage.

Effectively stripping her of any excuse. The message was clear—the Jiang family would not snub him, even if she had to crawl to the hunting grounds in a carriage.

Had something happened? Had that old traitor leaked more information?

Jiang Ciqing’s thoughts raced, but she remained silent.

“Family Head?” Ah Fu frowned, anxiety creeping into his voice.

In Nanliang’s centuries of history, no Alpha had ever attended the autumn hunt in a carriage. It was an open invitation for ridicule.

“Then we’ll go.” Jiang Ciqing said lightly, shaking her head. Whatever came, she’d face it.

The bandages on her nape remained tightly wrapped, hiding the wound beneath. Only her pallor hinted that it hadn’t fully healed.

“I’ll prepare the carriage.” Ah Fu gritted his teeth. So what if the Jiang family endured more humiliation? As long as the family head was comfortable, pride meant nothing.

Extra padding in the carriage, a small brazier…

“No need for a carriage.” Jiang Ciqing refused.

“Family Head? Your injury…” Ah Fu looked troubled.

“What? Have you bought into those rumors about me being weak? That I can’t lift a finger?” Jiang Ciqing smirked, teasing.

“Don’t forget, I used to outride you. You could never catch up.”

“But your injury—”

“It’s mostly healed. And even if it weren’t, I’d still ride faster than you.” Jiang Ciqing arched a brow, looking every bit the unruly young heir of old.

Ah Fu stared, then suddenly laughed. “Fine. After the hunt, we’ll race in the back mountains.”

“Deal. I’ll humiliate you in front of your subordinates.” Jiang Ciqing retorted.

“Ha! I’ll be waiting.” Ah Fu shot back, grinning.

Jiang Ciqing smiled too, gazing at the blue sky outside.

Spring to autumn—three years had passed, Mother.

Let me be wrong this once. After all, I’ve spent my whole life making mistakes.

As long as I can avenge you…

Her fingertips brushed her nape, where the faint scent of wine lingered.

The scent lingered around her fingertips. The Alpha seemed lost in thought, her vision hazy.