Queen O's Timid Fugitive A - Chapter 33

33

In the leisurely afternoon, the capital of Southern Liang, after days of gloom, finally welcomed a long-awaited sunny day. The clear sky allowed warm sunlight to pour down.

Under the osmanthus tree, a girl in disheveled white robes lounged on a bamboo rocking chair, one foot pushing against the ground to gently rock the chair. Though she held a book in her right hand, she hadn’t turned a page in a while, her gaze resting on the silver-haired woman nestled in her arms, eyes closed in rest.

After eating wontons, the two had returned to the small courtyard. Xu Fusheng, unlike her, lacked the energy to stay awake. She had fallen asleep to the soothing rhythm of Jiang Ciqing’s reading, her breathing soft and even.

The rocking chair creaked with a grating yiya, yiya sound, and the breeze carried the fragrance of osmanthus.

Jiang Ciqing forced herself to look away, but after reading just two words, her eyes drifted back. The novel, wildly popular in Southern Liang, was utterly lackluster, not even half as captivating as the woman in her arms.

Her hand, resting on the woman’s waist, tightened unconsciously. Jiang Ciqing let out a soft breath, unsure what she was worrying about, her eyes lowering to quietly study the figure before her.

The Omega in her arms had a strikingly aggressive beauty—her features and figure exuded an innate arrogance, like a breathtakingly gorgeous rose with thorns. Even in sleep, her sharp edge remained undiminished.

Jiang Ciqing’s heart was restless. She couldn’t focus on the book, nor could she simply gaze at the beauty before her. Her mind was a muddled mess, flickering between memories of the barbarian lands and the events after returning to Southern Liang.

She mulled over Xu Fusheng’s surrender to Southern Liang, still unable to fathom what this woman truly desired.

Then her thoughts drifted to the question raised twice before.

What was their relationship?

Her dark, deep eyes were heavy with restraint. The sapphire ring on her left pinky felt like a shackle, a reminder of the burdens she bore.

If…

The clanging of iron echoed in her ears, mingling with the sound of armored soldiers storming palace gates and fearless battle cries. The plan buried deep in her heart was repeatedly dismantled and rebuilt in her mind, but for the first time, she imagined what might come after the outcome.

She recalled the first shakuhachi tune she ever learned. Her mother had smiled and told her it was a melody to be played only for someone she loved, a proposal of marriage.

If… if there really was an “if.”

Xu Fusheng, would you be willing to listen to it?

The woman in her arms slept soundly, unaware of the tempest raging in the heart of the one holding her, or the weight of the decision being made.

Perhaps Jiang Ciqing’s grip on her waist was too tight, as Xu Fusheng let out a displeased murmur and shifted closer into her embrace.

The rocking chair stilled for a moment before resuming its gentle sway.

Knock, knock, knock.

The courtyard gate was tapped, then gently pushed open a crack by a guard, who placed a redwood food box on the stone steps.

Jiang Ciqing glanced over, noting the familiar mark of the pastry shop. Last night, she had instructed Di Changjie that if she didn’t return, he should send the day’s osmanthus cakes here. Oddly, though, the cakes, usually wrapped simply in kraft paper, were now delivered in a wooden box.

She knew Di Changjie wasn’t the thoughtful type—there must be something else in the box.

Her brows furrowed slightly, but she wasn’t in a rush to check. If it were urgent, he would have insisted on seeing her in person, not handled it so casually.

She flipped to the next page of the book without reading a word, then tugged at the coat draped over Xu Fusheng, ensuring it covered her fully. The late autumn air was chilly, despite the sun, and if Xu Fusheng hadn’t insisted on lingering in the courtyard, Jiang Ciqing would have carried her inside long ago.

If Xu Fusheng were awake, she’d surely tease Jiang Ciqing for being so old-fashioned. What self-respecting Alpha would cover up such a captivating sight, worrying about the thinness of a knitted sweater?

Her gaze drifted downward. The already short skirt had ridden up due to their position, revealing a expanse of fair skin. Jiang Ciqing sighed helplessly and pulled her own loose robe to cover Xu Fusheng’s legs.

Her eyes inadvertently caught the plum blossom mark between Xu Fusheng’s thighs, and her hand froze mid-motion. As the one responsible for it, Jiang Ciqing knew exactly what lay beyond—a scene she’d pieced together like a painting of falling plum blossoms in the snow. Her tongue, still faintly sore and numb, recalled the taste. She’d ventured inward, emboldened by the Omega’s indulgence.

The robe was draped over, but her hand lingered, unwilling to pull away. Her calloused thumb brushed back and forth over the red mark, the rough texture like sandpaper on silk, making the mark even more vivid.

Her gaze grew darker, ripples forming in the still, cold pool of her eyes. Her throat bobbed subtly, the tip of her tongue tingling with the bold scent of agave.

Only when Jiang Ciqing realized she was pressing too hard did she abruptly pull her hand back, hurriedly turning her head, guiltily glancing at Xu Fusheng.

The woman in her arms raised a brow, her ruby-red eyes clear and devoid of any trace of sleep.

Jiang Ciqing flinched in surprise.

Xu Fusheng found it amusing and teased, “What? The head of the Jiang family has the nerve to touch but not to admit it?”

A faint blush crept up Jiang Ciqing’s neck to her ears. Stammering, she dodged the question. “Y-You… when did you wake up?”

Realizing it was a pointless question, she watched as Xu Fusheng, with a playful glint in her eyes, didn’t bother answering, just gazing at her with a half-smile.

Jiang Ciqing’s guilt deepened. Despite their intimacy, she was still the thin-skinned, tradition-bound Alpha, easily flustered by a moment of boldness.

“When did you wake up?” she asked again, grasping for something to say.

Xu Fusheng ignored the question, wrapping her long arm around Jiang Ciqing’s neck, forcing her to lean down. Tilting her head up, Xu Fusheng pressed her soft lips against the pulsing artery in Jiang Ciqing’s neck, like a wolf king seizing its prey’s vital point. In a low, husky voice, she said, “Silly dog.”

The teasing, languid tone sent a shiver down Jiang Ciqing’s spine.

Instinctively, she tightened her hold, pulling Xu Fusheng closer, unable to muster her usual retort.

“What did they bring in?” Xu Fusheng asked.

Jiang Ciqing snapped back to reality, realizing the knock at the gate had woken her. With a wry smile, she said, “You woke up but pretended to sleep?”

Watching her schemes while feigning sleep, was she?

“I was planning to sleep more,” Xu Fusheng replied lightly, her eyes shimmering with mischief.

Jiang Ciqing, who’d just mustered some confidence, deflated again. “It’s probably osmanthus cakes,” she muttered.

“Want some,” Xu Fusheng said with a bright smile, as if she’d been waiting for those words.

Jiang Ciqing wouldn’t refuse. Seeing Xu Fusheng had no intention of getting up, she scooped her up in a princess carry and walked steadily toward the gate.

The woman in her arms remained languid, her silvery hair dangling in the air, her arm loosely hooked around Jiang Ciqing’s neck, swaying slightly with each step. In the soft sunlight, her skin was dazzlingly fair, revealing faint blue veins beneath.

Jiang Ciqing pursed her lips, avoiding Xu Fusheng’s teasing gaze. Her usual long strides shrank to careful steps—not because Xu Fusheng was heavy…

It just felt solid.

Jiang Ciqing struggled to describe the feeling, as if, for the first time, something in the world truly belonged to her.

To outsiders, she had everything. But to her, the Jiang family and people like Ah Fu were responsibilities she had to shoulder. Three years had passed, yet she still felt stuck in that snowy night, teetering on the edge, fearing one misstep could send her plummeting, everything consumed by a blaze if that person willed it.

But holding Xu Fusheng, she felt grounded, as if something heavy anchored her to the earth, keeping her from floating away.

“Xu Fusheng…” she murmured, her voice dazed.

“Hm?” Xu Fusheng lifted her gaze, her peach-blossom eyes soft and tender.

Jiang Ciqing’s fingers tightened, holding her closer, but she couldn’t find the words, managing only a flustered, “Nothing.”

Xu Fusheng raised a brow but didn’t press, letting the moment pass.

Jiang Ciqing bent slightly, hooking the handle of the food box with her fingers, then returned to the rocking chair.

Though neither was heavy, the combined weight of two people made the chair creak sharply and sway dramatically.

Xu Fusheng was unfazed, cushioned comfortably, unbothered by the rocking. She flicked open the wooden lid, revealing not only the kraft-paper-wrapped osmanthus cakes but also a letter.

With nothing to hide, Jiang Ciqing opened it in front of Xu Fusheng, pulling out two densely written pages from the yellow envelope.

It was a letter from Li Zhile, who hadn’t been heard from in a while. Despite the length, it was mostly trivial—tales of Northern Di’s scenery, amusing incidents on the road, and a mention of a little girl she’d saved from pursuers years ago during a trading trip, now encountered again. She noted that if all went smoothly, she’d return to Southern Liang around April or May.

Xu Fusheng leaned lazily against Jiang Ciqing’s shoulder, holding a piece of osmanthus cake. Her gaze paused on the words “Ah Ci” in the letter, then flicked away, half-closing her eyes as if focused on eating.

Jiang Ciqing showed no odd reaction. She and Li Zhile had known each other since childhood, so the use of her nickname was natural, though she preferred “Ciqing” in public as an adult.

After setting the letter down, Xu Fusheng spoke softly, her tone neutral, betraying no emotion. “It only takes two months to travel from Southern Liang to Northern Di. Is she planning to stay there through winter?”

Jiang Ciqing folded the pages, casually brushing the envelope and feeling an indentation inside.

Her expression relaxed, and she replied cheerfully, “That’s how it always is. Winter roads are tough, and desperate wolves or bandits might take risks. It’s safer to stay in Northern Di through the winter and return afterward.”

Xu Fusheng nodded absently, perhaps not fully listening, then added casually, “The head of the Jiang family seems to know a lot about this.”

There was a faint sourness in her tone, reminiscent of the lemon juice at the previous banquet.

Jiang Ciqing grinned, her dark, glossy eyes resembling those of a wagging puppy, devoid of her usual coolness. Shamelessly leaning closer, she asked, “Are today’s osmanthus cakes good? Let me try a bite.”

Xu Fusheng critiqued with a straight face, “Not great. They’re bitter.”

“Really?” Jiang Ciqing nodded, though her eyes twinkled with amusement. “Did Di Changjie get lazy and buy from another shop?”

Her tone shifted to mock seriousness. “Let me taste it to see what’s wrong.”

Her gaze locked onto the half-eaten cake, clearly intent on that piece.

Xu Fusheng gave a teasing glance, dragging out her words. “You want a taste too, huh…”

The little Alpha nodded eagerly.

Xu Fusheng’s fingers moved the cake toward Jiang Ciqing’s lips, only to swerve at the last moment, popping it into her own mouth. She wasn’t going to indulge her.

Jiang Ciqing, unfazed by the teasing, leaned forward, pressing her lips to Xu Fusheng’s, stealing the unchewed piece. Instantly, the sweet fragrance of osmanthus enveloped her tongue.

Xu Fusheng’s fingers, still dusted with crumbs, gripped Jiang Ciqing’s collar, seemingly resisting but actually pulling her closer. The fabric crumpled, and Jiang Ciqing’s short black hair brushed against Xu Fusheng’s red eyes as the rocking chair creaked.

Outside the courtyard, the street grew lively—hurried footsteps on stone tiles, children laughing as they raced, splashing through puddles, water staining their friends’ clothes, prompting playful shouts.

Jiang Ciqing held the woman in her arms tighter, deepening the kiss.

Xu Fusheng, impatient, tugged at her collar in warning. Despite Jiang Ciqing’s gentle appearance, she was cunning, deliberately teasing when Xu Fusheng tried to catch her breath, intensifying the kiss. Unable to keep up, Xu Fusheng soon surrendered, but Jiang Ciqing only grew bolder, clinging relentlessly.

Tears glistened at the corners of Xu Fusheng’s eyes, like dew on peach blossom petals. She dodged twice but couldn’t escape. Frustrated, she bit down hard on Jiang Ciqing’s lip.

“Hiss…” Jiang Ciqing yelped, caught off guard.

The bite was merciless, breaking the skin and drawing beads of bl00d.

Jiang Ciqing blinked her dark eyes, tears from the pain sliding down her cheeks, staining her robe. She looked pitifully at the woman in her arms.

Xu Fusheng met her gaze coldly, spitting out two words: “You deserved it.”

What a heartless woman.

Jiang Ciqing grinned, rubbing her nose against Xu Fusheng’s, her obsidian eyes gleaming as she said softly, “Ah Ci is my nickname.”

“Oh,” Xu Fusheng replied indifferently.

Unbothered, the Alpha coaxed gently, “Call me Ah Ci from now on, okay?”

“No—”

Her refusal was cut off by another kiss. The persistent “silly dog” pressed closer, not daring to be as forceful as before but gently brushing her lips against Xu Fusheng’s, pleading softly, “Just once, please?”

Xu Fusheng stayed silent.

Jiang Ciqing didn’t tire, coaxing repeatedly, “Just one time.”

Her half-lidded eyes were soft, like last night’s moonlight.

“Ah Ci…” Xu Fusheng finally relented, grudgingly, as if compensating for Jiang Ciqing stealing half her egg that morning.

Jiang Ciqing’s eyes curved with a smile, her usually sharp features softening, almost foolishly so.

Xu Fusheng glanced at her, barely restraining herself from calling her “silly dog” again.

The next moment, Jiang Ciqing leaned in again, like a sugar-craving pup.

Xu Fusheng feigned reluctance, pushing at her shoulder, but soon her push turned to a cling, hooking around Jiang Ciqing’s neck, tilting her chin to meet her.

Time passed, and a faint white moon appeared in the sky.

A breathless, fragmented voice broke the silence: “Not bad. The fox fur coat in the room is yours.”

Another voice chuckled lowly, like a cat who’d stolen a treat, smug and satisfied.