Queen O's Timid Fugitive A - Chapter 35
35
Dark clouds blanketed the sky, plunging the world into an inky blackness. The howling cold wind carried icy snowflakes, and the swaying shadows of trees resembled menacing, clawing monsters.
Long boots sank into the snow, occasionally snapping brittle twigs beneath the surface. The sharp crack mingled with the rustling of snow and the whipping sound of a dark fox-fur cloak caught in the wind, forming the only symphony in the silent night.
Jiang Ciqing kept her eyes lowered, her slender frame nearly swallowed by the biting cold. A sheathed saber hung at her waist, its hilt swaying as the wind tugged at her collar. She made no move to stop it, lost in a state of half-wakefulness, half-numbness.
Memories replayed in her mind, looping endlessly like a broken projector flashing random scenes.
She rehearsed imagined conversations, instinctively defending Xu Fusheng, convincing herself there must be reasons, must be hardships behind it all. Yet another part of her tugged at her to face reality, dragging her toward the abyss of vengeance.
Her deep footprints stretched into a line, only to be quickly buried by the wind and snow.
When Jiang Ciqing finally came to her senses, she realized she had walked out of the mountains. Her knees, wrists, and knuckles were stiff, as unyielding as frozen blocks of ice.
She hadn’t expected to escape so easily, but on second thought, it made sense. In this pitch-black darkness where she couldn’t see her own hand in front of her, relying on her eyes to find the way would have been futile. Jiang Ciqing had walked this path countless times; her body remembered it perfectly. If she had tried to navigate by sight, she might have lost her way. Trusting her instincts, however, had led her out effortlessly.
Lost in thought, she glanced at the faint, scattered lights halfway up the mountain. Snapping back to reality, she composed herself and headed toward the capital.
Days of heavy snow had cast the once-bustling capital into a desolate silence. Red lanterns, hung for some forgotten celebration, lay toppled on the ground. The usually crowded entrances of taverns were now occupied only by servants, arms crossed, exhaling long clouds of white breath.
Jiang Ciqing deliberately chose deserted alleys, slipping through them until she reached Wuyi Lane. Staring at the dim courtyard, it took her numb mind a moment to recall that the emperor had granted Xu Fusheng a new residence as the Princess’s Mansion.
Snap!
A branch of osmanthus, protruding over the wall, finally buckled under the weight of the snow and broke off, falling to the ground.
Jiang Ciqing lowered her gaze to it. Perhaps out of a sense of shared misfortune, she bent her stiff spine, picked it up, and tucked it into her sleeve.
The newly adorned Princess’s Mansion wasn’t hard to find—after all, in the silent city, it was the only place alive with activity.
The upper class, ever eager to outdo one another, had realized that their fancy new carriages skidded in the snow. Too proud to be carried on foot, they had finally brought out their well-fed horses from the stables. The mansion’s entrance was crowded with a slow procession of carriages inching away.
Jiang Ciqing stood in the shadows not far off, her sleeves hanging low as she waited.
A luxurious carriage bearing the exclusive tulip crest of the royal family was positioned at the end of the line. Finally, the night’s protagonist appeared. Jiang Ciqing’s gaze fell on the Omega’s exposed back—her graceful shoulders and neck formed smooth, flowing lines. Her silver-white hair was swept to one side, barely concealing her stunning beauty. Her long gown hugged her exquisite figure, its hem trailing on the ground like a vibrant red plum blossom in full bloom.
Jiang Ciqing’s lips twitched. Her first instinct was, absurdly, to worry that the other might catch a cold.
Beside the Omega stood a man in a peaked-lapel tailcoat, with classic golden hair and blue eyes. His features were sharp yet refined, his demeanor calm and gentle. He leaned on a silver-wood cane inlaid with enamel and silver thread, speaking softly to Xu Fusheng as he tilted his head.
A servant behind them held an umbrella to shield them from the falling snow.
Their conversation wasn’t hushed; the eldest prince even raised his voice deliberately, making the atmosphere livelier.
“Before Father announced your identity, it wasn’t proper for me to show you too much attention—lest it stir gossip and tarnish your reputation. But now, things are different. If you need anything, just come to your big brother.”
“You’ve just moved in, so you might be short on things. Father’s made arrangements, but it’ll take time to prepare everything. If you’re missing anything urgently, don’t bother going to the market—just let me know, and I’ll have it sent from my estate. You can use it until the palace delivers.”
Jiang Ciqing found it amusing. It was the first time she’d heard the eldest prince refer to himself as “big brother.” Usually, he insisted that the other princes and princesses address him as “Eldest Prince” to remind them of his status as the legitimate heir.
“Don’t be shy with me. If it’s inconvenient to ask me directly, you can tell your sister-in-law. It’s all the same.”
His thoughtfulness was, as always, meticulous.
“Oh, and the palace just received a new batch of fabrics. Father specifically said you should pick first—don’t forget that,” he said, as if just noticing Xu Fusheng. Then, with concern, he added, “Why are you wearing such a thin dress in this cold? You’re an Omega—you need to take better care of yourself.”
No matter what he said, Xu Fusheng responded with a charming smile and a nod, her exquisite, radiant beauty undimmed even in the frigid snowy night. She was like a red rose blooming in the heart of winter, impossible to ignore.
“Oh, and don’t forget tomorrow’s banquet. It’s your first appearance as the Princess of Nanliang. Are you ready?”
He chuckled again. “You’ve been in the capital for so long—have you taken a fancy to any Alpha? Why not bring them to the banquet?”
Under her fox-fur cloak, Jiang Ciqing’s fingers curled inward.
Xu Fusheng’s light laugh rang out, candid and unhesitating. “Not yet.”
“Is that so?” Liang Ankai didn’t seem surprised. “Then let Anchen escort you. You should have a companion.”
Jiang Ciqing suddenly felt like laughing, her lips twitching.
People are like that—there’s a certain pettiness in human nature. When something bad happens, no amount of comfort from friends or family helps. But if someone else is worse off, it brings a strange sense of solace, more effective than any words.
She thought of the third princess, who had gone to the emperor to beg for her sister’s hand, and the fifth prince, who was still at the border and hadn’t yet returned to hear the devastating news.
Jiang Ciqing let out a soft tsk.
How tragic.
The two continued chatting as they walked, the eldest prince still offering warm instructions even as he stepped into his carriage.
Xu Fusheng smiled and nodded patiently.
The crack of a whip split the air, and horses’ hooves trudged through the thick snow, leaving thin wheel tracks as the carriage slowly rolled down the long street.
Xu Fusheng stood in the glow of the lights, her red dress dusted with delicate snowflakes. Her silver hair, swept over one shoulder, swayed gently. Her peach-blossom eyes shimmered with a subtle light, their upturned corners exuding a careless charm.
That was her nature—hiding a cold indifference behind a deceptively affectionate facade.
The servant holding the black umbrella behind her averted his gaze, not daring to look directly at her.
Jiang Ciqing took a step forward from the darkness, the snow on her fox-fur collar falling away. Her dark, lustrous eyes, like shattered obsidian, quietly met the other’s gaze.
Red eyes locked with black across a distance neither too far nor too close.
The cold wind swirled snowflakes, making their robes flutter loudly.
There was no surprise in Xu Fusheng’s expression, as if she had known Jiang Ciqing was there all along—perhaps even found it expected, indifferent.
No need to ask anything more.
Jiang Ciqing closed her eyes, feeling as though the snowy wind tonight carried grains of sand.
Xu Fusheng’s lips curved into a faint smile as she turned and stepped into the opulent mansion, her pale shoulder blades shifting slightly with each step, like a butterfly fluttering through a garden.
Jiang Ciqing tilted her head, thinking to herself that she really disliked winter. It was always too cold…
Jiang Ciqing allowed herself one moment of recklessness. After leaving the Princess’s Mansion, she rested for a night at a secret Jiang family stronghold in the city. The next day, at dawn, she returned to the mountains. The previous night’s dazed trek hadn’t felt so difficult, but now, clear-headed and weakened by the cold, she felt exhausted before even reaching the mountain’s base.
As she leaned against a tree to rest, she saw Ah Fu standing nearby. His face was as cold and pale as ever, but his gaze softened when it landed on her.
Jiang Ciqing suddenly didn’t know what to say, feeling a mix of guilt and aching bitterness.
Ah Fu didn’t scold her. Always a man of few words, he approached with a stern expression, turned, and hoisted her onto his back. His steps were steady as he carried her up the mountain.
The rabbits left in the mountains finally dared to poke their heads out. The tattered fox-fur cloak, haphazardly discarded in a corner, never saw the light of day again. Aunt Yao had come to ask about it, but Jiang Ciqing only responded with a smiling silence, and so the matter was buried in the winter snows.
No one mentioned it again.
The fox-fur cloak vanished after that day, never seen on Jiang Ciqing again.
Only a dried osmanthus branch appeared in a vase by her bedside. Aunt Sun found it odd and asked about it.
Childishly, Jiang Ciqing replied that she thought it looked nice and forbade anyone from removing it.
If she didn’t want it removed, so be it.
Aunt Sun couldn’t make sense of it but let her have her way.
In Nanliang’s winter, little happened. From noble families to common folk, everyone stayed indoors to weather the cold.
The only topics worth discussing by the fire were Xu Fusheng’s appointment as princess and two other matters.
The first was expected: the head of the Jiang family had fallen ill again. Rumor had it that forging iron through the night had aggravated an old ailment, and the particularly harsh winter made recovery difficult.
Upon hearing the news, the emperor was furious. He sent people to scold Jiang Ciqing, reprimanding her for pushing herself despite her frail health. He ordered her confined to the mountains until spring and sent a wealth of rare, precious medicines to her.
Outsiders saw this as a sign of immense imperial favor, as if the emperor cared for Jiang Ciqing more than his own children. The Jiang family’s status rose even higher in the eyes of the public.
As a result, Jiang Ciqing spent the entire winter in the mountains, never stepping outside.
The second matter came at the year’s end. The fifth prince, who had led a military campaign, returned victorious with treaties from three kingdoms. The emperor, overjoyed, praised him lavishly in court and bestowed numerous rewards.
The oppressive, mournful atmosphere that had hung over Nanliang dissipated. The capital’s streets were adorned with festive lanterns, and the fifth prince was hailed as a heroic warrior, reminiscent of the Martial Emperor. His reputation among the people faintly surpassed that of the eldest prince and third princess, as if the throne were already his. His fame was unmatched.