Queen O's Timid Fugitive A - Chapter 42

42

—Clang!

The relentless sound of hammering mingled with the misty silence of the bamboo grove. Dewdrops from the previous night clung to the tips of emerald leaves, and a gentle, cool breeze stirred the air under a clear blue sky.

A young woman dressed in a simple white tunic sat boldly on a small stool. Her black hair was tied back, and a white cloth circled her neck to protect her delicate glands. The muscles on her exposed arms were defined and graceful—not as exaggerated as those of Di Changjie and others, but exuding a refined strength. With each rise and fall of the small hammer in her right hand, her muscles tensed and relaxed.

—Clang! Clang-clang!

The hammer struck a palm-sized iron nail, its slightly rounded, blunt tip leaving deep indentations on a long silver strip. Jiang Ciqing’s eyes were lowered, her expression focused and serene, as if she were detached from the world, immersed in a personal realm of time and space, tireless.

Perhaps this was what they called talent. In the monotonous, arduous task of hammering, Jiang Ciqing always found a moment of peace and fulfillment, like a devout pilgrim kneeling on a sacred path.

Another strike of the hammer fell, and the nearby forging room radiated intense heat. Jiang Ciqing lifted the hammer, carefully inspecting her work to confirm it was the peach blossom design, then struck again.

A promise to a child must be kept, after all. But Qin Yun’er, the little girl, was already seven years old, and giving her a peace lock now seemed a bit late. Besides, it would need to be larger than the one given to Xun-ge’s family…

The thought of a little girl in a white dress, wearing a palm-sized silver lock engraved with the bold characters for “peace,” rushing toward her made Jiang Ciqing feel the image was oddly unsettling.

For a young girl, something small and delicate would be more fitting.

Thus, she had taken the liberty of changing the peace lock into a bracelet, engraving it with the peach blossom from their first meeting and adding Qin Yun’er’s name.

Before she could continue hammering, she heard the sound of light yet steady footsteps approaching.

Turning her head, she saw Ah Fu, dressed in a crisp, short-sleeved tunic. His already fair complexion had grown even paler after enduring a winter, his white hair and light gray eyes giving him an almost ethereal quality.

“Family Head, someone has come requesting a blade,” Ah Fu said.

Jiang Ciqing turned back, picking up her hammer again. The Jiang family’s reputation was far-reaching, with blade-seekers lining up from Nanliang to Beidi. If she had to entertain every request personally, she’d be receiving guests from morning to night.

Thus, there was a rule: those seeking a blade must first present their offering at the foot of the mountain. If it was something the Jiang family needed but wasn’t particularly interested in, the seeker would be added to the waiting list. If the offering was exceptionally rare and piqued Jiang Ciqing’s interest, they could directly request a custom forging. However, given the Jiang family’s status, what couldn’t they obtain? Such cases were rare—once a year was considered fortunate.

Seeing Ah Fu’s calm expression, Jiang Ciqing knew no such rare offering had appeared. That left the most troublesome third scenario: the seeker held an extraordinarily high status.

This was the situation Jiang Ciqing loathed most. The hammer in her hand felt heavier.

Ah Fu, accustomed to such matters, relayed the visitor’s identity: “Liu Siwen is the Minister of Revenue of Nanliang, highly favored by His Majesty. She remains unaligned with any prince, a rare neutral figure.”

Jiang Ciqing let out a scoff. “Who would dare try to win her over? The treasury is the foundation of the state. Which prince would risk touching it? They’d fear Emperor Liang Ji would disregard familial ties entirely.”

Her tone shifted as she asked, “What is she offering in exchange?”

“Ten catties of meteoric iron.”

Jiang Ciqing’s brow furrowed. Meteoric iron was rare, but ten catties was far too little. For an ordinary person, it might barely earn a spot on the waiting list. Surely the Minister of Revenue wasn’t so destitute as to offer this?

“Let her wait. I’ll put on a robe and head over,” she said reluctantly, setting down the hammer. Being interrupted mid-forging was her least favorite thing, and a trace of gloom flickered in her eyes.

Ah Fu nodded and walked out.

The bitter fragrance of tea wafted through the air. An iron kettle hung over a small charcoal stove, bubbling with a soft gurgle-gurgle. The wooden lattice cast hazy shadows on the floor, forming an obscure, intricate pattern.

“Sipping tea in a bamboo grove, listening to the sound of leaves and flowing water—truly, the Jiang family estate is elegant and refined, unlike ordinary residences,” said the woman seated across the tea table, dressed in brocade robes. Liu Siwen, likely in her sixties, had cloudy jade-green eyes filled with calm wisdom. Her features were plain but carried the refined air of someone seasoned by time and knowledge.

Jiang Ciqing inclined her head slightly, responding, “It’s merely the elegant taste of my elders. I’m just fortunate to inherit their legacy.”

“Were it not for the careful upkeep of the Prince of Huai’an, I wouldn’t be able to enjoy such tranquility.”

The exchange of pleasantries continued for some time until a fresh pot of tea was brewed, signaling a shift to the main topic.

Liu Siwen gestured toward the meteoric iron in the corner, her aged eyes revealing a hint of helplessness. “The Prince of Huai’an is frail and requires rest. Were it not for my unworthy child, I wouldn’t dare trouble Your Highness.”

The smile on Jiang Ciqing’s lips faded slightly, though her response remained courteous. “Forging blades is my passion, so it’s no trouble. However, the Jiang family has its rules. Others respect us by waiting their turn, and we cannot disregard their face by breaking those rules lightly.”

Liu Siwen’s brow twitched, the orange-red tea in her cup rippling softly.

Jiang Ciqing turned her head and called out, “Ah Fu, quickly bring the list and add Lord Liu’s name.”

She then explained to Liu Siwen, “With so many seeking blades daily, we record a name every ten minutes or so. I’ve asked them to hurry so Lord Liu won’t have to wait too long.”

At just twenty years old, Jiang Ciqing’s features still carried a hint of youthful softness. Her every gesture exuded the refined courtesy of someone born into a noble family. In Liu Siwen’s eyes, she was a polite, rule-abiding young woman. Even if her request was gently rebuffed, Liu Siwen couldn’t muster any anger.

Ah Fu, waiting outside, responded and left with steady footsteps.

Liu Siwen held her teacup between her thumb and forefinger, her half-lowered eyes contemplative. Though she knew it was unlikely, she pressed, “Is Your Highness truly unwilling to make an exception?”

Jiang Ciqing looked troubled. “I’d like to, but rules are rules.”

The woman across from her set down her teacup, her calm, deep eyes fixed on Jiang Ciqing. It wasn’t pressure, nor was it arrogance—she wasn’t foolish enough to think she could intimidate Jiang Ciqing. She was merely weighing her options, waiting for Jiang Ciqing’s stance.

Jiang Ciqing seemed unfazed, her smile faint and habitual, neither warm nor cold. She casually lifted her teacup, taking a small sip.

“My boy has never cared for books or strategy. All he wants is to learn the long blade and archery, always dreaming of adventuring outside,” Liu Siwen said, steering the conversation to an unrelated topic.

Before Jiang Ciqing could respond, she continued, “As his mother, I don’t understand this obsession with swords and blades. I’ve scolded and disciplined him, but in the end, I couldn’t sway him. All I can do is help him as much as I can, so he stumbles less.”

Jiang Ciqing offered a single consolation: “Children have their own paths. Why worry so much, Lord Liu?”

Liu Siwen chuckled, as if looking at an innocent child. “Your Highness is still young and childless, so you wouldn’t understand a parent’s unending worry for their children. As long as we live, we fret over them every single day.”

Jiang Ciqing froze at her words, a fleeting, unreadable emotion passing through her obsidian eyes.

At that moment, Liu Siwen pulled a prepared slip of paper from her sleeve. Pressing it with her fingers, she slid the long strip of rice paper across the table.

Simultaneously, she continued speaking as if nothing had happened. “Does Your Highness have a favored Omega? My boy keeps making a fuss about not settling down or marrying, driving my husband mad.”

Jiang Ciqing raised an eyebrow, accepting the paper and reading it carefully. The slip contained only a few words. Her gaze shifted to the meteoric iron in the corner, this time with a touch more gravity.

Ten catties of meteoric iron could forge a single long blade with some leftover. It was rare but not impossible to acquire. If the Jiang family put out the word, countless people would scramble to deliver it.

But five hundred catties was a different matter. Combined with their existing stores, it could equip half a battalion with meteoric iron gear. And Liu Siwen had added a fourth-tier magic core on top of that.

As expected of the Minister of Revenue, her offer matched the entire wealth of an ordinary noble family.

Jiang Ciqing placed the paper back on the table, smiling. “Marriage is a serious matter, not to be rushed. Your son’s ambition is a good thing. Why dwell on it, Lord Liu?”

Her fingertips tapped lightly on the paper.

A spark of joy flashed in Liu Siwen’s eyes—she knew the deal was halfway done. She sighed, “I can’t control him. He’s young, but his ideas are plenty.”

At the same time, she dipped her finger in tea and drew a question mark on the table.

Jiang Ciqing lowered her eyes and wrote: Where did you hear this?

Liu Siwen answered: Yang Fang.

Their spoken conversation continued seamlessly, loud enough for anyone outside to hear, ensuring no eavesdroppers could suspect anything. Both were cautious to the extreme.

Jiang Ciqing nodded. Rules were rules on the surface, but which noble family strictly adhered to them? They avoided flaunting their wealth openly to avoid the emperor’s suspicion, so such deals happened discreetly, in small circles. Yang Fang was one of the few who knew of this arrangement.

Jiang Ciqing’s expression softened, and she wrote: Three days from now, at dawn, someone will be waiting at the back mountain.

Liu Siwen nodded, already informed of the details by Yang Fang, her smile growing warmer.

In this deal, the Jiang family would first receive all the offered items and forging materials. A week later, someone could collect the blade. The recipient could not publicly claim it was forged by the Jiang family—they could say it was an old Jiang family blade acquired by chance or some other excuse to launder its origin. The Jiang family didn’t care.

There was no worry of betrayal; they were all tied to the same boat.

If something went wrong, it would pitä

System: would implicate powerful families in Nanliang, and no one would want such matters exposed. If any issues arose, Jiang Ciqing wouldn’t even need to act—someone would handle it themselves.

As the water stains on the table dried, Ah Fu knocked and entered, recording Liu Siwen’s name and the blade’s specifications with a professional air.

After a few more casual exchanges, Liu Siwen took her leave.

Jiang Ciqing, annoyed at being interrupted mid-forging, had no desire to continue. She walked with Ah Fu to the back mountain and said, “Cross her name off the list.”

The list Ah Fu carried was a smokescreen; the real one was kept by him personally. Jiang Ciqing meant for him to remove Liu Siwen’s name from the true list.

Ah Fu nodded, never one to ask unnecessary questions. “Liu Siwen’s only son, who differentiated as an Alpha, seems intent on joining the military,” he noted.

Jiang Ciqing gave a faint smile. “In chaotic times, only those with soldiers in hand have a voice.”

The impending turmoil in Nanliang was no secret to her or many other families, who were quietly preparing. The number of blade-seekers had been increasing in recent months.

Ah Fu frowned slightly, remarking, “Lord Liu is a clever one.”

“To hold that position for so long, how could she be otherwise?”

Jiang Ciqing gazed quietly at the back mountain, a thoughtful look in her eyes.

The Jiang family appeared glorious but was constantly suppressed by the imperial court, forced to endure and develop in secret. Their two thousand guards had grown to over ten thousand, but fearing the emperor’s suspicion, most were relocated down the mountain. Many of the blacksmith shops they opened were staffed by their people, and some, with their exceptional forging skills, had been recruited by noble families.

Even the imperial court’s secret firearms research facilities had been infiltrated, occasionally sending back snippets of information.

These scattered blacksmiths were not to be underestimated. They knew exactly which families were forging large quantities of blades or secretly marking weapons with rival insignias.

Jiang Ciqing never pursued assassins—not out of kindness or laziness, but because she could easily identify their senders. Unable to retaliate directly, she kept a mental tally, waiting for opportunities to settle scores discreetly.

“Ah Fu, how many in the Jiang family differentiated as Alphas this year?” she asked, exhaling a heavy breath.

This had been reported to her before, and Ah Fu knew she hadn’t forgotten. “Since March, five have differentiated as Alphas. They’ve been assigned to the guard unit and will soon begin formal training. The Jiang family now has five thousand elite soldiers.”

“Five thousand…” Jiang Ciqing murmured cryptically.

If they could act freely and train openly, that number could multiply several times over. But for now, they could only develop cautiously. Though these five thousand were elite, capable of taking on ten each, they were nothing against an army of tens of thousands.

Jiang Ciqing couldn’t afford to gamble, nor did she dare. Her only hope lay in the Nanliang succession struggle. Emperor Liang Ji thought he could balance his three children, pitting them against each other, but all were ambitious and ruthless. A single misstep could lead to a deadly clash, plunging Nanliang into chaos. Neighboring countries would undoubtedly seize the chance to intervene.

She had thought it would take years, but Xu Fusheng’s entry into the fray was like a spark igniting the fuse, accelerating the turmoil.

With the coal mines beneath their feet and the iron mines secured by the Li family, the Jiangs controlling soldiers and the Lis managing wealth, they could carve out a path forward.

“Ah Fu,” she said suddenly.

“Family Head?”

“Didn’t the Third Prince send an invitation?”

“Yes, last night. He invited you to tour Qianfeng Mountain for the spring outing…” Ah Fu hesitated. “Miss Xu is also on the guest list.”

Jiang Ciqing’s brow furrowed, but she said, “Accept it. She… shouldn’t be an issue.”

“Understood.”

The breeze wound through the bamboo grove, blowing toward the bustling capital.