The Princess Smells So Good (GL) - Chapter 11

They ran deeper into the darkness. The slave carried her on her back, sprinting at full speed.

Staying behind or hiding in a tree wasn’t an option—they had dogs. The pursuers would sniff them out.

Really, the best plan was to have the slave lure the pursuers away.

Both Wei Zhao and the slave knew this. But neither of them said a word. They just kept moving forward, heading in the direction where the slave had seen lights earlier.

“Their forces are gathered out here instead of lying in wait near a town or village. That means they’re not powerful enough to influence the state capital yet. As long as we make it into a crowd, we’ll mostly be safe,” Wei Zhao whispered into the slave’s ear as she kept her head down.

The slave didn’t respond. Wei Zhao could hear her heavy breathing. Her mouth was tightly shut, but her breath was still hot. Her body was burning from the run, and the heat passed clearly into Wei Zhao’s hands where they rested on the slave’s neck. Wei Zhao turned her head slightly and saw the slave staring straight ahead. Even in a moment this dangerous, her expression was calm, as if she already had a clear plan.

Where was she going to take her?

Wei Zhao wondered, then felt a little like laughing. How could she still be thinking so casually in a situation like this? Clearly, the slave had done too good a job of keeping her safe.

Soon, the sound of the river grew louder. The damp chill of the night clung to them. The slave slowed down and set Wei Zhao down in a patch of tall grass. Wei Zhao sat there, looking up at her. The moonlight was soft. It wasn’t a full moon, and the light wasn’t especially bright, but it still lit up Wei Zhao’s face, making her look like one of those mountain spirits sung about in old songs—

Innocent, untouched by the world.

The slave suddenly smiled. She pulled her hand back, her fingers brushing lightly over Wei Zhao’s cheek, so gentle it felt like an accident. “If we’re doing this together, then be ready to jump into the river.”

Her explanation came fast and sharp, not giving Wei Zhao any time to respond. “The river will wash away our scent. If we want to escape, this is our best chance. I’ll protect you. But first, I need to go back and take care of as many threats as I can.”

Wei Zhao’s expression shifted slightly, and she reached out to stop the slave.

But the slave straightened up, grabbing the bow and arrows at her waist. In that moment, she looked like a warrior goddess, looking down at her follower.

“Don’t worry, I’ll be back soon. I won’t push myself.”

Wei Zhao slowly let go of her hand. She watched as the slave disappeared into the grass without even looking back. The sound of barking dogs grew louder—she could even hear voices now. The pursuers were already that close.

Wei Zhao curled up again, hugging her knees.

“Don’t worry” always meant someone was worrying.

Did the slave think she was worried about her?

Of course not, Wei Zhao thought. That would be one self-important slave. She looked up at the silver moon in the sky. It had gone from a crescent to a half moon—so they’d already spent several days together.

Then she looked toward the rushing river not far away. The water roared. She remembered how, as a child, one of her half-brothers had pushed her into a pond. The water hadn’t been deep, but it was freezing cold. The choking sensation from back then still lingered in her memory.

Maybe she was about to feel it again.

Wei Zhao rested her forehead on her knees. She didn’t like water. She didn’t like the cold. She didn’t like hunger, choking, or pain.

Oh, and—she didn’t like death, either.

The barking started getting more chaotic. Wei Zhao sat up a little straighter. She knew—the slave had made her move.

What was she doing? Wei Zhao hated that she couldn’t follow.

Maybe the slave had pushed aside some tall grass and climbed a tree. She’d be holding that white ash bow, drawing the string in the moonlight, the arrowhead resting against her jaw. The bow pulled tight. The torchlight flickered—people’s eyes couldn’t see well in the dark, so they wouldn’t notice someone hiding. But the dogs would. They’d definitely sense something and start barking like crazy in her direction.

And that’s when the slave would release the arrow.

Wei Zhao had heard the sound of a skilled archer letting go of a bowstring before. It was beautiful—vibrating and sharp, like it merged with the wind, guiding the silver arrow to its mark before anyone even noticed.

Just like the sound Wei Zhao heard now.

The dogs were barking even more frantically. The voices of the men grew panicked. The torchlight jerked wildly in the trees.

But if this were a properly trained squad, the chaos wouldn’t last long. Someone would step up to take charge.

If she were the slave, Wei Zhao thought, her next target would be the leader. The ones making decisions were always the few. Kill them, and it would be the best thing for the future.

Wei Zhao stood, trying to rise onto her toes for a better look.

All she could see were dancing flames through the trees.

Shadows moved across the firelight, squeezed tightly together, darting back and forth—but she couldn’t make out anything clearly. She heard voices, angry and out of breath. She listened closely. The accent didn’t sound like people from the capital.

Were they locals? Wei Zhao wondered.

Sometimes, she also heard dogs whimpering like beaten animals. Maybe they were scared, or maybe the slave had struck them down.

Dogs were more troublesome than people in forests like this. The fewer of them around, the better.

For a moment, Wei Zhao felt completely in sync with the slave. One of them was in danger, killing to survive. The other, still and unnoticed. But their thoughts seemed to match.

The chaos got louder again. Wei Zhao heard more arrows slicing through the air. Then, suddenly—an explosive sound.

The entire forest froze for a beat. Then the bushes and trees rustled as frightened animals scattered.

Wei Zhao’s hand clenched tight. She recognized that sound.

It was a bird musket.

A new kind, just recently developed.

Her heart sank.

Unlike bows, muskets were hard to dodge up close. They were difficult to reload and sensitive to the environment, so people only fired them when they were sure it would count.

Would the slave die from it?

Wei Zhao’s chest tightened. She didn’t like her slave. She never had, even since they were children.

But…

Wei Zhao took a deep breath.

Not now, Wei Zhao. This isn’t the time for daydreaming. If the slave dies, you’ll have to survive on your own. So now—do you go into the river like she said, or head deeper into the forest?

Her eyes shifted from the flickering forest light to the roaring river.

She took a small step.

“I’ll be back soon.”

The strange accent echoed in her mind.

Wait?

Wait for a slave?

All for a promise that might not even be true?

Wei Zhao bit her lip. Her feet moved again, hesitating, her gaze flicking back and forth. But she still stood there, frozen in place, as if something was anchoring her down. The slave had always been dependable. So dependable it was almost too much. Maybe… maybe she should try to believe in her?

Before she could decide, the tall grass rustled loudly. Wei Zhao held her breath. And then—she saw the slave. She pushed aside the grass, eyes locking onto Wei Zhao’s face. Then she smiled—a bright, shining grin.

It was like her whole body lit up.

Wei Zhao stared, stunned, and the next second, the slave was around her, holding her tight. Wei Zhao caught the smell of her—sweat, grass, a faint milky scent, and the subtle tang of bl00d.

“You…”

You’re hurt?

Wei Zhao started to speak. But the slave wiped her face and laughed loudly. “I’m back!”

Wei Zhao let out a soft “ah!” as the slave scooped her up again. She instinctively wrapped her arms around the slave’s neck. Behind them, the torchlight grew closer. The pursuers’ faces were twisted with anger, but the dancing flames sliced them into strange, flat cutouts—like paper figures, odd and unreal.

She heard the slave’s laugh—loud and carefree.

She ran so fast, her laughter rang so clear, that the people behind them suddenly felt ridiculous. Like they were nothing to worry about.

For no reason at all, Wei Zhao laughed too.

Then she felt the slave tighten her arms around her waist. Wei Zhao turned her head and met those shining green eyes, full of wild joy. The slave looked at her and said, “Ready? Hold your breath.”

“Hang on.”

Wei Zhao felt a gentle hand at the back of her head, pressing her into the slave’s chest. She heard her heartbeat—loud, fast, thumping like a drum. It reminded her of that day she and her mother-empress had looked at the slave together—those eyes so full of life, just like this heartbeat now.

Without thinking, Wei Zhao wrapped her arms tighter around the slave’s waist, burying herself in that wild, burning life.

With a splash, they dove into the river together.

The princess and her slave disappeared into the water, leaving behind only a stunned crowd staring at the empty riverbank.