The Princess Smells So Good (GL) - Chapter 3

The stream was narrow—so narrow that in some places, a few extra steps could take you to the other side. Stones lined the banks unevenly, and the water wasn’t always visible from the path.

The slave walked with steady determination. Wei Zhao realized that no matter how many turns they took, she could always spot the stream again before long.

This slave—unexpectedly—was proving to be reliable.

That thought calmed Wei Zhao. With the sound of running water and the damp forest air around her, she slowly drifted off to sleep.

She was exhausted. Years spent in the palace had left her body soft and untrained. Even after gaining power, most of her time had been buried in paperwork. That life had made her physically weak, and the sudden release of long-held tension overwhelmed her. Before she knew it, she had fallen deeply asleep.

In her dream, she heard the crunch of wagon wheels over gravel. Hooves thudded against the road—this sound had followed her since the journey began half a month ago.

Wei Zhao heard the flapping of startled birds from the forest. She lifted the curtain of the carriage and looked outside.

“Your Highness, don’t worry. It’s just some birds that got spooked,” said the captain of the guards as he approached to reassure her. “We’ll reach the borders of Ganzhou by tomorrow. We can rest there for a couple of days. The wine’s good, and foreign traders set up stalls there—it’s full of rare goods from all over. Quite a sight.”

“We’re not here to sightsee,” Wei Zhao said coldly. “We’re here on behalf of my imperial brother—on behalf of Great Zhou—to secure the sea routes. With pirates running rampant and our national ships robbed three times, I’m not in the mood for fun.”

“Yes, yes,” the captain stammered, wiping sweat from his forehead. “Your Highness bears the burden of the nation. I—I was being careless.”

Wei Zhao’s expression darkened. She was just about to rebuke him further—

“Why… would birds be startled?”

“Oh?” Wei Zhao turned her head.

The voice came from the slave kneeling behind her. She had sharp, alert eyes, staring at the sky and the direction the birds had flown from—completely still, like a young leopard ready to pounce.

“Who knows?” the guard captain replied with a hint of irritation. “Could be a predator in the woods. Or maybe—”

He didn’t like this slave. Or rather, like most people of Great Zhou, he saw slaves only as tools—useful or not.

Being questioned by one felt like an insult. His face soured, but in front of Wei Zhao, he kept his nobleman’s composure and didn’t lash out.

Wei Zhao’s gaze shifted. “I want to know why the birds were startled too.”

The princess had sided with her slave, not her guard.

The captain’s face fell, though he didn’t dare show any dissatisfaction. He quickly bowed. “Then I’ll send someone to check—”

Before he could finish, sharp whistling sounds cut through the air above. They were piercing and fast.

Wei Zhao had never heard anything like it. Before she could react, her slave tackled her to the ground.

She smelled a strange mix of incense and sweat on the slave—along with the sharp scent of bl00d. The wooden boards around them cracked loudly, like rain pelting windows during a storm. And above it all, she heard the captain’s voice, hoarse and desperate:

“We’re under attack! Protect Her Highness!”

She should’ve ordered the guards to investigate earlier instead of letting the captain ramble. She should’ve brought more protection instead of traveling light for convenience.

More than that, she should’ve left a mess of trouble behind for her political enemies—then these bandits might not have targeted her at all.

Wei Zhao slowly opened her eyes.

She saw her own shadow—long and twisted—flickering on the cave wall in the firelight. The flames crackled, recreating the sounds from her dream—the snapping of arrows and panicked shouting.

A long robe had been draped over her. It was far too big, like a blanket, and it helped push back the chill of the spring night.

She curled up beneath it, her nose buried in the fabric. The slave’s scent clung to it, and while it still made Wei Zhao frown, the discomfort she’d felt before was gone. Maybe she was getting used to it.

Or maybe—maybe it was just instinct. In moments like this, when her survival depended on someone else, she always subconsciously picked the path that gave her the best chance of staying alive.

“You’re awake?”

The slave’s voice came from nearby. Wei Zhao stirred slightly. She was leaning against a rock wall. The cave they were in was shallow but clean—no signs of wild animals. The only downside was that you could see the outside too easily.

Beyond the entrance, in the darkness, two glowing green dots floated by—like ghost lights from the legends she’d read as a child.

“What… are those?” Wei Zhao asked, pulling the robe tighter around her.

The slave glanced outside and replied casually, “Wolves. Don’t worry. We have fire. They’re afraid of it. They won’t come close.”

As she spoke, she pulled out a small knife and sliced off a piece of meat, chewing it slowly. Her cheeks moved with the motion, and her energy made Wei Zhao unconsciously swallow. She was hungry just watching.

“It’s already cooked. Want some?” the slave asked, turning toward her. When Wei Zhao didn’t respond, she added, “Master.”

Wei Zhao pressed her lips together. She glanced outside again. More green lights had appeared, and she heard a faint rustling sound. Curling up tighter, she asked, “Won’t the smell of meat attract them?”

“Maybe,” the slave said, “but the fire keeps them back. They won’t risk it.”

Her relaxed tone was strangely calming.

“I want some,” Wei Zhao said, sitting up straight. She hesitated, then pushed the robe off and walked over. Sitting down with her legs together, she settled beside the slave.

The warmth of the fire chased away the cold even without the robe.

She watched as the slave sliced off a piece of meat—golden brown and glistening with fat. She held it out on a large leaf—banana leaf, most likely. They were common in the south and made decent plates when cleaned properly.

No chopsticks. Wei Zhao frowned, but didn’t complain. She rubbed her fingers together and cautiously picked up the meat. It was dry, and the grease made her fingers slick.

Not ideal—but what choice did she have? She sighed and took a bite. The taste immediately made her wince.

“It’s dry… stringy… no salt… and kind of gamey.”

She chewed carefully, muttering as she went.

The slave glanced at her struggling expression, then reached into her clothes and pulled out a small, bright red fruit.

“Eat this after,” she said.

Wei Zhao stared curiously at the fruit resting in the slave’s palm. Her hand was larger than Wei Zhao’s—probably because of their different origins. The fruit sat there, round and shiny, like a jewel.

Despite a full day of labor, the slave’s hand was clean—no dirt under her nails, though her palm was covered in old scars and calluses.

“Is it sweet?” Wei Zhao asked.

“It’s really sour,” the slave answered honestly. “But it helps. Eating only meat will… cause problems.” She paused, then added, “You’ll get constipated. Can’t poop.”

“That’s enough,” Wei Zhao said sharply, face darkening. “I know what it means.”

She snatched the fruit, bit into it, and winced. A deep crease formed between her brows—but she didn’t stop eating.

“Good?” the slave asked, raising an eyebrow.

“No,” Wei Zhao muttered. “But I’ve had worse.”

The slave said nothing. Wei Zhao looked up and found her watching silently—her nose straight, her eyes deep. With the firelight and her red hair, her face looked wild and striking. She had a natural presence, even when quiet.

Then the slave grinned—goofy and lopsided. “Looks like you’ve been through a lot.”

“I’m your master, slave,” Wei Zhao said stiffly, putting the fruit aside. “A good slave doesn’t pry into their master’s life.”

“No one ever taught me that,” the slave said with a shrug.

Wei Zhao rubbed her forehead and sighed.

Right. She had no one to blame but herself. She’d basically abandoned this slave after taking her in, letting her grow wild like this.

No manners.

No sense of propriety.

Still… very useful. Especially now.

Wei Zhao thought for a moment, then softened her tone. “You’ve done well this time. Once we get back safely, I’ll reward you. What do you want?”

A better future? Freedom, like most slaves dream of? Wei Zhao looked at her encouragingly. Whatever it was, she was confident she could provide it.

The slave thought for a second. “Fa Yilian.”

“What?” Wei Zhao looked puzzled.

“My name is Fa Yilian. I’m not called ‘slave,’” she said.

Wei Zhao was quiet for a moment. Then, a bit stubbornly, she replied, “You’re my only slave. So ‘slave’ means you, no matter what name you go by.”

“Your name doesn’t mean anything.”