The Princess Smells So Good (GL) - Chapter 4

Wei Zhao refused to call the slave by name.

The slave gave a soft “oh,” as if she hadn’t expected anything and wasn’t particularly disappointed either.

What a strange slave, Wei Zhao thought.

If not for this unexpected turn of events, she would’ve never realized how strange her slave was. And she wouldn’t have cared to find out, either. Fa Yilian… such a strange name, foreign sounding. In Great Zhou, no one called slaves by their names. And yet she had remembered it all this time?

Wei Zhao closed her eyes. She could hear the crackling of the fire, the faint sounds of wolves pacing outside. Occasionally, a distant howl echoed through the night. She curled up tighter, as if it could bring her a little more sense of safety.

“Sleep. Don’t worry.”

The slave’s voice came from nearby, calm and detached. But it carried a quiet certainty that somehow reassured Wei Zhao, and she fell asleep.

When she woke the next morning, the fire was still burning. There was no scent of bl00d in the air. She was alive and well, with all her limbs intact.

Just like the slave had said—she was alive and doing fine. Wei Zhao set aside her outer robe and saw her slave sitting cross-legged, arms wrapped around herself, leaning against the rock wall. Her head nodded slightly as she slept deeply. The flames stretched lazily, small but still intimidating enough to keep danger at bay. Outside, everything was peaceful. Greenery surrounded them, and the sound of a stream drifted in from afar. It was calm and serene.

Wei Zhao walked over to her.

The slave’s features were sharper than a native of the Central Plains, with a striking, refined beauty. Otherwise, she wouldn’t have been chosen as a gift for the emperor in the first place. These days, looks mattered—whether you were an official or a slave. Wei Zhao recalled a scholar from the previous dynasty who was brilliant and well-read, but because of his ugly appearance, he was sent off to a remote post in Haizhou for the rest of his life.

The slave, clearly, hadn’t suffered such misfortune.

Her hair was a bit messy, tied high in a ponytail instead of being coiled up like the women of the Central Plains. Before this…

Wei Zhao frowned, trying to recall, but couldn’t remember how her slave usually wore her hair. She had never paid attention, not even though the girl had always been by her side.

Her stomach grumbled loudly. Wei Zhao frowned and rubbed her belly, ready to wake the girl. But before her hand could touch the slave’s clothes, the girl’s eyes snapped open.

Her green eyes shimmered with moisture and light, like a pair of flawless, translucent cat’s-eye gems. Her eyebrows arched sharply, her gaze piercing and focused. The delicate beauty from before was now infused with a striking boldness—it was like a doll had suddenly come to life.

Wei Zhao froze for a moment, then quickly pulled her hand back. “It’s morning. I’m hungry.”

The slave gave another soft “oh,” glanced toward the cave entrance, and nodded. “Alright, I’ll fetch some water…”

“I’m coming with you,” Wei Zhao said, arms crossed. “Pack things up. We’re leaving together.”

The slave paused. Her eyes flicked over Wei Zhao, then toward the cave entrance where a small animal darted by. A faint smile touched her eyes. “You’re scared? It’s morning. Wolves rarely come out this early.”

“I’m not scared.” Wei Zhao snapped, face tight. “Didn’t anyone teach you manners before? Let me do it now. Don’t pry into your master’s thoughts or preferences. Just follow orders.”

The slave gave another “oh,” then, meeting Wei Zhao’s eyes, added, “Understood, Master.”

“You’re supposed to call yourself ‘your servant,’” Wei Zhao muttered.

Another “oh.” They packed up casually and stepped out of the cave together. As soon as they were outside, Wei Zhao felt the fresh air hit her. She rubbed her nose. The slave tied the cleaned rabbit skin to her belt and strode ahead.

Wei Zhao glanced back at the cave where they had spent the night. A strange sense of reluctance welled up in her chest. She turned to see the slave walking away without looking back and frowned, muttering under her breath, “Savage,” before hurrying after her.

The two walked in single file. The slave led the way, using a small knife to clear the path. Before long, the blade chipped. She looked at it, regret flickering in her eyes, and then just used her hands instead.

“When I get back, I’ll get you a good blade,” Wei Zhao said, panting as she followed. She slipped on a patch of ground, and the slave quickly turned and caught her hand.

Their palms touched—soft, delicate skin against rough, callused fingers. Wei Zhao flinched.

The slave withdrew her hand just as quickly, and Wei Zhao fell silent.

The forest around them was far from silent—birds chirped, insects buzzed, leaves rustled in the breeze, and the sound of flowing water grew closer.

“Why don’t you want freedom? Or riches, or power?” Wei Zhao suddenly asked.

“A Xian, in this world, everyone is driven by something,” her mother—the Empress—had once said to her, stroking her hair. “Look at you. You don’t like that slave, but because of one word from me, you’ve had to keep her with you. Why? Because pleasing me gets you a better life, more resources.”

“Mo—Mother…” The young Wei Zhao had stammered, trying to protest.

But the Empress only smiled. “You’re doing well. Keep it up.”

“This world…” Wei Zhao murmured, “Everyone wants something. What do you want?”

“I already told you. You just didn’t agree to it,” the slave said, her tone tinged with impatience. She paused, then gave a short laugh. “Master.”

“It’s just a name,” Wei Zhao blurted. “Just a name! It’s not like its power or treasure or freedom.”

“In Great Zhou, that name is power and treasure,” the slave replied.

They had reached the stream—or maybe it was better called a brook. She turned to face Wei Zhao. “As for freedom… I’ve always been free. That’s not something you—or anyone else—gets to define for me.”

“I still have your slave contract!” Wei Zhao shouted. She could feel the slave’s emotions shifting—emotions no slave should have. Instinctively, she wanted to suppress it. She was the grand princess of Great Zhou. She couldn’t be overshadowed by a slave. Under imperial rule, everyone else was beneath her.

“It’s just a piece of paper,” the slave said, glancing at Wei Zhao with eyes full of appraisal, like she was sizing up a piece of merchandise. “Just like how your life right now is in my hands—not the other way around.”

She stepped toward Wei Zhao.

Wei Zhao felt a sudden pressure and instinctively stepped back, but her pride as the Grand Princess made her plant her feet. A bead of cold sweat trickled down her forehead, slid along her jaw, and fell to the ground.

Fortunately, the slave stopped. The distance between them wasn’t close, but not far either—just enough for Wei Zhao to feel the pressure without being overwhelmed. She realized the girl had done it on purpose.

Wei Zhao stared at her, eyes wary.

“If I really wanted freedom, I could kill you right now. No one would ever know, right?” the slave said with a smile, flashing white teeth. Like a wild animal—vibrant, dangerous, yet so beautiful you couldn’t look away.

Wei Zhao pressed her lips together and stared into those green eyes. “Even if you kill me, you won’t escape. You carry the mark of my household.”

The slave scoffed. “So what? This world is vast. It’s not just Great Zhou. I could go anywhere—the seas, the new lands. Places with nothing, places with everything.”

Wei Zhao said nothing. A long silence passed before she finally let her shoulders drop, as if giving in. “You’re right. So—are you going to kill me? And embrace your freedom?”

The slave studied her, then blinked. “What do you think?”

“I think…” Anger flickered in Wei Zhao’s eyes, but she forced it down. “I think you won’t.”

The slave sighed. “Alright, you guessed right, my master.” She walked to the stream, plucked a large leaf, rinsed it in the water, then waved at Wei Zhao. “Come wash up.”

Wei Zhao slowly let out a breath and stepped forward. The slave pulled a handkerchief from her chest, soaked it in water, wrung it out, and handed it to her. “Wipe your face first, then give it back. There’s no willow branches or salt around, but it’ll do for a quick rinse.”

Wei Zhao frowned at the familiar embroidery on the cloth. “This is my handkerchief. Why do you have it?”

“Because you’ve never cared who hands things to you,” the slave replied in a voice so calm it was almost cold.

Wei Zhao tried to remember. She had always been surrounded by people—attendants with umbrellas, ceremonial guards, maids helping her dress and eat and wash. She only needed to reach out and things would be placed into her hands, respectfully, without fail. She had gotten used to it. She had never once spared a glance at those who served her.

Calling them people might’ve been too generous. Tools would be more accurate.

Wei Zhao couldn’t remember at all how many times that handkerchief—or anything—had been handed to her by this slave or anyone else.

“…I really can’t remember,” she murmured.

The handkerchief, soaked in cold morning water, felt like a piece of ice in her palm.