The Princess Smells So Good (GL) - Chapter 66

“Miss A Zong, just get your things ready. I’ll take care of everything else. Lady Fa passed through the fishing village, and there are only a few sea routes. We can just follow the coastline to search.”

Wang Youzhi said this to A Zong. Although he was a government official, he was also a martial man, and he had sharp instincts. One glance was enough for him to tell that A Zong had the air of a wandering fighter. He also knew he wasn’t her match in a fight. And with the way Wei Zhao treated her, Wang Youzhi had every reason to be respectful. In fact, he was very respectful toward A Zong.

A Zong nodded. The two agreed on a time to meet, then went their separate ways. Naturally, Wang Youzhi wasn’t going in person. His Highness’s personal guards had already arrived, and he needed to stay with them. He couldn’t afford to make himself scarce right now—it wasn’t worth the risk.

A Zong didn’t know what Wang Youzhi was thinking, and even if she did, she wouldn’t have cared. She lowered her head and ran her hand along her sword. She didn’t have much to bring. Sure, she’d been well-fed and well-cared for by Song Sisi for a time, but she’d also endured her share of hardship. A few changes of clothes were more than enough. She was still deep in thought when she looked up and saw a messenger pigeon flying overhead. Its white wings glided past her. She stared at it for a long time before finally making up her mind.

The main base of Songhe Sect wasn’t in Haizhou City, and their business was diverse—some of it above board, some of it not. They ran protection convoys, and occasionally took on jobs from the government or private clients, whether those jobs were respectable or shady. A Zong herself had been loaned out a few times for various tasks. Her skills were excellent—her light footwork graceful, her kills clean, her thefts quick. She always got the job done.

She remembered Song Qing once saying with regret to the others, “A Zong is useful, no doubt. It’s a shame that little junior sister is so fond of her, keeping her around like a pet cat or dog. Otherwise, she’d be more useful than half the worthless ones we’ve got.”

The “worthless ones” referred to people like A Zong—slaves collected from all over, trained in basic martial arts. Songhe Sect kept them like animals: used when needed, discarded when not.

Snapping out of her memories, A Zong found herself standing in front of a familiar pigeon post. She noticed the hidden markings carved at the base of a wooden post. Memorizing the pattern, she began wandering through the streets. Before long, she could spot signs—on corners, on bricks, on house plates—clues left behind in plain sight.

Haizhou City was large, but with the markings guiding her, A Zong moved like a local through alleyways and narrow streets until she reached a small courtyard. It was tucked away in a quiet alley, a tree branch sticking out over the wall, weighed down by bright, flame-colored flowers drooping from its limbs.

The courtyard looked like any ordinary Haizhou home. Even the gate was half-open, half-closed. Through the gap, she could see the moss-covered blue stone floor inside.

But A Zong could hear it—several people breathing quietly within. The breaths were subtle and low. Without her circulating her internal energy to heighten her senses, even she might’ve walked right past without noticing a thing.

A Zong pressed her lips together. Her hand hovered near her waist, then slowly dropped back down.

“Is someone out there?” a woman’s voice called from inside—not Song Sisi’s. A Zong must’ve stood there too long, and the people inside got nervous.

Creaaak—the door opened slightly. But outside, there was only the wind and the scent of flowers. No person in sight.

The woman stared into the empty alley for a moment, then pulled out a whistle and blew into it.

Suddenly, shadows stirred. Guards tightened their patrols.

A Zong slipped past them easily. These were just the gatekeepers left behind at Songhe Sect’s local post—nothing impressive. Clearly, Song Qing had taken the real elites with him. A Zong almost laughed. They probably never expected to end up in a situation like this.

Song Sisi was sitting in front of a mirror, fixing her hair. She wore a gold hairpin, but her hair was dull from years of poor health. Instead of looking rich or elegant, the ornament only made it seem like a dead twig stuck in dry grass. Her face darkened instantly. She turned and slapped the girl holding the mirror. The girl staggered back, covering her face as she dropped to her knees.

“Why are you covering your face? Does it hurt?” Song Sisi asked coldly. She turned to face the girl.

The girl looked around thirteen or fourteen—slim and still growing, with long limbs that hinted she might become a tall beauty one day. But Song Sisi would never live to see that happen.

“Look up.”

The girl trembled as she obeyed. Her eyes were a striking lake-blue, glistening with tears—a look that easily evoked pity. “Mistress, please forgive me,” she whimpered.

Song Sisi chuckled softly. She leaned in and pinched the girl’s chin, forcing her to look up. She stared into those eyes, glanced at the girl’s pale skin, then sighed deeply. “Why beg for forgiveness?”

“I… I don’t understand…” the girl sobbed, her voice shaking with fear.

“She never begged. Not once. She always stayed silent, like she was wronged but never admitted it. Only when I ordered her to, would she cry or plead. She was so obedient…” Song Sisi’s gaze drifted away before refocusing on the girl. “But you’re not her.”

She let go and gave the girl a hard shove. “Don’t come back to serve me tomorrow.”

A flicker of despair crossed the girl’s eyes. She crawled forward, clutching Song Sisi’s leg. Disgust flashed across Song Sisi’s face, but she was too weak to push the girl off. She stared at her with hatred. The girl didn’t seem to notice. She just kept crying, “Please, mistress, don’t cast me out. I can do it. I can be just like her!”

“You? Be like her?” Song Sisi burst into laughter. She looked the girl up and down, and when their eyes met again, her interest faded completely. “I don’t want that anymore. Get lost.”

As she spoke, she swung her hand—something sharp flashed between her fingers.

But before the blow could land, someone grabbed her wrist.

A Zong’s voice rang out. “Miss, it’s fine if you don’t like her. But don’t destroy her.”

“A Zong?” Song Sisi turned around and met those icy blue eyes. They were the most beautiful eyes she’d ever seen—cold on the surface, but somehow always gentle underneath. That contrast had always made her feel special, like she was the only one being treated with such care. And Song Sisi had loved that feeling.

“You…” Song Sisi stared at her. “Is it really you? You’ve changed your mind? You…”

A Zong’s eyes flicked toward the young girl, and Song Sisi noticed. She waved her hand impatiently. “You’re not needed here. Go now—don’t get in the way.”

“Yes, yes,” the girl said, bowing quickly. As she turned to leave, she cast one quick glance at A Zong before hurrying off.

But A Zong caught that look—full of envy, jealousy, and a trace of resentment.

And why? They were both slaves. That girl hated her only because she was favored by their “master.” A Zong felt a wave of helplessness. Suddenly, she remembered what Judith once said: that her heart hadn’t yet accepted her own freedom, which was why she kept looking to others for it. Back then, A Zong hadn’t understood. Now she did. But Judith… was nowhere to be found.

A Zong steadied herself and looked at Song Sisi. “I came to ask you something.”

“You came to ask me something?” Song Sisi laughed, glancing down at the wrist A Zong still held. “Is this how you ask?”

A Zong let go awkwardly. She stood in front of Song Sisi, watching her quietly.

Song Sisi rubbed her sore wrist, half-complaining, half-coquettish. “You hurt me.”

A Zong didn’t reply. She noticed that even Song Sisi had changed. They’d grown up together. No one knew each other better. But the truth was, when their roles shifted, they became strangers.

When Song Sisi got no response, she looked at A Zong and sighed. “Has your heart already flown to Her Highness? She won’t love you, you know. No one loves you more than I do.”

“She just hired me,” A Zong replied simply. Then, after a pause, she added, “I don’t need your love. That’s your business. It has nothing to do with me… because I don’t love you.”

Song Sisi froze. Her eyes turned red. Her breathing quickened. A Zong stood still, calm and steady.

“You’re really going to just let me die, aren’t you?” Song Sisi cried out, tears falling.

“No,” A Zong said quietly. “It’s just… you’re not at the breaking point yet. When you are, I’ll save you.”

“Fine! Fine! Wonderful!!” Song Sisi laughed through her rage, pointing out the window. “Get out! Don’t ever let me catch you again!”

“You haven’t told me about Fa Yilian yet,” A Zong said, unmoved. She was used to Song Sisi’s tantrums.

Song Sisi was gasping now. The outburst had triggered that familiar tugging pain in her chest. Her body had always been fragile. But even through the pain, she smiled.

“You think just by asking, I’ll tell you?” she said. “What makes you think you can bargain with me? What do you have to offer?”

A Zong lowered her eyes. “What do you want?”

“I want you to come back to me. Be my slave again.” Song Sisi smiled. “If you do, I’ll tell you everything I know—even the names of the remaining Songhe Sect members. They’ll all be yours to command. How about that?”

A Zong stayed silent for a long time. Song Sisi finally laughed out loud. “You don’t want to? So much for your so-called friendships. A Zong, you’re so selfish—and that’s what I love about you. You’d give up everyone else. Even me. All for yourself.”