The Princess Smells So Good (GL) - Chapter 7
Wei Zhao crouched on the ground as the tall grass swayed lightly in the wind, brushing against her cheeks from time to time. It made her face itch and sting, as if it was being scratched—very uncomfortable.
She blinked uneasily. The ground was dirty, and she didn’t dare look down, afraid she might see a bug crawling over her foot and scream out of fear.
Waiting like this was unbearable.
Time dragged on. At first, the slave had moved the tall grass slightly, causing a faint rustling sound, but now everything was completely silent.
Even the distant barking of dogs had stopped.
There were bird calls in the distance, and maybe the cries of some wild animals—but none of it was human.
Wei Zhao was someone who feared silence. Back in her palace as the Eldest Princess, there was always the sound of voices. Scholars’ poems would be gently read aloud by soft-voiced maids, and beautiful palace attendants would serve her sweet wine imported from the Western Regions. Even at night, the long whale-oil lamps would burn until morning, and the wine, music, and dancing would go on late into the night.
Everything had been noisy and grand.
Not like now, where there was only the sound of wind and animals.
It made her feel uneasy… and scared.
She shifted her legs—she’d been crouching for too long and they were starting to go numb. She didn’t dare stand up, so she shifted her weight to the other leg to relieve one side at a time.
“She’s still not back…” Wei Zhao muttered under her breath. In her hand was a small knife—the slave had given it to her.
“In case you need it,” the slave had said as she looked at Wei Zhao and placed the knife in her hand before leaving.
Wei Zhao had understood the look in her eyes. The knife wasn’t for self-defense—it was for preserving the last shred of dignity due to her status as a princess.
Suicide?
Wei Zhao touched the knife’s hilt. It was wrapped in deerskin to prevent slipping, smooth and solid to the touch. Her hand trembled before she quickly let go. She couldn’t imagine a day would come when she’d even consider ending her own life. If her mother, the Empress, knew her eldest daughter had fallen so far, would she regret not having taught her proper skills in riding and archery?
Of course not.
Wei Zhao’s face stayed blank. That woman would probably laugh out loud, enjoy the sight of her daughter’s humiliation, and only then rescue her in the name of the royal family—so she could be used for amusement again next time.
She had always loved humiliating Wei Zhao—whether it was her poor studies or the presence of a slave by her side.
She despised Wei Zhao, just as Wei Zhao despised her. And yet, she couldn’t abandon her, just like Wei Zhao couldn’t cut off the bl00d ties between them.
Wei Zhao drifted in her thoughts, lightly poking the ground with the knife.
A rustling sound came from the grass nearby.
Wei Zhao crouched even lower, hand gripping the knife, and carefully parted the grass to peek through. She could vaguely see a figure moving toward her. Wei Zhao took a step forward, knife at the ready, eyes locked on the figure.
“It’s me.”
It was the slave’s voice.
But Wei Zhao didn’t move or respond. She kept watching as the figure slowly got closer. Only when she confirmed the slave was alone did she finally stand up.
The slave looked a bit worn out. Her clothes were dirt-stained, and there were bloodstains on the hem of her robes. A few strands of her red hair had fallen loose, softening the sharp features of her face. She now had a short bow and a quiver full of arrows slung across her back, and a long sword at her waist. The ebony scabbard hid the blade’s edge—it looked like a trophy from a fight.
Her green eyes swept over Wei Zhao and finally landed on the knife in Wei Zhao’s hand. She raised a brow. “Were you planning to kill someone?”
“It’s called self-defense,” Wei Zhao replied. Her heart, which had been racing, slowly began to calm down. She didn’t want to admit it was because she saw the slave come back safe and sound, so she lowered her head and put the knife away. “How did it go?”
The slave casually wiped her cheek with her sleeve, her expression serious. “Two pursuers. Scouts, most likely. They brought dogs.”
“They’re dead?” Wei Zhao asked flatly.
She had never seen a dead body herself, but she had ordered many deaths. For a princess of the Great Zhou, taking a life—or sparing one—was as simple as saying a word.
“They’re dead,” the slave answered. “I took their bows.”
“Anything on them that might show who they are?”
The slave shook her head. “No. I checked their clothes, belts, accessories—no tattoos or insignias. The good news is they were carrying basic medicine, a compass, food rations, and monocular. All useful things. The bad news is they didn’t have anything for sending messages. That means their main group probably isn’t far from us.”
Wei Zhao’s face darkened. She said nothing.
The slave studied the furrow between her brows. “Do you want to go back and look?”
“You should say ‘Master.’”
Wei Zhao corrected her, annoyed, then pinched the bridge of her nose. “No need.”
“Alright,” the slave nodded, striding over and grabbing Wei Zhao’s arm. She bent slightly and tilted her head toward Wei Zhao. “Get on. We need to get out of here fast.”
Wei Zhao didn’t move.
The slave looked anxious now and quickly explained, “I stripped their clothes and let their bl00d out. It’ll attract wild animals and buy us some time. But they probably had more than one dog. We’ll be found soon.”
Wei Zhao hadn’t realized things were already this serious. Her face grew more solemn, her expression tinged with worry. “How do we escape?”
“First, we put distance between us and them. It looks like they’re tracking us through the water sources. We can’t stay close to water anymore,” the slave replied clearly—she had already thought it through. “From now on, we’ll rest during the day and travel at night. And if we run into them, we still might be able to fight.”
Luckily, the area was so damp that it would be hard to set a fire. Otherwise, if they lit one, the only way out would be to grow wings.
“Then let’s go,” Wei Zhao said. But she didn’t climb onto the slave’s back. Instead, she tugged her forward.
The slave walked a few steps, then stopped. No matter how hard Wei Zhao pulled, she wouldn’t budge. Frustrated, Wei Zhao turned and glared at her. “Didn’t you say it was urgent? Why aren’t you moving?”
The slave’s green eyes flashed with a strange light. She looked at Wei Zhao—from her messy hair to her mud-covered shoes. Then she asked, “Why didn’t you get on?”
Her expression was firm, like she had to know the answer.
People like her were annoying. She never knew how to read the room. If she worked in court, she’d be impeached and banished within three days—and never come back.
Wei Zhao gave her a cold look. “I’m your master. You shouldn’t be asking why.”
The slave crossed her arms and tilted her head. “Why not?”
She clearly didn’t care about hierarchy.
Wei Zhao fumed, feeling deeply humiliated. But in this situation, the slave was frighteningly useful and reliable. It wasn’t the time to act like a spoiled princess. Calculating the pros and cons quickly was second nature to royals. She swallowed her anger and said with a blank face, “You’re low on strength. If we travel through the day and night, you’ll need all your energy. Carrying me would only slow you down. Besides, your arm is hurt.”
Only then did the slave raise her brows. She glanced down at her arm, where the wound had been bandaged well. She hadn’t expected Wei Zhao to be so observant.
“Got it,” the slave nodded. “Let’s go.”
She took a step forward, while Wei Zhao silently walked beside her, lightly supporting her arm.
The slave looked at her again, a small smile tugging at her lips. “If you get too tired, just say so. Don’t push yourself.”
“Talkative!”
Wei Zhao replied with a stiff face. The two of them leaned on each other and walked forward together. Wei Zhao glanced back—the sound of the river was fading behind them, along with that patch of unpleasant tall grass.
Now, they were walking toward the unknown—together.