The Princess Smells So Good (GL) - Chapter 9

Wei Zhao stood by the tree. The area around her was dark, with only the faint outlines of shadows giving any hint of shape. When she looked up, all she could see was a tiny crescent moon in the sky, barely offering any light.

The trees rustled softly in the wind.

Wei Zhao instinctively stepped back.

“Don’t move—you’ll fall.”
A voice came from above her. She felt a rush of wind as a shadow dropped down toward her. Outstretched arms spread wide, like some dark, winged creature hidden in the night.

But Wei Zhao didn’t feel afraid.
Maybe it was the slave’s voice.
Maybe it was something else.
She didn’t want to think too hard about it.

The shadow landed silently, like the best kind of predator. In the dark, she felt her hand being taken—dry, long fingers brushed against hers, then gripped her tightly. She caught a faint scent from the slave, and the next moment, a small flame lit up. The slave had blown on a fire starter, and under its dim glow, she studied Wei Zhao’s face.

Wei Zhao saw her clear features in the flickering light—green eyes so dark they were nearly black.

“Took a bit longer than expected. Were you scared?” the slave asked. Her accent was still odd, but maybe Wei Zhao had gotten used to it. It no longer sounded as harsh as it had at first.

“Nothing to be scared of,” Wei Zhao replied, then wrinkled her nose in disgust. “You stink.”

The hand holding hers let go immediately. The slave stepped back. Even in the dim light, Wei Zhao noticed the faint blush on her face—though maybe it was just the firelight playing tricks. That seemed more likely.

Wei Zhao had come to understand the slave’s personality over the past few days.

Thick-skinned. Bold. Deep down, there was a defiant streak that didn’t care much for rank or status. If Wei Zhao hadn’t been a merciful master, the slave would’ve lost her head ten times over.
But she was also dependable and clever—decisive when needed, and always calm and in control, even with Wei Zhao.

Blushing?

That was definitely new.

The slave raised her arm and sniffed. Her brows knit together into a deep frown.

Then she said softly, “Let’s head toward the river today. We can wash up in the morning and find a place to rest.”
Her voice was dry and flat—tight like a pulled string. It sounded completely different from usual. Wei Zhao glanced at her, and the slave stepped back again.

Wei Zhao looked down and saw the slave rubbing the ground with her foot, as if trying to hide how flustered she was. A soft laugh escaped her—finally, she had the upper hand. She raised her chin slightly and asked with a hint of pride, “Did you find something?”

“Not yet, but I saw a light far off when I zoomed the telescope all the way. We’re heading in the right direction.”

She was back to her usual calm, not a trace of embarrassment left behind.

Busted.
Maybe I should’ve played it off a little more casually.

Wei Zhao narrowed her eyes and reached out. The slave hesitated, then blew out the fire starter. The darkness rushed back in, swallowing her sight. But in that brief moment before the flame died, she clearly saw the slave rubbing her hand clean against her clothes before taking hers again.

Just like before—dry fingers, now warm from the friction.

Wei Zhao smiled. It was dark anyway. No way the slave would see.
Then the slave relit the fire starter, and they started walking forward, guided by its faint glow.

Everything had changed the day before.

At dawn, the slave had climbed another tree to check their surroundings. That’s when she spotted a small wooden hut. It was far away, hidden in the tall grass, its roof covered with straw and vegetation for camouflage. The sight of it thrilled them both—it meant they were finally nearing civilization, almost out of the forest.

Still, just to be safe, they didn’t approach the hut.

Its disguise might fool animals, but not people. It was far too noticeable.

“We’re not going there. Keep moving. How much food do we have left?” Wei Zhao made the call.

“Enough for one more day. After that, we’ll need to start hunting and cooking.” the slave replied.

They both knew that would slow them down. Any distance gained would quickly be lost.

“We’ll walk as far as we can today.”

That was Wei Zhao’s final word. This time, she didn’t insist on walking. She climbed onto the slave’s back without a word. But as the slave stood up, Wei Zhao added, not quite at ease, “If it gets too hard, don’t push yourself. Just put me down and we’ll walk together.”

“Okay.”

The slave gave her usual straightforward reply—no grand declarations of loyalty or devotion. But somehow, that plain honesty calmed Wei Zhao more than anything else. She wrapped her arms around the slave’s neck, and with a graceful leap, the slave darted into the forest like an antelope.

Wei Zhao blinked back to attention.

She could hear the sound of a river—rushing, loud.

They hadn’t been near a river in days, and this one was noticeably louder than the last. That meant it was getting wider, and they were getting closer to the lower stream—closer to people. But the water sounded unusually cheerful, almost too lively.

“The river’s narrower here. There might be a waterfall ahead,” the slave said.

“Maybe there’s an old man living down there,” Wei Zhao joked.

The slave chuckled.

Wei Zhao’s great-great-grandmother had been a legendary figure. Much of the Great Zhou’s current strength came from her. She also had a strange love for writing bizarre stories—like tales where jumping off a cliff guaranteed some magical encounter. Those books became so popular that one emperor had to ban them because too many people were throwing themselves off cliffs hoping for a miracle.

Back then, the Imperial Censor knelt and said, “Books are not to blame. The fault lies with the foolish. If people lack discernment, they’ll mistake fantasy for truth.”

That debate had triggered a massive overhaul of the education system.

But that was a story for another time.

Wei Zhao’s playful comment lightened the mood. With the sky starting to brighten, both of them finally relaxed a little.

“I’ll go clean up first—and catch a couple of fish. That should keep us going for two more days,” the slave said, leading Wei Zhao to the riverbank. Wei Zhao nodded and tossed her handkerchief to her. The slave caught it, washed it thoroughly, and handed it back.

The sky was still a deep blue, and the water was cold—so was the handkerchief. Wei Zhao flinched as she touched it, then frowned and began wiping her face. Even she felt like she was scrubbing off a layer of grime.

Maybe I should clean up too…

She thought, then subtly lowered her head and sniffed herself.

That’s when she heard a loud clank. She quickly straightened up and looked toward the slave.

The slave was undressing.
Her thick belt—loaded with canteens, fire starters, a compass, and a telescope—had hit a rock and made that sound. She kicked off her weapons—her knife and bow—and slipped off her shoes. Her feet were red and swollen, but she didn’t seem to care. She began unfastening her tunic, revealing a tan, well-defined abdomen.

Wei Zhao quickly looked away, like something had pricked her eyes.

“You don’t like it, my lady?”
The slave’s voice rang out.

Familiar voice, unfamiliar title.
She rarely called her my lady—usually just said you. The sudden formality felt strange, laced with something else. The air was cold, but suddenly felt warmer somehow, like a spark in dry straw.

Wei Zhao turned to look.
The slave stood with her shirt half open, glancing sideways at her. She showed no shame, letting the river breeze touch her bare skin. Her wet clothes clung to her, outlining her lean waist and rounded curves. Wei Zhao’s eyes were drawn to that shape—she stared for a moment.

She remembered how it felt—firm, springy, and oddly comforting.

“So that’s what my lady likes,”
The slave said with a grin, unfiltered and bold—none of the reserved charm expected from noble courtesans. She was like an arrow, shooting straight into Wei Zhao’s heart.

“I’ve seen plenty of men and women trying to crawl into my bed,” Wei Zhao heard her own voice reply, cool and proud, as if her racing heart belonged to someone else. “You trying to do the same?”

“Would my lady call my name? In bed?” the slave asked.

Wei Zhao scoffed. “Keep dreaming.”

The slave shrugged, like she didn’t mind. Then she turned around and stripped off the rest of her clothes in one smooth motion. Like a powerful mermaid, she dove into the river. Water splashed, and just before she disappeared beneath the surface, Wei Zhao caught sight of a scar stretching across her back—an old whip mark, overlapped with others. On her shoulder blade, there was a circular blue brand: a phoenix with a long tail.

It was the mark of the Princess Royal’s household.

Wei Zhao slowly lowered her gaze.

Her slave…
This girl who’d followed her like a shadow for most of her life—

What was her name again?

Fa.

Yi.

Lian.