Chapter 39

Peach Blossom Village is remote and sparsely populated, nestled against the foot of an unnamed mountain.

Qingwu’s constitution had improved significantly these past few days, and she often helped gather medicinal herbs for the local patients.

Du Jin quickly assimilated into this secluded paradise, far from the world’s clamor. During the day, he would study pharmacology and treat minor ailments for the villagers, while at night, he would rack his brains to find ways to alleviate Qingwu’s illness. Sometimes, fearing the potency of a new concoction might be too much for her, he would increase the dosage and test it on himself first. There was no trace of the weariness or vicissitudes of war upon him; the gentle, modest refinement characteristic of a noble family was perfectly embodied in his demeanor.

For Qingwu, gazing at his unsullied, handsome face was far more effective than reading medical texts. Over time, she had actually managed to learn a thing or two.

"Lingyu, look!" Qingwu wrote out a prescription on a piece of rough paper, eager to show off the first formula she had composed.

Du Jin looked up from his work, but after a single glance, his expression darkened. "Why are you making this?"

Seeing that he was on the verge of anger, Qingwu quickly explained, "Sister Zhao from the village asked me for it. She said she doesn't want the child in her belly anymore."

Du Jin snatched the paper from her hand. "This is of no use to you. Learn something else."

Qingwu often found Du Jin’s words and actions too rigid, so she would always try to tease him. When she inevitably provoked him to the point of exasperation, she would then willingly coax him back. Such days of bickering and laughter slipped by without notice, and in the blink of an eye, another month had vanished. Barring any accidents, they were to be married at the end of the month. They had both endured the agony of losing family, but fortunately, they would soon become each other's new family.

As autumn deepened and the vegetation withered, Du Jin was overwhelmed, juggling medical duties and climbing the mountain to gather herbs. He was often dizzy and would frequently turn away to cough without realizing it. Qingwu saw it all. After lunch, she informed Yunting that she was going to the back mountain to forage.

Huo Xun wanted to accompany her, but she felt it unnecessary and told him to deliver a meal to Du Jin instead. Among the four of them, she was likely the most skilled in martial arts. Besides, the back mountain held no packs of wolves or wild beasts, nor were there any assassins who knew her whereabouts. She would be back in an hour, two at most.

By the time Yunting had set out dinner, Du Jin had returned from his rounds. Expecting to find Qingwu waiting in their room, his heart began to sink when a search turned up nothing.

"Where is the Princess?"

Huo Xun felt a jolt of alarm, remembering that Qingwu had not yet returned from the mountain. By now, the sky was veiled in darkness, and the oil lamps lit in every household resembled a long, shimmering river of stars.

"Do you two not know who she is? How dare you let her out?" Du Jin’s voice trembled with rage. "She is being hunted everywhere, and you dared to let her go out alone for so long?"

It was rare for him to look so livid, his clenched fists trembling slightly. Yet, he knew that talk was useless now; the priority was to bring her back. Familiar with the back mountain from his frequent foraging trips, he grabbed a torch from the woodshed, intending to split up the search.

"You go circle the village, but don't cause a scene. Yunting, stay in the courtyard; if the Princess returns, heat some food for her." Du Jin changed into a clean, cyan robe and lit his torch, heading into the mountains.

The night was heavy, and every step crunched against the brittle, fallen branches.

Qingwu had twisted her ankle. She leaned against the base of a withered banyan tree, hugging her knees and curled into a small ball, quite engrossed in cleaning the mud off her gathered herbs. When Du Jin found her, she had just regained her strength and was supporting herself against the trunk to stand. She had barely risen when she lost her footing and fell again.

Hearing the commotion, the tension in Du Jin’s chest finally snapped. He hurried over to steady her, scolding, "What are you doing all the way out here? What if something had happened?"

Perhaps it was the sheer anxiety; seeing her suddenly caused his voice to rise involuntarily. The joy of finding what was lost made his chest heave, followed immediately by a fit of coughing. Qingwu stared at him unblinkingly, biting her lower lip to hold back the tears of grievance, her mouth trembling slightly.

Du Jin immediately covered her eyes, his tone helpless. "Don't cry."

He was all too familiar with her tactics and had long since developed an immunity, keeping his face stern and refusing to be swayed. Seeing that one trick had failed, Qingwu grabbed his wrist, blinked her eyes, and said ingratiatingly, "I saw you coughing so much lately, so I wanted to find some medicine for you."

She sniffled and gazed at him, her eyes brimming with clear, shimmering water like an injured little rabbit. Since the fall of the General’s Mansion, Du Jin could not bear the sight of blood. Months ago, while pursuing Qingwu, witnessing the carnage at the city gates seemed to have worsened his underlying condition, leading to these bouts of coughing. He hadn't realized he was showing it, let alone that Qingwu had noticed.

He felt a pang of emotion, but he still instinctively placed Qingwu's safety above his own suffering. "But the Princess should not have come out alone."

If she had accidentally run into people from the outside, the consequences would have been unimaginable. Peach Blossom Village was completely isolated; even the recent war had not reached this place. As long as the three of them kept their mouths shut and remained safely tucked away, Pei Muzi would never discover where the Princess was.

Seeing Du Jin lost in thought, Qingwu waved a hand in front of him and held up three fingers in a vow. "I know, I’ll tell you next time."

"There will be no next time." Du Jin’s tone was steady and left no room for negotiation.

Qingwu furrowed her brows, pulling up her skirt to reveal her swollen ankle, her voice both fierce and aggrieved. "Look at this! I got hurt gathering medicine for you, and you’re still angry!" She adjusted her sleeves, which had been crushed beneath her, and reached out, demanding he pull her up.

Du Jin ignored her, cradling the sole of her foot in his palm to examine the injury.

"Ouch, ouch, ouch!" Qingwu tried to pull her foot back, but he held it firmly, pressing on several acupoints. She hadn't expected him to be so unmoved by her plight, so she softened her voice. "Lingyu, it really hurts."

"It’s good that it hurts," Du Jin replied. Avoiding the site of the injury, he used the soft flesh of his thumb to knead the tension from her calf muscles. It wasn't a severe injury; they could treat it properly once they got back. "Pain teaches a lesson."

Hearing this, Qingwu turned away in a huff, only to find that the spots he had pressed didn't seem to hurt as much as before. She turned back to him with a beaming smile.

Du Jin, his expression unchanged, picked up the basket and crouched down. Qingwu brushed the twigs and grass from her clothes, hesitated for a moment, then climbed onto his back. She didn't know why, but when facing Du Jin, she always felt as if she were afraid of being scolded by an elder.

"Am I heavy?"

Qingwu had grown up with Du Jin. In her memory, no other man could compare to him. So, when she realized Du Jin had been looking after her until she woke up, she asked him if he was willing to marry her. After all, no one could treat her better than he did.

Du Jin adjusted his hold on her, picked up the basket with his other hand, and began the descent. "Not heavy."

Hearing the answer she wanted, Qingwu leaned her face against his shoulder and felt at ease. Neither spoke again. The autumn wind swept up fallen leaves, carrying a biting chill. Du Jin’s mind was heavy with thoughts, and his footsteps grew slow and burdened. He looked down; the basket contained common herbs for consumption. He hadn't included these in the batch he’d dried last time—it was truly touching that Qingwu had remembered.

His expression flickered through many changes before settling into a thoughtful calm. Ever since the four of them moved to Peach Blossom Village, Qingwu’s heart condition had worsened. He wasn't sure if it was the trauma of witnessing her family's death or the inability to accept the fact that Pei Muzi had usurped the throne, but she seemed to have deliberately cast aside the memories of this past year, forgetting the person she had been closest to.

Yet, Du Jin was afraid. If one day she suddenly remembered Pei Muzi, if she remembered the scene where Pei Muzi drove the Emperor to his death, would she suffer some accident? And there was more—he had been by her side for over a decade; it had taken so much effort to reach a day like this. A day where Qingwu relied on him alone. He was deeply aware of the baseness in his own heart; he knew he would never willingly let go.

"Does your heart still ache, Princess?" In the cold, desolate wind, Du Jin lowered his voice.

There was no response for a long time; the person on his back answered him with the steady rhythm of her breathing. A few dark, gray clouds drifted by, and the bare branches shivered, creating a rustling sound. Du Jin tightened his grip slightly, wanting to hold her closer, but fearing he might press against her injury and cause her pain. He could only carefully nudge her upward, treating her like a precious treasure that had never truly belonged to him.

Half an hour later, Qingwu drifted awake just as the oil lamps in the courtyard came into view. Yunting had set out dinner, but Du Jin carried her straight toward the inner chambers.

"Mmph—what are you doing!" Qingwu cried out anxiously. She knew she had snuck out to get some air and had stayed away for a long time—she admitted to all her mischief—but surely the punishment shouldn't be starvation? Especially since Yunting had prepared chilled sweet fermented rice. Du Jin usually didn't allow her to eat such things in cold weather; it was a rare opportunity, and she didn't want to miss it.

Qingwu tapped her forehead. "My head hurts so much."

Du Jin stopped, as expected, and set her down with a look of concern. "Why so suddenly—"

"I lied!" Qingwu’s expression changed in an instant. She hopped over to the dining table and sat on a round stool, staring at the food.

Du Jin had intended to treat her injury first, knowing that the longer it dragged on, the more painful it would be. But he had never been able to handle her; he shook his head and sat beside her, letting her lift the chilled bowl.

Qingwu took a bite and was amazed. "Why don't I remember you knowing how to make these?" Yunting had been one of the Emperor's servants; she hadn't expected her to know how to make such treats.

"Haven't you only been at the Princess's Mansion for a little while? Why do I have the feeling that I've tasted this before?" As she spoke, a sharp chime rang out in her mind, like someone plucking a zither string beside her ear.

Back at the mansion, Ningchun would always stop her from eating cold food, and out here, Du Jin forbade it entirely. Where on earth had she eaten this before?

The moment this thought flashed through her mind, her head felt as if it were about to explode. The harder she tried to understand, the less she could grasp. Du Jin knew this must be related to Pei Muzi and immediately moved the bowl away. "You are not allowed to eat this anymore."

He wasn't just afraid she would remember; he was afraid her body couldn't withstand the repeated strain. The crucial point was that he still hadn't found a way to cure her illness.

"It doesn't hurt that much." Qingwu felt the world spinning; she struggled to open her eyes, trying to grab for the bowl.

Du Jin placed it far out of reach and piled fresh vegetables and meat into her bowl. "Eat your greens."

Oddly, as soon as she stopped thinking about it, the discomfort vanished.

"Tell me," she said, frowning and looking troubled, "is your medicine actually you?"

In these few months living with Du Jin, whenever he intervened, she didn't even need to drink the medicine; it was as if she were cured, with no pain anywhere. But to Du Jin, this sounded like a calculated compliment, and he ignored her.

When Qingwu had eaten her fill, Du Jin, who had long since set down his chopsticks, was waiting.

"Being with you, my foot doesn't hurt either," Qingwu said, pointing to her ankle. It was more swollen than before, and she couldn't bear to think of how much it would hurt when he set the bone.

"Princess, even if you praise me to the heavens today, I am still going to set your leg," Du Jin said, clearing the dishes and leaving the cleanup to Yunting.

Qingwu walked to the inner chamber, dejected, and curled up in the corner of the bed. Du Jin knelt by the bedside, grabbed her knee, and pulled her toward him. "What are you running for?"

He made her rest her foot on his knee, but she still tried to pull away.

"Princess, it has to be done sooner or later. Don't go through these stalling tactics." Du Jin knelt on one knee, providing a surface for her foot. He massaged her calf through her silk socks to help her relax.

But Qingwu remained tense, as if facing a formidable enemy. "I have hemophobia."

"Hemophobia?" It was the first time he had heard such an excuse. It was quite novel. He had seen her at the hunt, skewering rabbits and deer like candied haws on a stick. Furthermore, when he took her out of the palace for some air, she could easily gut a river fish, and by the time he realized it, the fish was already on the grill—where was the hemophobia in that?

Yet, Qingwu lied without a shred of shame, looking at him with utter sincerity.

Du Jin chuckled, willing to play along. "There won't be any blood."

He ignored her, letting her drag the conversation wherever she pleased. He kept his eyes on the swollen area, his voice raspy. "Princess, I can't see clearly."

"Then don't set it." Qingwu seized the chance to run.

Du Jin touched the injury lightly, and she sat back down obediently. "Then be gentle."

"Alright." He agreed quickly. He pushed back the restrictive fabric, gripped her ankle with one hand, and steadied her pale, gleaming calf with the other.

"Wait, wait a moment." Qingwu wanted to dodge, but he held her firmly in his palm. Before she could react, Du Jin rose slightly, blocking her view, and pushed firmly in the opposite direction.

Qingwu saw stars from the pain, her hands fluttering like a moth, finding nowhere to land. She collapsed onto the bed, taking a long time to recover. Seeing she hadn't caught her breath after a while, Du Jin asked with concern, "Princess?"

"I'm fine, it doesn't hurt," Qingwu said, sitting up through gritted teeth.

Her calf twitched from the lingering pain, and a red flush spread from the injury to her calf muscle, radiating heat. Du Jin could almost feel the scorching warmth beneath his palm. He sat beside her without crossing any lines, rested her injured leg on his thigh, and put back on the shoes and socks he had just removed.

Qingwu watched him skillfully hook the edge of her sock, tighten the knot with his fingertips—he had done this so many times.

"Lingyu, call me by my name."

Du Jin wondered what mischief she was brewing now and raised an eyebrow.

Qingwu reasoned, "Look, we don't know what the situation is in the capital. Anyway, I’m not a princess anymore. If you keep calling me that, it’s so dangerous."

Du Jin thought about it and realized it made sense. But he had grown so accustomed to the word "Princess" that changing how he addressed her wasn't easy. He thought about it earnestly for a long time before uttering two broken syllables. "Rong... Zhao...?"

Qingwu hadn't expected him to think of her title first and was momentarily speechless.

"Father used to call me that."

She had actually only meant to say that Du Jin was far too old-fashioned—did he look like someone about to become a husband? But fortunately, they had a long life ahead; she could teach him slowly. However, Du Jin mistook it for a memory of Emperor Minghui, stirring up sad emotions, and hurriedly apologized.

Qingwu shook her head to reassure him.

The knot in her heart was certainly there, but in these past few months, she had pondered it repeatedly. She felt that her father had done what he wanted to do at the end, which could be considered a form of release.

Du Jin still looked self-reproachful. Qingwu pulled his clenched fingers and told him to call her name. "A-Wu."

"A-Wu?" Du Jin repeated it again. "A-Wu."

He pronounced the two words with immense gravity, yet they carried an imperceptible sense of relief. He felt as light as air as he brought clean water to wipe away the sweat from the girl, who was beaming with joy.

Qingwu pulled him up to sit beside her, leaning against him and rubbing against his shoulder—a signal of sorts, as if something were about to be set in motion.

Du Jin, caught up in her mood, said, "A-Wu seems to be very happy?"

"Yes," she said, her eyes bright and curved like the crescent moon. "We are getting married soon."

"But A-Wu is still young." Du Jin wrapped an arm around her waist, letting her lie flat on his lap.

"Lingyu always treats me like a little sister," Qingwu complained. "I have already come of age."

Du Jin pinched her nose, dotingly, still thinking of her as the stubborn, unyielding girl from years ago.

Who could have expected Qingwu to suddenly sit up, lean into Du Jin’s ear, press her hands against his shoulders, and push him down, dropping a bombshell:

"The nanny who taught the imperial concubines told me that after a woman comes of age, a husband and wife can be a little more... intimate."