Translator: Atlas Studios  Editor: Atlas Studios
Lord Yuan Bao pondered over it for a few days as the crew made their way to Huazhou. The battle between the Rongs was still ongoing but bound to end soon. Zhangsun Wuji had passed on the matter to his subordinate to settle before starting on the journey. Naturally, he had hoped that certain people wouldnât tag along but if they had to it was fine as well. He was going to send them packing sooner or later.
What he hadnât expected was his guinea pigâs scheme to sell his woman to the rival.
They rested at the foot of Huazhouâs Ning Mountain to rest. Tie Cheng, also Meng Fuyaoâs guard, had surveyed the surroundings earlier on. By right, big figures like them should be accompanied by a lot of guards, but these few people enjoyed freedom. Zhangsun Wujiâs guards had always been secretly hiding and protecting him, while Zhan Beiye had complete confidence in his own ability. Ya Lanzhu believed that it was othersâ luck if she didnât cause them trouble, and Zong Yue had always walked alone. The few of them cast pitiful glances over at Meng Fuyao, as though she was a little bird that required much protection.
The âlittle birdâ was being treated very well. During tea, the War God personally filled her cup but accidentally spilled it all over her sleeves. Embarrassed he hurriedly wiped it away, only to be interrupted by Zhangsun Wujiâs frosty voice. âShe doesnât drink tea.â
Meng Fuyao couldnât bear to look at Zhan Beiye. She stood up and announced, âIâm going to relieve myself.â
Lord Yuan Bao jumped onto the shoulder immediately, gesturing that he also needed to pee.
âKidney failure?â Meng Fuyao snorted. âDidnât you pee not long ago?â While squabbling in this manner, they made their way behind the shed.
Some time later squeaks could be heard clearly. They were long and trembly, first increasing in pitch then gradually dropping. The squeaking sounded like the inharmonious sounds a woman and man-made on the bed. Zhangsun Wuji pricked his brows and chuckled. Yuan Baoâs habit of singing while doing number two had come out again, and his singing skill was getting from startling to absolutely shocking.
He sipped on his tea, and upon looking up, Zhan Beiye was gone.
Stunned, it occurred to him that not everyone could accept the guinea pigâs singing voice. Listening to him sing was no different from experiencing the ten greatest torture pieces of equipment. When he sang in his low, raspy voice, abnormal scenes would start popping into peopleâs heads. Zhan Beiye had probably interpreted that the guinea pig was calling for help, and immediately assumed, with a manâs imagination, that Meng Fuyaoâs clothes were being torn in a dark alley.
Zhangsun Wuji smiled while refilling his cup.
âI see what youâre doing, guinea pigâŚâ
In the toilet, Lord Yuan Bao was singing at the top of his lungs while squatted on Meng Fuyaoâs shoulder. While he sang, he stuck his head out and looked around. âWhy isnât he here yet⌠sheâs almost doneâŚâ
âPlease stop singing,â Meng Fuyao begged, âIâd rather you sing âThe Eighteen TouchesââŚâ
At this moment, the sharp-eyed Yuan Bao spotted a black figure sweeping over from afar.
âSqueakââââ Lord Yuan Bao ended his call with the highest and most powerful screech before leaping out of the window.
Startled, Meng Fuyao zipped her pants and shouted, âWhatâs wrong with this stupid ratâŚâ
A gust of wind rolled over, and the sight before her eyes lit up.
A black and red silhouette swept toward her, pulling the curtain aside. âFuyao, what enemyâŚâ
He paused.
Before him, stood a slim, tender lady with untidy clothes. Her blouse was slightly lifted, and her bottom wasnât exactly pulled up properly. As such, exposed in between her dark clothes was a strip of jade-like skin that appeared exceptionally bright.
She looked up in surprise with her mouth slightly parted. Feeling embarrassed over having her privacy invaded in this manner, Meng Fuyao blushed, her redness resembling that of candles. In contrast to her translucent skin, it carried a hazy radiance.
Zhan Beiye held his breath, instantly being suffocated by her beauty. It was as if he had witnessed the blooming of the crape myrtle in her motherâs palace many years back. When he had turned back to the corridor, he had seen his mother standing before the flowers, embracing the gentle breeze while smiling at him with brilliantly lit eyes.
His heart ached. The pain snapped him out of his daze and into reality â Meng Fuyao was relieving herself, there was no enemy, and her pants werenât properly zipped yet.
The War God felt his body burn.
When Meng Fuyao finally came out of shock and embarrassment, she started dangerously raising her brows. At this point, especially, Zhan Beiye was basically on fire.
He withdrew in a panic, not knowing what to say. As Zhan Beiye was overly anxious, he had forgotten about the curtain cloth in his hand.
Ripâââ
It came tearing down!
Meng Fuyaoâs half squat above the toilet bowl was instantly captured by the individuals who joined in.
A brief silence followed.
âDie, Zhan Beiye!â
Meng Fuyaoâs growl sent the perching birds flying all over the sky, and under everyoneâs eyes, Zhan Beiyeâs face turned chestnut green. He attempted to fix the curtains, but Meng Fuyao angrily snatched it over, stepped and trampled on it while tying her pants properly.
Then, her face changed. As if nothing had happened she patted Zhan Beiye on his shoulder, explaining, âI was just scolding you for fun. Had to distract them so as to secure my pants.â
She clapped her hands and walked off handsomely, leaving Zhan Beiye smiling bitterly in his spot. He wasnât sure if he should be thankful to or hate the eccentric side of Meng Fuyao.
She walked off laughing, not the least bit bothered. Later on, she rummaged through Lord Yuan Baoâs snack box until Zhangsun Wuji asked for it back.
That night, Lord Yuan Bao had diarrhea and kept on burping non-stopâŚ
On the same night, the few of them stayed in an inn, even paying for a whole courtyard. Since all of them were hard to please and none was willing to share a space with another, each ended up with a room of their own.
They had dinner in the guesthouse, their dishes kept warm with pots, similar to modern hotpot. They sat, enjoying all the different types of meat and vegetables, while Meng Fuyao arrived a step later after a shower. âHow fragrant,â she commented from afar.
Upon sitting down, two bowls of soup were handed over to her. On her left was Zhangsun Wuji, who smiled and said, âRabbit meat. You like it.â On her right was Zhan Beiye, who added, âToo much meat, too much heat. The mushrooms here are pretty delicious and soft. Try them.â
Meng Fuyao stared at the soup as if staring at two bowls of poison. Ya Lanzhu slapped her chopsticks on the table, pouting. âI had neither meat nor soup.â
As if she was invisible, the two men appeared indifferent. Zong Yue, on the other hand, unhurriedly put a piece of yam into her bowl. âEat this to clear body heat and regain energy.â
Hearing the sarcasm in his voice, Meng Fuyao had to bite her lips to avoid laughing. She retrieved the black pepper that belonged to Zhangsun Wuji from her robe. She had already dried and ground it into powder, so she simply sprinkled a little into both bowls. âThese are best drank spicy. Come try it, you two.â At that, she pushed both bowls back to them.
Zhangsun Wuji smiled before taking a mouthful of soup. Zhan Beiye, on the other hand, lifted the bowl and gobbled everything down. It was very spicy, but he drank it urgently, coughing in the process. Wanting to pat his back to ease his discomfort, Yan Lanzhu reached a hand out, only to receive a death glare from him.
Meng Fuyao pretended not to have seen it. Instead, she buried her face into the bowl and started drinking . âHow am I to survive the next few daysâŚâ
Ya Lanzhu ran over suddenly to grab her, saying that she wouldnât be able to sleep alone and needed company, but her intentions were immediately seen through by Meng Fuyao. The former was definitely afraid that Zhan Beiye would crawl on the latterâs bed.
âThat was just once, and an exception⌠canât have everyone developing the habit of crawling onto othersâ beds can we?â
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She was secretly happy about Ya Lanzhuâs request nevertheless. At the very least she wouldnât need to receive Zhan Beiye, and Zhangsun Wujiâs kind acts. They started chatting on their beds when Meng Fuyao asked her about how she had fallen for Zhan Beiye. Ya Lanzhu grabbed onto her pillow with dreamy eyes, and said, âI donât know either. I only remember following my brother on his visit to Tiansha Nation. I got lost in TIansha palace and found a beautiful hall in the process. There he was, washing the hair of a very beautiful woman. Iâve never seen anything like that. Father and brother only had women washing their hair, and if the temperature was a tad too hot or cold, they would award the hairdresser with a flying kick. At that time I stood in front of the pace, looking at the crape myrtles and at how he slowly cleaned the womanâ hair. As he used the cloth to dry her hair bit by bit, I fell into a sudden dazeâŚâ
As did Meng Fuyao in the mid of Ya Lanzhuâs story.
Many, many years ago, the long forgotten prince was squatting before the water bucket in a secluded but flower-filled palace and washing the hair of his mad mother. The cluster of black hair in his palm was like the flowing of time. It represented the days where they could only rely on each other. While she was lost in her own world, she always enjoyed his meticulous care and protection. Be it in the winter cold, summer storm or spring rain, he had been determined to preserve her bleak yet blissful life.
Life for him was bitter, though. Someone had to bear the burden, and since it wasnât his mad and blissfully ignorant mother, it was him who had to endure the pain and loneliness. The heavy responsibility, which belonged to both him and his mother, had fallen on his tender shoulders ever since he was a child.
Meng Fuyao finally understood the reason for Zhan Beiyeâs radiant and heroic character. He couldnât not be radiant. His poor mother needed all the light and warm she could get to suppress the icy grief deep in her heart. If he were to remain gloomy, who could possibly illuminate her dark world? If he were to be gloomy, which of his sly brothers wouldnât take the chance to slap on a âproblematic childâ label onto him?