Before Murong Xuanlie and his group arrived, Meilin had set some traps in a nearby forest area under Murong Jinghe’s guidance, just in case. While these simple setups might not be enough to deal with Murong Xuanlie’s group, they were more than sufficient to handle a single, cautious guard.
When Meilin saw the guard indeed fall into the trap, suspended upside down by vines, her wariness of Murong Jinghe deepened. If their fates weren’t intertwined at this moment, she might have seized the opportunity to slip away.
She drew her dagger and approached the guard.
The vines entangled the man, suspending him not too high—his head barely reached Meilin’s shoulder level. However, with his limbs bound by vines and sharpened stakes below, he dared not use his inner strength to break free.
Nearby, several fires still burned fiercely, lit using the fire-starting tools Meilin had borrowed from him. Before he could comprehend what was happening, he found himself surrounded by a strange formation and, in his panic, fell into their trap.
As Meilin pressed her dagger against his exposed throat, made more prominent by his inverted position, he felt his impending death was unjust, yet somehow not entirely so.
To his surprise, Meilin hesitated, then turned and walked away, leaving him swinging in the wind, utterly confused.
Meilin extinguished the fires, retrieved the arrow-pierced clothes from the small tree, and returned to Murong Jinghe. She tossed the clothes onto him, then turned to pull out the vine frame hidden in the grass. She helped Murong Jinghe onto it, then put on her clothes.
“Why didn’t you kill him?” Murong Jinghe asked, thinking she was ruthless enough.
“Because I wish it,” Meilin replied without even glancing at him, fastening her belt and bending to pull the vine ropes.
Murong Jinghe was taken aback, suddenly remembering he had used those same words not long ago. She was quick to learn.
Meilin tested the strength of the ropes, then looked up at the sky. Confirming the absence of the menacing bird, she slung the rope over her uninjured shoulder and began laboriously pulling along the stream. She didn’t consider herself soft-hearted, but when she saw the guard’s bewildered, resigned expression, she suddenly lost the will to kill him. After all, he hadn’t posed a real threat to them, so why be ruthless?
If possible, Meilin would have preferred not to speak with Murong Jinghe at all. She felt an inexplicable fear of him deep in her heart, wanting to keep her distance for many reasons she couldn’t be bothered to analyze. Murong Jinghe, too, clearly lacked the energy for idle chat, so they maintained a tacit silence until nightfall.
Meilin carved out a cave large enough for two in a dense thicket of vines and lit a fire at the entrance using the flint she had taken from the guard.
Among the vines were some wild yam vines. She dug up two arm-thick sections of yam and buried them in the ashes under the fire. She then used her dagger to skewer the remaining raw snake meat and roast it over the fire.
Seeing his prized weapon misused this way, Murong Jinghe became displeased.
“Foolish woman, don’t you know this will dull the blade?” he snapped.
Meilin ignored him, placing the cooked snake meat on a leaf and skewering more pieces to roast.
Never before had anyone except Emperor Yan and Muye Luomei treated him with such disrespect. With the immediate danger past, Murong Jinghe’s anger finally boiled over. “Insolent slave, have you forgotten your place?” he raged.
At his words, Meilin felt a twinge in her temple. She looked up at the man leaning against the vines opposite her, his face contorted with fury. For a moment, she couldn’t tell if his anger was real or feigned. Regardless, she no longer saw any need to be subservient to him.
“Man, from now on, you’d better learn to keep your mouth shut,” she warned, her eyes hostile. Though she made no other threatening moves, it was clear she meant what she said.
If Murong Jinghe could move, he would have kicked her. But immobilized as he was, he could only glare at the woman who had turned back to roasting snake meat. “Wretched slave,” he snarled, “someday, this prince will make you pay dearly for your words today.”
Meilin yawned, eating a piece of well-roasted snake meat off her dagger. As she chewed, she said, “We’ll see about that when the time comes. Right now, great prince, you’re nothing but a cripple. You depend on me for everything—eating, drinking, even relieving yourself. You’d do better to think about how to stay on my good side for a more comfortable life.”
Even without salt, the roasted snake meat was delicious, especially for someone who hadn’t eaten cooked food in two days. After eating two pieces, she seemed to remember the other person present. Without thinking, she picked up a piece of meat from the leaf and stuffed it into the man’s mouth, effectively silencing his next retort.
Starved for a day and a night, Murong Jinghe, despite his intense displeasure at Meilin’s attitude, didn’t refuse the food. After swallowing it in a few bites, he demanded bluntly, “More.”
Meilin hadn’t intended to torment him. She continued roasting and feeding him while eating herself. Roasting two or three pieces at a time was tedious, so she eventually whittled a new branch to a point, stripped its bark, and skewered all the meat to roast together.
With nothing to eat for the moment, Murong Jinghe’s awakened appetite became overwhelming. He watched Meilin silently roasting meat and couldn’t help but urge, “Slow-witted slave, are you deliberately trying to starve this prince to death?”
Meilin had never found someone so irritating. Annoyed, she grabbed a skewer of undercooked meat and moved to shove it into his mouth. Startled, Murong Jinghe jerked his head away, snapping, “You dare feed this prince raw food?”
This time, Meilin was truly angered. She withdrew the meat and continued roasting it. “If you keep nagging, you won’t eat at all,” she threatened. If she hadn’t previously experienced his capabilities, she might have truly believed him to be nothing more than a pampered, unskilled noble.
Murong Jinghe’s eyes widened at her words. Seeing her serious expression and believing she would follow through on her threat, he finally forced himself to remain silent for the sake of his stomach.
The vine thicket suddenly became eerily quiet, with only the sizzling of roasting meat and occasional night bird calls breaking the silence.
Meilin felt refreshed, experiencing for the first time since leaving the secret facility a sense of freedom and lightness, unburdened by thoughts of her mission or the antidote. Having come this far, worrying seemed pointless.
As the aroma of roasted snake meat grew stronger, she suddenly realized that Murong Jinghe must have noticed how different she was now compared to her behavior in the palace, yet he hadn’t asked about it once. This struck her as odd. Could he truly be so indifferent to her that he hadn’t noticed such a significant change, or was there another reason?
“How did you end up like this?” she asked, though it wasn’t the question she had been pondering.
Murong Jinghe, presumably still sulking from earlier, closed his eyes and ignored her.
Meilin smiled slightly, unbothered. After a moment’s thought, she suddenly rose and began searching his body.
Startled, Murong Jinghe’s eyes flew open. “What are you doing?” he demanded.
Meilin didn’t answer immediately. After searching for a while and finding nothing but a jade pendant, she withdrew her hand sheepishly, not daring to touch the precious item. “Why don’t you carry anything with you?” she complained. Having only been at the palace for a few days, she hadn’t even received her first month’s wages. How would they manage once they left the mountains?
His dignity was repeatedly violated by a woman he considered far beneath him, Murong Jinghe was nearly apoplectic with rage. “What this prince carries or doesn’t carry is none of a slave’s business!” he snarled through gritted teeth.
Meilin merely raised an eyebrow at his outburst. “I think I should tell you,” she said with a smile, “until you can walk on your own, whether you like it or not, you’re stuck with me. Wherever I go, you’ll have to follow.”
She didn’t believe for a moment that he would let her go easily once he was safely back in his territory. On the other hand, Murong Xuanlie and the others would surely continue searching for them. With Murong Jinghe in tow, she had some measure of protection; otherwise, a hundred lives wouldn’t be enough to escape their pursuit.
The snake meat was now well-roasted, a light golden brown. She divided it equally into two portions, placing one entirely on a grass leaf. As she did this, she glanced at Murong Jinghe’s sour expression and continued, “Perhaps I should be even clearer. From now on, we depend on each other for survival. When I eat meat, you eat meat. When I swallow chaff, you swallow chaff too. If there’s no food, you’ll be the first to die. So, whether you have money or anything valuable with you is of great importance to you.”
“Of course, I don’t mind if you keep calling me a lowly slave, if that’s what you prefer,” she added, breaking the skewer into two pieces to use as chopsticks. She then began feeding the fuming man the meat she had set aside.
Seeing him hesitate before opening his mouth to eat, despite his apparent desire to refuse, she added, “But don’t expect this lowly slave to spend a fortune on doctors to treat you.” She had no intention of digging her own grave.
Whether from reaching his anger’s limit or some other reason, Murong Jinghe suddenly calmed down. He quietly ate his portion of meat, then closed his eyes to rest, suddenly exuding an air of inscrutability. When Meilin retrieved the yams buried under the fire, peeled off their charred skin, and fed them to him, he ate without complaint. Then, leaning against the dense vines behind him, he fell asleep without stirring up any more unpleasantness.
Having said all she needed to say, Meilin was content with the quiet. She added more wood to the fire, made sure it wouldn’t spread to the surrounding vines, and then leaned back to relax.
As her breathing deepened, Murong Jinghe opened his eyes. He gazed at her thoughtfully for a long while before turning his attention to the small fire nearby. The flickering flames reflected in his dark eyes as he began to reflect on the events of the past two days, recalling how he had driven Muye Luomei away in anger.
Had she, too, been involved in this conspiracy? The mere thought was intolerable to him. If it proved true, he feared he might do something even he couldn’t predict.
Before witnessing Meilin’s true nature, Murong Jinghe had harbored suspicions about Muye Luomei’s inexplicable attack and challenge the previous day, causing him deep sorrow. Of course, these suspicions had gradually faded during his interactions with Meilin. He was more inclined to believe that Muye Luomei had lost her composure due to Meilin’s provocation and, having suffered a silent defeat, had turned to him to vent her frustrations.
Regardless of the reason, he had suffered greatly because of this incident.
For five years, he had rarely engaged in combat. Even on the occasional hunt, he avoided activities requiring the use of inner strength. The world believed he had lost his spirit after being stripped of his military power, unaware that he had nearly died from an assassination attempt. Though he had managed to conceal his condition and survive, he was left with a chronic ailment that weakened his meridians.
Muye Luomei’s relentless attack had left him no chance to refuse, forcing him to defend himself. Under normal circumstances, he could have cleverly yielded, but in this dangerous situation, he naturally wanted to end the confrontation as quickly as possible. Thus, he had fought back ruthlessly, hoping to force Muye Luomei to give up.
Unfortunately, in his desperation, he had forgotten Muye Luomei’s strong personality and pride. Expecting her to voluntarily stop under pressure was tantamount to asking her to show weakness—something that would never happen. In the end, he gritted his teeth and took one of her palm strikes, finally ending their duel. However, she had seen through his yielding, infuriating her and causing her to storm off.
He naturally wouldn’t chase after her to apologize as he had in the past. The surging qi in his body and his nearly ruptured meridians made even sitting on horseback difficult. At that moment, he knew he couldn’t return, and couldn’t let the observant Murong Xuanlie detect any sign of weakness. So he had feigned anger, telling Murong Xuanlie he would continue hunting, then ridden into the dense forest. Even after traveling far, he could still feel Murong Xuanlie’s hawk-like eyes watching him like a vulture waiting to feast on carrion.
He forced himself to sit upright, hoping to regain some strength while riding and alleviate the damage to his meridians. However, the ominous feeling he had when learning of Murong Xuanlie’s active involvement in this hunt came true. After darkness engulfed the forest, he was ambushed.
The Emperor had explicitly forbidden him from wearing armor or participating in any military actions. This exception made it difficult for him not to be wary.
Fortunately, only two assailants ambushed him, more intent on probing than assassination. Rumors of his chronic illness had likely spread, and someone was seeking to confirm it. Before confirmation, they remained cautious, not daring to press too hard.
In this situation, he had no choice but to take a desperate gamble. Knowing it would rupture his meridians again, he still used his ultimate technique, killing both attackers instantly. The backlash of energy caused him to fall from his panicked horse, which bolted into the dark forest. When he regained consciousness, he found himself squeezed between Meilin and the youth.
From their conversation, he deduced that while Meilin wasn’t benevolent, she had a soft heart. The youth was even more so. He decided to feign unconsciousness, using them to get out of the mountains.
For him, this was an excellent opportunity to leave Zhaojing. Although the price was high and the future uncertain, it was worth it.
The journey out of the mountains wasn’t smooth. In some places, the vines made passage impossible. Meilin had to half-drag, half-carry Murong Jinghe, abandoning the vine ladders. Despite the difficulties, they finally reached the forest’s edge when Murong Xuanlie’s sea holly appeared in the sky again, having taken a full five days.
However, when they saw the military camp guarding the forest’s exit, they had to retreat.
“It’s the Lucheng army,” Murong Jinghe said softly, closing his eyes briefly.
Although he didn’t elaborate, Meilin could guess that the Flame Emperor had ordered Zhongshan Mountain sealed. Who else would dare mobilize troops without authorization? This meant other exits from Zhongshan were likely blocked as well.
“Father, you guard against me so tightly!” A fleeting bitterness crossed Murong Jinghe’s lips, quickly replaced by determination.
Meilin, unfamiliar with court affairs, knew leaving now would bring no good. She quietly dragged Murong Jinghe back. He didn’t object, sharing her concerns.
“What should we do?” Meilin asked as they huddled in a rock crevice.
“If I don’t return soon, they’ll certainly start a thorough search of the mountains. We can’t stay here long,” Murong Jinghe pondered.
Meilin furrowed her brow, then said, “I can take you to the forest’s edge, but I won’t go out.” With Mu Ye Luomei around, she feared she was already a top fugitive and dared not turn herself in.
Hearing this, Murong Jinghe’s usually half-closed eyes flew wide open. “You dare!” After days of interaction, he had finally stopped calling her “lowly servant.”
“I think we can try,” Meilin couldn’t help but smile.
Murong Jinghe fell silent, then moved his finger, grasping her ankle that was conveniently placed beside him, reminiscent of that day’s scene. Yet he said nothing.
Meilin’s anger dissipated.
“I remember a legend about Zhongshan Mountain,” Murong Jinghe finally spoke slowly, a thoughtful expression on his face. “They say someone once got lost in Zhongshan, entered a mountain crevice, and after passing through, reached Anyang territory.”
“Anyang?” Meilin was stunned, then shook her head, thinking the legend absurd. Anyang was over two hundred li away, a journey of several days by carriage. How could passing through a mountain crevice lead there?
“It’s not impossible…” Murong Jinghe said softly, seeing her skeptical expression. She didn’t know that to escape the cage of Zhaojing, he had explored every possibility over the years. Even this legend, seemingly impossible to most, had been investigated by his confidants.
Seeing his expression, Meilin shuddered, realizing they might have found a way out.
After eating some mountain fruits, they headed towards the legendary stone forest following Murong Jinghe’s directions, avoiding the flat-feathered beast in the sky.
The stone forest was a barren rocky beach in the southwest of Zhongshan, known as the Burnt Field. Covered in charred black stones without a blade of grass, it looked as if it had been burned by a great fire, hence its name. Backed by Zhishan, Zhongshan’s highest peak, and facing endless forests, it stood out starkly amidst the lush mountains. Both adventurers and experienced hunters avoided it, unwilling to approach. Rumors said no one who entered the Burnt Field ever came out. Some claimed it was a maze where people quickly lost their way and starved to death.
“Are you sure our luck will be better in such a place?” Meilin asked. She’d rather face the soldiers guarding the mountain than risk unknown dangers based on a legend. Despite these thoughts, she continued laboriously half-carrying Murong Jinghe toward the stone forest.
People can be strange sometimes, doing things against their will without reluctance. The reason, if examined, likely stems from trust. Meilin found it incredible that she would trust Murong Jinghe, this scoundrel. But she had to admit, his demonstrated abilities were not to be underestimated.
“At least so far, our luck hasn’t been too bad,” Murong Jinghe said, his chin resting on her shoulder, perfectly positioned to see the small mole at the corner of her eyebrow. Unable to move, he would have kissed it if he could. Even so, it was enough to distract him from the intense pain of his ruptured meridians. “Lower your head a bit.”
“Huh?” Meilin, leaning against an oak tree to rest, was pondering his comment about their luck not being too bad. Without thinking, she lowered her head slightly.
Murong Jinghe tilted his head up, found he still couldn’t reach, and said, “A bit lower.”
Meilin had come to her senses by now. She straightened her neck and asked puzzled, “What for?” There were only two of them here, what needed to be said so closely? Besides, they weren’t far apart.
“Naturally, it’s something important. When this prince tells you to lower your head, just do it. Why so many questions?” Murong Jinghe said irritably, maintaining his lofty attitude despite relying on others for movement.
After days together, they had some understanding of each other’s temperaments. Meilin wasn’t angered. Seeing his insistence, she assumed it must be something important, probably related to their discussion on finding a way out through the stone forest. So without further questions, she lowered her head as told, bringing her ear close to his mouth.
Murong Jinghe’s eyes crinkled with a smile as his lips brushed her ear, gently pressing against the small red mole he had been coveting.
When warm breath tickled her eyelashes and no words came, Meilin finally realized his mole fetish had struck again.
Admittedly, being treated with such cherishing affection made her heart flutter, but experience told her such gestures meant nothing to this man. So, she steadied herself and calmly raised her head, continuing their arduous journey.
“To think a grand prince would be infatuated with a tiny mole, how utterly ridiculous,” Meilin said, looking straight ahead with a deliberately mocking curve to her lips to mask the strange feeling in her heart. She hoped to provoke him into revealing why he was so fascinated. She knew a direct question would yield no answer.
Unexpectedly, Murong Jinghe didn’t fly into a rage. Instead, he continued staring at the corner of her eyebrow as if he hadn’t heard.
Meilin gave up, no longer trying to probe. She focused entirely on the journey, picking wild fruits and herbs as they went. Soon, sweat beaded on her forehead, crystal drops sliding past the rosy mole, making it appear even more delicate and alluring.
Murong Jinghe’s fingers twitched. He sighed regretfully, then drawled, “This prince loves beautiful women, fine wine, and all lovely things. Since when did it become the place of an ignorant woman to judge?”
Meilin, while stuffing some detoxifying herbs into her mouth, nearly choked. After finally swallowing, she licked her slightly numb teeth, pondering which was more pleasant to hear: “lowly servant” or “ignorant woman.”
Neither seemed particularly nice. As she reached this conclusion, Murong Jinghe finally noticed her habit of stuffing various known and unknown herbs into her mouth as they walked. He couldn’t help but ask, “Why are you eating so many random raw herbs?” Many herbs had conflicting properties; wasn’t she just asking for trouble?
Her lips were starting to feel numb. Meilin pressed them together and said flatly, “To cure illness if sick, to strengthen the body if healthy.” She then pulled out a sprig of blue seven-leaf flower from her bosom and held it to his lips. “Want some?”
“It’s poisonous, isn’t it?” Murong Jinghe asked suspiciously, then disdainfully turned his face away, finally stopping his stare at the corner of her eyebrow.
Meilin smiled but suddenly felt dizzy. The scenery before her began to blur. She hurriedly leaned against a nearby tree trunk, lowering her head to catch her breath.
“What’s wrong?” Murong Jinghe noticed the anomaly and asked.
Meilin shook her head, feeling nauseous and chest tightness. She had to carefully set him down against the tree trunk and collapse to her knees, gritting her teeth against the waves of discomfort.
Seeing her increasingly pale face and the cold sweat on her brow, Murong Jinghe suddenly realized what was happening.
“You’ve been poisoned? Stupid woman.” His tone was more gloating than concerned. He knew her reckless eating would lead to this.
Meilin finally caught her breath. Hearing his words, she retorted irritably, “My poisoning doesn’t benefit you either.” Though she said this, she knew he wasn’t wrong and realized how rash her actions had been. But she was running out of time. Although the poison’s onset wouldn’t immediately kill her, it would consume her body’s functions. Each day that passed would cause irreparable damage to her body, and she had no confidence in finding an antidote before her vitality was exhausted.
“If you want to die from stupidity, I suppose I’ll have to accept my fate,” Murong Jinghe said, noticing her color improving slightly. He secretly sighed in relief but showed no mercy in his words.
Meilin found her vision slowly clearing. She steadied herself, wiped the cold sweat from her brow, and once again grabbed the man leaning against the tree to continue their journey. When the numbness in her mouth completely disappeared, she resumed tasting various leaves and flower stems as they walked.
Murong Jinghe felt this woman was beyond help and couldn’t help but mock, “Are you so eager to die?”
“Of course not,” Meilin answered promptly. Despite her words, she didn’t stop sampling herbs. This time, however, she wasn’t just eating them herself. She occasionally stuffed some extremely bitter or strange-tasting ones into Murong Jinghe’s mouth.
“Rather than me dying from poison and you starving to death alone here or being torn apart alive by wild beasts, we might as well be poisoned together,” she said.
Murong Jinghe wanted to refuse, but couldn’t resist her persistent feeding. In the end, he could only swallow obediently, full of resentment and anger. Fortunately, they didn’t encounter any more poisonous plants before reaching their destination.
“Let’s hope your good luck continues,” Meilin murmured, looking at the strikingly out-of-place cluster of charred black boulders several zhang away from the forest’s edge.
Murong Jinghe, his face dark, didn’t respond.
(End of Chun Hua Yan – Chapter)