The night was still, with a new moon casting a soft glow over the couple. Ming Tan gazed up at Jiang Xu, his eyes reflecting deep, stirring emotions. As his handsome features drew closer, his warm breath caressing her lips, Ming Tan felt lost, unsure how to react.
Just as their noses were barely an inch apart, sudden barking broke the silence:
“Woof!”
“Woof! Woof! Woof!”
Ming Tan snapped back to reality, quickly breaking free from Jiang Xu’s embrace. She stood up, limping slightly, her heart racing – whether from fright or something else, she couldn’t tell.
The barking had been abrupt and fierce. Jiang Xu gently rubbed her back. “Were you scared?”
Ming Tan shook her head, clutching her chest. She awkwardly shrugged off his broad hand and walked ahead, muttering, “Don’t touch me. Don’t think a few sweet words will placate me.”
“Everything I’ve said comes from the heart. It’s not just empty talk.”
Ming Tan limped forward, glancing back. “Funny, I didn’t hear your heart speaking.”
“I’m speaking on its behalf.”
“Has Your Highness borrowed Shu Er’s silver tongue? You’re unusually talkative tonight.”
As Ming Tan prepared another retort, she suddenly stepped into a hidden hunting pit!
These pits, nearly invisible even in daylight, were covered with soft mud and dry grass. In the darkness, Ming Tan didn’t notice until it was too late. She stepped into thin air, her words turning into a piercing scream: “Ah—!”
“Ah Tan!”
Jiang Xu, a few steps behind, rushed forward. Ming Tan had already fallen into the trap, covered in mud and grass. Worse still, there were animal traps at the bottom.
Ming Tan’s already sore foot was caught tightly in a trap. At first, she felt nothing, but after a moment, searing pain struck. Her vision flashed white, and she cried out brokenly, “It hurts! It… it hurts so much!”
The pit was deep and wide, designed to catch wild boars that damaged crops at night. It could fit two or three people snugly.
Jiang Xu crouched down, gripping her hand tightly, intending to pull her up.
But she shook her head. “My foot is trapped. I can’t move.”
Jiang Xu paused, realizing her pain wasn’t from a broken foot, but from being caught in an animal trap.
“Don’t move. There might be more traps down there.”
Hearing this, Ming Tan froze in fear.
Seeing her tremble, Jiang Xu reassured her, “Don’t be afraid. I’m here.”
He carefully probed the pit’s bottom with his sword, triggering several more traps with metallic snaps.
Only then did Jiang Xu sheathe his sword and jump down, wrapping an arm around Ming Tan’s waist to lift her clear of the traps.
Ming Tan was a mess, covered in grass and dirt. Her usually fair face was smudged, tears of pain streaking through the grime. She looked like a disheveled child just dug out of the earth.
Jiang Xu examined her foot. The trap still gripped it tightly, with blood seeping through her white sock.
Ming Tan’s forehead was beaded with sweat, each tiny movement causing excruciating pain.
Jiang Xu didn’t rush to act. He carefully studied the trap on Ming Tan’s foot. This older style lacked sharp spikes but was harder to open than modern versions, requiring a special key.
Ming Tan’s tears flowed freely, leaving clean tracks on her dirty face. Between hiccups, she asked, “Can… can you open it?”
Jiang Xu glanced at her hair, noticing she’d opted for a simple wooden hairpin today.
Lacking better tools, he gently removed the hairpin from her hair.
Seeing him about to use it on the trap’s lock, Ming Tan tearfully warned, “Be careful!”
Jiang Xu thought she was worried about the pin breaking in the lock, but she continued, “This hairpin is made from the finest sunken pear wood from the South Seas. It has a lasting, subtle pear fragrance and was crafted by Master Lu. It’s one of a kind – don’t ruin it.”
Talking about her treasured possession seemed to momentarily distract her from her pain and hiccups. Tears clung to her lashes as she anxiously watched Jiang Xu work on the trap.
Jiang Xu’s hands paused, his voice tinged with exasperation: “If I break it, I’ll replace it.”
“I told you, it’s unique!”
“Is Master Lu still alive?”
“Yes.”
“Then it’s not truly unique. I’ll find him and won’t let him leave until he makes a replica.”
“Brute!”
With a soft click, the trap opened.
Ming Tan’s foot was freed, but the pain intensified as blood rushed back.
Jiang Xu steadied her.
She bit down on his arm in agony.
He didn’t flinch, gently rubbing her back until she relaxed slightly. Then he said softly, “I’ll carry you back. Once we apply medicine, the pain will subside. Be brave.”
He carefully lifted Ming Tan onto his back, mindful of her injured foot.
Ming Tan slumped against his familiar yet strange broad shoulders, tears inexplicably flowing again.
“You say it won’t hurt, but you’re not the one in pain, you liar!”
The foot injury seemed to trigger memories of her arrow wound. Pent-up worries and complex emotions burst forth. She cried uncontrollably on Jiang Xu’s back, ignoring his attempts to comfort her.
“You said you wouldn’t let me get hurt again, but I’ve been injured twice right under your nose. Some Prince of Beidi you are – utterly useless!” She hiccupped.
“It’s my fault. I’m sorry, Ah Tan.”
“Of course, it’s your fault!” Ming Tan’s eyes were swollen from crying, and her vision blurred. Her voice broke as she continued, “You… you keep embarrassing me! Always revealing things! The Wuheng jade, Lingmiao Temple, Huichun Tower… If you knew, why did you have to say it? Don’t I deserve some dignity?”
“No one else heard.”
“So my dignity doesn’t matter if others don’t hear? You’re twisting things… hic!”
“You’re right. It’s my fault.”
“Of course it is. And… and even Shu Er defended you. Why couldn’t you explain things yourself? You only say to trust you, that you care for me, that it’s your fault. But what exactly did you do wrong?”
Jiang Xu fell silent for a moment.
After Shu Jingran had spoken on his behalf, he’d written to Jiang Xu, urging him to explain things to Ming Tan personally.
But the explanations Shu Jingran could offer, Jiang Xu found difficult to voice. His initial motives for marrying her weren’t pure, and he’d suspected the Emperor’s intent to reclaim military power. Coming from him, explanations might seem like excuses to shirk responsibility.
Ming Tan hiccupped again, her voice hoarse from crying: “What, you’re speechless again?”
Jiang Xu gently adjusted her position. “Letting you get hurt, making you worry, disregarding your dignity, failing to explain things promptly – these are all my faults. And not preventing His Majesty from reclaiming your father’s military power, putting your father in danger – that’s my fault too. When we return to the manor, I’ll personally apologize to your father. Is that alright?”
Ming Tan thought this was more like it but didn’t respond aloud.
Somehow, Jiang Xu found his way back. Soon, familiar lights appeared in the distance.
Su Xin and Lu E had thought leaving the couple alone would be good, perhaps leading to their return to the manor the next morning. They hadn’t expected the pair to return with Ming Tan covered in dirt and injured! They rushed to help, ordering water to be heated and a doctor summoned.
The estate’s doctor, barely competent to handle minor injuries, nervously whispered to Jiang Xu after bandaging Ming Tan’s foot: “The Princess’s wound will heal, but it might leave a scar—”
Ming Tan overheard and burst out, “I don’t want a scar!”
“There won’t be a scar,” Jiang Xu promised her, dismissing the doctor.
“How can you be sure? Even Minmin’s excellent scar-removing medicine couldn’t completely heal my arrow wound,” Ming Tan said, her nose red and eyes still brimming with tears.
“Her medicine wasn’t good enough. On our way back to the capital, I obtained some Frost Blossom Ointment.”
“Frost Blossom Ointment? Really?”
This ointment was a royal secret from the small Western kingdom of Banshuang, known for its miraculous scar-removing and skin-nourishing effects, leaving the skin fair and smooth as porcelain. She’d only recently heard Bai Minmin lamenting her failure to acquire it.
Jiang Xu produced a small white jade bottle containing a faintly scented, translucent ointment that smelled soothing.
Ming Tan reached for it, but Jiang Xu stopped her. “I’ve sent for Imperial Physician Feng. We’ll wait for his advice on how to use it most effectively.”
Ming Tan reluctantly released the bottle and snuggled deeper into her quilt.
“This Frost Blossom Ointment contains precious ingredients and is indeed excellent for scar removal,” Imperial Physician Feng, who had arrived in the night, carefully explained. “However, it should only be used on healed scars. It’s suitable for the Princess’s arrow wound, but for this foot injury – it’s best to wait a few days.”
Jiang Xu nodded. “Thank you for your efforts.”
“It’s my duty, Your Highness.” The physician suddenly remembered something. “Oh, by the way, have you finished your medicine, Your Highness? The cold effects should be minimal now, but another bottle should clear out any remaining cold toxins.”
“What could toxins?” Ming Tan asked, confused.
The physician paused, surprised. “You don’t know, Princess?”
Jiang Xu interrupted, “It’s nothing.”
But Ming Tan persisted, “Physician Feng, what cold toxins exactly?”
“Well… When the Princess was shot with the arrow, it was coated with a strange poison. Snowgrass was needed as an antidote, but since the Princess couldn’t swallow it herself, it had to be administered mouth-to-mouth. Snowgrass is extremely cold, and His Highness didn’t need it himself, so he was affected by the cold toxin during the process—” Feng paused. “But His Highness’s exposure wasn’t severe, and given his strong internal energy, he only experiences a bout of cold sickness once a month. With the medicine I’ve prescribed, it’s… not particularly serious.”
Ming Tan turned to look at Jiang Xu.
He avoided her gaze. “It’s just a minor issue.”
Ming Tan fell silent.
After Physician Feng left, only Ming Tan and Jiang Xu remained. Jiang Xu said softly, “I’ll stay. If it hurts during the night, call for me.”
“What good would that do? You can’t stop the pain,” Ming Tan muttered, but she still moved over, making room for Jiang Xu on the bed.
Later that night, the pain in Ming Tan’s foot had eased considerably. Seeing her fast asleep, Jiang Xu tucked her in before closing his eyes.
In the deep, quiet night, thinking Jiang Xu was sound asleep, Ming Tan carefully lifted his inner robe by the moonlight filtering through the window.
His back was broad and strong but marked with many old and new scars crisscrossing each other, looking ghastly in the moonlight.
Ming Tan gently touched them, then carefully retrieved the Frost Blossom Ointment from under her pillow. She dabbed a bit on her ring finger and softly applied it to his scars, one by one.