The Perilous Palace Dream - Side Story-4
Side Story: Princess Eight (Part 1)
Xiu Tuhong still remembered that rare sunny winter day in the northern border.
A procession of carriages kicked up a trail of dust, stretching far across the distant horizon.
Xiu Tuhong, who was preparing to lead his troops into battle, knew that it was the convoy of the peace-marriage princess from the northern border.
Thinking of his father’s aging, frail body, Xiu Tuhong looked at the carriage passing by him and curled his lips into a slight smirk.
He wondered into whose tent this peace-marriage Khatun would eventually end up.
Just at that moment, a delicate hand lifted the padded cotton curtain of the carriage, and a small face peeked out.
With that single glance, Xiu Tuhong could no longer avert his eyes. That clean, pale little face seemed to have just wept; her reddened eyes glistened with a fearful, timid light. She looked like a newborn rabbit on the grasslands, about to enter a pack of wolves…
At that time, many tribal people had gathered on both sides of the main road to watch.
Even though Xiu Tuhong stared at her obsessively, she merely stole a timid glance at him before indifferently retracting her gaze to look elsewhere.
After that brief glance, Xiu Tuhong set out with his troops. Normally calm and unhurried in battle, he now felt a restless urge to finish the war as quickly as possible.
That woman… I wonder how she is doing in the Royal Tent? Is my aging father’s decaying, frail body pressing down on that flower-like, tender, soft frame…?
Xiu Tuhong forbade himself from thinking any further.
After all, she was his father’s legally wedded wife, the woman who was supposed to serve his father in the Royal Tent… Don’t think about it anymore. Don’t think about it anymore…
Yet all taboos were shattered to pieces three months later, the moment he mistakenly barged into the Princess’s tent upon returning to the Royal Tent to visit his gravely ill father.
The delicate woman, bathing inside a giant wine urn, was so startled by his sudden intrusion that her eyes widened in shock. Instinctively, she shielded her chest with her slender arms, shrinking piteously inside the wine urn with reddened eyes.
In that moment, something seemed to snap inside his brain. What if she was his father’s woman? How could such a decaying old man be worthy of a woman as gorgeous and delicate as a blooming flower?
Unable to suppress the greedy desire in his heart any longer, he followed his heart’s inclination: he reached out, lifted her out of the large urn still wafting with the fragrance of wine, and tossed her onto the soft couch. She was terrified and could only cry out helplessly as her maidservants rushed in upon hearing the noise. Seeing the reflection of his bearded self mirrored in the princess’s tear-filled, bright eyes, he finally recovered a shred of sanity.
Using the excuse of a misunderstanding and claiming he did not recognize the new Khatun, he offered an insincere apology.
However, the moment he stepped out of the tent, he made up his mind: next time, he would carry her into his own tent fair and square!
To this end, he finally abandoned his neutral stance in the struggle for royal power and threw his full support behind Xiu Tulie, with only one condition—he must have his young and beautiful stepmother.
Yet his desire to possess her was too urgent, leading him to make various hasty and irremediable mistakes.
To protect the woman he loved, he fought and schemed fiercely in the vortex of power… But in the end, he failed to make the terror and sorrow in the depths of her eyes disappear. Their difficult time together only began to ease with the birth of their daughter, yet an unexpected carriage fall off a cliff shattered that false sweetness to pieces.
When he met her again, those eyes that had once looked at him with terror and unease now held only a faint, distant coldness. This weak woman, who lacked even the strength to truss a chicken, had revenged herself upon him in the most bloodless, lethal way—she had mercilessly forgotten him completely. But it did not matter, for he had already laid down the heavy burden of tribal responsibility and distanced himself from the dust and howling wolves of the frontier lands.
For the rest of his life, he was willing to stay in this misty, rainy region south of the Yangtze, quietly guarding the safety and peace of mother and daughter.
—
In truth, Princess Eight, who had lost her memory, felt closer to the foster father who had saved her life.
Her foster father was plagued by illness; Xiu Tuhong had sent maidservants to care for him, but no one was attending to the pharmacy. Although Princess Eight wanted for nothing in terms of food and clothing thanks to her younger sister’s care, she had become accustomed to helping out in the pharmacy earlier. She surprisingly discovered that besides having a plentiful supply of tears, she was actually naturally gifted when it came to medicine and herbs. Her foster father had also passed down his family’s medical skills to her completely. Having studied medicine in her spare time, she felt uncomfortable living an idle life with nowhere to apply her skills.
The man who claimed to be her husband seemed to perceive her melancholy. Taking matters into his own hands, he dipped into his own pocket to buy out that pharmacy.
“You are my wife—it wouldn’t do for me to rely on the Nie family’s gold and silver to support my wife and daughter!”
Before anyone knew it, a dilapidated pharmacy in Lin’an Prefecture was renovated and reopened under the name Qishoutang Pharmacy. Because of certain special connections, rare medicinal herbs from the northern border and long-bearded aged ginseng from the deep northern mountains were available for sale. In the clinic, there was also a woman of peerless, breathtaking beauty who diagnosed illnesses and took pulses behind a light gauze curtain, softly instructing patients on how to decoct their medicine. Soon, news spread like wildfire that a fairy physician who saved people from suffering had arrived at Qishoutang. Many patients came seeking her reputation, and even those who weren’t sick came to buy a few doses of medicine just to catch a glimpse of the “fairy” and hear that melodious, heavenly voice.
After visiting many times, people finally noticed that the shopkeeper had also been replaced by a tall, burly man with deep-set eyes, a prominent brow, and blue eyes. Many pointed and whispered behind his back, wondering which foreign tribe this stranger came from. What infuriated everyone even more was that this foreigner was actually the “fairy’s” husband, leaving many young talents lamenting in dismay at a bright pearl cast into darkness.
—
On this day, someone came specifically to visit the clinic out of curiosity.
It was a young noble, dressed in a blue satin gown and a silk scholar cap, waving an ivory fan painted with beauties in his hand. He possessed quite a handsome appearance and was followed by eight attendants dressed in green robes.
This was Wu Qizhi, the eldest young master of the Marquis of Bolie’s Manor.
Young Master Wu’s ancestors had taken up arms alongside the founding ancestor of Great Wei and achieved military distinction while fending off the Xiongnu, earning the title of Marquis of Bolie. From a young age, this young master greatly admired his ancestor; as he grew older, he studied both literature and martial arts, resolving to follow in his ancestor’s footsteps and sweep away the Xiongnu. Whenever he heard of Xiongnu or northern border people passing through Lin’an, he would invariably go to cause trouble—ranging from beating up Xiongnu merchants to destroying their property, forcing them to get out of Wenchang Prefecture penniless.
Recently, he had often heard people talking about a “fairy” who had come to Qishoutang. At first, he paid it no mind, but later he heard that this “fairy’s” husband was actually a foreigner from the northern border, which caught his attention.
Today, he had come specifically to trouble that foreigner.
Princess Eight was currently diagnosing a patient. She liked her current life very much. Although Nie Qinglin said she was her elder imperial sister, she found it hard to imagine that she had once lived in the imperial palace and married far off into the northern border. One thing she was certain of, however, was that she definitely hadn’t been as happy back then as she was now. Stealing a glance at the “shopkeeper” sitting in the corner, she sighed in her heart: If only “he” weren’t here, it would be even more perfect.
Just as Princess Eight finished diagnosing the patient, she saw a young noble walk in. Several people who were still waiting for diagnoses and medicine recognized this eldest young master of the Marquis of Bolie’s Manor and knew his “hobby.” Fearing they might be caught in the crossfire, they quickly exited Qishoutang. Those who weren’t afraid of trouble stood outside the doors of Qishoutang, waiting to watch the show unfold.
Although Princess Eight lacked worldly experience, she could tell that this young master was of extraordinary status and seemed to have come with ill intentions. Feeling somewhat worried, she asked softly, “Has the young master come to buy medicine or to seek a diagnosis?”
Hearing the “fairy’s” voice as soft and sweet as a glutinous rice ball, Young Master Wu could tell from the voice alone that she must be a peerless beauty. He couldn’t help looking over. Having practiced martial arts for years, his eyesight was much better than ordinary people’s; through the light gauze, he could vaguely discern the “fairy’s” features, which were even more beautiful and moving than he had imagined.
“I have come to seek a diagnosis,” Young Master Wu said, steadying his composure.
“Please sit, young master, and extend your right hand.”
Young Master Wu felt an exceptionally smooth and delicate hand rest upon his wrist. Just then, a gentle breeze swept through, lifting the light gauze curtain and revealing the true face of the jade-like beauty behind it.
Young Master Wu felt his heart stop beating for a moment. What a flawless, perfect face—faintly arched eyebrows, bright and alluring eyes, and delicate, thin lips. There was a touch of frailty in the beauty’s eyes that made one instinctively feel protective. Her demeanor while sitting quietly radiated an air of nobility that seemed even grander than his own mother, the First Lady of the Marquis of Bolie’s Manor.
Just as he was staring, mesmerized, he suddenly saw a tall figure step into Qishoutang. This must be his target for this trip—the foreign shopkeeper. A surge of jealousy and unwillingness erupted in Young Master Wu’s heart: How could such a perfect woman be claimed by a foreign barbarian?
Princess Eight knit her brows, feeling somewhat unsure of the young noble’s condition. Judging from his pulse, not only was he completely healthy, but his constitution was also far stronger than that of ordinary people. Recently, she had encountered quite a few people who came for a diagnosis despite having nothing wrong with them.
After taking his pulse, Princess Eight said gently, “Please forgive my lack of skill; I cannot discern any illness in you, young master.”
Eager to hear more of the “fairy’s” voice, Young Master Wu said, “No matter. Simply write me a prescription to strengthen the body. However, my mother has been feeling unwell lately. If the young lady has time, could you come to our manor to diagnose and treat her? I will prepare a carriage and horses to personally escort you into the manor.”
Hearing this, Shaoyang was taken aback.
She politely declined, saying, “I merely attend the pharmacy to dispense ordinary medicinal herbs. If your mother is ill, you should invite a renowned physician to treat her so as not to delay her condition. There is no need to trouble yourself with carriages and horses for me.”
However, this little hero of anti-Xiongnu exploits would not accept this. The faint pity born from her beauty suddenly turned into embarrassment and anger upon being rejected.
He thought bitterly to himself: What kind of woman is she to willingly degrade herself by marrying a Xiongnu barbarian, yet prove so ungrateful and foolish!
