Almost the instant Xiao Chenyuan heard QingWu's voice, his sword was unsheathed, slicing toward the grass.
"Don't cut!!" A shrill voice screamed.
The blade halted, mere inches away from piercing the thing hiding in the underbrush. Intimidated by the sword's murderous aura, the creature froze, no longer daring to flee.
Xiao Chenyuan raised his head, only to see QingWu rushing out, lifting her skirt as she ran. Her delicate face was smeared with dirt, and her sleeves and hem were covered in mud and crushed grass, as though she had rolled on the ground.
"Let's see where you run now!" QingWu strode over, grabbed the plant under the sword, and yanked it out like pulling a radish. Gasps erupted from the onlookers. What she pulled out was a ginseng plant as thick as two adult fingers, with long, dangling roots resembling a tiny human. Once uprooted, its leaves drooped, and its roots trembled visibly.
Someone exclaimed sharply, "A thousand-year-old ginseng! No, it must be even older—this ginseng has clearly gained sentience!"
QingWu glanced up and froze at the sight of a pig-like face. Startled, she blurted, "Xiao Chenyuan, did you go hunting? Where did this pig demon come from?"
"Pfft..." One of the Black Armored Guards couldn't suppress his laughter. Even Xiao Chenyuan's eyes flickered with amusement.
The "pig demon" wailed in despair, "What pig demon?! It's me! Oh, my once-handsome face..."
The "pig demon" was none other than Situ Jing. Last night, after QingWu had warned him about impending doom, he had soaked in pomelo leaf water for two hours and chanted exorcism prayers all night. Despite his vigilance, fate still turned against him. While walking today, a wasp nest had fallen out of nowhere, and he was stung until his face swelled like a pig's.
To his dismay, the wasps had targeted him alone; everyone else escaped unscathed. He had narrowly avoided death on the spot! Now, Situ Jing ignored his swollen face, his eyes fixed hungrily on the ginseng spirit. "My Queen, I heard the mountain spirit came to repay for your kindness—is this one of its treasures?"
QingWu nodded and shook the ginseng spirit menacingly.
Xiao Chenyuan, noticing her disheveled appearance, took out a handkerchief, intending to clean her face. He hesitated briefly and then simply handed it over.
"How did you end up like this?"
QingWu grabbed the handkerchief and haphazardly wiped her face. Instead of cleaning up, the more she wiped, the dirtier her face became, causing Xiao Chenyuan to frown repeatedly. Grasping her wrist, he led her into the courtyard and ordered someone to fetch water.
"I'll wash up later. I need to plant this guy first." QingWu initially thought of planting the ginseng spirit in the courtyard, but it was too unruly. Frustrated, she had someone bring a pot, placed a restriction on it, and threatened fiercely,
"If you won't live in the big yard, then you can stay in a little dark room!"
After planting it, she handed the pot to Xiao Chenyuan. "Here, this is a gift from the mountain spirit for you. Cut one rootlet each day and boil it for tea—it will help with your cold ailment."
Something inside Xiao Chenyuan stirred slightly. Looking at her dirt-smudged face, his gaze softened. "Thank you."
"Why are you thanking me? I didn't give it to you," QingWu replied, perplexed.
At that moment, Hong Rui brought over a basin of water. QingWu went to wash her hands and face, her actions far from graceful.
As QingWu bent down, the pale jade color of her neck was exposed, alluring and unaware. The clear water washed away the mud, droplets rolling from her striking brows and down her cheeks, dampening the inner layer of her robes.
Xiao Chenyuan found the sight unexpectedly piercing. His gaze swept across the courtyard, noticing how even the surrounding guards had been momentarily stunned. His brow furrowed with displeasure, his voice low and authoritative. "Her robes are soiled. Hong Rui, assist the Queen in changing into clean garments."
The black-armored guards immediately averted their eyes, their nerves taut, not daring to glance again.
Hong Rui obeyed the order with a faint smile tugging at her lips. QingWu, oblivious, merely agreed. Her current attire was indeed filthy beyond measure.
As Xiao Chenyuan watched her retreat indoors, he turned his attention to the potted ginseng in his hands, lost momentarily in thought. When he glanced up again, it was to meet the eager, piggish face of Situ Jing. His warm expression immediately vanished into frost. "Situ Jing, close your mouth."
The latter swallowed the words that had been on the tip of his tongue. "Your Highness, this is an incredible treasure! I'm well-versed in herb cultivation. How about entrusting this to me—"
"Place it in my study," Xiao Chenyuan interrupted, dashing Situ Jing's hopes.
Before Situ Jing could comply, Xiao Chenyuan reconsidered, withdrawing the potted plant. "On second thought, I'll keep it with me."
Situ Jing grumbled under his breath, "Your Highness, you're so unpredictable."
When QingWu reappeared in fresh attire, the kitchen staff had already laid out the evening meal. The spread consisted of delicacies brought by the little mountain spirit—wild yam stewed with chicken and an assortment of forest mushrooms prepared in three ways. The simplicity of the dishes only enhanced their natural flavors.
Compared to the usual fare, this meal was a feast. Xiao Chenyuan, accustomed to war rations, approached food with indifference, making no comment.
QingWu ate slowly, savoring every bite. "Finally, real food," she muttered, watching Xiao Chenyuan eat as though tasting nothing at all. With a pout, she added, "Your manor desperately needs a new chef."
"Food is sustenance, nothing more," he replied evenly. "In the army, as long as the soldiers eat and survive, that suffices."
Her displeasure deepened. Returning to the mortal world only to endure bland meals felt like an injustice. She remembered a time when Xiao Chenyuan had been far more particular about his food. She grumbled but said no more.
After finishing his meal, Xiao Chenyuan stood. "Enjoy your meal. Come to the study later if you wish to discuss matters."
Without waiting for her reply, he left, carefully carrying the ginseng plant. Outside Yuanwei Courtyard, he paused, turning to Situ Jing. "Has the Queen been provided with new clothing since her arrival?"
Situ Jing hesitated before managing a wry smile. "I... cannot say for sure. Under normal circumstances, she wouldn't lack..." His words trailed off as he recalled the unusual circumstances of her marriage—entering the manor in a coffin. The Ministry of Revenue's Mansion would hardly have prepared proper attire. Even her supposed dowry had been scraped together by her own means.
Xiao Chenyuan had noticed her ill-fitting garments earlier. It was a detail he had overlooked until now. After a moment, he issued instructions. "Have Hong Rui visit Golden Thread Pavilion. Also..." He hesitated. "Rearrange the meals served in Yuanwei Courtyard."
Surprised, Situ Jing nearly smiled but stopped short, his swollen face preventing much expression. "Understood."
Back in the courtyard, QingWu was still enjoying her chicken soup, its rich flavor far too tempting. She could have finished another ten pots if she weren't already full.
"Why are you still standing there?" She gestured to Hong Rui. "Xiao Chenyuan is gone. Sit down and eat with me."
Hong Rui laughed softly but remained standing. She was aware of QingWu's irritation during meals shared with Xiao Chenyuan. Cautiously, she spoke up. "Your Highness, the King is not uncaring. The harsh conditions in the northern frontier and years of insufficient military funds have shaped his habits. He shares the same hardships as his soldiers, including simple meals."
QingWu was not angered by this revelation. She was annoyed at how his stern demeanor ruined her enjoyment of food.
"This is the manor, not the frontier. Surrounded by delicacies, yet he refuses to indulge. What's the point?"
Hong Rui hesitated, finally offering a soft explanation. "Your Highness, there's more to it. Years ago, the King was poisoned. He barely survived. Since then, his sense of taste has been compromised. Even the finest delicacies taste bitter to him."
While others could savor flavors and enjoy meals, for Xiao Chenyuan, food was a necessity rather than a pleasure—a painful reminder of his condition.
The chicken soup in QingWu's bowl suddenly seemed less appetizing.
The ghostly voice of the Judge's Brush echoed in her mind. "Oh my, could it be? Is QingWu, the wicked spirit, growing a conscience?"