Chapter 26: Fragrance

The next day, Bao Ning got up early. First, she went to check on the leech—it was still alive and well, which reassured her.

She stirred the jar with a stick and saw the egg yolk she’d left the night before was all gone. “Such an appetite,” she muttered. Sitting on the heated brick bed, she peeled another egg: the white went to Ah Huang, the yolk into the jar, and she saved the eggshells to crush later for feeding the chickens.

After wiping her fingers with a cloth, Bao Ning got dressed and did her hair before starting breakfast.

Keeping her aunt’s advice in mind, she paid extra attention to Pei Yuan’s meals. She no longer minded the trouble. She fried a plate of stuffed buns, stewed a bowl of red dates and goji berry soup, and, knowing he didn’t like sweet things, made a second bowl of radish soup with chunks of beef stewed until tender.

Soups nourish the blood and energy—perfect for someone recovering from illness.

When she got up, the sky was still dark. She bustled about for an hour, and by the time she finished, it was just past dawn.

She placed all the food in a lunchbox and brought it to Pei Yuan, feeling cheerful. After knocking twice, a voice from inside said, “Come in,” and she pushed the door open.

Pei Yuan was changing clothes.

He didn’t seem embarrassed at all—completely undressed, facing the door openly. Without lifting his head, he asked, “I can smell something good. What did you make this morning?”

Bao Ning froze, quickly turning her head. She hadn’t meant to look, but the image had already burned into her eyes.

Pei Yuan was shirtless, his muscles defined and lean. When dressed, they weren’t noticeable, but now she saw his arms were as thick as her calves. His abdomen had a perfect eight-pack, neater than any bread she’d ever sliced, with a warm tan skin tone and several scars cutting across.

Bao Ning, being someone fiercely loyal to her own, had accepted Pei Yuan. Now she saw everything about him through rose-tinted eyes—even his scars seemed manly and attractive.

Still, it was quite awkward.

“You could’ve warned me you were changing,” she mumbled, turning her back with a hint of reproach.

Behind her, she heard the rustle of clothes. Pei Yuan replied in a serious tone, “No need.”

Bao Ning stared at the line where the wall met the ceiling and mouthed: Shameless.

“I’m dressed. Come over.”

Bao Ning touched her flushed face, picked up the lunchbox, and walked over. The man wasn’t very tidy—he had tossed the quilt into a heap in the corner. Bao Ning couldn’t stand it, so she set the food aside, straightened the quilt, then moved the table over and laid out the dishes.

Pei Yuan leaned back on his hands, quietly watching her. His eyes narrowed, looking quite content.

He hadn’t realized before that watching a girl handle household tasks—those little, meticulous things—could be so interesting.

The table was full: fragrant fried buns, a dish of pickled cucumbers, two bowls of soup (one sweet, one savory), and a small bowl of chicken porridge.

Pei Yuan was surprised. “Why so much?”

He stirred the porridge and smiled as the aroma hit him. “Even the emperor doesn’t eat this well in the morning.”

Bao Ning propped her chin with her hand and grinned. “I’ll make you fish tomorrow—fairy fish, it smells amazing.”

Today she had braided her hair, the soft braid hanging down in front of her chest. She absentmindedly played with the tip, which was tied with a bell hairband. As she fiddled, it gave off a faint ringing sound.

Pei Yuan watched her delicate fingers for a while, then his gaze darkened and drifted up to the little pink mole near her collarbone.

Bao Ning didn’t notice. She leaned forward to ladle soup into a bowl for him, muttering, “Eat more, don’t waste my effort.”

Pei Yuan snapped out of it and lowered his head to drink from the bowl she held. Her posture was awkward—she held the bowl in both hands, one of which he gripped, while leaning forward. She stared wide-eyed at him, unsure why he suddenly acted so strangely.

He finished the sip, wiped the edge of his mouth with a finger, and watched her cheeks slowly turn pink.

She quickly pulled her hand back and wiped it on her skirt. Pei Yuan’s expression darkened.

Bao Ning realized he was upset—but didn’t know why.

The mood grew tense. Ah Huang, full from breakfast, trotted in and barked softly. Bao Ning scooped him up and, almost fleeing, said, “I forgot to feed Saifeng. I’ll go mix the forage.”

Pei Yuan called out, “Stay and eat a little with me.”

“I already ate,” Bao Ning replied.

Pei Yuan said nothing more. She lingered for a moment but, seeing he had nothing else to say, left with Ah Huang in her arms.

Her figure disappeared through the door, which remained open, letting in a flood of morning sunlight. Dust motes danced in the air. The yard gate creaked open, and chickens and ducks burst out, clucking and quacking in chaos.

Pei Yuan thought back to her earlier reaction and grew more irritated the more he thought. With a sharp clack, he threw his chopsticks on the table.

Why was she so dense!

After a few deep breaths, he picked up the chopsticks again, tossed a piece of cucumber into his mouth, and sighed, “Forget it. Take it slow.”

…

Bao Ning sat on a short wooden stool under the eaves, weaving a net.

Ever since Saifeng arrived, the yard had become livelier. The tall, majestic horse stood calmly in the center, so well-behaved that it didn’t need tying—it wouldn’t run off. Ah Huang adored it, likely drawn to its dignified presence. He ran circles around it, even leapt up to bite its tail in mock affection.

At first, Bao Ning was terrified it might kick Ah Huang in irritation.

But Saifeng was truly steady, never reacting, just keeping its head down to eat, not even lifting an eyelid. Bao Ning relaxed and let Ah Huang be.

She picked a smooth, thin stick from the firewood pile, shaved it clean with a small knife, and set it aside as a handle. Then she gathered fabric scraps to weave a net.

She cut the fabric into thin strips, twisted them into cords, and braided three cords into a thicker rope, securing the ends. Making seven or eight of these ropes, she could weave a sturdy net for catching snails.

Bao Ning worked with focused care and didn’t even notice when Pei Yuan came out.

Only when a shadow fell across her lap and blocked the light did she look up in confusion.

Pei Yuan touched the tip of her nose—it was sweaty. He frowned and asked, “Isn’t it hot?”

Bao Ning smiled. “Not really.”

She added, “It’s good to get some sun. I’ll bring you a stool, and we can sit together.”

Pei Yuan replied, “No, I want to walk for a bit.”

It was the first time in so long he’d said he wanted to walk around the yard. Bao Ning was overjoyed. He was finally not so withdrawn. Her heart felt like it did when Ji Yun first recited the Three Character Classic for her—my little brother is growing up and being good.

She couldn’t sit still anymore, eager to do something for him.

But Pei Yuan pressed her shoulder and, with his crutch under one arm, said softly, “You keep working. No need to walk with me.”

Bao Ning responded with an “Oh,” though she still felt delighted. Pei Yuan saw her glowing smile and smiled faintly in return.

Ah Huang always chased any movement. Seeing Pei Yuan come out, he abandoned Saifeng and ran over. As Pei Yuan walked ahead, Ah Huang followed behind.

Pei Yuan’s left leg still wasn’t working—dragging behind him like a useless weight. He walked slowly. Man and dog strolled around the yard twice before he got tired and returned to Bao Ning’s side.

She was fiddling with the stick, trying to drill a hole in it but struggling. She was dexterous but lacked strength—not suited for this kind of task.

Pei Yuan watched for a while and then said, “Give it to me.”

She handed over the stick and the carving knife. Pei Yuan leaned back against the wall for support. Bao Ning worried he might fall and went to steady his arm.

He glanced at her and suddenly chuckled.

The stick was about as thick as his thumb. It had taken Bao Ning a long time to push the blade in just a third of the way. Pei Yuan, however, pierced through it in the blink of an eye.

“You’re amazing,” Bao Ning praised.

Pei Yuan said, “This is a man’s job. Next time, just ask me.”

He rarely said such nice things. Bao Ning was thrilled and quickly agreed.

Pei Yuan looked down at her—skin like porcelain, a pointed chin, leaning sweetly against him. Suddenly, his heart softened. He reached up and gently pinched the back of her neck.

“What’s this thing for?” he asked.

Bao Ning said, “Catching river snails to feed the leeches.”

Pei Yuan asked, “Why didn’t you just buy some at the market yesterday? Why go through the trouble?”

“You don’t understand,” Bao Ning replied, busy fastening the cord, not even lifting her eyelids. “Only the ones you catch yourself are trustworthy. Who knows how fresh the ones at the market are, or what they’ve been fed?”

Pei Yuan didn’t respond.

He had never liked these trivial domestic matters—family chores, bits and pieces. If he had the time, he’d rather go out and ride a few laps than sit idly at home.

But now it was different. Maybe it was age, or maybe it was because someone was here with him. He found himself soaking in the peace.

…

As midday approached, the sun grew hotter. Bao Ning began to feel the heat and didn’t want to stay outside. She pulled Pei Yuan back inside for their usual nap.

She had a fixed routine—she always napped for a while at noon, usually waking in about half an hour. But today, perhaps her eyes were especially tired, and she overslept. By the time she opened her eyes again, the sun had vanished, and it was drizzling outside.

Bao Ning frowned inwardly. Not good. If it rained, she couldn’t go to the river. Who knew when it would stop? She might not be able to gather the snails today.

She sat on the bed for a while, then suddenly remembered Saifeng. They hadn’t had time to build a stable, and the horse was still outside in the rain. What if it got sick?

Unable to sit still, she grabbed an umbrella and hurried out.

There was no sign of Saifeng in the yard. Bao Ning anxiously searched around, checking the front and back courtyards. She thought the horse might have run off. But when she passed by the chicken coop and glanced inside, she relaxed.

Saifeng was smart—it had crawled under the coop, legs tucked in, curled up as if sleeping.

It was Bao Ning’s first time seeing a horse lying down. She found it fascinating and couldn’t help staring. Saifeng’s two front legs stretched forward without bending at the knees, and its head was tucked low.

Looking at its thin, bony legs like dry reeds, a sudden thought struck Bao Ning like divine inspiration.

Pei Yuan struggled to walk because his left leg was weak. If she could find a way to stabilize it—support it somehow—wouldn’t it ease his burden?

The more she thought about it, the more promising it seemed. She didn’t even bother with the umbrella, folded it up, and rushed back inside, eager to try making something for Pei Yuan to test out.

What if it actually worked?

…

In the woods not far away, Xu Guang leaned against a willow tree, picking his teeth with his tongue, eyes fixed on Bao Ning’s back as she went inside—desire unhidden in his gaze.

Only after the door slammed shut did he shift his eyes and hook his pinky at Feng Yongjia beside him. “Got the stuff ready?”

Feng Yongjia was soaked like a drowned rat, trembling as he replied, “Y-yes, ready.”

Xu Guang said, “The knockout incense only works for about fifteen minutes. Wait outside and time it right. Once that cripple’s arms and legs go soft, you go in and kill him. Understand?”

Feng Yongjia was visibly frightened, his tongue shaking, too scared to respond.

Xu Guang pressed a knife tip against his throat and threatened in a low voice, “Do it, and you’ll get the woman and the money. Fail, and I’ll slit your throat—and your dying father’s too!”

Feng Yongjia turned pale, clutching his sleeves tightly, nodding frantically. “Y-yes, I understand.”

Xu Guang sheathed the knife, sneered, and said, “Perfect weather for this.”

He patted Feng Yongjia’s shoulder. “Go on, little scholar. Do a good job.”

Feng Yongjia nodded but didn’t move. One of Xu Guang’s subordinates shoved him forward. He took two reluctant steps before the subordinate drew his sword, making him flinch. Gritting his teeth, he finally ran into the rain curtain.

“Coward,” the subordinate spat on the ground and turned to Xu Guang. “Sir, why must you send that weakling? Give the word, and I can break in and kill the cripple in three moves.”

“Three moves? In less than two, he’ll take your head off,” Xu Guang said with a sneer.

The subordinate, Zhao Li, looked stunned. “But he’s a cripple! How could he possibly—”

Xu Guang cut him off. “I fought him recently. He’s weaker now, yes—but his skills are still sharp. With his old martial arts, even the Crown Prince couldn’t get close. What chance do you have?”

Zhao Li grumbled, “Still, we don’t need that scholar. A little knockout incense, and I can take care of him too.”

Xu Guang frowned. “If you kill him yourself, it leaves evidence. Are you crazy?”

Zhao Li argued, “The Emperor doesn’t even like him. So what if he dies? What could possibly go wrong? We have power in our hands, and the Crown Prince is on our side. Cover it up a bit, and that cripple dies quietly. We’ll have done the Prince a great favor.”

Xu Guang glanced at him coldly. “With that reckless attitude, you’ll never be more than a low-ranking guardsman all your life.”

Zhao Li knew he’d overstepped. He swallowed nervously and bowed. “Sir, please enlighten me.”

Xu Guang lowered his eyes, tapped his fingers on the hilt of his blade, and said slowly, “The Grand General of National Defense is back from the northern border. He’ll be here in three days.”

Zhao Li’s face changed. “Qiu Mingshan?”

Xu Guang’s gaze sharpened. “That old man holds military power. Even the Emperor treads lightly around him. And he’s that cripple’s teacher. If he returns and that cripple ends up dead—think he won’t find us?”

Zhao Li mumbled, “You’re right, sir…”

“That’s why we need to borrow a blade to do the killing,” Xu Guang said coldly. “Feng Yongjia recently had a falling out with the cripple. The coachman can testify to it. The guy’s drowning in debt—he tries to rob and violate someone out of desperation. Sounds believable, right? When the case is investigated, we meddle a bit, pin the blame on that scholar, and quietly have him silenced. Flawless.”

Zhao Li’s eyes lit up, and he bowed deeply. “Brilliant, sir!”

…

Feng Yongjia crouched under Pei Yuan’s window, rain pouring down on him. He was cold and scared, his teeth chattering.

In his arms was a dagger, and up his sleeve was the knockout incense. He lowered his head, trying to block the wind with his coat, and lit the incense with flint.

He breathed a little easier once the incense started to glow. Standing on tiptoe, he raised the incense and burned a small hole in the window paper, slipping the incense inside.

Worried that one stick wouldn’t be strong enough, he repeated the process with two more.

The rain muffled all sound. When he finished, he crouched and started counting the time.

But after a while, he sensed something was wrong.

Then he remembered—the base of the knockout incense should be yellow. But the ones he lit were red.

He made a mistake?

His heart thudded. Qingqing had given him the red incense, said it came from a brothel and had “special effects.” He never used it, disgusted by such tricks. He had tossed it into a box.

Last night, Xu Guang told him to buy knockout incense. Distracted, he might’ve grabbed the wrong ones from that same box.

Did he really mess up?

His heart pounded and his limbs went numb from fear. He wanted to pull out the incense and check, but just then—he heard a door open on the west side.

Bao Ning came out, holding something in her arms. The moment she looked up, she saw someone standing by Pei Yuan’s door.

It was raining heavily and the sky was dim—she couldn’t make out who it was. Alarmed, she was about to call for Pei Yuan, but before she could make a sound, a flash of light burst from the window and slashed across the person’s neck.

The man let out a scream, clutching his throat and fleeing.

Bao Ning stood stunned for a moment, then snapped back to her senses and rushed into Pei Yuan’s room.

As soon as she opened the door, she noticed a faint scent—subtle, barely noticeable, but her sharp nose picked it up. She instantly felt something was wrong and hurried to ask, “Are you okay?”

In the darkness, Pei Yuan sat on the edge of the bed, clutching a broken teacup, blood dripping from his fingers.

He didn’t seem to feel the pain. His eyes were locked on her like a wolf.

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