Ch 32: When the Wild Goose Returns

Duan Wucuo was deep in thought, distracted.

He glanced at Qing Yan’s small hand sticking out from under the blanket and casually caught it, toying with it between his palms.
He gently pinched her fingers, letting his curved index finger graze the back of her hand, while his fingertip slowly traced the lines of her palm.

The touch made Qing Yan’s hand ticklish, with a strange sensation—
The strange, instinctive feeling of physical contact between a man and a woman.

She endured it as long as she could before softly saying, “It’s almost past midnight.”

Duan Wucuo asked, “Want something to eat?”

“Huh?”

Qing Yan was stunned. “Your Highness… you didn’t eat dinner before coming back?”

Duan Wucuo suddenly let out a soft chuckle. He leaned over, rubbed her head naturally, and then lay down beside her.

Qing Yan stayed perfectly still for a while, making sure he wasn’t going to do anything and was really settling down to sleep.
Only then did she breathe a sigh of relief.

But she couldn’t fall asleep.

She lay motionless beside Duan Wucuo, eyes closed, pretending to sleep.
So much weighed on her heart—how could she sleep?

In daylight, she could force a smile.
But when night cloaked everything in darkness, those heavy worries crept out thread by thread.

This whole act of impersonating a princess felt like walking down a dead-end road.
Being exposed was only a matter of time.

She regretted not being more cautious.
She’d already found Cheng Ji suspicious when they ran into him at Suyuan Alley—why had she only sent Wen Xi to investigate? Why hadn’t she been more careful?

If she had ordered more guards to patrol at night, maybe Cheng Ji would have given up if he saw no chance of sneaking in.
And maybe… he wouldn’t have ended up dead in her room.

Duan Wucuo wasn’t one to talk much, and she didn’t dare press him, leaving her uneasy and uncertain about the consequences of Cheng Ji’s death.

She thought it through: even if her identity as both the peace-bride princess and Princess Consort Zhan offered her protection—what about Wen Xi?
If everything fell apart, Wen Xi would surely die.

She quietly opened her eyes and looked toward Duan Wucuo in the darkness.

It was pitch black—she could only make out his silhouette.

She grew annoyed at her own timidity.
She should just ask him outright what they were going to do next.

What was there to be afraid of?

She should be bold, justified, and upright.

She made up her mind silently:
When Duan Wucuo woke up tomorrow morning, she would carry herself with the dignity of a princess and have a proper conversation with him.

Only then did she have the space to think back to how Chang Bai had reacted earlier.
Unfortunately, she had been so focused on Duan Wucuo that she barely noticed him. She wasn’t sure if he’d sensed anything off.

As long as Chang Bai stayed in the residence, she’d have no peace of mind.

But she also knew that kicking him out without a good excuse would only raise suspicions.

Her thoughts were a mess.

When she fled from the Yi Kingdom, she thought she’d left the past behind.
But fate twisted again, and now she had returned—under a different identity—to the same place.

She almost never let herself think of the past… unless it appeared in nightmares.

But after seeing Chang Bai, it was like a door had been pushed open—
The memories came pouring in, not just the painful ones, but waves of longing.

—How was her lady doing now?

Just thinking of her lady’s gentle smile made Qing Yan feel heartache.

She had burned the young master to death.
Would her lady be grieving?

Her lady had loved him so much…

And then there was the little miss.

When she left, the child had only just learned to walk—
Wobbly little steps, so adorably clumsy…

She couldn’t think about it.
The more she thought, the more it hurt.

Qing Yan shifted her body and burrowed deeper under the blanket until her whole face was hidden.

—Just sleep. Force yourself to sleep.

But Duan Wucuo was awakened by the soft sound of sobbing.

A martial artist’s senses were sharper than most—especially hearing.

He opened his eyes and looked at Qing Yan beside him.
She was curled up under the blanket.

He lifted the blanket and realized she wasn’t awake—she was crying in her sleep.

Outside, the sky was just beginning to lighten, a faint gray seeping through the window lattice.

Duan Wucuo gently took her wrist and pulled her upward.

Suddenly, Qing Yan cried out in alarm, “Don’t hit me!”

He was startled.

“No one’s hitting you,” he said softly.

He pulled her into his arms. In his embrace, Qing Yan sniffed a few times, and the tension in her brows slowly eased.
She mumbled something under her breath.

Duan Wucuo tilted her ear and asked, “What?”

“Steamed pork with rice flour…” she muttered.

Duan Wucuo chuckled and pinched her nose. “Dreaming about food and getting hit for it?”

The pinch woke her. She blinked up at him, groggy.

Half-asleep, she stared at his lips as they moved—
They looked exactly like soft glutinous pomegranate cakes.

She was thirsty.

She could almost taste the sweet juice of pomegranate on her tongue.

She blinked once slowly… and then leaned in to bite the “pomegranate cake.”

Duan Wucuo froze.

…This was the first time he’d ever been kissed like that.

Plenty of women had thrown themselves at him—
But none had ever gotten close enough.

“Hiss—”

A sharp taste of blood filled his mouth.

Duan Wucuo grasped Qing Yan’s chin and pushed her back, tilting her face upward.

His grip wasn’t exactly gentle.
Qing Yan winced and woke up completely.

Their eyes met.

She blinked once, then again.

Duan Wucuo pried open her little mouth, pressing his thumb gently against her tiny canine tooth.
He asked slowly, “Madam… does this monk’s mouth taste good?”

Qing Yan shut her eyes tight and blurted, “I’m not awake yet!”

A moment later, she cracked one eye open to peek at him—then offered an awkward smile.

She reached out and gently wiped away the trace of blood on his lips.

In a tiny, stumbling voice, she mumbled, “Wasn’t awake… pomegranate cake… thirsty… so I just… um…”

“Heh.”

Duan Waco licked the corner of his lips. “Madam, are you thirsty?”

Qing Yan was mortified. Her smile froze stiffly on her face.

“That can be arranged.”

Duan Wucuo leaned down and once again pried open her just-closed lips.
He licked her, tracing the outline of her lips with slow, deliberate care—
Then his teeth and tongue followed.
His lips and tongue were soft and moist, with a hint of blood’s metallic tang.

Qing Yan clutched the blanket beneath her and squeezed her eyes shut.
Inwardly, she cried out that she had brought this upon herself.

“Still thirsty?” Duan Wucuo asked.

He lifted a strand of her hair, curling it lazily around his finger—loop after loop.

Qing Yan shook her head vigorously.
“The sun’s already up… I should help Your Highness get ready for the day?
Or summon someone to prepare breakfast?”

She tried to wriggle away from his embrace like a little eel and sat up—
Then let out a soft “Eh?” of surprise.

Her nightclothes were on inside out.

That meant… when she changed last night, she hadn’t worn them wrong.
Which meant Duan Wucuo lied to her!

Qing Yan’s eyes widened, staring at him in disbelief.

Duan Wucuo lifted the corner of his mouth in a silent smile.
He said gently, “How did madam’s clothes end up backwards?
Shall this monk help you change?”

“Bald monk! You’re shameless!”

Qing Yan raised her foot and kicked him hard in the chest.

But Duan Wucuo easily caught her ankle and pulled her back toward him,
Then very naturally draped both her legs over his shoulders.
He leaned over, hands planted on either side of her.

Looking into her eyes, he smiled tenderly.
In a slow, unhurried voice, he said,
“So madam doesn’t like a bit of playful affection?
Very well. Next time, this monk will undress you directly.”

The posture was intimate. The words were explicit. The meaning was clear.

Qing Yan’s heart pounded, her whole body floating like she was caught in a cloud.
She snapped, “Why bother teasing me like this? You might as well finish me off!”

Duan Wucuo looked genuinely surprised.
Then, a faint trace of regret appeared between his brows.

“To marry a princess yet not satisfy her… I’ve failed in my duties as a husband.
This monk is deeply ashamed.
But madam, you must wait just a little longer.
Once this monk returns to the secular world, I will surely…”

He leaned close to her ear and chuckled softly—
A breath of warmth brushed her earlobe, and the rest of his unfinished sentence disappeared into that quiet laugh.

Duan Wucuo released her and lay down beside her again.
With both hands behind his head and eyes shut, he said,
“It’s still early. There’s time for another hour of sleep.
Do as you please.”

Qing Yan sat frozen for a long time before slapping her cheeks and crawling far away to lie down—far from him.

At the break of dawn, the world was still and quiet.
Before long, both of them—though separated on the bed—fell back asleep.
They had barely rested the night before, and the hour was still early.

At that moment, Chang Bai still hadn’t slept.

He had opened the roster of palace staff assigned to this residence.
Pen in hand, he grouped and reorganized the names.

It was a serious lapse on his part that Cheng Ji had managed to sneak in disguised as an attendant.
Starting tomorrow, he planned to regroup the servants and assign night patrols.

By the time he finished, the sky was already light.

He set the brush down, and suddenly, an emptiness settled in his chest.
He rose and opened the window, gazing at the pale, overcast sky.
The light was cold and bleak.

For a moment, Chang Bai didn’t know why he was doing any of this.

He suddenly felt absurd for worrying so much about Princess Huachao’s safety.

After all… she wasn’t her.

His Qing’er was dead.

This princess only happened to resemble her.

Some memories were too painful to forget.
With every breath he took, they returned again and again.

If time could turn back, he would never let such a tragedy happen.
If he could go back, he truly wished he could slap that past self awake.

This past year, he had lived like a madman.
At first, to avenge his Qing’er, he entered the palace and clawed his way up.
That was the only way he now had the power to trap that young master in a dark chamber and torture him.

And later?

He believed only by becoming powerful enough could he protect the ones he wanted to.
He used every means possible—
But in the dead of countless nights, he awoke to the cruel realization that there was no one left who needed his protection.

He stood by the window for a long time, then returned to the bed—but sleep would not come.
He hadn’t been able to sleep for most of the year.

Which was fine, he thought.
At least he wouldn’t be tormented by nightmares, forced to relive the pain over and over.

He lay silently for a long time.
When he estimated it was nearly time, he got up, washed, dressed, and went to the main residence to serve.

In the courtyard, Qing’er was crouching down, using a dry twig to draw on the ground.
Seeing Chang Bai arrive, she quickly got up and greeted him with a smile.
“Master Chang Bai, the prince and princess consort are still asleep.”

“Alright,” Chang Bai smiled and nodded.

He glanced at the sun—it was already rather late.

But his eyes inevitably returned to the tightly shut bedchamber door.

It was past mid-morning when Qing Yan finally awoke.

She rubbed her eyes and realized Duan Wucuo was no longer beside her.

“Madam is awake,” Qing’er and Sui’er came in, carrying clean clothes and washbasin.

Qing Yan asked, “Has His Highness returned to the monastery?”

Sui’er respectfully replied, “No.
Someone from the palace came early this morning.
The Empress Dowager summoned His Highness to the palace.”

Qing Yan’s heart lurched—whatever sleepiness remained vanished completely.

She remembered clearly what Wen Xi had said yesterday:
Cheng Ji had grown up by the Empress Dowager’s side and was deeply loved by her.
That was why he could act lawlessly in the capital.

Now that the Empress Dowager had summoned Duan Wucuo, it must be about Cheng Ji.

Panic immediately rose in her chest.

Qing Yan asked urgently, “Where’s Wen Xi?”

“Sister Wen Xi asked me to tell you that she’s escorting General Li out of the city today,” Sui’er said.

Qing Yan then recalled that General Li was returning to Tao today.

Qing’er wrung out a warm towel and gently wiped Qing Yan’s hands.

She said, “Master Chang Bai has been waiting in the courtyard since early morning.
He wishes to see Madam.”

°❀.ೃ࿔°❀.ೃ࿔