Volume III, Real Ancient Capital, Chapter 60: Little Spots
By Xiao Xiang Dong'Er | Translated and Arranged by Angel Chua
Candlestick lights, little red tears.
Three more drums had sounded, yet Yan Xun still did not return. The little maid holding a brazier carefully opened the door, saw a lamp and the thin figure of the woman in the room, still lying at the desk. Hearing the sound, she did not look up, her brows furrowed in thought.
"Miss," the little maid's face was heavy with concern. Though only twelve years old, she had enough awareness to understand what was happening. She carefully approached her solemn mistress and whispered softly, "It's late, you should go to bed."
Chu Qiao did not speak but slightly raised her hand, indicating the maid to leave.
Xiao Li replaced the brazier, walked out of the door, but suddenly turned back and said, "If he returns, I will call for you."
The slender woman slowly raised her eyes. Her gaze met Xiao Li's voice as she responded slowly, "Is he not back yet?"
The little maid froze for a moment, then quickly knelt on the ground and said in a panic, "Please forgive me, Miss."
"Go on."
A clear voice echoed softly. Chu Qiao did not look up, her head lowered as she continued to examine the letter in front of her. Xiao Li retreated, carefully closing the door behind her, leaving the room in silence.
The firelight flickered, occasionally bursting with sparks. The shadow of the woman stretched long, a dim, slender figure, barely visible in the low light.
She remained composed, her thoughts busy, her demeanor unchanged. The only thing that seemed different was the thick ink on the white rice paper, a letter written by Yan Xun.
The long winter night passed. Five more drums sounded, and the front yard door creaked open. Chu Qiao paused from her writing, listened for a moment, then stood up as all the lights in the room illuminated.
The lights flickered triumphantly across the courtyard. Chu Qiao stood by the window, raised its corner, and allowed the night breeze to blow her long, black hair. Her eyes were calm, waiting, knowing she had not slept. She had been waiting for him.
If he came, it meant there was still room for change. If he didn't, it meant he had made up his mind, and there would be no turning back.
The man in the front yard, wrapped in a silver fox-fur cloak, stood motionless. His hood half-covered his face. A'Jing, his servant, stood behind him, holding a bamboo umbrella. Snowflakes danced above them, swirling in the wind, forming small whirlpools that swept past his white boots and fur-lined cloak.
"Young master," A'Jing said softly, looking down the long hallway toward the brightly lit building. "The young lady hasn't fallen asleep."
Yan Xun remained silent, quietly standing. He knew that behind the heavy doors and bamboo curtains, she was waiting, silently. Between them lay three corridors, two metal doors, and a pond with plum trees, but it felt as if they were miles apart.
A heavy sense of helplessness rose within him. Why did the seemingly short distance feel so vast?
His eyes, calm as water, didn't waver. He gazed through the passage of time, memories of joy and sorrow, affliction, and regret flooding his mind.
The wind gusted suddenly, and A'Jing's umbrella was blown away. The young attendant hurried after it while snowflakes settled on Yan Xun's fur-covered shoulders. Despite the thick cloak, the cold bit deep.
"Let's go," Yan Xun said in a low voice, his words barely audible.
A'Jing, who had just retrieved the umbrella, nodded and led the way. "The young lady is still awake, sir."
But Yan Xun didn't head toward her room. Instead, he walked in the opposite direction. A'Jing hesitated, unsure what to do, but eventually followed, carrying the lantern.
Inside, Chu Qiao gently closed the window, removed her outer robe, and put out the lanterns, one by one. The last candle flickered out, leaving the room in complete darkness.
She climbed into bed, her eyes wide open. The wind outside was quiet, the room cold. Her gaze was dry, without tears, but something deep inside her slowly began to sink, layer by layer, like a long stretch of sand swallowed by waves.
The next morning, Chu Qiao arrived in the front yard for breakfast as usual. The atmosphere at Yingge Hospital was unusually quiet; everyone seemed cautious not to make any noise. Chu Qiao and Yan Xun sat across from each other, eating in silence, occasionally sharing bits of gossip.
There was no sign of tension between them, and they appeared calm, as if nothing had happened. A'Jing and Xiao Li exchanged confused glances and sighed in relief, thinking, "Perhaps, everything is fine after all."
After breakfast, things returned to normal. Everyone went about their duties, and the mood lightened.
At noon, Yan Xun opened the door to the greenhouse and saw Chu Qiao quietly resting against the railing, as though she had been waiting for a long time.
"My Blood-Tiran!" Yan Xun exclaimed, rushing forward. Chu Qiao turned, surprised, and saw Yan Xun holding a broken bluegrass rhizome, looking frustrated. "My Blood-Tiran!"
"It wasn't me," she raised her hands defensively. "I didn't touch it."
"Didn't you see the rope near the stand?"
Chu Qiao glanced at it, shrugged, and said, "Even if I did, it's not that big of a deal. I'll buy you a new one."
Yan Xun shook his head, placing the flowerpot aside, and sat in a chair, lost in thought. "What do you think of the situation?" he asked.
After a long pause, Chu Qiao responded, "The emperor wants to kill you."
Yan Xun smiled faintly and said, "If he wanted me dead, he could do it in a day or two."
"This time is different," Chu Qiao said coldly. "He doesn't want to do it openly. He needs to protect his image and not provoke unrest in Yanbei. He has to take indirect action."
The maiden looked dignified, delivering a well-structured analysis: "Now, the clan is vast, controlling much of the territory, and apart from the army in Gyeonggi Province, the emperor holds little military power. Military and financial authority lie with the Elders of the Shrine and are dispersed among various families. Zhao Zhengde wants to recover the monarchy. Apart from relying on Mongolian Le Xing and a few imperialist generals, his only hope lies in sealing a princess at the margins of power. Thus, he cannot blatantly kill you for fear of causing unrest in Yanbei and stirring up the masses. After all, the clans are watching for any weakness among the princes of the royal families, waiting to seize opportunities to compete for fiefs and expand their family forces. Once the clans tighten their grip, it will be even more difficult for the royal family to reclaim its authority."
Yan Xun nodded in agreement, and the girl continued, "So, if the emperor wants to kill you, he must use deception, blame others, and distance himself from any suspicion. But if you die now, the world's suspicions would turn toward him. That's why he chose to marry off his daughter—to give the illusion of leniency and make it seem as if he's willing to reconcile, as though the past is forgotten. But once he has you in a vulnerable position, he will strike. If you die, his beloved daughter will be a widow, and no one will suspect him."
Yan Xun smiled gently, took a sip of his tea, and said, "You're right."
The flower room was warm, enveloped in the fragrance of love indigo plants, with the scent of frankincense filling the air—a warmth so intoxicating, it felt like a dream.
Yan Xun raised his brow slightly and softly asked, "Tell me, A'Chu, what should I do?"
"You've already made up your mind," Chu Qiao said, raising her eyebrows coldly. "Why ask me? Marry Zhao Chun, and he'll kill you on your wedding day. If you refuse, you'll be defying an imperial edict. Rejecting the emperor's daughter would expose you as a traitor. Who in their right mind wouldn't weigh the pros and cons of such a situation?"
Chu Qiao smiled faintly and added, "For the past seven years, you've endured countless humiliations and difficulties. What's one more? The emperor is just seeking a way out. Poor, silly Zhao Chun is merely a pawn, constantly being trampled."
Yan Xun glanced sideways, his expression indifferent and filled with a quiet sadness. "Is this what you truly think? Have you been planning this all along for me?"
"We've been through life and death together," Chu Qiao said calmly. "Our fates are intertwined. Naturally, I've planned for you. Besides, even if I hadn't said it, you would've come to the same conclusion. You've already told me as much."
Yan Xun was momentarily surprised, then smiled faintly. "A'Chu, you understand the world better than anyone."
Chu Qiao stood up, smiled, and patted Yan Xun on the shoulder. "Of course. We grew up together, and we understand the meaning of life and death. That will never change."
Yan Xun returned her smile, nodding in agreement. "Yes, it will never change."
"I'll head to Xiaoqi Camp now," Chu Qiao said. "I'll say hello to Zhao Song on your behalf."
Yan Xun nodded, standing up. "Yes, do that for me."
Chu Qiao turned to leave, walked to the door, but then stopped. She slowly clenched her fist, then released it, repeating the motion three times, yet she still didn't leave. Yan Xun seemed to sense that she had something to say, but he didn't ask. He stood there quietly, waiting.
"Yan Xun," Chu Qiao began, "out of love, one is bound to meet a heroic but short life. You still have many wishes unfulfilled. This is a major event."
Yan Xun's heart turned cold. He said nothing, just gazed at the girl's back as she disappeared into the layers of green plants in the flower room. He stood there for a long time without moving.
A'Chu, you've given me so much. How should I repay you for this kindness?
The sunny afternoon suddenly felt too bright, and everything around Yan Xun seemed glaring.
"Who?"
A sharp voice startled her. Chu Qiao looked down in surprise and saw a head sticking out from under the stone bridge. It belonged to a man with a crown crest and thick, dark eyebrows. His tall nose and angry eyes were swollen, as if he'd been hit by something hard.
Chu Qiao frowned, realizing her bad luck for stumbling upon such a scene. She abandoned her thoughts of turning around and escaping, stood up straight, and gave a respectful salute. "Chu Qiao greets His Highness, the Seventh Prince. I did not know Your Highness was under the bridge. If I've offended you, please forgive me."
Zhao Che, dressed in an azure robe with a purple gold belt hanging from his waist, looked stunning against the snowy backdrop. His aura was handsome and regal, very different from his usual appearance. However, his expression was angry, a contrast to the beauty of the snowy landscape.
"Is it you?" Zhao Che furrowed his brow, looking up at Chu Qiao from beneath the bridge. His face was grim as he coldly said, "You think I shouldn't be under the bridge, is that it?"
"The Seventh Prince is the ruler of the world," Chu Qiao replied calmly, "not someone who frequently crosses to the other side of the river to visit the old monarch. The whole world looks up to the royal family. Naturally, wherever Your Highness wishes to go is where he should be."
Zhao Che paused for a moment, then murmured, repeating her words, "The ruler of the world is not one to cross rivers for trivial matters." It was an impressive phrase, he thought.
"So, do you still intend to leave?" he asked.
Chu Qiao caught on quickly and said coldly, "If Your Highness isn't resting, it's time for me to retreat."
"Stop!" His voice rang out sharply. Chu Qiao froze mid-step, as though her life depended on it. Zhao Che circled around from one side of the frozen lake to the other, making his way to her.
The Great Summer prince was panting slightly, while Yuan Chun called out across the bridge, "You fool, standing there! What are you doing? Come here!"
Chu Qiao sighed inwardly, her mood worsening. Reluctantly, she stepped off the stone bridge.
The branches on both sides were withered, and the snow-covered lake had a thin layer of ice. Qi Yue Bridge stretched across the lake, white and translucent, like a magnificent ribbon from afar.
Leaving the Yingge Hospital behind, Chu Qiao didn't head toward Zhao Song as she had intended. Instead, she wandered alone to the Royal Garden. She needed some quiet time to think. Summer was short in the Xia Empire, and winter was bitterly cold. The Royal Garden was desolate in this season, with few visitors. She hadn't planned to throw a stone from the bridge, but somehow, it had landed on Zhao Che.
"What do you mean by calling yourself a subordinate, yet not referring to yourself as a slave?"
Chu Qiao was taken aback for a moment. She hadn't expected him to ask about that. Quickly, she replied, "During the hunting ceremony, the emperor bestowed an honor upon me and personally appointed me as the archery instructor of the Xiaoqi Camp. As the commander of Xiaoqi Camp, I may not have an official title, but you are still my superior."
Zhao Che raised his brow, his voice cold. "Xiaoqi Camp archery instructor? You?"
He was surprised, and Chu Qiao was even more taken aback. Furrowing her brow, she asked, "Your Highness, didn't anyone tell you? I wasn't aware you didn't know."
Zhao Che furrowed his brow, his expression hardening in slight anger. He looked at Chu Qiao coldly but didn't respond.
In just a few brief sentences, Chu Qiao had uncovered far too much information, leaving her momentarily speechless. The sudden realization made her dizzy as she processed it all. On the same day Zhao Cheng Yun retreated, he hadn't been informed about the events between her, Zama, and the others. How could such crucial information have slipped past him?
Had Muhe's relationship with Zhao Che deteriorated to this point? The emperor's former favorite son was no longer intimate with him? Zhao Che couldn't survive in Beijing without a spy network, so who was keeping things hidden from him? Yan Xun, codenamed "Swallow," commanded military power, and such a significant event had been concealed from Zhao Che. This indicated deeper issues at play.
While lost in thought, Chu Qiao suddenly noticed something strange. Her eyes widened as she pointed at Zhao Che's forehead, feeling embarrassed as she said, "Your Highness, you..."
Zhao Che frowned, confused. "What is it?" He touched his forehead and found streaks of blood on his hand.
"Don't move," Chu Qiao said quickly, stepping forward. She pulled out a white veil from her robes and, without hesitation, pressed it to his forehead.
"Stop!" Zhao Che recoiled in disgust. He was the imperial Seventh Prince, and the idea of a servant touching him was unthinkable. His brow furrowed further as he coldly snapped, "Who gave you permission to touch the king?"
Chu Qiao froze in surprise, then took a step back, lowering her gaze. She spoke quietly but firmly, "Since Your Highness does not wish to be helped, very well. But it's quite a distance from here to the main hall. It'll take the time of two incense sticks to reach anyone from the harem, and with your injury, you may not last that long without aid."
"ShuShu!" Zhao Che was growing lightheaded from the blood loss. He was becoming unsteady on his feet. The initial blow hadn't seemed serious, just a slight pain with no bleeding, but now, blood flowed freely. Yet despite his weakening state, Zhao Che remained stubborn, coldly warning, "If you dare to harm the king, I will have your entire household punished nine times over!"
Chu Qiao gave a cold smile, clearly unfazed by the threat. "You may punish me as you see fit, but right now, I'm the only one who can help you. If you refuse my aid, you may not even have the strength to call for others, and your chance for revenge will be lost."
Without waiting for permission, Chu Qiao approached him with a small packet of medicine for treating wounds.
"Step aside!" Zhao Che barked.
"Stay still!" Chu Qiao commanded in return, her voice firm. "Do you think I want to help you? I'm not doing this for you—I simply don't want to be blamed for your death."
For the first time in Zhao Che's life, he was confronted with such a bold and defiant woman. Her brazenness surprised him so much that he forgot to struggle.
Chu Qiao grabbed a handful of snow and pressed it to Zhao Che's wound. The sudden cold stung, and the prince, dumbfounded, let out a scream. "What are you doing?!"
Chu Qiao let out a cold hum, amused at the thought of what kind of tough man Zhao Che claimed to be, only to scream from a minor wound. While pondering this, she quickly brushed snow onto his wound, poured the gold sore medicine, and covered it with a handkerchief. Without hesitation, she grabbed a handful of Zhao Che's golden gown, took out a dagger, and swiftly cut off a strip of cloth. As she began to bandage him up, the Seventh Prince roared in anger.
"Bold minion," Zhao Che hissed, sitting in the snow and whispering bitterly, "Tearing the royal robes without permission—do you know what crime that is?"
Chu Qiao frowned at him, slowly shaking her head, her face showing a hint of pity. She counted the times they had met, realizing this was their sixth encounter. The first had been years ago when Zhao Che was still a child—cruel and innocent. Several times he had pointed at her, ordering her death. The second encounter had been when Yan Xun and his people, codenamed "Swallows," were ambushed in the snowfields by Zhao Che's troops. They had barely survived. At that time, Zhao Che had been arrogant and lonely. The third encounter had been the day Zhao left Beijing. She and Yan Tu had secretly hidden in the corner of the Imperial City, witnessing Zhao Che's introduction to the palace gates. At that moment, she and Yan Xun had planned to target the royal family, not Zhao Che directly, but the situation had spiraled.
Since then, their meetings had been sporadic—once in the imperial corridors, another time in the hunting paddock. Each meeting gave her a different impression of him. Once, she had feared this man deeply, but now, she found him almost amusing. Despite his blood-stained clothes and bitter expression, her earlier fear had gradually faded, replaced by a certain calmness.
"You've been offended enough today," Zhao Che muttered through clenched teeth. "You've ruined my clothes."
Chu Qiao smiled faintly, sitting down by a tree, the white fur cloak draped over her shoulders, her presence serene like an orchid growing wild among the trees.
Zhao Che, surprised, raised his eyebrows as he observed her. "I see it now—you're not really afraid of death."
"No, I'm afraid of death," Chu Qiao replied, shaking her head. "I just don't believe you'll kill me."
Zhao Che's tone grew cold. "And why is that?"
Chu Qiao answered calmly, "Those who truly seek revenge carry it deep within them. They wouldn't act hastily. I saved you, and those who are patient would wait until after they've been saved to exact their revenge. Besides, while you may be arrogant, self-righteous, and bloodthirsty, you also have some strength and a bit of conscience. You won't come after me for revenge."
The gold sore medicine was already working, stopping the bleeding. Zhao Che, still cold in his demeanor, asked, "Do you realize that what you've done today is enough to warrant ten executions? You've insulted the royal family."
Chu Qiao smiled and stood up. "No harm done. I've already struck a prince today. What's worse—insulting him twice?"
"Bold!" Zhao Che suddenly stood, his face furious.
"Don't," Chu Qiao said, her voice cold as well. "You should know I'm not an ordinary woman. At full strength, you're no match for me. And now, while you're seriously injured, you certainly aren't. I don't want to hurt you, nor do I want you to hate me."
Zhao Che bared his teeth, muttering, "A bold woman."
"Thank you for the compliment," Chu Qiao replied with a faint smile. She turned toward the stone bridge, calling back loudly, "If you find me wrong, you're quite unlucky to have been bullied. I advise you not to send anyone after me—I won't be easily captured. And if you push me too far, who knows? In the crucial moment, I might just bite back. If I recall, this is the place where the Empress Dowager voted for me. What do you think she'll say if she learns of this event?"
Her crisp voice echoed far into the distance. Standing by the lake, Zhao Che watched her leave, his eyes blazing with fury.
That day, the sun shone brightly, a rare sunny winter afternoon with a gentle cold breeze in the air.
AC Afterthoughts
This chapter reveals much about the emotional turmoil and power struggles Chu Qiao and Yan Xun are facing. Despite their closeness, there is a palpable distance between them, both physically and emotionally. The winter setting mirrors the coldness of their interactions and the looming threat that hangs over Yan Xun. Chu Qiao's stoic nature, her ability to analyze the political situation, and her loyalty to Yan Xun demonstrate her strength and determination, but also the weight of the decisions she is making. The chapter underscores the quiet tension between personal loyalty and the harsh reality of survival in a world of political intrigue.
Yan Xun's internal conflict, hinted at by his reluctance to enter Chu Qiao's room, suggests that despite his power and intelligence, he feels powerless in some ways, especially in matters of the heart. The theme of waiting—both for each other and for a decisive moment—creates a poignant atmosphere that leaves the reader anticipating the next chapter, wondering what choices they will make.
Also it delves into the complex relationship between Chu Qiao and Zhao Che, highlighting themes of power, vulnerability, and survival. Chu Qiao is portrayed as a strong, intelligent, and fearless woman who skillfully navigates the tension with Zhao Che, despite his royal arrogance. She handles his injury with calm authority, subtly defying his threats while demonstrating her sharp wit and pragmatism.
Zhao Che, on the other hand, struggles with his vulnerability, as his attempts to assert control are undermined by his dependence on Chu Qiao. Despite his threats, her calm defiance reveals the shifting power dynamics between them. The chapter also touches on the broader political struggles, with hints of historical conflict between the characters.
The setting in a snowy winter landscape mirrors the cold tension between them, while moments of subtle humor and irony add depth to the interaction. Ultimately, the chapter underscores the precarious balance of life and death in their world, with Chu Qiao's sharp intellect allowing her to thrive in even the most dangerous situations.