After Being Marked by the Eldest Princess, I Got Pregnant with Her Child [Transmigration into a Novel] - Chapter 15

“Ghost Market?”

Song Shujiu stared at the dim, eerie entrance before her, its weathered and peeling sign barely legible, guarded by two sentinels at the door.

Shi Qi stepped forward to pay the fee.

The group entered smoothly, but the ghost market was unnervingly sinister. Did Zhao Kingdom really have such a place?

Yan Chen, veiled and holding an umbrella, walked beside her. Noticing her astonishment, he guessed she had never seen such a place and couldn’t help but explain, “This is an underground black market. Many shady transactions take place here.”

Who would have thought Li Kingdom had infiltrated even here?

“The Grand Tutor and Lü Shao are hiding in this area.”

Shi Qi had tracked them here before losing their trail.

“This place is huge. Digging them out won’t be easy.”

Yan Chen smirked coldly. “No matter. If all else fails, I’ll just burn this filthy place to the ground.”

Better to eliminate the root of trouble once and for all.

Song Shujiu looked around curiously. “Why is everyone wearing masks? I should’ve brought one too.”

The ghost market was a den of underground dealings run by shady figures, most of whom engaged in cruel, inhuman tricks.

Some who entered didn’t want their identities exposed, so they covered their faces with masks or other disguises.

Yan Chen glanced at her. “There’s a vendor ahead. Buy one.”

Song Shujiu walked forward and indeed saw a man in gray robes wearing a wolf-head mask, carrying a bamboo rack laden with scattered ghost masks each one ghastly with green faces and fangs, terrifying to behold.

She picked a red-faced imp mask, feeling quite pleased.

The group pressed onward. Thin mist swirled around them, and eerie blue-green lights flickered intermittently along the streets. Peering through the mask’s eyeholes, Song Shujiu found everything around her twisted and surreal, her mind beginning to reel.

“Are we really going to run into ghosts?”

Yan Chen rapped her lightly on the head and scoffed, “The real monsters are among men. If you’re not afraid of people, why fear ghosts?”

Song Shujiu pouted, looking up abruptly. “But I’m still scared.”

Yan Chen silently extended his arm. Suddenly understanding, she grinned and sidled up to loop her arm through his. No matter how frightening this place was, with Yan Chen beside her, her fear lessened considerably. Only now did she realize he was a martial artist swift, ruthless, and precise. Who would’ve guessed this unassuming man was a hidden master?

Bull-headed and horse-faced figures drifted past as if they were wandering through a parade of demons.

After walking some distance, the group stopped before a shopfront.

Yan Chen’s gaze sharpened as he read the sign. “We’re here.”

The plaque read: Buddha Pavilion.

A place for worshiping Buddha?

Song Shujiu stared at the sign, stunned. How could something as lofty as Buddhism exist in this wretched place?

The juxtaposition of these words in this creepy underground black market felt utterly absurd.

“Invitation tokens.”

The moment Song Shujiu stepped inside, a servant approached, his expression cold but his tone respectful. It was impossible to discern his true intentions.

Yan Chen gave a signal, and Shi Qi stepped forward, producing three square golden tokens from his robe. The servant glanced at them, retreated, and another attendant soon arrived to lead them deeper inside.

After a few steps, Song Shujiu whispered, “This place is so strict.”

“Where are we going?”

The attendant remained silent, like a puppet. After several turns, they arrived at an elegant chamber. Once the door opened and Yan Chen’s group entered, the attendant bowed and left.

After the door closed, Yan Chen took a seat, but Song Shujiu couldn’t sit still, utterly bewildered: “The spies from Li Kingdom are hiding here?”

Yan Chen replied: “Testing the waters.”

“Huh?”

The more she spoke, the less Song Shujiu understood. What was Yan Chen keeping up her sleeve?

Frustrated and confused, Song Shujiu was at a loss. Seeing her bewildered expression, Yan Chen finally chuckled and lightly tapped her forehead: “Don’t rush.”

“There’s a show here. Let’s relax and watch carefully.”

With that, Yan Chen sat down, and Seventeen poured her tea. Song Shujiu, observing this, exclaimed: “So you’re not here to catch anyone?”

Was the Grand Princess here just to watch a show?

In this eerie black market?

Could it possibly be more thrilling than the decadent world of Lanyue Pavilion?

Half an incense stick’s time passed.

Unexpectedly, a crowd began gathering outside. A steady female voice announced: “It’s starting, it’s starting. Everyone, please enter slowly.”

Yan Chen stood and walked to the window, pushing it open. Below, in a vast courtyard illuminated by dim red lanterns, a crowd encircled a square iron cage. Song Shujiu followed and gasped: “This is…”

A fighting arena?

Incredible. Were there monsters here?

Three maids led three robust wolves into the cage.

The wolves stood opposite each other, forming a large triangular formation.

“Since when does the Buddha Pavilion put on acrobatic shows?”

Yan Chen laughed at her naivety: “This is no ordinary performance.”

“Only one of these wolves can win.”

The rest must die.

And—

Yan Chen raised her chin, signaling Song Shujiu to keep watching: “The victims have arrived.”

Three plainly dressed women entered the arena, each standing beside a wolf. One held a sword, another a long whip, their faces ashen.

“Today’s competition: whoever wins first place will receive the Thousand-Mile Journey.”

Song Shujiu was truly astonished. These women, with their slender waists and delicate figures, were participating in such a dangerous event.

The announcer finished speaking and exited the cage. The three women held their breath, and the wolves raised their heads, howling and exhaling white mist. Under the red light, the sight sent shivers down everyone’s spines. One wolf drooled, its eyes filled with raw desire, making Song Shujiu’s legs go weak.

Yan Chen steadied her.

“If only one wolf wins, what happens to the other two?”

Song Shujiu murmured her question just as fireworks exploded in the air. The crowd fell silent, and the grand hall became deathly quiet. From their private booth on the second floor, they had a perfect view of the entire scene below.

Yan Chen narrowed her eyes, a faint smirk playing on her lips.

The three women in the cage immediately brandished their weapons, leading their wolves into a fierce battle within the confined space. A wolf’s sharp claws slashed across a blue-robed woman, leaving a mark on her waist.

The heart-stopping scene drew gasps from the onlookers. Song Shujiu instinctively moved closer to Yan Chen, who glanced at her and teased: “Scared?”

Song Shujiu shrank back: “No, it’s just too cruel.”

Women and wolves, this setup was utterly ruthless, pitting such fragile bodies against such ferocious beasts.

“Save your pity. No one forced them into this.”

Yan Chen said indifferently, “Entering this place means accepting life and death. Those who dare to stand on this stage must have ulterior motives.”

Below the stage, three humans and three wolves fought. Soon, a woman collapsed in a pool of blood while the other two watched with calm eyes, as if observing a stone, before continuing their ruthless knife fight without hesitation. A wolf howled deafeningly after being slashed, its cries shaking the wooden windows on the second floor with creaking tremors.

Song Shujiu clung to Yan Chen’s arm. The wind had picked up, sending a chill through her. As she watched longer, a wave of nausea suddenly rose in her chest.

She turned her face away, struggling to suppress the discomfort. She had been fine this morning, why was her stomach now churning with acid, threatening to bring up last night’s dinner?

Yan Chen frowned. “Are you alright?”

Meeting his dark eyes, Song Shujiu felt slightly embarrassed. “It’s nothing. Probably just not used to this sight.”

Her body had always been strong, never falling ill. Yet now, a visit to the ghost market had unsettled her. Was she getting old?

Wiping her mouth with a handkerchief, she didn’t notice Yan Chen’s gaze lingering on the crimson birthmark behind her left ear, half-hidden by loose strands of hair ethereal and alluring under the lamplight.

Yan Chen studied her for a few seconds before taking her hand in his. “If you don’t want to watch, go sit over there and wait for me.”

Song Shujiu shook her head. “No, I’m fine now.”

She had finally gotten the chance to visit the ghost market, she wasn’t about to sit idly by.

“Ah—!”

Another woman screamed as a wolf tore off her arm. Blood gushed like a fountain, forcing the crowd to stumble back. The severed limb tumbled through the air before crashing to the ground, where a wolf’s paw crushed it into pieces.

The nausea Song Shujiu had barely suppressed surged back. Unable to hold it in, she leaned over the windowsill, coughing violently. Her fair face turned deathly pale as Yan Chen gently patted her back. Her long hair cascaded like a waterfall down her waist, and something flickered in Yan Chen’s eyes. Suddenly, he grasped her wrist, checking her pulse.

Song Shujiu waved him off. “I’m fine…”

Fine?

Yan Chen’s frown deepened. This foolish girl, she probably had no idea.

Supporting her, he let her lean against his chest to steady her ragged breaths and dry heaves.

“Seventeen.”

Seventeen, who had been standing awkwardly to the side, an unneeded presence immediately stepped forward. “Understood.”

Downstairs, two humans had fallen to the wolves, leaving the remaining three beasts with a common enemy.

Three wolves against one woman.

The woman moved with agility, her masked face darting across the arena, evading the wolves’ relentless attacks without faltering.

Surrounded by the snarling pack, her sword snapped. In a flash, she drew a curved blade from her sleeve, its edge glinting coldly under the crimson lantern light.

Her goal was clear and kill the wolves, claim victory, and win the legendary steed capable of traveling thousands of miles in a day. Determination burned in her eyes.

Seventeen leaped down, gripping her sword hilt tightly as she watched the masked woman fight.

One wolf fell. The woman’s hair was disheveled, her shoulder torn by bloody claw marks. Panting heavily, her mask splattered with wolf’s blood, she stood amid the thick stench of death and suffocating tension.

The remaining two wolves, enraged by their companion’s demise, lunged at the yellow-robed woman with even greater ferocity.

A chill flashed through Seventeen’s eyes as he watched to see how much longer she could hold out.

Inside the room, Yan Chen carefully helped Song Shujiu sit down on the divan.

He poured her a cup of water to soothe her throat.

“Soon, I will take you back.”

Song Shujiu was flustered by the unexpected favor since when did Yan Chen wait on her? She hurriedly stood up, smiling brightly. “It’s fine, I’m not that delicate. I can do it myself.”

She even wanted to pour water and fetch pastries for Yan Chen, she couldn’t bear to let him do such menial tasks.

Song Shujiu believed that if she loved someone, she had to take care of them in every way possible. She absolutely couldn’t let her momentary weakness burden Yan Chen with trivial chores.

“Your hands are fair and delicate, far too refined for this. Rest, let me serve you instead.”

Come to think of it, Yan Chen had been out with her for so long without drinking a single drop of water. How could the esteemed Eldest Princess, the emperor’s own sister, endure such hardship?

Song Shujiu reached into her sleeve and pulled out a small box, opening it before presenting it to Yan Chen.

“Here.”

Yan Chen was taken aback. “What is it?”

This girl even now, she was thinking of him. His heart trembled.

“Candy.”

“Last time, I noticed you had the servants add extra sugar to your lotus seed and red date porridge. So when I went to the market a couple of days ago, I bought a box specially for you.”

Song Shujiu gazed at him, her eyes soft and sincere. “I actually wanted to make malt candy for you myself using a recipe, but well, I’m still practicing. Once I get it right, I’ll give you some homemade sweets.”

She scratched her head sheepishly. It was embarrassing, she had tried to DIY candies for Yan Chen, but her clumsy hands couldn’t even shape them properly.

Unwrapping the yellow candy paper, she revealed a square piece of golden ginger candy, its sweet fragrance wafting through the air. She held it closer to Yan Chen. “I checked this shop beforehand they have an excellent reputation.”

She brought the candy to his lips, but Yan Chen simply stared at her intently. Song Shujiu had noticed even his preference for sweets? He always had extra sugar added to his lotus seed soup out of habit, something he never gave much thought to. Yet she had remembered.

Song Shujiu blinked her almond-shaped eyes, growing anxious when he didn’t open his mouth. “You don’t like this flavor?”

She had chosen a citrus variety sweet with a hint of tartness, melting instantly on the tongue. Why wasn’t he taking it?

Leaning in, she threatened playfully, “If you don’t open your mouth, I’ll chew it and shove it in myself.”

Yan Chen watched her, then grasped her wrist gently. Lowering his head, he took the candy into his mouth. Seeing him accept it, Song Shujiu’s heart swelled with inexplicable joy.

She grinned, but a sudden dizziness washed over her. Staggering backward, she collapsed onto the divan. Yan Chen reacted swiftly, catching her before she fell.

“I don’t know what’s wrong with me today, maybe I’m coming down with a cold.”

This constant lightheadedness wasn’t normal.

Her chest felt tight, a wave of heat rising within her.

Yan Chen asked, “Are you unwell?”

Song Shujiu’s face flushed. She leaned back against the high pillows as Yan Chen bent over her, his pearl hairpin and dangling ornaments brushing against her shoulder, casting swaying shadows.

“I’ll be fine after some rest. Don’t you have other matters to attend to?”

Hadn’t Yan Chen brought her to the Ghost Market to track down Shaoli Kingdom spies?

“There were matters before. Now, there’s something else.”

His words were growing more cryptic, confusing her further.

Song Shujiu noticed the faint curve of his lips as one hand settled at her waist, slowly trailing upward. Through the thin gauze of her robe, every deliberate stroke of Yan Chen’s slender fingers sent shivers straight to her heart.

Song Shujiu suddenly grew uneasy as Yan Chen’s hand came to rest on her abdomen, gently caressing. She turned her face away, wanting to squirm the sensation was too strange, and her ears began to burn.

But Yan Chen held her firmly in place, not allowing the slightest movement. Leaning down, she kissed her, the half-melted candy slipping into Song Shujiu’s mouth, the sweet-tart citrus flavor flooding straight to her heart.

“Citrus helps with dizziness,” Yan Chen murmured.

She lifted her head, watching Song Shujiu, she had eaten her candy and liked it.

Now, the woman beneath her was flushed, her breathing uneven as Yan Chen’s hand trailed lower. Song Shujiu arched slightly, knees bending, struggling for air. Yan Chen’s fingers, no longer cool but warm, pressed in deliberately and Song Shujiu gasped, whispering, “Outside the window.”

It wasn’t closed.

Yan Chen chuckled, tapping the wall twice with her fingers. Song Shujiu flinched, it tickled.

“Then you’ll have to keep quiet,” Yan Chen teased, winking. If anyone heard, she wouldn’t be responsible for shooing them away.

“Relax,” Yan Chen murmured, slipping a finger deeper. Song Shujiu bit her lip. “I just need to lie down for a bit.”

Yan Chen studied the swelling scent of wisteria at Song Shujiu’s left ear, the pheromones gathering thickly. It had been over a month.

Song Shujiu’s body was far too sensitive. Cradling her head in the crook of her arm, Yan Chen pressed deeper into the scorching heat. “Seventeen never fails.”

Her shadow guards were hidden in the dark. The young strategist thought herself clever, but she’d forgotten this was Yan Chen’s territory.

She had come to compete in the Buddha Pavilion’s tournament, hoping to win the prized blood-sweating steed and slip away unnoticed.

Yan Chen wouldn’t let her leave so easily.

Watching Song Shujiu tremble, lips quivering, slick coating Yan Chen’s fingers, the air thick with mingled wisteria and poppy—the entire room drowned in a floral haze. Wordless desire tangled their hair as Yan Chen yanked out the hairpins in her way, guiding Song Shujiu to kneel, hands gripping the railing.

Outside, the howls of wolves pierced the night, the dull thuds of blades meeting flesh, the crowd’s stunned cheers rising in waves.

Seventeen watched the woman who had slain three wolves, her sword sheath shifting slightly. She had won’t but at the cost of most of her strength.

Escaping on the legendary steed wouldn’t be so simple.

Behind her mask, the strategist surveyed the bloodied arena, her own robes splattered. Yan Chen had discovered her, she couldn’t stay in Zhao much longer.

The Ten-Thousand-Mile Steed was a rare treasure.

With it, her chances of leaving Zhao undetected would rise.

Sheathing her blade, she tensed as the Buddha Pavilion’s doors unlocked then a sword’s wind sliced from above. She jerked her head up a masked woman in black, blade flashing, lunged straight for her.

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