How Can I Yield to the Traitor! - Chapter 4

Qi Zhan had no idea that Xie Gebai was currently cursing him in his head. To stay alive, he had already begun a new day of role-playing, accompanied by his daily ritual of cursing his own “father.”

He ate a warm meal, washed off the layers of makeup from his face, and went to sleep peacefully. With Lu Xun vouching for him, his identity felt more secure than ever. He actually felt a bit of pity for Xie Gebai; the man didn’t have a single reliable person by his side. Lu Xun knew Qi Zhan was a trap, yet didn’t utter a word of warning.

The previous day had been a high-speed survival race, an emotional roller coaster, and consequently, he slept very soundly that night.

When he woke in the morning, he let Fu’an fuss over him, applying makeup and styling his hair into a bun. Looking at his reflection in the mirror, he recalled the memories of the original owner that had flooded his mind the night before. The details from childhood to adulthood felt so real it made him daze, as if he had truly lived through those events himself.

The original owner’s mother was a songstress a lowly musician in the Qi Palace who was taken by the King because of her beauty. After giving birth to Qi Zhan, her health withered, and she passed away within a few years.

Qi Zhan had grown up within these palace walls under difficult circumstances. However, the difficulty wasn’t physical; he was a prince, after all, and never lacked food or water. The hardship was psychological he was constantly looked down upon by his brothers and ignored by his father. As the Emperor grew older and more suspicious, fearing his other sons might move against him, he named Qi Zhan the Crown Prince. When the nation was on the brink of collapse, rather than resisting, the old man shoved the throne onto Qi Zhan and fled.

It was much like the novel, but experiencing the plot personally felt entirely different from reading it. Qi Zhan was genuinely impressed by the “Old Dog’s” audacity.

In his youth, the old King of Qi had been a formidable sovereign, conquering Chu and Wu, ruling with an iron fist, and commanding the submission of the surrounding tribes. But age had turned him into a senile, muddled fool who favored corrupt officials, leading to the kingdom’s decay. The sins of his youth were finally being repaid.

While he was muddled, other nations had been diligent. His sons were more poisonous than the last how else could they have bullied their own younger brother so relentlessly? They were both cruel and incompetent.

This world was in chaos; countries were small, and wars were frequent. While they called it “nation against nation,” it was really just warlords fighting amongst themselves. The one with the strongest army and the fattest horses became the Son of Heaven. The birth and death of a kingdom seemed as casual as an overnight event. There were also regimes established by ethnic minorities, such as the House of Yuwen in the Kingdom of Yan.

Even if Xie Gebai broke into the Qi Kingdom, he could only slaughter to vent his rage; he couldn’t truly occupy it. There were too many enemies waiting like vultures for the old King of Qi to die so they could feast on his remains. Qi had occupied the lands of Wu and Chu the rich, fertile lands of the south. It was a piece of meat everyone wanted a bite of.

This era was savage. Massacres were common, and everyone had experienced the fall of a nation. Outside, it was a world of cannibals, where famine and plague followed the steel of war. And here he was, soul-transmigrated without a single “gold finger” or cheat code. A catastrophic start: opening his eyes to a fallen kingdom.

Because survival was so difficult in this world, beauty had become a rare, extreme luxury. The original owner was only eighteen and hadn’t fully matured; his naturally beautiful face and sharp features made him look quite convincing as a woman.

He was truly living off his face. Southern scholars were already used to wearing powder and rouge, so Qi Zhan figured he might as well go along with it. He didn’t want to die, so he had to make do.

He ate some porridge and flatbread while contemplating how to keep deceiving Xie Gebai. More importantly, he needed to learn horse riding and archery. The original owner knew these skills, but he didn’t. What if muscle memory didn’t kick in?

Yesterday, he had concluded that Xie Gebai was destined to be alone forever. The man’s opening line was pure “PUA” (pick-up artist/manipulation) tactics: “You are also of Chu, yet you submit to a traitor.”

What a joke. Even if Chu fell when the real Chu Duruo was only two, even if she were a grown princess, she would have just been part of a “peace marriage” bundle. There was no “submitting” involved; her own sister had been sent away for that very purpose.

Qi Zhan could finally feel the kind of mental poisoning women faced in this era. Did Xie Gebai really think that just because he didn’t kill someone during an invasion, they would immediately want to marry him? What a terrifying “straight man.” No wonder he stayed a virgin until the day he died. Truly a formidable level of social incompetence.

Qi Zhan knew that the moment his identity was exposed, the man wouldn’t be flirting with him; he would be chopping him into eighteen pieces. He didn’t underestimate the man’s hatred for Qi. After all, he was the King of Qi.

Alas, when one is under another’s roof, one must bow.

It didn’t matter if his feminine disguise was a bit “off.” What mattered was that Xie Gebai continued to brainwash himself. If the General ever truly woke up and hardened his heart, no disguise would save him.

Fortunately, the current Xie Gebai had no time for “sadistic love” games. He had received news of the old King’s location, reorganized his troops, and charged out with his men.

Qi Zhan enjoyed a few days of relative comfort. He spent his time wandering the palace. Logically, every royal palace should have a secret passage, but there were none in the original owner’s memory. He suspected the “Old Dog” had never told him because of the strict rules and the fact that he was largely ignored.

However, he couldn’t be too obvious about his search. Even with Xie Gebai gone, the palace was full of his men, and Lu Xun wasn’t the only one there. If anyone grew suspicious or ill-intentioned, he was done for.

He could only maintain the persona of the cold and noble Consort Chen, seemingly wandering the palace at random. Following behind him was Xie Gebai’s personal guard, Luo Shu.

Xie Gebai was actually quite generous toward this “found” Chu Princess. Her food, clothing, and housing were all of the highest quality. He had even assigned a high-level guard to protect her—which also meant he couldn’t escape.

Qi Zhan began to try and charm this guard, striking up casual conversations. He wanted to know Xie Gebai’s movements and the state of the world outside. Fu’an had grown up in the palace and was as clueless as he was.

Luo Shu didn’t dare say much, but when a beauty confessed her fears to him, it was hard not to offer some comfort. “Lady, do not worry. Our General has never had a wife or concubines. He treats you differently; he certainly won’t let you fall back into the chaos of the world.”

Qi Zhan stopped and looked at him. “His ‘different treatment’ is like capturing a rare bird or beast. If it were any other beauty, it would be the same. There is no difference.”

Luo Shu didn’t dare respond. The General’s thoughts were not for him to speculate on. They were originally retainers and “death-sworn” warriors of the Xie family; they would never betray their master’s secrets to an outsider.

Qi Zhan skillfully shifted the topic. His goal wasn’t a heart-to-heart with Luo Shu. “This palace is so empty, and after such a change, my heart is in turmoil. Could I ride your horse for a bit? Back in the palace, I loved playing polo. It’s truly stifling here.”

Because Qi Zhan was playing the role of a Chu Princess, he wasn’t treated like a common captive beauty. He wasn’t subjected to lewd gazes or harassment; he was even treated with a degree of etiquette. Of course, this was only because he had a guard with him. If he didn’t, he wouldn’t even dare step out of his room.

“This—” Luo Shu was a bit hesitant. However, his horse was well-trained and would return at a single whistle. This beauty had been pleasant to talk to, so letting her ride wouldn’t hurt. “Fine, but only in the palace stables. We don’t have enough female attendants here to organize a polo match.”

“That’s fine. Just being able to ride is enough,” Qi Zhan said quickly. He wanted to test his equestrian skills and see if the body had any muscle memory.

Luo Shu led over his mount, a spirited brown warhorse. Qi Zhan took a deep breath, recalling the feeling of mounting a horse from the original owner’s memories. He tentatively stepped into the stirrup and swung himself over the movement was surprisingly fluid. Though a bit stiff, the body seemed to retain its instincts, and he sat firmly in the saddle.

His heart settled slightly. He nudged the horse’s flanks, and it began to trot. The wind brushed past his ears, bringing a long-lost sense of freedom. He trotted a few laps around the field, gradually regaining his confidence. The original owner’s riding skills were indeed quite good; this body had a solid foundation.

“The Lady has excellent riding skills,” Luo Shu praised from the sidelines. The way this Chu Princess handled the horse held a hint of heroism, unlike the fragility of typical palace women.

Qi Zhan gave a modest smile but said nothing. In his heart, he was calculating. Being able to ride wasn’t enough; he needed to see if he could handle high speeds. A horse has to run, after all! He shook the reins, gave a low shout, and kicked his legs hard!

The warhorse, feeling the sting, gave a long neigh and suddenly accelerated into a wild gallop!

“Lady!” Luo Shu was startled. He hadn’t expected her to accelerate so suddenly and quickly spurred his own horse to follow.

Qi Zhan leaned low, feeling the violent jolting and the pressure of the wind. His heart hammered against his ribs. The thrill and fear of high speed intertwined. He tried to recall control techniques, attempting to make the horse turn or slow down.

However, it seemed his muscle memory ended there. Fine control at high speeds was a world away from a casual trot. He felt himself losing control; the reins became slippery in his hands, and the saddle felt like it was trying to throw him.

Just as he was flailing and nearly being thrown off, Luo Shu caught up and rode alongside him, shouting instructions: “Relax! Pull the reins tighter! Let your body rise and fall with the horse! Yes, like that!”

Qi Zhan followed the advice. His panicked heart calmed slightly, and he managed to regain control, gradually slowing the horse down until it stopped at the edge of the field. His back was drenched in a cold sweat, and his breathing was ragged.

“Please forgive me, Lady. It was my oversight,” Luo Shu apologized, though he found it strange. This woman had been decisive when starting the gallop, like a pro, but her control at high speeds was clumsy and awkward as if she hadn’t ridden in a very long time.

Qi Zhan calmed his breathing and waved a hand, feigning composure. “It’s nothing. I haven’t ridden in a long while and have grown out of practice. This is a good horse.”

He couldn’t try again; overdoing it would lead to exposure. It seemed he would have to find chances to practice his riding and archery in secret he couldn’t rely on muscle memory alone.

Over the next few days, Qi Zhan was much more subdued. He only walked near his own courtyard or gazed out the window, looking like a woman mourning her fallen country, while secretly observing the guard rotations and potential weak points in the palace security. Luo Shu remained a dutiful, silent shadow.

During this time, Lu Xun visited once, bringing new dresses and jewelry, saying they were ordered by the General. Qi Zhan thanked him and tried to fish for information regarding Xie Gebai’s pursuit of the old King.

Lu Xun was more talkative than Luo Shu but kept his lips sealed on the details, only saying vaguely: “The General uses troops like a god; news of victory should arrive soon. Rest easy here, Princess; he will not let you suffer further displacement.”

The look in Lu Xun’s eyes was a complex mix of emotions. He seemed to genuinely believe that the General keeping this fallen princess was an act of mercy. In reality, one was a strategist who was actually a spy, and the other was a “woman” who was actually the King of Qi. Both were full of schemes, yet they performed their roles perfectly on the surface.

Qi Zhan sneered inwardly, but outwardly he showed a touch of fragility and dependence: “Thank you for your care, Mr. Lu. I only wonder when the General will return? This palace is lonely, and with no familiar faces around me, I am afraid.”

Lu Xun comforted him: “Soon, soon. If the Princess has any needs, just tell the servants or inform Luo Shu.”

After seeing Lu Xun off, Qi Zhan’s heart grew heavier. Xie Gebai was coming back? His time was running out. He still had no lead on a secret passage, his riding skills were mediocre at best, and even if he got out, what then? How could a “woman” survive in this chaotic world?

Two days later, at dusk, a sudden clamor arose outside the palace, followed by the heavy, rhythmic sound of marching feet and the clashing of armor. Qi Zhan was having dinner when his heart skipped a beat.

Fu’an ran in frantically: “Sovereign, it’s bad! Gen—General Xie is back! He’s already entered the palace!”

So soon?! He forced himself to stay calm and set down his utensils. “If he’s back, he’s back. Why the panic?”

Despite his words, his heart was racing. Xie Gebai was back. Was it a triumph? Or…? What had happened to the old King?

Before he could figure it out, a cold, murderous aura approached. The footsteps stopped outside the hall, and a tall silhouette blocked out the remaining light from the sky.

Xie Gebai had not yet removed his black armor. He was travel-worn, and dark brown stains could be seen on the plates of his armor. His face bore the dust and fatigue of the road, but his eyes were as sharp as a hawk’s, sweeping across the hall before locking onto Qi Zhan.

His gaze was colder and deeper than when he had left, carrying a pressure like a predator eyeing its prey.

Qi Zhan felt a chill run down his spine. He stood up and performed a slight curtsy as dictated by etiquette, lowering his eyes and trying to keep his voice steady and soft: “General… you have returned.”

Xie Gebai didn’t speak immediately. He walked into the hall step by step, his boots thudding heavily against the floor tiles—each sound like a hammer blow to Qi Zhan’s heart. He stopped a few paces away from Qi Zhan, his gaze slowly scanning him from head to toe.