The Eldest Princess is Always Feigning Poverty and Weakness - Chapter 12

“There is no need to trouble yourself, Miss. My fever has already broken,” Qi Luyao said, adding for emphasis, “Drinking too much medicine might actually be counterproductive.”

Wen Ningzhou tested Qi Luyao’s forehead with the back of her hand once more, comparing it to her own temperature before finally letting the matter drop. “Alright, no more medicine then. I’ll go brew a bowl of ginseng soup instead.”

“No, no, really, there’s no need,” Qi Luyao repeated three times in a row. She slowly propped herself up, leaning against the headboard with some difficulty. “I am grateful for your rescue, but I have already intruded enough today. I don’t want to cause you any more toil.”

Wen Ningzhou pursed her lips and offered a soft smile. The candlelight danced across her face, casting a gentle glow on her delicate skin and lending her an air of shy prettiness.

“It’s no trouble at all. I’m just glad you’re alright.”

In the end, the ginseng soup wasn’t made because Qi Luyao looked truly exhausted. Her face bore the marks of fatigue, and she couldn’t stop herself from yawning.

For Wen Ningzhou, this day had felt like a dream—the most harrowing experience she’d had since arriving in this world. It was far more draining than tricking Chen Changqing into leaving.

Living here alone had been peaceful and leisurely; in just half a month, the name Chen Changqing and the man himself already felt like distant memories.

She hoped she would never have to deal with him again.

With her slight frame and thin limbs, a full day of rushing about had left Wen Ningzhou weary as well. “I’ll go boil some sugar water then. I was in such a rush earlier that I didn’t get a chance to make any.”

“It’ll be ready quickly. Drink some sugar water and then you can rest.”

Qi Luyao’s eyes brightened slightly. Though she tried not to show it, she stopped declining the offer. A faint, expectant curve appeared at the corner of her mouth as she said reservedly, “I am troubling you once again, Miss.”

Wen Ningzhou waved a hand dismissively. “It’s no trouble.” She flashed a bright smile at Qi Luyao. “And you know, being called ‘Miss’ actually sounds quite nice.”

With that, she took a candle to light her way and turned to head out of the bedroom.

Qi Luyao leaned against the bedpost, momentarily dazed by that smile. Then, she let out a shallow smile of her own, feeling a rare sense of ease and relaxation.

The bedroom door was considerately closed to keep the draft out. Qi Luyao stared at the door in a daze; the woman she had encountered was kind and beautiful.

Living alone in these mountains, the girl’s dress and speech were somewhat unusual. She would even intentionally pin her hair into a matron’s bun when going out. From their brief interaction, Qi Luyao guessed that she was living here for some hidden reason of her own.

However, Qi Luyao didn’t intend to pry. She had been saved by Wen Ningzhou, and that was a debt of gratitude. Similarly, Wen Ningzhou didn’t seem interested in digging into Qi Luyao’s identity; her motive for saving her was much simpler.

To Wen Ningzhou, she was an outsider, a mere passerby. Qi Luyao might be an “NPC” in her eyes, but she was a living, breathing person in this world.

Meeting was a stroke of fate; there was no need to uncover every secret. They were simply travelers meeting in a foreign land.

As Qi Luyao regained her clarity, she realized Wen Ningzhou hadn’t even asked for her name. Clearly, the girl had no intention of keeping her there long-term; once the injuries healed, she would be sent on her way.

Meanwhile, Wen Ningzhou was adding firewood to the stove. She boiled a large pot of water—some for the sugar water and the rest for washing up. She desperately needed to wash her face and soak her feet; the scent of the medicinal dregs she’d smeared on her face earlier was so strong it was making her head swim.

In Wen Ningzhou’s heart, Qi Luyao’s current status wasn’t even as high as her chicken, Hongzhong. She wasn’t even on par with the crooked persimmon tree by the door, “Montesquieu.” At least the tree had a name.

In Wen Ningzhou’s little courtyard, everything she valued had its own name.

Qi Luyao didn’t have one. Therefore, she was a guest—to be treated with courtesy, but not to stay forever.

Once the sugar water was ready, Qi Luyao drank it down, feeling thoroughly satisfied. Wen Ningzhou gave her some water to rinse her mouth, and then it was time for bed.

There was only one bed in the house, and the wardrobe held no extra blankets. There were only two quilts in total, one of which had been soiled by Chen Changqing’s vomit, and Wen Ningzhou hadn’t cleaned it yet.

“Alright, time for sleep,” Wen Ningzhou said. “After a good night’s rest, you’ll feel better tomorrow.”

Qi Luyao slid slowly into the covers, the quilt hiding the lower half of her face. Only her eyes remained visible clear, upright, and framed by heroic brows.

She didn’t possess the delicate look of a typical “maiden from a humble family.” Her features were bold and striking; when she smiled, it was like a spring breeze, but when she was angry, she looked as sharp as a blade encased in ice, carrying a natural aura of authority.

Now, huddled under the covers and ready for bed, she seemed almost like a child. Her voice was soft, bordering on a pout. “Where will you sleep?”

Wen Ningzhou marveled once again at the perfection of these “digital people.” If this face existed in the modern world, she would be an unstoppable force in the entertainment industry—the kind of beauty that was practically a gift from the gods.

“The patient gets priority,” Wen Ningzhou said. “You go ahead and sleep.”

Qi Luyao understood then. There was likely only one bed, and she was occupying the host’s only sleeping spot.

“My injuries are no longer a problem.” Qi Luyao wanted to leave immediately. she had already caused enough trouble and couldn’t take the girl’s only bed. She thought about summoning the Qilin Guards to escort her away tonight.

But she worried that the fierce appearance of the guards might terrify the girl, who looked so frail and lived all alone.

Feeling apologetic, Qi Luyao was about to bid her farewell when Wen Ningzhou stopped her from tossing back the covers. “What are you doing? Just stay lying down. I have a place to sleep.”

“The doctor said the first night after an injury is the most dangerous. We can’t have you catching a fever or falling into a coma from a drop in temperature.” Wen Ningzhou now viewed Dr. Chen as a miracle worker and followed his instructions to the letter.

Sitting by the bedside, Wen Ningzhou tucked the corners of the quilt in with a maternal tenderness and whispered, “Go to sleep.”

“I’ll sleep once you’re out,” Wen Ningzhou added. “It would be a real problem if you started running a fever and no one noticed.”

“What if you turn into a dummy from the fever?”

She spoke with a glimmer of a smile, her bright eyes curved with genuine kindness.

Qi Luyao wavered.

She wanted to stay here. She wanted to trouble her for just one more night.

After all… what if she traveled through the night and caught a fever? The secret guards might not notice. What if she really did turn into a dummy?

She found a self-consistent logic to justify staying, completely ignoring the legendary efficiency of her guards and the fact that she had access to the realm’s actual top physicians.

Ultimately, Qi Luyao convinced herself and stayed, feeling quite content.

After telling Qi Luyao to sleep, Wen Ningzhou rummaged through her wardrobe for all her padded jackets and cloaks. In the last half month, she had hoarded quite a few winter supplies. She had bought the fabric and sewn the cloaks and jackets herself.

Her needlework hadn’t been great at first, and her early creations were a bit clunky, but since she only wore them for chores, she didn’t mind. She was a quick learner, and her later cloaks had neat stitching and even a bit of embroidery.

There were only two large chairs. One was being used to bar the door. She quietly moved the remaining chair to the bedside, then curled herself up on it, wrapping her body in a thick cloak and tucking her head against her knees.

Exhausted, Qi Luyao fell asleep before long. However, she was a light sleeper. Every half hour or so, she would feel a pair of slightly cool hands gently rest on her forehead to check her temperature.

Wen Ningzhou was terrified that Qi Luyao would develop a fever. Even without medical training, she had enough common sense to know that major wounds could easily become infected. Moreover, medicine in this era felt a bit like a dark art—it could stop bleeding instantly, but she wasn’t sure if it could actually kill bacteria.

Because her hands were cold, Wen Ningzhou would rub them together to warm them up before each check. Lacking a thermometer, she relied on manual measurement. Fearing an error, she would check several times if the temperature felt even slightly off.

Every time she did this, Qi Luyao knew. She kept her eyes closed, pretending to be deep in sleep, but she couldn’t help but smile inwardly at Wen Ningzhou’s sleepless dedication.

Late into the night.

As Wen Ningzhou reached out once more, Qi Luyao slowly opened her eyes and gently caught her wrist. “Go to sleep. It’s very late.”

“I won’t catch a fever,” Qi Luyao said softly. “The doctor’s medicine was very effective. I am in no danger.”

Her voice was steady and her eyes were clear, showing no signs of delirium. Wen Ningzhou blinked. “You weren’t asleep? Or did I wake you up?”

“I was asleep,” Qi Luyao replied. “I just woke up suddenly.”

Wen Ningzhou understood. Since she’d had medicine and water before bed, a midnight wake-up call made sense. “Do you need to… get up?”

She found the topic a bit awkward and looked away. She had a strange feeling that a perfect “digital person” shouldn’t need to use the bathroom.

“There isn’t a… a chamber pot in the room,” Wen Ningzhou said, feeling the awkwardness peak.

She continued, “If you need to do… that, I can help you outside. Just put on a coat before you get up.”

A smile played on Qi Luyao’s lips, clearly amused by the girl’s bashfulness. “I don’t need to get up. I just wanted to tell you to sleep.”

The bed had originally been prepared as a wedding bed for Chen Changqing, built by the village carpenter. It wasn’t exceptionally wide, but it was more than enough for two women.

“Alright, then I’ll sleep. I won’t bother you anymore,” Wen Ningzhou said, realizing only after the words left her mouth how suggestive they sounded.

Qi Luyao automatically moved toward the inner side of the bed, leaving the outer space empty. Her meaning was clear. “Come sleep here.”

“This is your bed. It isn’t right for me to sleep while you sit. Won’t you sleep on the outside?” Qi Luyao asked.

Seeing Qi Luyao’s persistence, Wen Ningzhou didn’t dally further. She kicked off her shoes and climbed onto the bed.

She settled at the opposite end from Qi Luyao. “I’ll sleep over here. I don’t know if I’m a restless sleeper; it would be terrible if I accidentally hit your wound.”

And so, the two of them lay on the same bed, but at opposite ends, sharing the space for the night.

“The bed is so warm where you were lying. It feels wonderful,” Wen Ningzhou’s voice drifted through the darkness. The candles were out, and the moonlight filtered through the paper windows, casting a hazy glow.

“So comfortable… goodnight,” she murmured, her head snuggling into her makeshift pillow.

The pillow was something she’d put together on the spot a padded jacket folded into a square with a cloak draped over it. It was soft and just the right height.

“Mm,” Qi Luyao responded. Her voice sounded like moonlight falling on fresh snow.

Wen Ningzhou moved her legs toward the edge, careful not to crowd her guest. “Well then, goodnight Wan’an!”

Caught up in Wen Ningzhou’s cheerful mood, Qi Luyao felt an inexplicable sense of happiness and relaxation. She didn’t quite catch the meaning of the phrase at first. “Hmm?”

“It means… have a good dream,” Wen Ningzhou explained with a laugh in her voice.

Qi Luyao repeated the words carefully. “Then, goodnight.”

She mimicked Wen Ningzhou’s phrasing perfectly, even adopting her lively tone.

Outside, the cold wind howled, and the first snow since Wen Ningzhou’s arrival began to fall quietly.

The mud-brick walls, the fragile window paper, and the old wooden door stood against the frost, boxing in a small, warm world.

The two slept soundly, tucked tightly into the quilts. In the backyard, the chickens Xiaotiao, Banban, and Hongzhong huddled in their shed. Little Five through Little Eleven slept in their new nest in the kitchen’s woodpile.

And in front of the house, Montesquieu the tree stood proud and reckless, swaying its bare branches in the wind.

Support The Eldest Princess is Always Feigning Poverty and Weakness