The Eldest Princess is Always Feigning Poverty and Weakness - Chapter 14

From the look in Qi Luyao’s eyes, Wen Ningzhou could clearly read her blatant resistance toward taking her medicine.

“There isn’t another bowl, it’s all gone,” Wen Ningzhou laughed. “Here, this is for you a sugar man.”

Wen Ningzhou held a chopstick with a round, caramel-colored blob stuck to the top. She called it a “sugar man,” but it was actually a drawing of Doraemon.

Since Qi Luyao wouldn’t recognize it anyway, Wen Ningzhou drew the cartoon character she was most familiar with. The round little blue robot was easy to draw and allowed for plenty of sugar.

Qi Luyao took it, her eyes sparkling. “Where did this come from?”

“Just eat it. The shape isn’t important. Taste it and see if it’s sweet?”

Qi Luyao had never eaten a sugar man and wasn’t quite sure how to proceed. She placed it carefully in her mouth, and with a crisp crunch, half of the blue robot’s head vanished.

“It’s very sweet.” She crunched again, biting off the other half of the head.

In the blink of an eye, only the bottom half of the sugar man remained. Wen Ningzhou asked, “You eat so fast! Isn’t it overwhelmingly sweet to eat so much at once?”

Qi Luyao paused her chewing for a moment, then quickly resumed her “lofty flower” demeanor. She slowly and elegantly brushed a finger across the corner of her lips, acting very composed.

“I have never eaten one before,” Qi Luyao admitted frankly, then repeated, “It is very good. Very sweet.”

She was such a cold and aloof person, yet she clearly had a sweet tooth.

Wen Ningzhou smiled. “Then tonight, after you finish your medicine, I’ll make you another one.”

“Will it be a trouble to you?” Qi Luyao asked with extreme politeness, though the anticipation in her eyes was practically overflowing.

Wen Ningzhou saw right through her and said brightly, “Not at all. It’s easy to make. I just melt some sugar into syrup and drizzle it onto a plate to draw.”

“There’s another one in the kitchen. You can have that one at lunch,” Wen Ningzhou added. “You shouldn’t eat them all at once, or you’ll get tired of them. Plus, it’s bad for your teeth.”

Qi Luyao wanted to say she would never get tired of them, but she only managed a reserved, “Aren’t you having any?”

“I don’t have to drink the medicine,” Wen Ningzhou replied. “The sugar is for the patient.”

“I told you, I have a healer’s heart. You really are super lucky to have met such a considerate barefoot doctor like me.” Having someone to talk to always made Wen Ningzhou want to joke around.

Wen Ningzhou guessed that Qi Luyao probably came from a very difficult background. In this unknown era, she was a woman dressed in men’s clothing and had suffered such a grievous injury. She must have been driven to desperation, perhaps jumping off a cliff, only to end up in these desolate mountains.

She hadn’t even eaten a sugar man before.

Wen Ningzhou had seen people selling sugar men and candied haws at the market; they didn’t seem expensive, and she saw plenty of children eating them.

Everyone has secrets and their own hardships. This person must have had a very miserable past.

Wen Ningzhou softened her voice. She thought she was making a motherly expression, but it was actually filled with gentle care. “Biting it makes the sweetness too intense. Just let it sit in your mouth and melt slowly; the sweetness will last longer that way.”

Qi Luyao followed her advice, leaning against the headboard and eating the sugar man politely. Holding the chopstick and licking the candy to taste the sweetness made her look somewhat well-behaved.

The snow fell all night, and the temperature in the mountains plummeted. Wen Ningzhou tucked her hands into her sleeves, unwilling to expose them to the cold.

Mountain paths were rugged to begin with, and the snow made travel even more difficult. Since Wen Ningzhou rarely went out anyway, she had hoarded plenty of food like a squirrel preparing for winter.

Everything was stored in the kitchen; cured meat, chicken, and fish were salted and hung by the window frame to dry, while vegetables were kept in the cupboard.

She didn’t have the courage to put things in the cellar. One trip down there had been enough—it smelled of damp earth and something slightly fishy. She was constantly worried there might be earthworms in the mud.

The entire mountain range was covered in white. When she opened the main door, the vast expanse of white reflecting the sunlight was slightly blinding.

Wen Ningzhou went out to shovel the snow. Since Qi Luyao couldn’t leave the bed, she leaned against the headboard eating her sugar, waiting for her to return.

Qi Luyao felt regretful that she couldn’t help. Wen Ningzhou, being perceptive, naturally noticed this and changed the subject. “Do you like the snow?”

Do I like the snow? Qi Luyao didn’t particularly like or dislike it. Her feelings toward most things and people were lukewarm, let alone natural phenomena like wind, frost, rain, or snow.

But seeing Wen Ningzhou’s enthusiastic look, she said, “I like it.”

Wen Ningzhou used a wooden shovel to clear the area in front of the door, preventing melted snow from making the house damp. She also cleared a small path about half a meter wide in the courtyard.

By the time she finished, a thin layer of sweat had formed on her back. The sunlight was quite warm on her skin, but the temperature remained low, and the snow showed no sign of melting.

She went to the backyard to settle Hongzhong and the others, then fed Little Eleven and the rest of the brood. The chicks were huddled together in the woodpile, shivering from the cold.

After taking care of all the little creatures, Wen Ningzhou used the clean top layer of snow to build a tiny snowman. She used the tan paper from the medicine packets to fold a small triangular hat.

Dry twigs became arms and buttons, and she pressed two peanuts into the upper sphere for eyes. Lacking a carrot for a nose, Wen Ningzhou picked up a chicken feather dropped by Banban and stuck it in the middle of the snowman’s face.

The snowman was very small. Wen Ningzhou cradled it in both hands and pushed the bedroom door open with her body.

“Look, snow!” Like she was presenting a treasure, Wen Ningzhou held the snowman up to Qi Luyao. “Is it cute? Do you like it?”

Stuck indoors, Qi Luyao was looking at the most adorable snow imaginable. Her features softened unconsciously. “I like it. It’s very cute.”

Living alone in the mountains, Wen Ningzhou didn’t have much work to do. She had no farmland, only a small plot she’d cleared in the courtyard. It was hard to grow things in winter, but the garlic she had buried was already sprouting green shoots.

With nothing urgent to do, Wen Ningzhou kicked off her shoes and climbed onto the bed to sit beside Qi Luyao.

Wen Ningzhou pulled out her half-finished needlework—she was sewing a pair of thick-soled cotton shoes while sitting under the quilt. She used a very thick needle and a thimble to stitch the soles.

Once you understood the basics of this kind of manual labor, you could figure out how to make whatever you needed. She had a general idea of how to sew as soon as she started.

Whether they looked good didn’t matter; they just needed to be warm. She wasn’t picky.

A charcoal brazier sat in the bedroom, the wood charcoal making tiny crackling sounds. The two of them went about their own business in a peaceful silence.

The silence wasn’t heavy. Wen Ningzhou was focused on her sewing, and Qi Luyao, finding it novel, watched her.

At first, her gaze was fixed on the shoe in Wen Ningzhou’s hands. Gradually, it drifted to her slender, jade-like hands that were struggling to pierce the thick sole. Later, when Qi Luyao snapped out of it, she realized she had been staring at the girl’s face for a long time.

Slightly startled by her own lapse in composure, Qi Luyao awkwardly looked away and let out a soft, muffled cough.

Fortunately, the girl didn’t notice her rudeness; she was currently putting all her strength into overcasting the edge of the sole.

“Let me do it,” Qi Luyao heard her own voice rising above the crackling charcoal.

Only then did Wen Ningzhou look up. She placed the shoe on the quilt and tilted her head back to rub her neck. “No need. I’m not in a hurry to wear them. I’m just doing this to pass the time.”

The snow started falling again, mixed with what sounded like rain. Wen Ningzhou heard the pitter-patter of droplets hitting the wooden windowsill. She got up to put on her shoes. “I’ll go check outside.”

It was indeed raining, mixed with snowflakes. The medicine stove was still outside; she had left it there because she found the smell of brewing medicine too strong for the kitchen.

She brought the small stove into the kitchen, then ran to the backyard to check on her chickens. Returning to the bedroom, she said, “It’s raining. We can’t go anywhere now.”

“Let’s just stay here. If you’re bored, we can just chat.” Wen Ningzhou took off her socks and skirt; she was clearly prepared to take root under the quilt.

It was cold and wet outside, but the charcoal brazier kept the room dry and warm. Sitting under the same quilt, they felt each other’s warmth and talked about everything under the sun in a cozy atmosphere.

Wen Ningzhou suddenly bent her legs. “Let’s compare feet and see how much bigger yours are than mine.”

She pressed her foot against the sole of Qi Luyao’s foot, estimating the size. In the modern world, she was a size 36, and Qi Luyao seemed to be about a 37.

For someone so tall, she only wore a size 37? That was incredibly dainty.

Before Wen Ningzhou could comment on the size, Qi Luyao spoke up. “Your feet are so small.”

Sole to sole, the warmth of the small feet made Qi Luyao want to reach out and hold them.

“I’ll make a pair of cotton shoes for you,” Wen Ningzhou said. “Your cloth boots are very thin, and there’s blood on them. It’s bad luck.”

Qi Luyao leaned against the headboard, looking relaxed and indolent. As she spoke, her eyes rested openly on Wen Ningzhou. “Thank you.”

“Don’t mention it,” Wen Ningzhou said. “I’ll have them done quickly. It’s just a hobby to kill time.”

Qi Luyao didn’t say anything, but her gaze deepened, becoming as gentle as spring water.

The winter rain was a sluggish thing never quite heavy, but never quite stopping.

The sky was dark and gloomy as the light rain continued.

Living idly, lunchtime arrived before they knew it. Wen Ningzhou’s stomach rumbled; she was hungry.

At times like this, she desperately wanted to go back to her own world. She missed the cafeteria and food delivery terribly.

But nostalgia was useless. She couldn’t go back, and she had to eat. Wen Ningzhou got up to make lunch.

A patient couldn’t eat greasy food that was hard to digest. Wen Ningzhou broke off a bit of mountain ginseng and cut a few pieces of chicken to brew a ginseng soup to help her recover.

The chicken had been hanging by the window for a long time; the meat was firm and tough, not ideal for soup. Unfortunately, because of the rain, there was no fresh hen meat available.

In a flash of inspiration, Wen Ningzhou thought of “Xiaotong,” the hen in the backyard who hadn’t started laying eggs yet.

She cut a small piece of bacon for herself and stir-fried it with some wild garlic, then made two more pan-fried cakes.

The day passed in the blink of an eye. They talked and laughed, discussing many trivial topics, yet they tacitly avoided mentioning their names.

They still called each other “Miss,” both knowing that, in the end, they were just strangers passing through each other’s lives.

The light rain lasted for two days. On the third day, the weather cleared, and the sun shone brightly.

Over these few days, Qi Luyao’s injuries had recovered quite well. The wound on her abdomen had formed a thick scab, though the one on her chest hadn’t fully healed since the flesh had been carved out.

The progress was encouraging. Every time Wen Ningzhou changed the dressing, she would chatter happily about it. The patient herself, however, didn’t seem particularly joyful. She looked at her healing wounds with total indifference.

Over these past two days, Qi Luyao had spoken more with Wen Ningzhou and laughed more often. Before sleeping, she would mimic Wen Ningzhou’s tone from that first night and say, “Well then, goodnight.”

When “Goodnight” came from her lips, it always carried a sense of deep sincerity—I hope you have a wonderful dream.

On the third day, Qi Luyao was able to get out of bed. She leaned on Wen Ningzhou as she slowly stood up.

However, after Wen Ningzhou finished saying with a smile, “You’ll be better in a few more days, and then you can leave,” Qi Luyao’s mind took a quiet turn. She gripped the bedpost with a frown and sat back down.

“It hurts,” she said with a pained expression, clutching her chest.

Wen Ningzhou immediately helped her lie back down and tucked her in. “Let me see. Is it bleeding again?”

“We can’t rush this. Let’s wait a bit longer,” Wen Ningzhou said. “Don’t be in such a hurry. You’ll be fine after a few more days of rest.”

Qi Luyao felt satisfied. She wrapped herself tightly in her little quilt and said with a straight face, “Alright. I’m in no hurry.”

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