The Possessive Villain Is Too Clingy [Quick Transmigration] - Chapter 49

In the days that followed, Princess Ninghua still ventured out for leisure, though far less frequently than before.

Rumors spread through the streets that the princess had acquired a skilled swordsman as a slave and was now wholly engrossed in mastering the art of the sword, living in unparalleled delight.

However, the truth was far more nuanced—Princess Ninghua found herself caught between joy and frustration during this time.

Her joy stemmed from Ye Zhixia, the warrior she had recruited, whose martial prowess was truly exceptional, his swordsmanship bordering on the divine, living up to his reputation as a champion of the battlefield. Her frustration, however, came from the fact that despite their daily sparring sessions in the rear courtyard, she had yet to claim a single victory.

Though defeat was a common experience for any soldier, losing day after day for nearly ten days straight—without even a chance to retaliate—dealt a heavy blow to Princess Ninghua’s pride.

On this day, a cold wind rustled through the courtyard, withered branches and decaying leaves scattered around the trees, offering their final nourishment to the soil.

With a sharp clang, the princess’s treasured sword was once again knocked from her grasp, embedding itself firmly into the dirt beside a tree.

“……” She frowned, staring silently at her fallen blade.

At first, after each defeat, Princess Ninghua would generously praise her opponent. But after repeated losses—even when she exerted every ounce of her skill—she no longer had the heart to maintain such grace.

Ye Zhixia pulled the sword from the earth and handed it back to her. “Your Highness, today’s training is over. It’s time to return to your chambers and… rest.”

The princess’s expression remained impassive as she took the sword and sheathed it without a word. With a darkened face, she swiftly led Ye Zhixia into her private quarters.

The room was dim, its windows and doors tightly shut for secrecy. The only light seeped in through the translucent silk-paper covering the frames.

As usual, Ye Zhixia took a seat at the table, waiting for the princess to speak.

But Princess Ninghua seemed lost in the disappointment of her latest defeat, sitting in silence.

After a long wait with no words from the princess, Ye Zhixia finally broke the quiet, raising a brow as she asked, “Does Your Highness resent me for not going easy on you?”

“This princess has no need for such concessions!” she snapped, still fixated on her loss.

“If you want to win, do it with your own skill,” she huffed.

Ye Zhixia knew the princess was stuck in her own stubbornness.

Her original self had been a true general, and after traversing multiple worlds, her martial skills were, if not peerless, at least formidable enough to rank among the finest in the land.

Moreover, she had been holding back only slightly during their bouts—it was no surprise the princess was being overwhelmed.

Pouring herself a cup of tea, she drank it in one go before patiently advising, “I am but a military officer. Strategy, combat, swordsmanship—these are the pursuits of my life.”

“Forging alliances, appointing the worthy, balancing the power of ministers—these are the matters Your Highness should focus on. Rather than thinking of how to defeat me, you should consider how to wield me as the sharpest blade in your hand.”

Princess Ninghua watched Ye Zhixia expressionlessly, neither agreeing nor disagreeing.

Deep down, she knew her displeasure was merely a petty reaction to losing.

From the start, she had held Ye Zhixia in high esteem.

His martial skill went without saying, and the strategies he proposed had given her much inspiration.

With his counsel, their plans had progressed far faster than anticipated.

Princess Ninghua and Ye Zhixia were truly a match made in heaven—a general meeting his ideal commander.

The atmosphere at the moment was slightly awkward, and Princess Ninghua didn’t know how to break the silence.

Sunlight filtered through the cotton-papered door frame, casting a glow on Ye Zhixia’s solemn face.

Seeing that the princess hadn’t yet composed herself, she changed the subject: “How are Your Highness’s recent preparations coming along?”

Mentioning serious matters, Princess Ninghua quickly set aside the swordplay incident.

She rested one hand on the table, her eyes lowered as she organized her thoughts: “The new recruits conscripted by His Majesty recently were dispatched to the southern border after brief training, leaving only the imperial guards in the capital.”

“Second Imperial Brother also retains some of his personal guard forces. The troops I can mobilize now are barely enough to contend with them.”

She added one last point: “Some smaller states are also willing to send capable individuals to support us.”

Ye Zhixia, noting that the princess had a thorough grasp of the situation, raised a question: “How did Your Highness secure the support of these smaller states?”

When the princess had previously communicated with foreign envoys, Xiaomi hadn’t been able to explain the details clearly to Ye Zhixia due to the language barrier.

Her question was also meant to help Princess Ninghua assess the reliability of these allies.

The princess seemed to regain her confidence: “Over the past six months, while His Majesty was heavily conscripting soldiers, I took the opportunity to befriend envoys and merchants from these smaller states.”

Recalling their attitudes at the time, a faint smile touched her lips: “Naturally, they were unwilling to oppose His Majesty back then. I merely hinted at his ambition to unify the realm and deliberately misled them, claiming the conscription was to resist the Western Rong tribes.”

“When these troops didn’t march northwest but instead stationed themselves at the borders of their countries, poised to invade at any moment, they naturally came to me seeking cooperation.”

Ye Zhixia now understood why, after the assassination attempt, Princess Ninghua had never returned to the riding grounds. Beneath her carefree facade, she had been maneuvering among foreign envoys, quietly amassing strength.

After detailing her preparations, the princess lifted her chin and countered with a question of her own: “What about your side? How have you arranged things with the Nansheng people?”

At this, Ye Zhixia propped her elbows on the table, clasping her hands beneath her chin.

“I told them that Your Highness, kind-hearted and unable to bear the suffering of the families of Nansheng’s loyal generals, was willing to help them escape. I didn’t reveal your grand plan.”

“In matters of conspiracy, the greatest risk lies in too many people knowing. If someone were to betray us…”

Princess Ninghua pinched her chin: “General Ye is cautious. However, if someone were to expose the Nansheng people’s escape… perhaps we should let them.”

Hearing this, Ye Zhixia immediately grasped the princess’s intent.

The pale sunlight fell on Princess Ninghua’s face, as if veiling her in a delicate shroud.

Ye Zhixia studied the princess’s shrewd expression and found herself admiring her cunning even more.

The same soul, when pushed by experience, could reveal astonishing capabilities.

–

Their subsequent sword practice shifted from sparring to Ye Zhixia instructing the princess in technique.

Princess Ninghua had trained since childhood—her foundation was solid, her strikes precise—but in more fluid sword forms, her transitions between movements were slightly stiff.

In the early winter morning light, the sun illuminated the open grounds of the princess’s rear courtyard.

Dressed in a black padded jacket, Princess Ninghua practiced the sword techniques Ye Zhixia had taught her.

Ye Zhixia stood to the side, draped in a gray cloak, her gaze fixed intently on every move Ninghua made.

Princess Ninghua stood tall and poised, her sword slicing through the air in an elegant arc.

The tip of the blade trembled slightly, as if shaking off a layer of frost.

Where the sword pointed, a withered branch snapped and fell to the ground under the force of her sword energy.

“Wrong,” Ye Zhixia interrupted Ninghua’s practice.

She removed her cloak and placed it on a nearby stone bench, then walked behind Princess Ninghua, wrapping her arms around both the princess and her sword in one embrace.

Ye Zhixia took hold of Ninghua’s hand and circled her other arm around Ninghua’s waist.

With a swift motion, she guided the sword forward, then lifted Ninghua into the air, spinning them both in a dance of blades. The sword’s wind swept around them, rustling through the surroundings.

Throughout the entire movement, Ye Zhixia’s eyes never left Ninghua’s face.

At first, Princess Ninghua was startled when she fell into Ye Zhixia’s arms, but as she was swept into the air with powerful momentum, surprise melted into delight.

Ye Zhixia landed first, but Ninghua, unable to stop due to inertia, swung her sword toward Ye Zhixia.

The smile that had just begun to form on Ninghua’s lips twisted into horror—she couldn’t pull back the blade in time.

Ye Zhixia calmly arched backward, and Ninghua flew past her face, their gazes locking in a fleeting moment laden with unspoken tension.

Finally, Ninghua adjusted her stance and landed gracefully, twisting midair. Ye Zhixia stepped forward to steady her, their eyes meeting in silence.

Ninghua pressed a fist to her pounding chest, unsure whether her racing heart was due to the intricate swordplay or the affection burning in Ye Zhixia’s gaze.

Before either could speak, Ninghua suddenly doubled over in pain.

Perhaps the emotional turmoil had triggered her condition—the poison’s flare-up had arrived two days earlier than expected.

Frustration surged through Ninghua.

Princess Jiarong had procured an ice bed from the Western Regions for her, but the merchant caravan wouldn’t reach the capital of Li for another two days. Right now, that distant remedy was useless.

Heat radiated from Ninghua’s body, her cheeks flushing crimson. The last shreds of her rationality made her clutch at her robes.

Ye Zhixia, familiar with her episodes, immediately recognized the signs. Without hesitation, she scooped Ninghua into her arms and hurried into the bedchamber.

The moment the door closed, Ninghua’s strength gave out, her consciousness slipping away.

With no time to waste, Ye Zhixia shed both their garments and used the same method as before to cool her down.

This flare-up was milder than the last—within half an hour, the feverish heat began to fade, and Ninghua’s breathing steadied.

Regulating the temperature was tricky. In the cold weather, if they lingered too long, their bodies would grow icy.

Ye Zhixia pulled the quilt over them, rubbing her hands together and blowing warm breath into them.

Ninghua opened her eyes, staring blankly at Ye Zhixia—her expression distant, almost displeased.

“I’ll leave once I’m warm enough. It’s too cold now,” Ye Zhixia said earnestly.

Ninghua, her voice hoarse from the ordeal, murmured, “Don’t go.”

Ye Zhixia patted her shoulder gently. “I won’t. The blankets are warm—I’m staying.”

Princess Ninghua slowly leaned in toward Ye Zhixia’s face. Ye Zhixia thought to herself: First, she used me to cool down, now she’s using me to warm up—I’m both her ice and her furnace.

But to her surprise, Princess Ninghua didn’t stop after drawing near. Her soft lips trailed kisses down Ye Zhixia’s brows and eyes, her lightly closed eyelids, the tip of her nose beaded with sweat…

Then she wrapped both arms around Ye Zhixia’s waist.

Blame the poison’s feverish heat, forcing them to bare themselves to each other; blame the biting cold, making them cling beneath the blankets; blame the alternating heat and chill, amplifying the emotions swelling in their hearts.

Ye Zhixia responded with equal passion, biting Ninghua’s lip.

At first, it was like a dragonfly skimming water, then like roses blooming, petals brushing and colliding.

Tender, lingering kisses fell upon Ninghua’s delicate chin, her slender and fair neck, and then trailed further downward…

Ninghua cradled Ye Zhixia’s head in both hands, kissing her hair and temples as well.

A springtime warmth melted into their embrace, wordless yet deeply understood.

Ye Zhixia lifted her head and gazed once more at the breathtaking beauty before her.

Jade and silk entwined, stirring the heart’s desire; a well of tenderness steeped in spring’s waters.

Ninghua’s eyes were hazy, tears seeping out to leave faint trails on her cheeks.

Cloud-like hair, flower-like face, golden hairpins swaying—a warm hibiscus canopy embraced their spring night.

–

After that day, neither of them mentioned it again, as if by unspoken agreement.

Now was hardly the time for romance.

Two days later, Ye Zhixia was summoned by the steward to accompany the princess and others from the estate to the city’s courier station to retrieve purchased goods.

Ye Zhixia gladly went along.

Upon entering the station, the princess ordered the others to load the goods onto carts and return to the estate, keeping only Ye Zhixia behind.

Princess Ninghua led Ye Zhixia into the station’s rear courtyard, arriving at the quarters of a Western Regions merchant woman.

“Mother! I’ve brought her,” she said as soon as the door closed.

A woman dressed as a Western Regions merchant hurried around the screen from the direction of the bed.

Princess Jiarong was of average height, her skin not delicate from years of traveling for trade, the fine lines at the corners of her eyes bearing witness to storms and hardships.

Yet her round eyes, high-bridged nose, and the blend of intellectual and resilient beauty in her bearing commanded respect.

Standing beside the dashing Princess Ninghua, they looked more like mother and daughter than not.

“Greetings, General Ye,” Jiarong said with calm dignity.

Ye Zhixia quickly returned the courtesy: “This humble servant pays respects to General Rong.”

Princess Jiarong laughed at the address. “Sit, sit.”

Among the titles—Princess Jiarong, Imperial Consort Jiarong, General Rong, or Madame—Ye Zhixia had deliberately chosen the one she liked best. Truly a sweet-talker.

Once seated, Princess Jiarong detailed how she had already secured control over seventy percent of the grain trade along the southern border of the Li Kingdom. Moreover, if Princess Ninghua couldn’t swiftly take the imperial capital, Jiarong could delay the emperor’s reinforcements from outside.

As their discussion neared its end, a courier station attendant came looking for Princess Ninghua, saying there were accounts to settle.

Ninghua left Ye Zhixia in the room to continue chatting with Princess Jiarong, promising to return shortly.

This gave Jiarong the perfect opportunity to speak candidly with Ye Zhixia.

“Isn’t that little kitten tired of flying around in midair?” Princess Jiarong said with a knowing, kindly smile, as if laying her cards on the table.

Ye Zhixia had planned to probe carefully but hadn’t expected her to be so direct.

“I knew it—you really can see me!” Xiao Mi sat on the table, exclaiming in surprise to Princess Jiarong.

With Princess Ninghua absent, Princess Jiarong’s tense nerves relaxed considerably. Leaning back against the chair, her eyes fixed on the doorway, she quickly explained:

“Princess Jiarong was a character barely mentioned in the original plot, with no real role. After I told her about Ninghua’s fate, she willingly agreed to share this body with me for ten years.”

She then glanced at Ye Zhixia’s reaction and, seeing that he was still listening attentively, continued, “We originally planned to rescue Ninghua directly after she went to Yanlin, but your arrival seems to have altered the plot even more drastically.”

Ye Zhixia spread his hands. “The lives of subordinates matter too, as do the lives of Nancheng’s slaves. Saving Ninghua alone completes the mission, but what about righteousness? You’re General Rong—how can you stand by and watch your soldiers be exhausted by that despicable emperor?”

Princess Jiarong was momentarily speechless. As the current master of this body, she hadn’t yet considered the original owner’s sentiments as a general.

But as a seasoned quick-transmigration agent, she quickly nodded and praised Ye Zhixia instead. “So you’ve done better than I have. From now on, I’ll assist with your plans.”

Her tone brimmed with confidence. “General Ye, you needn’t worry about the rear supply lines. If Ninghua needs more troops, I can still lend a hand. Initially, I only intended to use these resources for self-preservation, but now it seems they could serve for offense as well.”

Ye Zhixia nodded without further comment. They were both professionals—there was no need to undermine each other.

In the original plot, the Second Prince, Duan Run, had continuously expanded his influence, conquering vast territories. How long could mere self-preservation last?

Footsteps sounded outside—Princess Ninghua had finished her tasks and was returning to her room. Ye Zhixia quickly reeled in his thoughts.

Princess Jiarong also adopted a maternal demeanor, speaking softly and warmly to Chu Ning as soon as she reentered the room.

–

In early winter, the eleventh month, heavy rain poured over the imperial city of Li.

Princess Ninghua had actually turned fifteen back in August, but the Li Kingdom did not celebrate coming-of-age ceremonies, and with the deaths of the First and Third Princes, the ninth princess’s birthday had naturally been overlooked.

One day, dark clouds gathered ominously in the sky, hinting at an impending storm.

Yet it was at this very moment that the emperor summoned Princess Ninghua to the palace.

Before leaving, she assured Ye Zhixia that no matter what, she would return to the princess’s residence that night and not stay in the palace.

As the clouds loomed low, turning the bright day as dark as night, Ye Zhixia hurriedly grabbed an umbrella and rushed to the palace gates to await Ninghua’s exit.

Thunder rumbled in the distance, and fierce winds howled through the city.

Just as Ye Zhixia grew frantic, silently pleading for the storm to hold off a little longer, Princess Ninghua emerged from the palace.

Ye Zhixia swiftly escorted her into the carriage.

Inside, he asked softly, “Why did the emperor summon you?”

He knew that in the original timeline, Ninghua was sent away for a political marriage at sixteen, but with so many variables now, he couldn’t be sure if the arrangement would be moved up.

Princess Ninghua didn’t answer. Instead, she lifted the carriage curtain, gazing at the empty streets outside, then pointed at the sky where lightning split the darkness.

“Look,” she said. “Thunder. The heavens are changing.”

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