VBNWDW - Chapter 107

Chapter 107

Cool fingertips dipped into the ointment and landed on her scapulae, shaped like a butterfly's wings, drawing a sudden shiver from her.

The candlelight flickered, and the shadows they cast on the floor had already merged into one, yet the two people by the bed were not close.

Her Highness the Grand Princess turned her head to the side. The four-clawed golden python on her robes was folded, conveniently covering half her head and obscuring her eyes. The white cloth wrapped around her ribs was bound tightly, its edges slightly red.

"Is this pressure alright…?" the little Daoist behind her asked cautiously, her fingertips still pressing on the bruise as she spread the ointment in circles.

Zhong Jueyu shook her head.

This hardly counted as pain; it was nothing compared to the falls she took while learning martial arts. If Luo Yueqing hadn't brought it up, she would have been too lazy to even bother with it.

But the person behind her was filled with guilt, and her touch grew lighter and lighter, eventually becoming nothing more than gentle circles gliding over her skin. It wasn't painful in the slightest, but it was incredibly itchy.

"Harder."

The hand resting casually on her knee suddenly clenched. Zhong Jueyu couldn't help but tremble slightly before adding, "If you keep rubbing like that, the candle will burn out before the bruise even begins to fade."

Luo Yueqing gave an embarrassed laugh and applied a bit more force, but it still wasn't enough.

Zhong Jueyu spoke again, "Harder still."

She turned her head helplessly, a faint smile on her lips. "I'm not a porcelain doll that will shatter at a touch. Why are you being so careful?"

"I'm afraid of hurting you…" Luo Yueqing muttered under her breath.

"You're supposed to use force for this," Zhong Jueyu replied. "Otherwise, it's completely useless—a waste of good ointment."

Her tone shifted, becoming more teasing. "Could it be that the Daoist herself is afraid of pain? When it's your turn to apply your own medicine later, will you be even more afraid to press down?"

"How could that be!" The little Daoist's eyebrows shot up in a look of defiance. She then explained, "You're the Grand Princess, after all. You're different from a simple Daoist nun like me from the mountains."

Hearing this, Zhong Jueyu was at a loss for whether to laugh or cry. It was rich, coming from her. When she had knocked her to the ground, she certainly hadn't treated her like a princess.

And as for status, this youngest daughter of the Luo Family was hardly inferior to a princess.

A thousand-year-old noble house that had endured for three dynasties would never look kindly upon a royal family that had risen from common stock. If not for the chaos of the previous dynasty, when her ancestor led a band of brothers in rebellion and was fortunate enough to gain the support of the noble families led by the Luos, she had no idea which street she'd be on now, inheriting the family trade of sword-dancing and busking for a living!

And her Father Emperor, thinking he could secure his throne after three generations, had tried to act first and report later. Without consulting the head of the Luo Family, he issued an imperial edict for a marriage, forcing the Luos to marry their daughter to the Crown Prince. He never imagined the Luo Family would simply send their daughter to a Daoist temple instead.

Viewed this way, Luo Yueqing's status was perhaps even a notch above her own as Grand Princess.

"Is this alright?" The little Daoist was still fussing over the pressure.

Annoyed, Zhong Jueyu reached back, grabbed the other woman's hand, and pressed it firmly against her own injury. She guided it in two circles and said, "This is fine."

She added, "I'm not as delicate as you imagine."

Her scorching palm was still pressed against the back of Luo Yueqing's hand. Luo Yueqing curled her fingers slightly, as if she were holding that slender shoulder in her grasp.

"You have a scar here," Luo Yueqing's gaze slid down, settling on the side of her shoulder.

It wasn't particularly obvious, just a faint trace left behind. But Luo Yueqing was close, and the flickering candlelight allowed her to see it.

Zhong Jueyu didn't seem to mind. "An arrow grazed me there once."

"Here, too." The little Daoist's gaze moved lower, her knuckle tapping a protruding vertebra.

"I think I was stabbed by a sword," Zhong Jueyu's memory was hazy.

"And here," Luo Yueqing's brow furrowed.

"That was probably an accident."

Perhaps the imperial family's salves were exceptionally good, concealing most of these old wounds. But if one looked closely, one could still find numerous faint marks scattered across half her body.

"Why is there one on the back of your neck, too?" Luo Yueqing spotted another, her voice growing somber.

Only now did she understand the hardship that lay beneath Zhong Jueyu's great fame.

Zhong Jueyu turned her head, her high ponytail swaying. "What's this?" she said slyly. "Does the little Daoist intend to ask about every single scar on my body?"

The candle flame sputtered, crackling softly. A breeze blew in through a crack, lifting the corner of her robes.

Luo Yueqing didn't answer, merely looking down at her, her dark eyes shimmering.

The smile in Zhong Jueyu's phoenix eyes faded. She pressed her lips together and said only, "Don't look at me like that."

It would make her think of the little deer by the stream again.

The little Daoist asked in a low voice, "Does it hurt?"

It was an indescribable feeling, likely one of compassion. Before, reading Zhong Jueyu's story had only filled her with emotion. Now, seeing it with her own eyes and remembering what was to come, a strange sourness welled up inside her.

Although she had only known Zhong Jueyu for a day, she could sense that she was not a cold and heartless person.

Cool fingertips still rested on the scar. Zhong Jueyu was never short of people around her, whether in the palace or the military camps, but few had ever been this close to her.

"I've forgotten," Zhong Jueyu said, casually pulling her clothes back on. She rose to her feet in a fluid motion, dodging the hand behind her.

The abrupt stop made the atmosphere strange. The bitter scent of medicine filled the air, leaving only the rustle of clothing.

Luo Yueqing wiped her hands with a handkerchief, her head lowered, lost in thought.

Neither of them spoke, each lost in their own world.

Outside, a full moon rose, casting its clear, bright light down. The sound of scripture chanting drifted from somewhere, too distant to make out the words, but it brought an inexplicable sense of peace.

Zhong Jueyu closed her collar. Too lazy to retie the sash, she let the robes hang loosely around her and said, "I'll walk you back."

The other woman nodded dazedly.

Footsteps sounded once more. Withered leaves drifted down into the courtyard, crunching underfoot when stepped on.

The little Daoist in green followed behind the figure in red, crossing the steps, passing the threshold, and circling around to the half-closed wooden door.

"Remember to apply the medicine when you get back. Use the same pressure I taught you. Don't be so light with it, or it'll be useless," Zhong Jueyu said, finally stopping at the doorway.

The woman opposite her was caught off guard and stopped in a flurry. "Right, right," she stammered.

It didn't seem like she had really heard, just an absentminded reply.

Zhong Jueyu raised an eyebrow. "Does the Daoist want my help? A favor for a favor seems fair."

Her voice had returned to its previous tone, as if what had just happened had been forgotten.

Luo Yueqing froze, then quickly waved her hands. "No, that's not necessary."

The place where she had fallen was not nearly as convenient as the other's. If she really needed help…

It would be no different from being seen completely naked.

It was just a playful tease. Zhong Jueyu didn't mind the rejection and continued, "Then remember to use some force. Surely the little Daoist isn't so slow on the uptake that she'll be knocking on my wall in the middle of the night to ask about the pressure, right?"

The headboards of their beds were against the same wall. If Luo Yueqing really wanted to do that, and was loud enough, Zhong Jueyu would be able to hear her.

The little Daoist was so startled she took half a step back, waving her hands frantically. "No, I won't."

She looked terrified, as if facing a savage beast.

Zhong Jueyu looked down at her, the curve of her lips gradually straightening. She let out an extremely faint sigh.

"Don't…"

"Don't look at me like that."

She raised a hand to cover the other's eyes, her voice so soft it seemed it would scatter in the wind. "I don't need pity."

Fluttering eyelashes brushed against her palm, again and again, like the stroke of a feather, making her palm itch. Along with the lingering warmth on her fingertips, her shoulder blades, and the back of her neck—every place she had touched Luo Yueqing, or Luo Yueqing had touched her—all began to itch, as if a thousand ants were truly crawling over her skin.

A gentle breeze blew, carrying the fragrance of the michelia flowers from outside the temple. The distant chanting finally became clear; it was the common Scripture of Constant Purity and Tranquility of the Supreme Elder Lord.

Even though Zhong Jueyu rarely sought to understand such things, she had heard it several times before. Each time, it had brought her a sense of peace. But this time…

"Master Qingyue, do not pity me."

She was Princess Dening of Great Liang, second only to the Emperor and the Crown Prince, the ever-victorious general in the eyes of the people. How could she allow anyone to pity her?

Though she had covered the other's eyes, a pair of moist eyes still appeared in Zhong Jueyu's mind—like a fawn's, dark and glistening, like a clear lake that could hold everything.

She repeated, "I don't need it."

Luo Yueqing reached up and clasped her wrist, not pulling it away, but as if finding a reliable anchor in the darkness.

She said, "It is not Her Highness Princess Dening that I pity."

"Oh?" Zhong Jueyu was a little surprised.

"I pity the beauty I pinned beneath me during the day."

Thick lashes brushed against her palm once more, stirring an even more unbearable itch.

Luo Yueqing continued softly, "A beauty shouldn't… she shouldn't have to suffer such injuries. It makes one's heart ache."

Zhong Jueyu seemed to laugh. "Master Qingyue certainly has a way with words. If you ever return to secular life, I wonder how many romantic entanglements you'll attract."

Luo Yueqing finally pulled her hand down, then held her wrist with both of her own. Her dark eyes reflected the other's image as she said earnestly, "These are not empty flatteries. I am being very serious."

Zhong Jueyu smiled. "Which part is the most serious?"

Luo Yueqing replied, "The word 'beauty' is the truest part."

She emphasized, "Princess Dening is the most beautiful person I have ever seen."

"The heavens always favor beautiful people; they can't bear to see them suffer."

"'Beauty'…" Zhong Jueyu drew out the word as if in thought, then her tone shifted. "I believe you. After all, the little Daoist said the same thing when she was drunk."

At the mention of this, Luo Yueqing couldn't help but feel embarrassed. Before she could stop her, she saw Zhong Jueyu suddenly lean in close. Slender fingers brushed past her cheek and stopped at a stray lock of hair by her temple.

Luo Yueqing's breath caught, and she subconsciously tightened her grip on Zhong Jueyu's other hand.

Though they weren't touching, deliberately maintaining a millimeter of distance, it made Luo Yueqing all the more flustered—more tormenting than actual contact.

Zhong Jueyu plucked a flower petal that had landed in her hair, then smiled. Her enchanting eyes held a soul-stirring charm as she said, "But compared to Master Qingyue, I am still somewhat inferior. Even the flower petals covet your beauty, insisting on drifting down from the branches to land by your ear."

It was clear that Her Highness the Princess was the one with a talent for sweet talk.

The little Daoist's face instantly flushed red, her earlobes looking as if they might drip blood. "You, you mustn't speak such nonsense," she stammered.

Zhong Jueyu chuckled softly and stepped back. The distance between them widened, and a cool breeze rushed in to fill the space, rustling the corners of their robes.

"Go back inside. The night is cold and the mist is heavy. Don't catch a chill," she said again, but this time with far more sincerity.

Luo Yueqing let out a sigh of relief and released her grip on the other's wrist. "You too, Your Highness."

"Mm."

Luo Yueqing saw her standing there, as if she intended to watch her go inside before leaving. She stomped her stiff feet, then headed into her room. As she closed the door, she looked outside again and said, "Your Highness, rest early. Good night."

Zhong Jueyu paused, pondering the meaning of the last two words. Then she smiled and mimicked, "Good night, little Daoist."

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