Chapter 15: Sachet

Chapter 15: Scented Sachet

On the way back to the capital.

Qiao Wan sat inside the carriage, leaning against a snow-white, fluffy cushion with a soft peony-patterned palace blanket draped over her knees. Her cheeks were wrapped in a fiery red fox fur cloak, making her look warm and cozy.

In the corner of the opposite couch, Jing Lan sat with a pale face.

He had removed his silver armor, his hair tied high in a ponytail. His vermilion robe was stained with dark blood, and his expression was grim.

Noticing his demeanor, Qiao Wan chuckled.

At the foot of Qingyun Mountain, she had ultimately failed to see the mark on Jing Lan’s chest.

Before her hand could even touch him, he had lightly stepped away and put several yards between them.

On the journey back to the capital, she became acutely aware that Jing Lan was avoiding her.

Though injured, he should, after all, have been riding in the carriage. However, since there was only her carriage available, he insisted on riding his horse, enduring the jolting.

Several times, Qiao Wan tried to initiate conversation with him, but he steadfastly kept his gaze forward, riding to the front of the procession.

Yet, whenever she ignored him, he would somehow reappear behind the carriage.

After a while, Qiao Wan grew impatient and sulked silently inside the carriage.

To her surprise, the soldiers below noticed that Jing Lan’s wounds had reopened from the bumpy ride, bleeding continuously, and came to beg Qiao Wan to allow him into the carriage.

Qiao Wan readily agreed.

Jing Lan initially intended to refuse, but under the insistence of the soldiers, he reluctantly abandoned his horse and boarded the carriage. However, he sat in the corner, far from her, as though she were a threat.

Qiao Wan stirred.

Jing Lan immediately glanced at her sideways before quickly looking away.

Qiao Wan held out the palace blanket to him. "Are you sure you don’t want to warm up?"

"No," Jing Lan replied stiffly. "Just keep your distance."

Qiao Wan glanced behind her and shifted back toward the corner cushion.

Jing Lan didn’t expect her to be so obedient and gave her a strange look, his brows still tightly furrowed.

Taking his expression for continued displeasure, Qiao Wan grew angry. "The carriage is only so big. Where else do you expect me to go?"

Hearing her bossy and entitled tone, Jing Lan actually relaxed a bit and let out a derisive snort. "I don’t care where you go."

Qiao Wan instinctively bit back a retort but then remembered her previous encounters with Jing Lan—either whipping him, giving him cold looks, or calling him "useless." She also recalled the dream where she was strangled to death and forcefully swallowed her anger. "Hey, I want to ask you a few questions."

"Not interested."

Qiao Wan shot him a look, ignoring his refusal, and asked directly, "Do you like the Third Princess?"

"You..." Jing Lan’s expression darkened as he glared at her, but then he remembered something and smirked. "Of course."

Qiao Wan widened her eyes. "Really? Why?"

Jing Lan glanced at her. "Naturally because the Third Princess is gentle, virtuous, and refined, a lady of noble upbringing, and exceptional in both talent and beauty," he said, not forgetting to add, "nothing like Princess Changle."

Qiao Wan ignored the latter part of his sentence, musing with downcast eyes and muttering softly, "So, you must be extremely unhappy about Qiao Qingni’s marriage alliance with Great Qi..."

That tracks.

"What are you muttering about?" Jing Lan asked displeased.

Qiao Wan looked up, her face slightly pale. "Then, will you kill me?"

Jing Lan frowned. "Why would I kill anyone out of the blue?"

"How should I know why you..." Qiao Wan started to speak but abruptly stopped, pressed her lips together, tightened her fox fur cloak, and refused to say another word.

Jing Lan frowned deeply and turned to look at her. "What exactly are you trying to ask?"

Qiao Wan tucked her face in the furry cloak and said irritably, "Let me apply medicine to your wounds, and I’ll tell you."

Jing Lan’s expression stiffened for a moment. "Then suit yourself."

Qiao Wan glared daggers at him, but before she could speak, someone outside the carriage said, "Princess, Major General, we’ve entered the capital."

They had entered the capital, and the road was now smooth.

There was no reason for Jing Lan to remain in the carriage, so he got back on his horse.

This time, Qiao Wan also stayed quietly inside the carriage without a word.

The procession split into two groups: one delivered the captured bandits to the Dali Temple, while the other escorted Qiao Wan back to the princess’s residence.

By the time the carriage stopped at the princess’s residence, it was already dark, and the hanging lanterns at the entrance shone brightly.

Qiao Wan, leaning on Yicui, jumped down from the carriage and was about to head inside when she remembered something. She turned to look at Jing Lan, who was still astride his red-maned horse, and unexpectedly met his gaze.

Jing Lan also didn’t expect Qiao Wan to suddenly turn around. He paused before clearing his throat. "Did you need something else, Princess Changle?"

Qiao Wan walked up to him. "My thanks, Major General Jing, for escorting me."

Jing Lan gave her a puzzled look.

Qiao Wan fished around and produced somewhat reluctantly a jar of White Jade Ointment from her sleeve. "This medicine is for you, Major General. I hope you recover soon."

Who knows what junk weapon injured him? She hoped he wouldn’t die from an infection.

Jing Lan was stunned and lowered his head to look at her hand under the lantern light.

Her skin was delicate and fair, her fingertips translucent, without a single callus—clearly pampered.

But now her palm was injured, tightly bandaged with white cloth.

A wound she had suffered while protecting him during the day.

In that palm lay a priceless jar of White Jade Ointment.

"Take it," Qiao Wan urged, her arm growing tired.

Jing Lan jolted back to awareness, hesitated for a moment, then slowly took the White Jade Ointment from her hand. When his fingertips brushed against her palm, he flinched, cleared his throat again, and then heard Yicui’s surprised voice:

"Master Mu?"

Hearing this, Qiao Wan’s heart skipped a beat. She pressed the ointment into Jing Lan’s hand and whirled around.

Mu Chi stood on the stone steps of the estate, under the soft yellow glow of the lanterns above, which made his skin appear as fine as white porcelain. His pupils seemed to shimmer with a flowing light, and a jade-white brocade fur coat draped over his shoulders, enhancing his dazzling beauty.

Qiao Wan’s cheeks flushed, and her eyes grew bright. She took two steps forward. "Mu Chi, weren’t you feeling unwell? When did you return?"

Behind her, Jing Lan’s expression changed.

Mu Chi’s gaze slowly withdrew from the white jade ointment in Jing Lan’s hand, gave a faint glance at his expression, before turning to Qiao Wan with a gentle, restrained smile. "I took a shortcut back, fearing Your Highness might worry. I never expected you would encounter mountain bandits…"

"It’s nothing, just a minor incident," Qiao Wan said with a laugh, turning her head to look at Jing Lan. "Right, Major General Jing?"

To her surprise, Jing Lan’s eyes looked as if they could eat her alive, his tone sneering. "Your Highness didn’t lift a finger, so of course it seems minor to you."

What’s his problem?

Qiao Wan glared at him, couldn’t be bothered to deal with him more, and took Mu Chi’s hand, pulling him inside the estate. "The night air is chilly, and you’re not fully recovered yet. Don’t catch a chill."

Mu Chi glanced at Qiao Wan’s hand holding his, still bearing the injury she sustained protecting Jing Lan.

The faint scent of white jade ointment lingered on her, identical to the one on Jing Lan.

Only now did he notice that Jing Lan’s preference for wearing red complemented Qiao Wan’s fur coat perfectly.

Frowning, Mu Chi subtly and deftly disengaged his hand from hers.

Qiao Wan asked, puzzled. "Mu Chi?"

Mu Chi smiled faintly, his eyes on her bandaged hand. "Your Highness is injured."

Qiao Wan was taken aback. In the flickering candlelight, Mu Chi seemed not quite himself.

Though he smiled as gently as always and spoke words of concern, a chilling darkness lurked in his eyes, carrying an eerily familiar aura.

Mu Chi glanced up at her, his expression instantly softening like a spring breeze. "It’s late, Your Highness. You should rest early."

Qiao Wan paused before nodding. "You’ve traveled far today as well. Get some proper rest."

After speaking, she found herself unable to meet Mu Chi’s gaze and turned to head toward her bedchamber.

"Your Highness." Mu Chi’s light, casual call stopped her.

Qiao Wan glanced back, confused.

Mu Chi remained silent for a long moment before asking slowly, "Your Highness has nothing else to say?"

Perplexed, Qiao Wan thought carefully before shaking her head. "What do you mean?"

Mu Chi chuckled softly and also shook his head. "I must have misremembered."

This time, without waiting for Qiao Wan’s response, he turned and left first. His smile vanished instantly, replaced by a cold, stern expression. He returned to his room, washed his hands vigorously several times to rid himself of that annoying tenderness, and then sat on the daybed.

She had taken great pains to obtain the Snow Bodhi for him, thinking it would make him understand pain.

Now, she didn’t even bother to ask.

Mu Chi couldn’t help but frown. He loathed Qiao Wan for being fickle and even more so his own inexplicable feelings at this moment.

It seemed he needed to accelerate his plans.

"Young Master," Si Li appeared out of nowhere behind him. "The music score has been delivered to Princess Zhaoyang’s estate as you instructed."

"Hm," Mu Chi replied coldly.

Si Li hesitated. "Why did you…"

He caught himself, realizing he had overstepped, and quickly lowered his head.

After a moment of silence, Mu Chi laughed, though his eyes remained icy. "Naturally, some things are meant for certain people."

Hearing his laugh, Si Li dared not speak further.

Mu Chi spoke slowly. "Jing Lan sent that sachet to an embroidery shop in the market for repairs, didn’t he?"

"Yes."

"In a few days, the Right Minister of the Li Kingdom will visit the Jing estate. Make the necessary arrangements…"

*

A few days later, in front of the Dingguo General’s estate.

Yang Zheng stood holding a sachet, waiting respectfully for the servant to announce him.

This sachet had been brought by Major General Jing to the embroidery shop for repairs some time ago. It had been fixed days prior, but the Major General had been busy with the mountain bandit suppression and hadn’t been able to retrieve it.

This morning, the shop owner received word and instructed Yang Zheng to deliver the sachet precisely at 9:15 AM.

As he waited anxiously for the servant to return, Yang Zheng heard someone call out, "Lower the sedan!" Turning, he saw a black sedan with a silver canopy stopping in front of the general’s estate.

Right Minister Wen Xun stepped out, exuding the refined elegance of a scholar. Though nearing fifty, he stood straight, his emotions inscrutable from years in the political arena.

Yang Zheng didn’t recognize the man but knew the official robes. He quickly stepped back and knelt. "This humble commoner pays respects to Your Excellency."

Wen Xun nodded and was about to enter the estate when he noticed something and paused, turning to look at the sachet in Yang Zheng’s hand.

Kneeling on the ground, Yang Zheng grew increasingly uneasy, his hand trembling slightly as he held the sachet.

Wen Xun approached him. "Whose sachet is this?"

Yang Zheng replied nervously, "Your Excellency, it belongs to Major General Jing."

Wen Xun pondered for a moment, his eyes scanning the characters "Wan Wan" embroidered in the lower right corner of the sachet, before stepping into the general’s estate.

Meanwhile, since returning to his estate, Jing Lan had been resting in his courtyard.

To prevent him from running wild, Jing Rong had stationed over ten servants around his room.

For the first time, Jing Lan showed little interest in escaping the estate, instead lazily resting indoors to heal.

Qiao Wan, as if she’d lost her mind, had been sending him gifts like ginseng, deer antler, and other tonics these past few days, along with another bottle of white jade ointment.

Each time, Jing Lan grew increasingly irritable.

He couldn’t help but recall the moment during the mountain bandit encounter when Qiao Wan, that woman, pushed into his arms to protect him.

He never expected someone so willful and rude, like a prickly hedgehog, to have such a soft and delicate body.

But the image of her that night at the princess’s estate, ignoring him and turning to take Mu Chi’s hand, surfaced in his mind, filling him with frustration.

Was she really infatuated with him?

"Young Master, the embroidery shop has delivered the sachet to you." Wang Fu carefully pushed the door open and presented the sachet to Jing Lan.

Jing Lan was taken aback, his expression uncertain as he stared at the sachet in Wang Fu's hand. It took him a long moment before he reached out to take it.

The seamstress's needlework was fine—one could hardly tell it had been damaged unless looking closely.

Wang Fu added, "Young Master, the Right Minister has arrived. He mentioned that you have rendered great service in wiping out the bandits, and His Majesty is greatly pleased, intending to reward you. The master will be here to see you shortly."

Jing Lan replied listlessly, still lounging lazily on the daybed, idly tossing the sachet into the air and catching it again.

"Look at you, what kind of state are you in!" No sooner had Wang Fu withdrawn than Jing Rong's voice rang out.

Jing Lan glanced at him, put the sachet away, and still seemed listless. "Old man, are you here to lecture me again today?"

"Shouldn’t I lecture you?" Jing Rong snorted coldly, then coughed uncomfortably after a moment. "You did well in wiping out the mountain bandits at Qingyun Mountain this time."

Jing Lan sat up, raising an eyebrow with an expression of utter disbelief. "Are you praising me?"

Jing Rong immediately composed himself and frowned.

He knew full well that his son had been working so hard to accumulate merits because he wanted to avoid an arranged marriage. Gaining favor with the Emperor would be beneficial.

Thinking of this, Jing Rong sighed. "Saving the princess and eliminating the mountain bandits this time is a significant achievement. His Majesty will surely reward you. You can use this opportunity to make it clear to His Majesty that you wish to decline the arranged marriage between you and Princess Changle. I will also support you in this matter."

Jing Lan was stunned, clutching the sachet in his sleeve. It took him a while before he finally responded.