Chapter Seventeen: The Bloody Battle

Slave? Feng Qiuji blinked in disbelief. She couldn’t have misheard—did that little brat just say she should become his slave? Was she really going to be the slave of a four-year-old child? Surely, she must be dreaming! This was the height of humiliation!

“No,” Feng Qiuji turned her face away, refusing flatly. She would rather die than become this brat’s slave. She was an empress, after all; even if she wasn’t his birth mother, she was at least half a mother to Anuo. If word ever got out, where would she put her old face? Besides, as his slave, this child would never let her off easily.

“Oh—” drawing out his tone deliberately, Anuo hopped down from the bed and ambled toward the door, muttering to himself, “I suppose I should go and inform Father Emperor about what’s happened here. With his temper, if he finds out, well, he probably wouldn’t do anything too drastic. According to Great Ling’s laws, harboring an assassin at most gets you thrown into the Heavenly Prison, where all sorts of tortures await...”

All sorts of tortures... Feng Qiuji wiped a cold sweat from her brow. She’d read up on those perverse ancient punishments out of boredom before—just thinking about them was enough to make her shudder!

“Stop!” With quick reflexes, Feng Qiuji lunged over and shut the door, blocking Anuo’s escape. Ha, a dark night—perfect for a little mischief.

Anuo lazily lifted his eyelids, not needing to think to know what she was up to. Calmly, he pulled a small blue-and-white porcelain vial from his sleeve, examined it, then propped his chin and said, “Inside this little bottle is the finest honey, blended with spices. Just a hint of its scent will attract every small insect nearby—ants, crickets, grasshoppers, you name it...” He cast a meaningful look at Feng Qiuji. “Care to try?”

The moment he mentioned insects, Feng Qiuji felt her scalp prickle and shook her head frantically. Clearly, threats wouldn’t work; maybe it was time for some sweet talk. “Anuo, do you want to get married? Someday, Mother Empress will find you a pretty little wife who’ll play with you every day, how about that...” She forced a smile, coaxing him gently. To get closer to Anuo, she even changed her title to “Mother Empress.”

“Be my slave, or there’s nothing to discuss.” Anuo waved his hand, signaling her to move aside.

“Fine, I agree.” She hastily grabbed his sleeve, feeling utterly humiliated. To think she would stoop so low as to become the slave of a four-year-old boy...

Thus began Feng Qiuji’s miserable life as a slave...

With business concluded, Ling Zetian was preparing to return to the palace, which greatly pleased Feng Qiuji—finally, she wouldn’t have to see Sakura Luo anymore. Ying Xuanyu, meanwhile, took Sakura Luo and bid farewell to Ling Zetian, saying he’d take her home to explain things to their parents.

Sakura Luo, of course, was extremely reluctant to leave. She drooped her head, looking back at Ling Zetian every few steps, unwilling to part.

Feng Qiuji was secretly overjoyed. Yes! In this battle for her husband, she had won.

Seated in the carriage, Feng Qiuji started rummaging through her bundle for her belongings, and to her surprise, she found a letter and a jade pendant. “What’s this?” She glanced at Ling Zetian, then, ignoring him, broke the seal and began to read.

After just a few lines, Feng Qiuji was fuming. That woman Sakura Luo—couldn’t she leave her in peace, even after leaving? Fine, she could go, but she’d actually left Ling Zetian a token of affection, asking him to wait for her and all that. Outrageous! Did she think Feng Qiuji didn’t exist? Gripping the jade pendant, she was about to toss it out the window, but then hesitated. Judging from its quality, it was a fine piece—what a pity to waste it. Better to keep it for herself.

“You’d best put it back where you found it,” Ling Zetian advised. Though his eyes were closed in feigned rest, he was well aware of what Feng Qiuji was up to. He remembered that Ying Xuanyu also wore a matching pendant; these were family heirlooms of the Ying clan. For Sakura Luo to give him such an important treasure—he would not accept it, but out of regard for Ying Xuanyu, he would safeguard it for now, so that Xuanyu could return it to her in the future, avoiding any undue obligations.

“What’s this? You can’t bear to part with it?” Feng Qiuji’s anger flared at his words. Was he really going to accept another woman’s token of love? Shameless—no better than a dog.

Ling Zetian, hearing the jealousy in her voice, slowly opened his eyes and glanced at Feng Qiuji. “Are you jealous?”

“Who’s jealous?” Exposed, Feng Qiuji grew both flustered and furious. “If you like her so much, why not just bring her into the palace? It’s not as if you don’t already have enough consorts.” She threw the jade pendant back into the bundle, fuming.

“Oh, is that so?” Ling Zetian found her indignation amusing. “Since the Empress herself approves, I’ll just draft an imperial edict when we return, and marry her into the palace.”

“Do as you please.” Life was becoming unbearable—first Anuo drove her mad, and now even Ling Zetian was acting this way. Feng Qiuji truly wondered if one day their antics would be the death of her. She stormed to the carriage door, shouting at the guards outside, “Stop! Stop the carriage!”

During a rest stop, Feng Qiuji deliberately sat down beside Yu Fan, intending to ask him a few questions.

“Chief Steward Yu, are you close with Chief Steward Wei?” she asked with a bright smile, pouring herself a cup of water. Both men were quite capable, after all.

“Your Highness, Wei and I have served the Emperor since childhood. When His Majesty ascended the throne, both of us were promoted to chief stewards,” Yu Fan replied respectfully, smiling.

“Oh, I see...” Feng Qiuji took a sip of water, already pondering her next question.

“Little Qiuji, I want some water. Bring it over!” Suddenly, a childish voice called out from nearby.

“Pfft.” At the nickname “Little Qiuji,” Feng Qiuji lost control and accidentally spat her mouthful of water all over Yu Fan’s face. Embarrassed, she quickly apologized and tried to help him wipe it off with her handkerchief.

“No need, Your Highness. I can manage myself,” Yu Fan said graciously, accepting the handkerchief.

That nickname, “Little Qiuji,” had plagued Feng Qiuji since childhood. She had often wondered why her parents chose it, and over the years, had endured endless teasing from classmates and friends because of it. After arriving in the Ling dynasty, she’d nearly forgotten that dark chapter—only for someone to call her by it again.

Turning toward the voice, Feng Qiuji was puzzled. The other guards were calmly resting and drinking water, showing no reaction at all—none of the gossiping she’d imagined. Then she remembered: this was ancient times. There was no such thing as “primary school” here. Thank goodness.

Fuming, she grabbed a jug of water and tossed it to Ling Shunuo, then glared at him. “Why do you call me Little Qiuji?”

“Should I call you Big Qiuji, then?” Anuo replied, casting a meaningful glance at her thigh.

“You little brat, what are you looking at?!” Feng Qiuji was even more annoyed. That look in Anuo’s eyes made her suspect he knew exactly what the term implied and was using it on purpose.

“Father Emperor,” Anuo immediately leaped onto Ling Zetian, whining, “Let me tell you, last night I got up to go pee, and I saw—”

“Anuo, you’re such a good boy—going to the bathroom by yourself!” Feng Qiuji quickly covered his mouth, patting his head lovingly.

Ling Zetian eyed her suspiciously and pried her hand away. “What did you see?”

Anuo glanced at Feng Qiuji, then beamed sweetly. “I saw lots of little black birds flying in the sky. When will Father Emperor take me to catch birds?”

“Good boy, Anuo. When we get home, Father Emperor will take you,” Ling Zetian replied.

Relieved, Feng Qiuji finally let out a breath. But just then, Ling Zetian suddenly said, “Feng Qiuji, come here.”

She looked at him—his expression unchanged from before—but obediently followed him over. He led her to a small grove nearby, scrutinizing her from head to toe until she began to feel uneasy.

“Are you hiding something from me?” Ling Zetian asked, his gaze growing more suspicious the longer he looked at her flustered expression.

“No, absolutely not,” Feng Qiuji denied at once.

“Really?” Now she looked even more suspicious than before!

Feng Qiuji was on the verge of a breakdown. Ling Zetian’s imposing gaze swept over her like a radar; she feared she’d accidentally blurt everything out if he kept it up.

“Don’t move. This is a robbery.” Suddenly, a small throwing knife flew out of the woods, aimed straight at Feng Qiuji.

Ling Zetian grabbed her and spun around, switching places so she was shielded behind him. The knife struck a nearby tree with a sharp thud, embedding itself deep in the trunk.

Ling Zetian glanced at the robbers emerging from the trees—there were about twenty of them. Judging by the poisoned blade and the depth it had sunk into the wood, these men were no amateurs. He sneered and drew his sword.

Feng Qiuji was dumbfounded. They were just a few bandits—was it really necessary to draw a sword? Was Ling Zetian planning a slaughter? Before she could finish the thought, a dozen bandits rushed at them, weapons drawn.

Ling Zetian gripped his forged steel sword, tightly protecting both himself and Feng Qiuji. His movements were so swift that all Feng Qiuji saw was a flash of white, the clang of metal ringing in her ears. Surrounded, he wielded his sword with his right hand, holding Feng Qiuji with his left to shield her from harm.

After dozens of exchanges, Ling Zetian finally found an opening and shoved Feng Qiuji out of the encirclement. “Run!”

Feng Qiuji turned back, anxious to see Ling Zetian surrounded by enemies. She stomped her foot in frustration—there was no time to hesitate; she had to call Yu Fan and the others for help. But as she ran out of the thicket, she saw fighting had broken out on Yu Fan’s side as well. What now? If Ling Zetian were injured fighting so many alone, what would she do?

Ling Zetian saw two bandits pursuing Feng Qiuji and tried to rush to her aid, but as soon as he leapt forward, several swords blocked his way, keeping him entangled. Watching helplessly as Feng Qiuji was about to be caught, he shouted, “Look out!”

At his call, Feng Qiuji glanced back to see two bandits lunging at her, swords raised. She froze—she had no martial skills, and though she knew she should dodge, her body wouldn’t move.

Just then, a strange floral scent drifted by, and within seconds, a swarm of bees flew out of the woods, surrounding the two bandits.

Anuo’s childish voice called out, “Over here!” Looking around, Feng Qiuji spotted the boy hiding behind a tree, beckoning to her. She rushed over and crouched beside him.

Seeing Feng Qiuji safe, Ling Zetian finally breathed a sigh of relief. Steeling himself, he tightened his grip on his sword and began to cut down the attackers with ruthless efficiency.

---A brief aside--- The story’s promotional push has failed... The author is feeling quite dejected; writing is hard work, and I had hoped more people would read it. Still, I wish all dear readers an enjoyable journey through the story. Thank you all for your support.