Zhang He'an remained silent as he entered the cave, crushing medicinal herbs with a stone.
Li Qingxun pointed at her injured right thigh. "I'm wounded near the groin. I suppose Lord Zhang had to tear my undergarments to tend to the wound himself. Ah, last night when I was unconscious, did you happen to touch anywhere else while applying the medicine?"
Zhang He'an focused on grinding the herbs. "I did not."
The colder Zhang He'an acted, the more amused Li Qingxun became.
It was as if she had found a new toy. Deliberately leaning closer to him, she teased, "Then, Lord Zhang, are you disappointed?"
Zhang He'an's grinding paused briefly.
Once the medicinal herbs were crushed, he handed them to Li Qingxun, gesturing for her to dress the wound herself.
But Li Qingxun refused. Feigning weakness, she said, "My leg is injured, and my limbs are too weak. I must trouble Lord Zhang to tend to it for me."
A deliberate provocation.
A brazen flirtation.
Zhang He'an placed the herbs before her, his dark eyes unreadable. "Your Highness should maintain propriety."
Li Qingxun clicked her tongue. "Such a hypocrite."
Zhang He'an left the cave once more.
Left with no choice, Li Qingxun struggled to sit up and unwrapped the bandage around her leg. The wound beneath was gruesome—freshly scabbed, bloodied, and so deep that the bone was faintly visible.
It looked like a sharp metal object had pierced her thigh before being violently torn out, leaving a long, jagged gash.
Li Qingxun felt dizzy just looking at it. "I should get a tetanus shot, anesthesia, proper wound cleaning, and stitches... But in this godforsaken place, all I have are herbs."
She had no idea if ancient remedies would even work.
She didn’t want to lose a leg at such a young age.
Gritting her teeth against the pain, she slowly applied the medicine. Blood trickled down as cold sweat beaded on her forehead, her movements sluggish.
Finally, unable to bear it any longer, she cried out, "Zhang He'an, help me!"
He appeared almost instantly.
"Help me," she pleaded.
Zhang He'an's gaze fell on her face—pale, drenched in sweat, lips bloodless. Li Qingxun wasn’t classically beautiful, but there was an elegant charm to her, her fingers stained with blood like a peony blooming in the cave after rain.
Zhang He'an’s throat moved slightly.
He knelt before her and began dressing the wound.
Li Qingxun’s legs were long.
And fair.
His fingers brushed against the bloody injury and the smooth skin around it. His expression remained composed as he applied the medicine and wrapped fresh bandages around the wound.
"Done." Zhang He'an started to rise.
But Li Qingxun suddenly grabbed his collar, pulling him close.
He staggered, nearly falling onto her. Though she was a head shorter, her presence was commanding. Her gaze shamelessly traced the lines of his neck—the prominent Adam’s apple, the faint veins beneath his skin.
Tsk.
So damn attractive.
She leaned in slowly, her lips almost grazing his throat. "Thank you, Lord Zhang."
Zhang He'an lowered his eyes. "It is my duty, Your Highness."
They were too close.
Li Qingxun teased, "I’m injured now, weak and defenseless. If Lord Zhang wanted to do anything to me, I wouldn’t be able to resist at all."
Her warm breath brushed his neck, and Zhang He'an stiffened.
"I will protect Your Highness," he said evenly.
With practiced calm, he stood and left the cave. Outside, the sunlight was harsh, revealing the distant silhouette of Liangzhou City. The mountain wind tousled his hair.
His fingertips touched his throat.
The warmth still lingered.
---
Chaos erupted in Liangzhou City—bandits raided, and war flared once more.
With her leg severely injured, Li Qingxun couldn’t move and was forced to recuperate in the isolated cave. Bored out of her mind, she spent her days lying around while Zhang He'an took on the role of "provider," hunting for game and gathering herbs.
Miraculously, he even managed to find wood and sheepskin, crafting a crude table and stools. To alleviate her boredom, he brought back charcoal sticks so she could write.
At night, the crackling fire filled the cave with warmth.
Li Qingxun rested her chin in her hand, watching Zhang He'an roast meat with focused precision. The more she looked at him, the more she liked him.
A man who took initiative in chores, who cared for others—a man fit for domestic life.
And damn, was he easy on the eyes. Cool as moonlight, his features like a painting. Just watching him made her dull days a little more interesting.
"It will rain tomorrow. Hunting will be difficult, so we should save some of the rabbit meat tonight," Zhang He'an remarked casually.
Li Qingxun, still admiring his beauty, asked offhandedly, "How do you know it’ll rain?"
Zhang He'an replied, "I observed the sky."
Li Qingxun was stunned.
She vaguely recalled that in Qing State, there was an institution called the Imperial Astronomical Bureau. Zhang He'an’s family had served there for generations, studying celestial patterns and calculating seasons.
Excited, she asked, "Zhang He'an, can you tell fortunes?"
Zhang He'an didn’t answer.
Li Qingxun pressed, "Then tell me—when will I be able to return home?"
The bonfire crackled, casting flickering light on Zhang He'an's inscrutable face. His tone was indifferent as he said, "Fortune-telling requires your birth characters. What are yours?"
Li Qingxun began, "My birth characters—" but the words caught in her throat.
As a modern physics researcher, she genuinely didn't know her own birth characters in the traditional heavenly stems and earthly branches system. She couldn’t very well tell him she was born after the year 2000 in the Gregorian calendar and had no idea what her birth characters were.
"Has the Sixth Princess forgotten even her own birth characters?" Zhang He'an asked, his dark eyes probing.
Li Qingxun was not one to back down easily. Her gaze burned as it roamed freely over Zhang He'an. "If Lord Zhang would be willing to attend to me tonight, perhaps I’d be in a good enough mood to tell you."
Zhang He'an replied, "Your Highness should maintain propriety."
Li Qingxun teased, "A man and a woman alone in a cave—ah, could it be that Lord Zhang doesn’t know how? Or is it that he can’t?"
The glow of the bonfire painted her face a vivid red.
Zhang He'an fell silent.
After a few more playful jabs, drowsiness overtook Li Qingxun. She sprawled unceremoniously onto the pile of dry grass, draped Zhang He'an’s crimson official robe over herself, and fell into a deep sleep.
Zhang He'an, unable to sleep, rose and stepped outside the cave. The sky was dotted with stars, but dark clouds loomed in the distance. He studied the celestial patterns.
The heavens foretold calamity.
Great chaos was coming.
Zhang He'an thought of Li Qingxun.
A neglected, frail princess who had undergone a drastic change in temperament after a severe illness—could she be the one to stir the winds of upheaval?
Yet, no matter the answer, his gaze could no longer turn away from her.
...
Li Qingxun was restless and bored. With Zhang He'an unwilling to sacrifice himself for her amusement, the days of recuperation felt unbearably dull.
So dull that she resorted to banging her head against the cave wall.
Eventually, she picked up a charcoal pencil and scribbled on rough sheepskin parchment to pass the time.
She wrote diaries. She sketched weapon designs.
Two months passed. The medicinal herbs Zhang He'an had gathered proved highly effective—the wound on Li Qingxun’s leg had scabbed over and no longer pained her much. She sniffed at her collar and wrinkled her nose at the sour stench.
She beckoned Zhang He'an over. "Carry me to the river."
Zhang He'an asked, "For what?"
Li Qingxun replied, "To bathe, obviously."
Not far from the cave lay a tranquil river, its waters flowing gently through lush green grass.
Fed by melting snow from the mountains, the stream was icy cold. Fortunately, the sweltering weather offset the chill, making it a perfect day for a bath.
Standing waist-deep in the water, Li Qingxun tossed an invitation Zhang He'an’s way. "Care to help me wash?"
Zhang He'an placed dry clothes by the riverbank and turned to leave.
Li Qingxun clicked her tongue.
Such a prude.
Her right leg still ached as she limped toward a large rock by the river and slowly peeled off her grimy garments.
She scrubbed her skin with soapberries, dislodging layers of grime. The bath lasted a full half-hour, her skin rubbed raw and pink by the time she finished washing from head to toe.
As she prepared to change into the dry clothes, her dark eyes gleamed mischievously. The riverbed was slick with smooth pebbles—she deliberately stepped on one coated in moss.
"Ah—!"
Her feigned cry of alarm had the intended effect.
Like a shadow, Zhang He'an reappeared. Li Qingxun sat sprawled in the water, batting her lashes. "I fell. Won’t you help me up, Lord Zhang?"
Her skin glowed pink from the scrubbing.
Her jet-black hair clung to her shoulders in wet strands, framing her like a woodland nymph.
Zhang He'an’s dark eyes fixed on her. Without a word, he waded into the water and hauled the "fallen" Li Qingxun to her feet.
He draped the dry robe around her.
Back in the cave, the bonfire crackled. Li Qingxun, drowning in Zhang He'an’s oversized robe, combed her fingers through her damp hair. Thick and unruly, it refused to dry easily.
Tangled beyond repair, she sighed. "Fetch me the cleaver. I’ll just cut it all off."
Zhang He'an ignored the request.
Instead, he took it upon himself to untangle her hair.
Li Qingxun’s locks were as stubborn as her personality—thick, coarse, and unyielding. Zhang He'an worked patiently, his gaze occasionally drifting to the thin white underrobe she wore.
His underrobe.
Swamped in the fabric, Li Qingxun’s slender frame was accentuated—her pale neck, the flushed skin from her vigorous scrubbing.
They sat close. Zhang He'an caught a faint whiff of fragrance. Whether intentional or not, the collar of her robe dipped low, offering a tantalizing glimpse of what lay beneath.
She wore no shoes.
Her bare feet, still pink from the cold water, curled slightly—dainty toes, soft and inviting.
Utterly bewitching.
The cave was warm. Li Qingxun leaned back, pressing against Zhang He'an’s chest as she luxuriated in his ministrations.
She drawled, "Zhang He'an, were you hiding by the river earlier, watching me?"
Zhang He'an remained silent.
Li Qingxun grew even more unrestrained, her voice laced with teasing laughter: "Ah, what a lofty, unattainable flower you are—yet here you are, sneaking peeks at a maiden bathing. If word got out, your reputation would be utterly ruined."
Zhang He'an untangled the knotted strands of her dark hair.
Li Qingxun, ever the chatterbox, pressed on relentlessly: "Back when the courier station was attacked by bandits, you came specifically to save me, didn’t you? You—even if the sky were to collapse, your stubborn tongue would hold it up. Keep denying it, and my interest in you might just fade away."
Zhang He'an paused mid-stroke.
Li Qingxun tilted her gaze upward, meeting his eyes before continuing her playful nonsense: "The old emperor wants to send me off for a political marriage. Ah, I’ve never even met the Yue Kingdom’s crown prince. If he turns out to be handsomer than you, I might just agree to wed him—"
Zhang He'an released her hair, seized her wrist, and leaned in.
A kiss, born of sheer frustration, crashed down like a storm.
What followed spiraled beyond control.
Inside the cave, the bonfire blazed fiercely; outside, the sun dipped westward until the mountains were swallowed by night.
At first, Li Qingxun reveled in the fervor, but eventually, even her defiance wavered. She was never one to yield—whether in ambition or in bed—and she met him with equal intensity.
The cramped cave echoed with heat, muffled sounds, and unrelenting passion.
Under the moon’s cold glow, Li Qingxun plucked that distant, untouchable orb from the sky.
...
By dawn, she stirred groggily. Her vision blurred, then sharpened, and she noticed an odd chill on her right leg.
Zhang He'an knelt beside her, applying medicine to the wound there.
The scab had split during last night’s recklessness, seeping faint streaks of blood. Li Qingxun lounged lazily, hooking a finger under his chin. "Prime Minister Zhang, who’d have thought?"
With that pristine, ascetic face of his.
Yet so untamed between the sheets.
Zhang He'an caught her finger, brushing his lips against her palm. His dark eyes gleamed, a silent declaration—or a warning: "Li Qingxun, you were the one who provoked me."
Her eyes curved into crescents. "Stay with me from now on. I’ll keep you."
Zhang He'an was quiet for a long moment.
Then: "Alright."
Days melted into nights in the wilderness.
Li Qingxun, bold and unconstrained, refused to waste a single moment after finally claiming Zhang He'an.
They were inseparable.
Between meals and sleep, they tangled together in a haze of desire, their days and nights blurred into one relentless, month-long indulgence.
Her diary filled the parchment.
She willfully forgot her homeland; he set aside the weight of his family’s legacy. In that tiny cave, only their breath and heat remained, burning unchecked.
Later, Li Qingxun would realize those three months in the mountains were the happiest of her life.
Then, in early autumn, the distant thunder of hooves shattered the silence.
Li Qingxun sat up slowly, draping a thin robe over herself. She glanced down at Zhang He'an. "Enough. There’s movement outside. Let’s go see."