An Author and Protagonist Got a Happy Ending [Transmigration] - Chapter 23

The Old National Preceptor climbed out of a mud pit, his face dark with rage.

In a land of ten thousand miles of ice, this specific dense forest was the only place where the foliage remained lush. He had merely intended to stop by and check on the progress of his cultivated medicinal herbs. Instead, the moment he stepped inside, he was tripped by a stray branch and face-planted into the mud.

Naturally, a mere branch could never trouble a National Preceptor, but many branches hidden in the shadows acting simultaneously was a different story. If he hadn’t been unable to sense even a shred of spiritual energy, he would have suspected these branches had attained sentience.

This forest was sparsely populated and surrounded by barriers; ordinary people couldn’t get near, let alone tamper with anything. Was he just particularly unlucky today?

The Old National Preceptor frowned deeply, brushing the dust and dirt off his clothes. Suddenly, a bolt of thunder exploded in the sky, followed immediately by bean-sized raindrops pattering down.

Caught by surprise, the Preceptor didn’t have time to react before rainwater mixed with mud slid down his body.

“Pah—!”

He wiped his face, his expression grim, and stared at the sky for a long time. Once certain there were no signs of human interference, he remembered to chant a cleansing spell to remove the grime and added a water-repelling ward for good measure.

The weather was far too abnormal. He had lived to such an age and had never seen thunder and rain occur so abruptly in this season. His lifelong reputation…

Fortunately, no one saw. Next time, I’ll change the barrier to a waterproof one.

After such a wretched interlude, the Preceptor lost all interest in walking through the forest to act the part of a transcendent master. He strode toward his medicine garden. According to his calculations, the flowers he had planted should be mature. If nothing went wrong, he could take them back and brew another high-grade poison.

Rounding a few clusters of ancient shrubs, he caught a glimpse of the ghostly blue petals. Just then, another BOOM echoed from the heavens.

This time, the Preceptor was prepared. He raised his hand and blocked the falling lightning. But before a smile could form on his face, he saw the bolt strike a withered branch, igniting a spark. In an instant, that single blue flower was burned to a crisp.

The remaining flames didn’t spread to the ordinary trees; instead, they flickered leisurely, as if flaunting their power before the Preceptor—

I might not be able to strike you dead, but can’t I strike your flower dead?!

If the fire could speak, that was likely what it would have expressed. The National Preceptor’s face grew increasingly dark. He stood frozen for a long time before finally unable to suppress a roar.

“Who exactly did this?!”

Of course, the Saintess was the first to be ruled out. If she had that kind of power, would she have let herself be abducted by the Princess for a forced marriage?

The sudden night rain stopped the next day.

In the early morning, the sun appeared. Rainwater clung to the leaves by the window, dripping down with the breeze. The air had become much fresher, filled with the scent of earth and green leaves.

When Xiao Muyu woke up, she sneezed three times in a row. This terrified the little maid in the room, who nearly ran out to find Doctor Shen. Just as the maid reached the door, she ran straight into Pei Qiuyue.

“What’s wrong?” Pei Qiuyue asked, puzzled. “What happened to the Saintess now?”

“I’m fine,” Xiao Muyu’s voice came from inside. She rubbed her nose, her voice slightly nasal. “I just feel like someone’s been cursing me behind my back for a long time.”

Pei Qiuyue entered the room. Seeing that Xiao Muyu had just finished washing and looked normal without any signs of weakness, she breathed a sigh of relief and didn’t dwell on Xiao Muyu’s nonsensical comment.

“Does Second Miss have a reason for visiting?” Xiao Muyu asked.

In truth, she wanted to ask, “Why is it always you?” The maids in the courtyard had been rotated several times, and even the Princess didn’t visit as frequently as Pei Qiuyue. As the Princess’s right-hand woman, didn’t she have other things to do?

“To Her Highness, the Saintess is also a very important matter,” Pei Qiuyue explained gently, as if reading Xiao Muyu’s mind. “The Princess has her own way of doing things. Sometimes, bringing too many people along is just a hindrance.”

Xiao Muyu very consciously categorized herself as that “hindrance.” However, she didn’t really mind.

“Regarding the Noble Consort… there are still some lingering matters to handle. Additionally, envoys from the Xiyan Kingdom will arrive in a few days, and the Princess needs to prepare. She is tied up for the moment and lacks the energy to oversee the wedding preparations, so I am temporarily acting on her behalf.”

Lacks the energy… More like she hasn’t even thought about managing it.

Pei Qiuyue spoke with great earnestness, but Xiao Muyu quickly guessed the Princess’s true attitude. After all, the Princess just wanted to use this to keep her nearby. Talking about “love” was a bit of a stretch.

This wasn’t a bad thing. Imagining the Princess saying “I love you” with a shy face made Xiao Muyu feel unwell. In a daze, she could almost see the Princess’s cold face appearing behind the fantasy and smashing it to pieces with a slap.

Terrifying. Xiao Muyu shivered, hurriedly dispersing the bad hallucination.

“This is a catalog. You can look through it to see what you like and have someone record it. I’ll have the items sent over together,” Pei Qiuyue said, handing over a picture book. This was the purpose of her visit. “I was negligent before and almost forgot the wedding date is approaching. If you are interested, I will take you to look at jewelry tomorrow.”

Pei Qiuyue explained the general rules. In the Xuefu Kingdom, a fictional dynasty, it wasn’t strange for women to hold office, so the rules were much more relaxed. For a general wedding, there were no strict ceremonial requirements; one retained a certain right of choice based on personal preference.

In short: as long as the formal process was followed, everything else could be done however one liked or felt most comfortable.

Xiao Muyu felt that applying these rules to her was a total waste. She had no requirements.

“Anything is fine,” Xiao Muyu said reservedly. “I will follow the arrangements of the Princess and Second Miss.”

Rather than the catalog, she was more interested in the Xiyan Kingdom envoys Pei Qiuyue mentioned. The National Preceptor had mentioned them recently. And much longer ago, she vaguely remembered this being a plot point.

Xiao Muyu used the opportunity of looking at the jewelry catalog to ask indirect questions. She finally managed to get some useful information out of Pei Qiuyue.

The Xiyan Kingdom was to the southwest of Xuefu. It wasn’t large and bordered several major nations, but its terrain was treacherous and its natural resources were abundant, making it a country with a decent presence. However, because of the terrain, communication between Xiyan and Xuefu was inconvenient; envoys were only sent at intervals.

Since the Princess had begun handling political affairs by her father’s side, she had been responsible for receiving the Xiyan envoys. This time was no exception. From Pei Qiuyue’s tone, this seemed like a routine diplomatic visit. It wasn’t even a secret; seeing Xiao Muyu’s interest, Pei Qiuyue shared a few more details.

Xiao Muyu held the catalog up to hide her face, openly spacing out amidst a pile of illustrations of complex, magnificent wedding dresses. Listening to Pei Qiuyue’s description, she gradually remembered the upcoming plot.

This should be the point in the main storyline where the Princess goes on her first official military campaign.

Because Xiyan was so isolated, outsiders like those in Xuefu didn’t realize that Xiyan’s internal situation had turned grim in recent years. The previous king had passed away unexpectedly, and his sons were locked in a fierce power struggle, leaving the commoners in misery. Normally, they wouldn’t have the leisure to send envoys for cultural exchanges.

Initially, Xuefu was unaware and received them according to the usual protocol. But in reality, the person disguised as an envoy was a Xiyan Prince. Seeing that he was about to lose the power struggle at home, his mind turned, and he thought of finding outside help, dragging the Princess onto his “pirate ship” without her knowledge.

That Prince was no saint. Through a series of manipulative maneuvers—faking power and sowing discord—he provoked the victor back in Xiyan into deciding to trample over Xuefu to assert national prestige. Thanks to the fleeing Prince’s exaggerations, the victor back home believed that with a woman in charge, Xuefu was about to collapse. Thus, without considering actual factors, they charged in arrogantly.

With someone stepping on her face, the Princess naturally wouldn’t be merciful or seek compromise. The result was obvious: Xiyan eventually became a new territory of Xuefu.

Xiao Muyu didn’t need to worry about the Princess’s strength. What she truly cared about was the plot after Xiyan. The fall of Xiyan served as a starting point that laid the groundwork for the Princess falling into a neighbor’s trap later. That was the greatest crisis the Princess ever faced; she would spend a period of time wandering the wilderness alone, and the villains would even believe she was dead.

The ending was, of course, a narrow escape. She even gained a new cultivation technique from it, raising her strength to another level. That manual was what Xiao Muyu had always wanted.

And the Princess had to be the one to get it and practice it, since a Saintess couldn’t cultivate. All of this was predicated on the Princess following the intended plotline.

She should, right? She was the future Empress who ambitiously dreamt of conquering the world, after all.

Xiao Muyu tried to pull back her drifting unease and returned her gaze to the catalog. Her nose almost touched the page; all she saw was red.

Pei Qiuyue stopped and glanced over. “Does the Saintess like this one?” She stepped back to size Xiao Muyu up for a moment and nodded. “It might suit you quite well.”

“Ah, is that so,” Xiao Muyu said absently. “Thanks.”

Until the catalog was handed back, she hadn’t actually looked at the dresses. Her mind was trapped in the plot. Although nothing seemed wrong, what was with this weird, ominous premonition?

Also, should she find a way to drop a hint to the Princess about Xiyan? What if something unexpected happened…?

Xiao Muyu fell into a dilemma. Soon, the dilemma solved itself—because she realized the Princess was so busy lately she was nowhere to be found. Is there really such a thing as being so busy you’re invisible right before your wedding? Xiao Muyu heard people whispering this in private.

By the time the Princess found a moment of leisure to visit Xiao Muyu, the wedding date was very close. She didn’t announce herself, told the maids not to make a sound, and pushed the door open.

Xiao Muyu was sitting at the table, nibbling on a hawthorn cake and staring into space. The wedding dress, finished in a rush, had just been delivered; she had likely tried it on, and it was spread casually across the bed—a vibrant, sprawling mass of red in her peripheral vision.

The Princess didn’t expect Xiao Muyu to get up and serve her. She closed the door, sat down at the table, and picked up a small piece of hawthorn cake.

It was sour. She didn’t understand why Xiao Muyu liked this stuff. Frowning slightly, the Princess took another bite and asked: “Does it fit?”

Xiao Muyu snapped back to reality. “Huh? What?”

The Princess pointed to the dress on the bed. “I’ve been busy lately and might not be able to come over often. But if you need anything, tell me or Qiuyue directly. Some things might not be in the palace, but I can have craftsmen make them.”

Xiao Muyu realized she meant the items for the wedding and shook her head. “I don’t have anything I want.”

She was still thinking about other things, so she was a bit distracted. But it was true that she didn’t want anything else. This person’s desire for survival was low; aside from her midnight escape, she rarely expressed strong self-will. Her answers were usually “whatever,” “anything,” or “it doesn’t matter.”

The Princess could see she wasn’t being perfunctory, yet that was exactly why she felt slightly displeased. She set down the half-eaten cake, glanced at the red dress, and suddenly said:

“Put it on and let me see.”

Xiao Muyu looked at her blankly.

“The wedding dress,” the Princess said. “I want you to wear it for me.”