MTLNOVEL Chapter 170: Let the Good Times Roll
The forest was quieter than it had been all week. Quieter than it should've been for all the people still around.
Lanterns swayed between the trees, casting long shadows over the dirt paths as nobles and ministers drifted back to their tents. The smell of roasted meat still lingered in the air, but it was thinner now, diluted by night, by exhaustion, by all the performances that had already played out.
I walked slowly.
Not because I was tired, but because I was waiting.
Behind me, just far enough to pretend subtlety, one of Princess Yuyan's servants followed Yaozu and me. Her footsteps were light, careful, but not careful enough. She stepped too close once, then too far. She hadn't been trained for this. Probably one of Yuyan's newer girls, sent with too many promises and too little experience.
Yaozu said nothing as we walked, but he didn't have to. Both of us were shaking our heads at the sheer stupidity of the move.
When the servant got a bit too close for a second time, I could feel him tense beside me, his hand twitching once near the hilt of his blade. He'd known from the moment we left the tent that we weren't alone.
"She's behind us," he muttered softly.
"I know," I shrugged, not really caring.
He didn't ask if I wanted her handled.
Instead, he exhaled slow and quiet.
We stopped at the entrance to my tent. I stepped inside without turning, but I could feel his gaze on my back.
"Don't follow me," I announced. It was the first time that I had ever said something like that to him since Mingyu had assigned him to look after me, but for what came next, I needed to be alone.
He didn't move, simply raised an eyebrow as if to silently question just how dumb I was.
"I mean it," I grunted. However, Yaozu still didn't so much as budge from where he stood.
"This has to happen," I added, letting out a long sigh. "And it has to happen without you. If you are here, then they won't make their move and we'll be stuck in this holding pattern until I go crazy."
Finally, his voice—tight, cold. "You'll be vulnerable."
"I've been vulnerable since the moment I was born. Doesn't mean I forgot how to fight," I sneered. Seriously… did no one remember who I was? Did I play the toothless tiger for so long that everyone thought I was trained?
I heard the faint grind of his jaw before he turned and melted back into the trees, but I didn't stop him. Even though a part of me wanted to.
Inside the tent, the firepot had been lit. A faint curl of incense danced in the air, sweet, like crushed lotus seeds and too much sandalwood. The smell was wrong. Intentional. And it made my stomach twist.
They were really trying; I had to give them that.
I sat down on the edge of the sleeping mat and stretched my legs out. My outer robe slid open slightly at the ankles, revealing skin marked with faint bruises from hours in riding boots. My fingers unfastened my hairpiece, letting the strands fall loose over my shoulders. When everything was undone, I took Deming's cherry blossom hairpin and used that to pin all my hair on top of my head.
I hadn't been in the tent for more than ten minutes when soft footsteps approached from outside. The tent flap rustled, as a stranger poked her face through the flaps and looked around for me.
"My lady," she said carefully, not realizing that I had already spotted her. Clearing my throat, I called out for her to come in.
Satisfied by my response, the girl stood at the entrance with her head bowed, a covered tray clasped between her hands, as she bowed as deeply as she could. The poor girl. Her sleeves were too long for work, and her face too pale for lying.
I raised an eyebrow. "You're late," I said, my voice flat.
The servant blinked. "The Crown Princess… she sent me to bring you something warm. She said the mountain air might be affecting your appetite."
"Mm."
I made no move to reach for the tray.
The girl stepped closer, hesitating only once before placing it down beside me. Her hands trembled slightly as she poured the wine. The scent was thick. Plum, yes—but something underneath it. Too sweet. Too rich.
She offered it to me with both hands.
I stared at her, then took the cup.
But I didn't drink.
Instead, I swirled the liquid once. Let it catch the firelight. Let her think I might play along.
Then I poured the wine onto the mat beside me.
Her face blanched.
"You're not very good at this," I said mildly.
"I—I—"
"You should've started with the frying pan."
Her eyes widened.
I tilted my head. "Or maybe the lid from the firepot. Bronze. Good weight. It won't kill me, but it will buy you time."
She looked down at the burning brazier. Then back at me.
I didn't move.
Didn't rise.
Didn't even blink.
"This is the part," I said softly, "where you decide how brave you really are."
Her breathing sped up as she clenched her hands to her sides. Then, in one sharp motion, she lunged for the brazier lid—thick, round, and blackened from years of use.
She gripped it with both hands before turning back to me.
And I just sat there, legs stretched out, arms resting in my lap, watching her like she was a child holding a toy sword.
"I won't stop you," I said quietly. "But you only get one chance. Make it count."
She hesitated.
Just a beat.
Then she raised it—and swung.
The pain hit the side of my skull first. Sharp. Blinding. Then came the weightless drop of my body slumping forward. I felt the ground tilt. The mat met my cheek.
And then nothing.
Meh… in the words of Aunt Hattie… 'Laissez le bon temps rouler'… let the good times roll.