Chapter 4: Mei Xi (IV) Rice Porridge [Repair!]...
The wind and snow of the cold night finally subsided at dawn, and the lead-gray light of the sky struggled to penetrate the small, high window of the side hall.
The bitterness of the herbs in the hall and the pungent smell left by last night's wound cleaning had not yet dissipated, mixed with a barely audible aftertaste of blood.
Last night's life-and-death struggle was like a sticky nightmare, weighing heavily on Lin Jiaojiao's senses. Her consciousness was like a fish trapped in the deep sea, struggling to float upwards. The first chisel to break through the chaos was the excruciating pain in her right shoulder that seemed to split her soul.
"hiss--"
Lin Jiaojiao still had her eyes closed, her body stiff as a slab of stone. Cold sweat silently seeped out of her smooth forehead and slid down her perfectly smooth jawline. It was itchy, but she didn't bother to wipe it off. It wasn't until the fierce pain showed signs of subsiding that she dared to slowly, very slowly inhale a breath of cold air. The cold air rushed into her lungs, and finally brought in a little clarity of consciousness.
Her eyelids felt as heavy as if they were hung with lead. Her eyelashes trembled a few times and she struggled to open them a little.
The light is harsh.
Against the light, I could only vaguely see a thin figure kneeling beside the couch, his thin shoulders shaking slightly with suppressed sobs. It was Chun.
"...water..." His throat was so dry as if it had been ground by a grinding wheel. It took a lot of effort to squeeze out a little tearing sound.
The sobbing stopped instantly, and Chun suddenly looked up. Her little face, stained with tears and showing panic, was like a torch of hope that was instantly ignited, bursting with blazing brilliance. She used her hands and feet, almost rolling and crawling, to rush to the rough pottery jar in the corner, and quickly scooped half a bowl of slightly cold well water.
"My Lady! Are you awake?" The voice was hoarse after crying, and he carefully but impatiently brought it to Lin Jiaojiao's lips.
The cool water flowed like sweet spring water, moistening the burning throat. The faint coolness slid down the esophagus, bringing a slight warmth and dispelling the deep coldness in the limbs.
Lin Jiaojiao greedily absorbed the life-saving water. Her body was as weak as boiled noodles, but her brain had at least managed to come out of the mushy state. She blinked, and her physiological tears were fanned away by her long eyelashes, making her misty and wet eyes look like stars washed by a rainstorm. This was the effect of a fragile beauty filter, but of course she was completely unaware of it.
She turned her gaze with difficulty and fell on Chun's eyes, which were swollen like peaches. They were full of fear of surviving the disaster and great joy of her awakening. This warmth of pure dependence slightly dispelled the coldness in her heart.
Just as she was about to force a soothing smile, the movement of her mouth affected the tense injured area on her shoulder blade, causing her face to wrinkle in pain and she gasped.
Bang! Bang! Bang—!
Clang! Clang! Clang—!
Without any warning, an earth-shaking roar broke out from outside the hall!
Heavy leather boots slammed into the cold stone slabs in unison, creating a dull thud like a heart being stomped on. The harsh, sharp scraping of metal, like the frantic friction of countless rusty saw blades, pierced the silence, accompanied by commands that pierced the door panels, filled with murderous intent:
"By the king's order! Gather in armor!"
"Infantry line up on the right!"
"Chariot on the left—!"
Boom! Boom! Boom! The huge drums were beaten like a frantic war cry, one after another, shaking the dust from the roof of the hall and making the tiny dust particles in the air dance wildly.
Chun's face suddenly turned paler than when she had a fever last night. Her body was shaking like a dead leaf in the cold wind. She clutched the sleeve of Lin Jiaojiao's uninjured left arm tightly like a frightened bird, her nails digging into the fabric: "It's...it's the royal court's tiger guards gathering...Your Majesty, Your Majesty is going to go to war, he he he..." Her voice was shaking so much that the second half of the sentence was drowned out by the huge noise.
Lin Jiaojiao's heartbeat tightened and rose to the rhythm of the drums, nearly leaping out of her throat. Going to war? Against that living devil?! Leaving this palace that could crush her to death at any moment?!
As if to answer the thunder in her heart, a fanatical, almost distorted roar suddenly rang out from outside: "Li Gui must be executed! Whoever beheads him will be rewarded with ten thousand households and ten thousand gold coins—"
"—— Kill! Kill! Kill!" The thunderous shouts rose like the shock wave of an explosion, and the overwhelming murderous aura almost tore the fragile door of the side hall into pieces.
Chun was so frightened that he staggered and almost collapsed to the ground.
After a moment of deathly silence, a deep and violent roar, like thunder and fire splitting the chaos from the sky, drowned out all the noise and was transmitted into the hall with incredible clarity: "——Attack Shang!"
Then, the deep voice belonging to Xia Jie, which had woken Lin Jiaojiao up countless times in nightmares, rang out fiercely, like two heavy pieces of pig iron rubbing against each other, and every word was filled with the sticky smell of blood and the desire for killing: "I will lead the army myself! Within ten days... I will chop off Cheng Tang's head and return, to let the world see the consequences of disobeying me." The last sentence was more like a warning declaration to his own backyard.
The deafening drumbeats were once again raised to the breaking point in this bloodthirsty declaration, followed by the roar of metal from the confluence of weapons and armor, the rumbling thunder of giant wheels rolling over the earth, and the terrifying sound of thousands of heavy footsteps crushing the stone slabs.
The torrent of sound carried a strong murderous aura, like a steel monster that chose its prey as it rumbled and crushed towards the south.
After a brief period of dead silence outside the hall, only the muffled and dull sounds of slaves cleaning up the mess remained.
A drop of cold sweat slid down Lin Jiaojiao's pointed chin and hit the rough animal skin mattress. She let out a long and silent breath of the foul air that had been trapped in her chest, and the heavy stone called tyrant pressing on her heart fell to the ground with a "bang".
He is gone. The tyrant who treated human life as worthless and crushed her more casually than crushing an ant has left temporarily.
A huge sense of relaxation swept through every tense cell in the body like a warm tide, followed by waves of emptiness from deep in the stomach, as if it was severely polished by rough sandpaper. It was hunger, a desire that came from the most primitive and urgent need of life to be filled.
She could even hear her stomach making a faint, protesting "rumble".
"... porridge..." She stuck out her tongue and carefully licked her cracked and chapped lips. As she did so, her lips, which were slightly pale due to weakness and dehydration, instead revealed a delicate and moist feeling as if they had been ravaged.
She cast a pitiful gaze towards the pitiful little fire pit in the corner of the hall that was about to go out. The faint orange-red flame reflected in her moist eyes that were as misty as dusty crystals. With the purest desire, she said, "I want to drink... millet porridge... thick and hot..." Her voice was weak and feeble, like a person who had just recovered from a serious illness. The ending tone was soft and sticky, with a hint of unconscious coquettishness.
[Energy Core: 15%. Continuously operating at low levels. Serious warning! Recommended supplementation with high-calorie foods.] The system's cold, flat alarm rang out in my head, mixed with a faint electrical hum, sounding like an old phone running low on power.
Chun was stunned at first, looking at her concubine's pale but still breathtakingly beautiful face, which had been tortured by low fever and pain all night, and her eyes that were sparkling because of the desire for food. Those eyes seemed to have magic, which instantly gave her infinite courage.
"Yes! Yes! My Lady, please wait!" Chun wiped away the remaining tears on his face, a determined light shining on his little face. He quickly ran to the inconspicuous little earthenware jar in the corner, and carefully opened the lid like a little beast guarding a treasure.
Lin Jiaojiao's eyes lit up, as if they contained a touchstone.
There was actually half a can of golden corn at the bottom of the jar. In this precarious palace of a tyrant, it was even more precious than diamonds. She swore that it was the most beautiful gold she had ever seen in her two lifetimes.
Chun scooped out a full small bowl, thought for a while, gritted his teeth and added another half spoonful. Lin Jiaojiao cheered silently in her heart, "Good Chunchun, when sister gets better, I will definitely add chicken legs for you, although I don't know if there are any chicken legs here."
Then, Chun walked quickly to the small fire pit, carefully stirred the ashes, added a few thin firewood, and waited until the flames jumped up a little more vigorously before carefully placing a small pottery cauldron with a heavy and simple style on it.
The bottom of the pot touched the flame, making a pleasant "sizzling" sound. After waiting for a few minutes, she carefully poured some clean water into the pot. The rice grains were carefully washed twice by her little hands, held in a ceramic bowl, and slowly poured into the pot that was emitting fine steam.
The clear water gently flows over the golden rice grains, swaying slightly. The flame faithfully licks the bottom of the pottery pot, making a reassuring "crackling" sound. The water droplets condense into water lines along the rough inner wall of the pottery pot and slowly slide down. The rice grains slowly stretch, soak, and become plump and round in the warm water.
Wisps of steam carrying the original sweetness of grains began to rise.
That simple yet soothing sweet fragrance is like an invisible thread, instantly connecting Lin Jiaojiao's lonely soul in another world with the fragments of memories of "home" and "warmth" in distant time and space.
She narrowed her eyes slightly, like a cat longing for warmth, greedily absorbing the steamy and hopeful aroma in small sips. Each sip seemed to inject a trace of weak vitality, flowing to her cold and tired limbs. The firelight danced on the girl's focused and pious profile. The simple pottery cauldron and small fire pit became the only sanctuary and source of light in this cold stone temple.
The warm aroma of rice grew stronger and stronger, overwhelmingly penetrating into her nostrils, making her stomach revolt. Lin Jiaojiao couldn't help but move, wanting to get closer to smell it, but was immediately hit by the unyielding pain in her right shoulder. She groaned and lay back down. "Broken wound! It's delaying my absorption of the vital energy of heaven and earth!"
It was torture, a long torture, and every second seemed to be stretched out.
Finally, at the edge of the pottery cauldron, round and plump bubbles gurgled up one after another, bursting one after another and releasing an even richer sweet fragrance.
The golden rice slurry becomes as sticky as honey. The cracked rice grains roll and stretch in it, completely releasing all their essence. The thick rice juice wrapped with the soft rice grains spreads lazily in the pot. Chun stirs it gently with a smoothly sharpened small wooden stick. The thick rice slurry hangs perfectly on the stick, pulling out delicate and flexible white silk. It's time!
Chun hurriedly pulled out most of the firewood, leaving only a little warm ember to gently bake at the bottom of the pot. She quickly found a clean earthenware bowl, picked up the boiling hot pot with both hands very solemnly, held her breath, and carefully poured the simple and holy golden warmth into the bowl.
Golden, hot, trembling rice porridge.
They swayed lazily and temptingly in the stoneware bowl, each grain of rice completely blossomed into the shape of a flower, the rice soup was so thick that it almost hung on the wall, and it exuded a more unbridled, hot sweet aroma than before.
Chun held the edge of the bowl carefully, and even though he gasped in fear of being scalded, he did not dare to let go, and held it in front of Lin Jiaojiao.
"My Lady, be careful of the heat...eat slowly..." Her voice was filled with heartache.
Lin Jiaojiao used all her strength, mainly her left arm and waist, to support her upper body with great difficulty. The small movement of getting up made her eyes full of stars and she almost couldn't breathe. The wound on her right shoulder screamed in protest as if it was being pricked by a needle, but she didn't care. Her sight was completely glued to the bowl of redemption in front of her, which was emitting white mist and golden light.
The mellow sweet fragrance warmed her heart strongly. It did not have the gorgeousness of a Manchu-Han banquet, but only the most authentic and healing taste of food. She even forgot to use the pitifully simple bamboo spoon that Chun handed to her. Her left hand reached out with lightning speed and snatched the heavy, thick pottery bowl.
"Ouch!" The incredibly hot edge of the bowl instantly burned her unprotected fingertips. She subconsciously shrank back, but the scalding heat and the tempting aroma of the porridge scratched her heart like little claws.
Hunger and the desire for warmth instantly overwhelmed her reason. Like a little beast that had been hungry for several lifetimes, she brought the edge of the boiling hot bowl to her lips again without hesitation, and greedily and desperately sipped a mouthful of the hot and thick rice soup.
“Hoohoohoooo ...
The boiling hot rice soup instantly burned the tip of her sensitive tongue and palate, causing her to grimace and gasp for air, but she didn't care. The warm, sweet heat stream, carrying the soul of the grain, slid down her throat all the way to the depths of her cold stomach. Wherever it passed, it instantly dispelled the cold that had invaded her bone marrow. Even the fierce pain in her shoulder seemed to be melted and soothed a little by this gentle place.
My eyes were instantly filled with hot tears, one drop, two drops... they rolled down uncontrollably and fell into the slightly hot golden porridge, creating tiny ripples. Oh, I am so useless, I was moved to tears by just one mouthful of porridge.
Even though she complained in her heart, Lin Jiaojiao's body was more honest than her mouth. She quickly lowered her head, buried her whole face in the bowl, and started sucking hard again.
The boiling hot rice porridge mixed with the smooth rice soup was so hot that it numbed the tip of her tongue but it was so fragrant that the primitive and powerful appetite dominated her.
She made a "grunting" sound as she tried to swallow, half of her face immersed in the steaming heat and golden warm light, her messy hair hung down on her slightly red cheeks, wet by the tears that flowed out, a few strands stuck to her cheeks, and a few playfully stuck to the snow-white skin on the side of her neck, looking so embarrassed and fragile that it was heartbreaking.
The wound on her right shoulder was pulled by the swallowing action, causing waves of sharp pain that could not be ignored. She just frowned and squeezed out a dissatisfied hum from her throat, but she did not stop the pace of devouring for a moment.
Just as Lin Jiaojiao was engaged in a desperate struggle with the bowl of piping hot and sweet "Survival Cause", the heavy palace door suddenly made a teeth-grinding groan of wood crushing against each other without warning.
Squeak——
A sharp chill, brought in from the snowy outside, rushed in like a giant icy hand, instantly tearing the pitiful warmth that had been accumulated in the hall to pieces.
Lin Jiaojiao held a mouthful of scalding rice porridge, her tongue throbbing with heat. Like a frightened rabbit, she jerked her head up and looked toward the door, bewildered. A glistening stain of rice soup still clung to her cheek.
At the door, Zhao was wearing a robe that seemed to be condensed with fine snow crystals, standing like a stone statue that had just walked out of an extremely cold place.
There was no expression on his face. His eyes, as deep as the cold pool of an ancient well, pierced through the dim light and the steaming heat of food, like precise probes, firmly locked on her, or rather, on her raven-black hair that hung beside her pale cheek and was slightly wet and messy from the hot tears and the misty heat.
He didn't care about the way she held the bowl, her cheeks slightly puffed out, her lips slightly red from being burned and even stained with food residue, and he completely ignored Chun's fear that froze her and she dared not breathe.
His gaze, with a cold, scalpel-sharp inquiry, fell fixedly on the raven-black hair that was soaked with tears and messed up by hasty swallowing, and now slightly tangled and stuck to the delicate earlobe and pale neck.
The strand of hair, slightly steamed by body temperature and heat, cast a hazy halo, becoming the only flowing luster in the dark corner at this moment, fragile and eye-catching.
The air seemed to solidify into cold amber, and even the last struggling spark in the fire pit held its breath.
Zhao approached steadily, and the silent pressure spread across the hall like heavy ink. He stopped one step away from the couch, his figure as tall and straight as a lone pine on a snowy cliff.
The cold wind and snow he brought with him had not yet completely dissipated, but his calm aura had already enveloped this small space. He did not say a word of greeting, nor did he ask about her injuries. His eyes, like deep pools, swept across her face and finally stopped.
A deep voice sounded, like icicles falling on a jade plate, carrying an unquestionable interrogation:
"The princess had a high fever last night and was mumbling, 'burn it'..." He paused deliberately, as if weighing the weight of these three words with the tip of his tongue, and then emphasized the ending tone, stabbing at Lin Jiaojiao with a cold blade.
"What do you mean?"
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