Chapter Forty-One: Remembering in Another Time

Because Ye Qianling’s wound was causing her discomfort, the group decided to spend their precious rest time inside the pharmacy, playing cards and chatting. Although it was enjoyable, it wasn’t a solution. After three hours of recuperation, Ye Qianling no longer felt so unwell. Ignoring the others’ objections, she stood up, intending to go out with the rest of them for a walk.

“What are you doing?” Jian Suifei asked as he saw her rise, quickly understanding her intent. He immediately said, “Miss Wu, if you’re not feeling well, don’t get out of bed.”

Ye Qianling glanced at Jian Suifei, waved her hand lightly, and replied, “I’m fine now. Lying in bed all this time is uncomfortable too. Let’s go out for a bit together.”

“Miss Wu, you just had surgery; your body is only just able to move, and the anesthetic hasn’t even worn off yet. You don’t need to force yourself to go out because of us,” Zhao Mengge, leaning against the medicine cabinet, also tried to dissuade her.

“I know, but this is likely our only chance to relax in two years. If I become the reason everyone misses out, that would truly be a sin.” Ye Qianling suppressed the weakness in her body, her voice hoarse as she spoke.

They had only known each other a few days, so none of them felt comfortable insisting on their own opinions. The atmosphere became awkward, and apart from Ye Qianling, no one made a move.

“What’s going on?” Chu Zimu and Si Yan returned to find the mood strange. Seeing Ye Qianling already out of bed and nearly dressed after just having surgery, Chu Zimu asked, “Miss Wu, what’s going on? You just finished surgery and you’re already getting up. Is there something you need to do that we can’t help you with?”

“No, it’s just that I’m fine now. Once my wound was cleaned, it stopped hurting. Staying in the pharmacy is boring anyway. Why not go see what fun things are outside?” Ye Qianling didn’t look at Chu Zimu, continuing to dress. As she finished, she caught the scent of blood, wrinkled her nose in disgust, and tugged at her collar to check, then let go with an expression of distaste. “I need to buy some new clothes anyway. Let’s not just sit here—doing nothing is making me sleepy.” She reached for the sword by the bedside, preparing to leave.

“Wait a moment,” Zhou Xiaojie suddenly remembered something. He looked up and said, “Today is the winter solstice. We haven’t had dumplings yet. Why don’t we make dumplings together here?” He glanced around to gauge everyone’s reaction.

“Great idea! Does anyone know how to make them? I’ve never tried, but I bet it’s fun. I totally support this suggestion,” Chu Zimu said, glancing at the speechless Si Yan and immediately chimed in.

Ye Qianling really is something else, Chu Zimu thought. She should just rest if she’s unwell. Inwardly, he cursed her a hundred times but kept a smile plastered on his face.

“I’ve never made them either. If we don’t make them ourselves, we’d have to buy them, and it’s so cold outside. I’m not keen to go out,” Jian Suifei added.

“But does anyone actually know how to make dumplings? And is there even a place for that in a pharmacy?” Zhou Xiaojie was excited—he’d grown up as a young master and had never done household chores, but the prospect of trying something new made his eyes light up. His spontaneous suggestion was met with surprising support.

“I do,” Ye Qianling said after a moment’s thought. It was obvious the idea was brought up to accommodate her. She wasn’t sure if she should admit it, but since everyone supported the plan, there was no need to be pretentious.

Si Yan looked up at Ye Qianling when she spoke, but said nothing. His actions, however, made clear he was heading out to prepare the necessary ingredients.

“You’re amazing! You’re the only one among us who knows how. Honestly, I love eating dumplings, but I’ve never made them. With this opportunity, you’ll have to teach me.” Chu Zimu, seeing Si Yan leave for ingredients and the mood lighten, approached Ye Qianling with a smile.

“Thank you,” Ye Qianling replied softly. “I know you’re all doing this for my sake. Thank you.”

“You just had surgery—don’t push yourself. None of us are desperate to go out and play. Besides, it’s freezing outside—you might catch a cold and be miserable afterward. Just make sure the dumplings are tasty,” Chu Zimu said, still smiling.

“All right.” Ye Qianling nodded gratefully, her body weak as she sat back down on the bed.

“When did you learn to make dumplings? Don’t take offense, but you don’t really seem like someone who’d know how,” Chu Zimu asked as the others went to prepare, leaving only him and Sui Ying’ai with Ye Qianling.

“A long time ago. I learned from an older brother when I was young. I didn’t have much else to do, and he taught me since I liked dumplings,” Ye Qianling replied calmly, though an unnameable sadness flickered across her face.

Chu Zimu noticed the sorrow in her expression and didn’t press further. He said he’d check with the pharmacy staff about using their kitchen and then left.

It was Chen Feng, Wanfeng’s son, who had taught Ye Qianling how to make dumplings. It was her first year on the battlefield. Because she was too reckless and acted without considering consequences, the Emperor of Guangde forbade her from fighting for two months, telling her to reflect—she could only stay in the palace or discuss strategies with soldiers at the barracks. During that time, Ye Qianling wore a perpetual frown, never smiling. After a month of being banned from battle and seeing her father still unmoved, she grew frustrated, refused to return to the palace, and spent her days in the barracks sparring with soldiers who, like her, were not at the front. At just fourteen, Ye Qianling was already a formidable opponent in the camp—no one managed to defeat her in days of single combat.

Eventually, winning every day dulled her passion, so she began sneaking out in a soldier’s uniform to seek entertainment. One day, curiosity led her to Youlan Pavilion—the capital’s famous pleasure house. Wandering past its ornate facade, she was about to enter when she noticed the doorman eyeing her uniform. Soldiers of the Ye dynasty were strictly forbidden from entering such establishments—defying the rule would spell ruin for both the soldier and the house.

Ye Qianling swiftly turned on her heel and dashed to a nearby clothing shop, bought a cloak to cover herself, and hurried back to the pavilion. The doormen, seeing her distinguished bearing and fine attire, didn’t question her and were about to let her in.

But as she stepped forward, a hand caught her arm. “Wait.”

Ye Qianling recognized the voice immediately. Annoyed at being stopped just short of satisfying her curiosity, she tried to shake him off and go in.

“Your Highness, the Crown Prince.” The man suddenly uttered this title. Startled, Ye Qianling quickly withdrew her foot and looked around, but there was no sign of the Crown Prince.

She realized she’d been tricked, accepted her fate, and turned to meet his gaze with a smile. “Brother Feng, what a coincidence meeting you here.”

“Indeed,” Chen Feng had happened by chance, spotted someone who looked remarkably like Ye Qianling trying to enter the brothel, watched for a while, and, once certain, stopped her. Seeing her now, he played along. “Fifth Princess, you’d best come with me. This is no place for someone of your station.”

“Is there really no room for negotiation?” Ye Qianling blinked her luminous eyes, making one last attempt.

“Please go back,” Chen Feng replied gently, shaking his head.

“Oh, all right.” Ye Qianling sighed, her disappointment obvious. She knew if she insisted, she would only make it harder for him, so she said nothing more. Adjusting her cloak, she cast a wistful glance at the doors of Youlan Pavilion and slunk away.

It was clear how frustrated Ye Qianling felt. She walked back in silence, not exchanging a word with Chen Feng, her face stormy as she hurried to the barracks. Returning, she didn’t greet anyone as usual but stormed straight into her room.

“General Chen, what’s wrong with the Fifth Princess?” a soldier asked after seeing Ye Qianling’s uncharacteristic behavior.

“It’s nothing—she’s upset because she couldn’t buy the strawberry candy she wanted. She’ll be fine soon,” Chen Feng replied helplessly.

“Really?” The soldier was surprised by this answer, struggling to process it. After a moment, he said, “The Fifth Princess really lives up to her reputation as a foodie—she gets this upset over missing out on a snack.”

“What foodie? You’re the foodie! When have I ever…” Ye Qianling shouted from her room. Already upset at being denied what she wanted, being labeled only made her feel worse.

“Fifth Princess,” Chen Feng interrupted, nodding to the soldier before stepping to her door. “May I come in?” he asked from outside.

Ye Qianling was instantly silenced. After a moment, a muffled “Mm” emerged from under her blanket.

“Fifth Princess, did I do something wrong?” Chen Feng entered to find Ye Qianling sulking and asked calmly.

Her agitated tossing ceased at his words. She didn’t know what to say. She knew she was in the wrong, but she couldn’t help feeling aggrieved. After all, as a general, being forbidden from fighting—practically under house arrest—while her father refused to relent, and now even being denied a small pleasure, was almost unbearable. But Chen Feng truly hadn’t done anything wrong.