An Author and Protagonist Got a Happy Ending [Transmigration] - Chapter 11

Xiao Muyu was a master of seizing the moment.

Whether it was an instinctive talent or a keenness developed through experience was difficult to discern. Surviving two years in the apocalypse might be attributed to luck; surviving ten required far more than that. Moreover, Xiao Muyu’s luck had never been particularly good.

It was simply that her personality was so easygoing that her intense desire for survival was rarely visible on the surface; thus, her high-stakes gambles were often dismissed as mere fortune. Since she hated standing out, the result of her extreme low profile was that people once suspected her true superpower was simply “Good Luck.”

The Princess had watched her for a long time—hardly looking away for a moment—and had managed to detect that hidden talent. As long as she is given time… no, as long as she is still breathing, until the very moment of death, she possesses the possibility and the ability to turn the tides.

From another perspective, Xiao Muyu’s temporary flight this time was a “slant stroke of the sword”—an unorthodox move. Had she simply begged for help, the Princess might not have truly taken it to heart. After all, one was the Imperial Father who doted on her, and the other was the Noble Consort who stood unswervingly by her side—a woman who had been closest to her late mother.

As for Xiao Muyu, the Princess still harbored doubts about her. She didn’t believe her family would disregard her wishes and secretly poison Xiao Muyu without a word. Furthermore, Xiao Muyu still held the title of Temple Saintess; killing her would only bring the Princess trouble.

Logically, the Princess didn’t think Xiao Muyu would come to harm because of the Emperor or the Consort. But human behavior is not governed by logic alone; the Princess knew this well. Xiao Muyu’s escape forced her to realize that as long as the Princess was determined, the Emperor and the Consort would never be able to touch her.

So… was this truly just an unintentional act of panic? The Princess didn’t believe Xiao Muyu’s answer, but she didn’t bother to expose her. This stunt had caused quite a stir and brought trouble to others, but the Princess didn’t hate it.

And… it helped her confirm one thing.

The Princess shifted her gaze, looking in the same direction as Xiao Muyu. She hadn’t seen such scenery in a long time. After that long dream, she had gradually come to appreciate how precious these seemingly ordinary sights were. It was only when such a massive anomaly crashed into her life that she finally began to feel the “reality” of being alive; vivid vitality had finally colored her vision.

The other woman’s breath and heartbeat seemed audible. The Princess’s heart, which had been flighty and hollow for so long, finally began to settle. Living like this doesn’t seem so bad.

By the time they returned, Pei Qiuyue had already received the news. The small courtyard had been cleaned inside and out; the maids were replaced, guards were specifically stationed, and the half-finished renovations were accelerated. When the Princess led Xiao Muyu back, the courtyard was brand new.

“Qiuyue has the keys to my treasury. Pick whatever you like,” the Princess said.

She showed no anger; instead, she was visibly cheerful. Her attitude toward the runaway Saintess was exceptionally gentle, leaving the others—who had been frantic with worry—utterly stunned. They quickly realized the Princess did not intend to pursue the matter. Not only was she not punishing her, she was glossing over it as if it were a triviality, like stepping out into the yard to admire flowers. Everyone understood: it was time to shut their mouths.

There were still those who harbored suspicion and shock, but they only dared to steal glances at the Saintess’s face, sighing inwardly that the privileges of a beauty were truly numerous.

After offering a few words of comfort, the Princess called Xiao Muyu to her side before leaving. She reached out to brush a stray lock of hair from the girl’s face. The gesture was intimate, and the few whispered words were heard only by Xiao Muyu.

“I can give you anything you want, but remember one thing—don’t think of running again. Even if you flee to the ends of the earth, I will hunt you down.”

Hearing the underlying threat, Xiao Muyu gave a hollow laugh, maintaining her “good girl” act of admitting fault. “I wouldn’t dare.”

The Princess pinched her cheek, gave a light smile, and departed. She had other business to attend to. Pei Qiuyue gave a few gentle instructions to the maids and guards before hurriedly saying goodbye to Xiao Muyu to catch up with the Princess. Even Xiao Muyu could see that her attitude was perfunctory now; she was clearly very dissatisfied.

Xiao Muyu didn’t much care. To have a “good face” shown to her after such a mess would require a saint. The Princess, with her miraculous logic, was naturally not in that category.

Xiao Muyu walked around the room and found that it was indeed much more spacious after being knocked through. She hadn’t had the heart to appreciate it before, but now it looked quite elegant. She walked toward the side facing the garden and sat on the floor.

A maid was tidying up small items and turned to ask how the Saintess wanted them placed, only to be startled.

“Saintess!”

Thud—

Xiao Muyu’s hand slipped, her arms no longer able to support her weight, and she tumbled backward onto the floor. Fortunately, the doorsill had been leveled, connecting to the outer wooden corridor. Scattered weeds, thriving because of the underground magic arrays, clung to the wooden planks.

Xiao Muyu blinked, her heart racing—not because of the accidental fall, but because of a sudden surge of “survivor’s high.” But she was far from being able to relax her guard.

The maid rushed over to help her up, but Xiao Muyu refused.

“Let me lie here for a bit, please, please,” Xiao Muyu closed her eyes, looking ready to sleep right there. “I’m so tired. Come call me in the evening…” Her voice grew muffled with a nasal tone, and before she could finish the sentence, she had fallen asleep.

Meanwhile, Pei Qiuyue had just caught up with the Princess, only to be stunned by her words.

“…The Princess wants me to personally protect the Saintess?”

“Just look after her for a while,” the Princess corrected. “In terms of being meticulous and thoughtful, I can’t think of anyone but you. Besides, Imperial Father and the Noble Consort will show you some respect. It’s more stable with you watching over her.”

Pei Qiuyue was stable and reliable. Furthermore, as the niece of the late Empress, she had been dearly loved by her aunt, and the Emperor and Consort treated her with more affection than their own sons. She was the person the Princess trusted most; giving her this task was the most reassuring choice.

The Princess’s words were casual, but they left Pei Qiuyue’s mind blank for several seconds. Has this Saintess become that important to the Princess? Pei Qiuyue was shocked.

“At most, two weeks,” the Princess explained. “In two weeks, when I’ve finished the business at hand, I won’t have to trouble you anymore.”

In about half a month, it would be the wedding day. It seemed the Princess hadn’t wavered in her decision at all. Pei Qiuyue, however, was the one beginning to waver.

“I know you want to persuade me,” the Princess said, seeing through her thoughts. “But this isn’t some sorcery from the Saintess; she doesn’t have the ability. Only she… is different. When the Xu family case is over, I will tell you the details.”

The Xu family case was a major affair the Princess was currently occupied with. They were descendants of founding heroes, elders of multiple reigns, and held immense power—but they were also ambitious and suspected of treason, a literal tumor in the court. The Emperor had wanted to deal with them for a long time but failed; the Princess had finally caught some leads and was investigating aggressively, preparing to uproot them in one go. Under such circumstances, the Princess couldn’t afford to be too distracted.

Pei Qiuyue could only swallow her words and reluctantly nod in agreement. I’ll have to find time to talk some sense into the Saintess later… no, I mean, have a heart-to-heart.

In the middle of the night, Xiao Muyu woke from a dream with a start. Upon opening her eyes, she saw the bright moon hanging in the sky, its silver light making the corridor look like day. A quilt was draped over her—likely placed there by a maid who hadn’t dared to move her to the bed, so she was still splayed on the floor.

Xiao Muyu suppressed a groan as she rolled over. Her bones were creaking; she didn’t feel well. Her chest felt as if a fire had been lit, spreading heat to her limbs, yet she also felt cold—the midnight temperature had dropped sharply, and her exposed face was frozen stiff. It was a literal heaven and hell of ice and fire.

The cold receded slightly once she was awake. Xiao Muyu rubbed her cheeks. Feeling some warmth, she instinctively curled up into a small ball.

It hurts too much.

Before long, the hair by her face was soaked with sweat. She bit her lower lip hard to swallow her pained gasps.

Nearly silent footsteps approached on the wooden floor. When Xiao Muyu opened her stinging eyes, she realized someone was grabbing her hair, forcing her to look up. Sweat rolled into her eyes, stinging them and forcing tears to pour out.

Through her blurred vision, Xiao Muyu saw the face of the Old National Preceptor. With his back to the moon, his face was exceptionally dark—fitting for a villain. Xiao Muyu thought dizzily that the National Preceptor looked equally grim.

Clearly, the news of her midnight escape had reached his ears. But despite being visibly angry, he didn’t immediately scold her or feed her any strange drugs. He just stared fixedly at her face, as if trying to see something within.

“I underestimated you,” the National Preceptor said once again, followed by a sinister villainous laugh. “I didn’t realize our ‘innocent and pure’ Saintess had such great ability.”

Xiao Muyu endured the pain and gave him a slightly distorted smile. “Thanks for the compliment.”

The National Preceptor paused slightly.

“You’ve grown quite bold,” he sneered. “Are you relying on the Princess’s ‘liking’ for you?”

The irony in his words was plain for anyone to hear. Xiao Muyu acted as if she heard nothing, her smile carrying a hint of defiance.

“That’s right.”