Chapter Twelve: A Young Woman's Words Carry Weight

Lingran was so furious her teeth ached with resentment. She glared fiercely at the “honorable” General Peng, comforting herself inwardly, “Just run slowly, no one dies from this!” Resolutely, she lifted the hem of her skirt and tucked it into her waistband, then began to run.

Biqing’s eyes were brimming with tears. She wanted to plead with General Peng, but seeing him stand with his hands behind his back, watching Lingran grow ever more distant, the mirth gone from his gaze, replaced with an unspoken authority, she was ultimately too afraid. She bit her lip and swallowed her words.

The nine concubines were led away by the soldiers, leaving the racetrack in silence.

Lingran jogged along, able only to hear the soft thud of her own footsteps and her pounding heartbeat. She couldn’t help but recall the Greek runner Pheidippides—who, as legend goes, ran from the shores of Marathon to Athens to deliver news, dying from exhaustion. The marathon was named for him, but she was determined not to share his fate!

With this worry in mind, after completing a lap, she swung by Peng Lun’s side and called out, “General Peng, you spent three thousand taels of silver to buy me back. Surely you don’t intend to run me to death? Five or six hours—at least prepare some water for me!”

A ripple crossed Peng Lun’s hardened face. This girl was truly peculiar!

What woman, upon hearing she must run for five hours, could still look so unafraid?

What woman, under such circumstances, could so casually ask him for water?

He pondered for a moment, watching her recede into the distance once more, then finally spoke, turning to the attendant behind him, “Bring some tea and water.”

The attendant acknowledged the order and started to walk away, but was called back.

“And bring the records about this girl,” Peng Lun added.

Lingran kept running lap after lap, losing count of the distance. When she was so exhausted she was panting like a dog, she caught sight of Peng Lun out of the corner of her eye.

He had actually had a grand chair and a small table brought over, and now sat there, leisurely reading a book while sipping tea.

“Damned fiend!” Lingran muttered under her breath. Even the devilish PE teacher from her school days wasn’t so cruel. Ancient men truly lacked chivalry—may he suffer in childbirth, no, may he never find a wife in his lifetime... Lingran cursed him fiercely. Glancing up, she saw Peng Lun deeply absorbed in his book, and her steps unconsciously slowed. When far from him, she simply walked, keeping an eye on his movements, and whenever he looked up at her, she would resume jogging.

The sky brightened gradually. A few servants arrived to extinguish the lanterns on the racetrack. The weather, so different from yesterday’s stormy threat, promised a clear, sunny day.

She was truly unlucky—if she had to run under the blazing sun of early summer, she’d be skinned alive if not dead.

Lingran’s heart was pounding fiercely. In her previous life, after her illness was discovered, she hadn’t exercised strenuously for over five years, right up until her death. Even if this body could endure prolonged exertion, mentally she could not. She decided to humble herself and attempt to persuade General Peng.

Peng Lun watched coldly as she approached with a cheerful smile.

“General Peng,” Lingran called sweetly, moving to the table to pour herself a drink.

“Who allowed you to stop?”

“Captain Song did!” Lingran declared, full of righteous confidence. “He said I could rest for a quarter hour. Surely I’ve run for an hour by now—the sun’s up!”

Peng Lun stood and looked down at her. “You don’t count your moments of idling as rest?”

Lingran sipped her tea slowly. “You’re a grand general—must you haggle so much with a young woman?” She cursed inwardly at his eagle-eyed vigilance.

Peng Lun was surprised. This tiny girl, though still respectful in tone, truly wasn’t afraid of him. Not only was she fearless, but her manner and expression suggested she was speaking to a longtime friend—so natural and sincere, without a hint of affectation.

He frowned deeply. “Are you really the daughter of Zhang Ning, the official?”

Again! Lingran instantly became alert, her back straightening as she retorted, “Why do you ask?”

“Zhang Ning is old-fashioned, stubborn, and often impeaches the powerful for minor breaches of etiquette, which brought disaster upon himself. Yet you don’t seem like the daughter he could have raised.”

“Who says a daughter must be cast from the same mold as her father?”

Peng Lun’s gaze was sharp, plainly hostile. “Are you not concerned for your father and family’s safety?”

Lingran paused, remembering that ancient people valued filial piety above all. If she appeared too indifferent, others would surely look down on her. She lowered her head, summoned her emotions, recalled the suffering of her illness, her parents’ helplessness… even remembered a childhood toy stolen by the neighborhood bully. Only then did she manage to well up a few tears and lift her head.

Peng Lun saw the girl who had just been cheerful suddenly brimming with tears, her demeanor so pitiful and touching that he felt a pang of regret. He thought, “Who wouldn’t care for their parents? She must be forcing herself to smile, but my words have stirred up her sorrow.”

Lingran pretended to wipe her tears, softening and slowing her voice. “What can I do? Every day I pray to the gods, begging for my father and family’s safety. If shortening my life could spare them suffering, I’d gladly run myself to death today!”

Peng Lun’s eyes flickered, seemingly moved by her words. After a moment's silence, he sat down again. “You’re muddling the conversation—are you trying to evade your promise?”

Lingran’s face hardened, a bit annoyed. What kind of remark was that? If she had one virtue, it was keeping her word. Anything promised, she would do.

“Don’t think only men value their word! A woman’s promise is just as binding!” She tossed down her cup and ran off once more.

She ran and ran...

The sunlight, once gentle, now scattered fiery sparks across the earth. Lingran ran mechanically, occasionally glancing at the cloudless sky, occasionally checking Peng Lun’s movements.

He had not left, though his seat had shifted from outdoors to beneath a canopy. The servants brought him a feather fan, which he waved leisurely, watching her with cool detachment, his thoughts unreadable.

“A general who leads troops into battle—how can he be so bored?” Lingran wondered inwardly, feeling the sun’s glare turning everything to blinding white. Illusory bubbles danced before her eyes. With her own long illness, she recognized the signs of dizziness—cold sweat streamed from her forehead, temples, and back, and even frequent sips of tea under the canopy could not help.

Peng Lun watched quietly, as if appreciating a performance, never once relaxing his surveillance.

Lingran had no idea how long she had run. Judging by the sun, it was nearly noon. Though she hadn’t reached her limit, it was close enough. Living in a strange world, she could not afford to push herself too far. If she died, there would be no one to bury her. Even if she pretended to faint now, her sweat-soaked appearance would make it convincing enough...

She simply didn’t believe Peng Lun would waste three thousand taels for nothing. Judging by his worn brocade robe, he was surely a miser!

Resolute, she suddenly stopped, swayed a few times, and theatrically collapsed on the spot.