Eastern Lake was blessed with a uniquely favorable climate, warm and hot all year round, with long summers and no winter. Every inch of the air was steeped in the distinctive charm of a tropical coast.
Early that morning, Li Jia pushed open the window. The sky was a spotless blue, without a cloud for miles, its clear expanse like a gem steeped in seawater, shining a deep, pure azure.
Unfortunately, this era had no smartphones. Otherwise, Li Jia would definitely have downloaded a few apps and searched tags like #EasternLakeFood, #EasternLakeOOTD, and #EasternLakeLocalCustoms.
But smartphones did not exist here, so forget it. She would wear whatever she liked.
Li Jia thought she must have been kicked in the head by a donkey to have come here in a wool sweater. Fortunately, she had also brought a few summer outfits and long-sleeved tops.
She wore a white tank top and white cotton-linen wide-leg pants, with a blue checked long-sleeved shirt over them.
Hera had never interfered with her unconventional way of dressing. She could do whatever she wanted, as long as she was happy and unrestrained.
Hera simply did not quite understand why, in such muggy heat, she needed another long-sleeved layer over the clothes she already wore.
Li Jia dug a few more bottles and jars out of her suitcase and slathered their contents over herself, coating her entire face and neck in white until she looked like a fake corpse.
Seeing Hera's puzzled expression, Li Jia declared confidently, "This is called sunscreen. The UV rays here are so strong that I'll get tanned if I don't put it on."
Technology in Ancient Greece was underdeveloped. Li Jia had bought all the ingredients herself at the market in Fragrant City Spring Capital, then gone home, shut the door, and started experimenting.
Though she was a salted fish, a salted fish's instinct was to treat herself well.
A mixture of olive oil, flower juice, and finely ground rice bran, applied to the face for sun protection, became a simple sunscreen. This was pretty good, too, with hardly any additives.
It just looked a little funny, leaving Li Jia's face red in some places and white in others.
As they walked along together, Hera studied her for a long while before she could no longer hold back a laugh. "Are you wearing all those clothes for sun protection, too?"
"Of course. Wouldn't I have to be crazy to wear this much in this heat otherwise?"
Comparing a human to a god really was infuriating. She had wrapped herself up so tightly, while Hera freely bared her arms. The point was, who knew how many times fairer Hera was than her.
A divine body would not age, grow tired, or hunger, nor would it fall into the suffering of reincarnation. Whatever a deity had looked like when Li Jia first saw them, they would still look the same when she glanced back hundreds or thousands of years later.
"That's easy. I'll help you."
With that, the devil used a little divine power and plucked a small piece from the layers of white clouds. Like an automatic sunshade, the cloud followed Li Jia wherever she went.
...Li Jia took back what she had thought. Her boss was far too considerate of her employee. She made up her mind: she would definitely sever her boss's ill-fated romance!
"Your Majesty."
She chided her in a low voice.
"Hmm?"
"Please don't ever fall for a man, all right? I'm begging you."
The little one's tone was filled with frantic, exasperated pleading.
Hera's eyes widened. It felt as though a panicked butterfly was beating its wings wildly inside her chest, each flutter bringing a sharp stab of pain, until even her breathing grew broken and difficult.
"Li Jia," she said hoarsely, "do you know what you're saying?"
Li Jia nodded. "I know what I'm saying. Dorian deceived Qili. Dorian was the one at fault, but Qili was the one punished."
"Big sister, I know and understand how good you are better than anyone else in the world. That's why I don't want you to be deceived by a bad man and burdened with a stain on your name that's hard to wash away."
"..."
"Big sister, I love you, and my heart aches for you. Don't like men. Don't fall for anyone else, all right?"
"..."
When Hera did not respond, Li Jia lowered her head and murmured, "Your Majesty... I..."
Hera reached out and gripped her wrist tightly. Li Jia cried out in pain. "Your Majesty, please don't be angry. I didn't mean to offend you..."
Hera froze slightly. She's gone back to addressing me formally. Did I frighten her?
So she said softly, "No, I'm not angry. I just..."
She simply had not had time to react. The little one's words had been too direct, and she had yet to digest them, either physically or mentally.
"As long as you're not angry. Let's go. Don't we only have three days? It's already the second day. If we haven't resolved this by tomorrow evening, Qili will turn into foam."
Remembering the important matter at hand, Li Jia immediately changed the subject and urged Hera to hurry and find Qili.
Hera could only release her wrist. Li Jia obligingly became a salted fish hanging off her boss, and with a single Shadow Escape, Hera brought them into the secret underground dungeon of Kalte Imperial City.
The dungeon lay beneath the castle. It was dark and damp, lacking sunlight and ventilation, with cramped quarters and appalling sanitation. The moment they stepped inside, a damp, rotten, moldy stench hit them, and Li Jia immediately dry-heaved.
Hera cast a spell on her, sealing her mouth and nose against the foul air. Only then did Li Jia feel alive again.
The girl huddled in a corner, chains leaving blue and purple marks around her wrists. Yet her throat hurt worse than her wounds. Where the flesh of her vocal cords had once been, only a hideous scar remained, like a gully brutally ripped open by a sharp blade.
Three days earlier, she and Dorian had held their wedding, with all the guests offering them blessings. At that moment, Qili had felt she was the happiest person in the world. If only her sister could have been there.
But her husband's words had left her at a loss. Over and over, she had screamed and shouted, "I don't want to! I don't want to make this sacrifice! I don't want to lose my singing voice!"
Only for her husband in name to seize her jaw and press a blade to her throat.
"Qili, help me." The cold voice poured into her ears, followed by an agonizing pain that tore through her throat.
Her eyes widened as she watched her blood splatter over his white formal attire. Yet she could no longer make a single sound, only broken, breathy gasps, like a dying fish.
Now the dungeon had become her coffin. The iron door opened only once a day, bringing moldy steamed buns and water to keep her clinging to life, so she would not die too soon.
At least until the second prince's coronation ceremony, when she, his princess consort, was supposed to disappear without a sound.
Qili was too ashamed to face Elia. But she could not give up on herself so easily. She crawled over and picked up a steamed bun with trembling hands, swallowing it in tiny bites. Each swallow hurt as though her skin were being flayed and her tendons torn out.
She could not accept this. She still wanted to live.
Because she still wanted to see her sister one more time and tell her she was sorry, that she had been wrong. She hoped her sister would accept her belated apology.
But it seemed there would be no chance. She had lost her voice and could not contact Elia. Perhaps that was just as well. At least her sister would not have to grieve for her.
Qili was so tired that she drifted into sleep. Only when someone kept shaking her arm did she slowly open her eyes.
"Wake up."
"Wake up. You're not allowed to sleep."
A young girl's voice sounded beside Qili's ear, more urgent and more concerned than anyone else's.
It seemed she did not want her to die.