CHAPTER 242: CHAPTER 174: IT’S NOT BAD TO TAKE A BREAK FOR A WHILE!

Harano returned to the back residence, but he didn’t rush to look for Princess Dog. He planned to check on the silly boy first. After all, just coming back from a trip, he had to take a look to set his mind at ease. But he didn’t expect that as soon as he arrived at Meng Ziqi’s place, he would find Princess Dog preparing to leave.

Harano was a bit surprised, and also became slightly alert inside, but kept his composure outwardly. He supported Princess Dog, who bowed to greet him upon seeing his arrival, and asked with a smile, "What brings you here?"

Princess Dog saw some joy between his brows after his return from the campaign, but replied shyly, "Saburomaru went off to battle, and I wanted to do something for you, so I came over to have a look."

"Oh?" Harano glanced at the room where Meng Ziqi was settled, then smiled and asked, "Then why did you think to come here and take a look?"

Princess Dog didn’t hide anything, and answered honestly: "I heard it from Azhong and Axia. They said that Saburomaru cares deeply for Lord Shirou (the common name Harano made up for Meng Ziqi), so I thought I’d come by every day for a look, in case someone might neglect Lord Shirou while you’re away."

Harano nodded slightly. Looks like Azhong and Axia had pried this "information" from the maids’ mouths, but after thinking it over, he didn’t bother to pursue the matter. This level didn’t really count as a leak.

Seeing he didn’t speak for a while, Princess Dog became a little anxious. After hesitating a bit, she nervously asked, "Was it wrong...for me to come?"

"It’s fine." Harano snapped out of it and smiled at her, "I was just worried it would trouble you too much."

Actually, it didn’t matter if she came or not. Here, he had arranged twelve reliable maids split into three shifts for care taking. Nothing could go wrong. But if she wanted to come in her spare time, that was fine too—it was an extra layer of insurance.

Princess Dog let out a subtle breath of relief, then became happy again, though after a moment of happiness she composed herself and said with dignity, "It’s not a bother, taking care of things for Saburomaru is what I should do."

Harano was stunned for a moment, then couldn’t help but smile before going inside to visit Meng Ziqi. He took his pulse, and then the smile on his face gradually faded, turning into a sigh.

There was still nothing optimistic about Meng Ziqi’s condition. After so long only being able to drink liquid food, he’d gone from a chubby kid to a skinny one. And even though someone massaged his whole body on schedule every day, his muscles were still starting to atrophy. In fact, over this past year or so, it had only gotten worse—much worse than back in Hibi Village.

In a way, these last twelve months he had finally started to resemble a long-term bedridden vegetative patient. You could feel him getting weaker with each passing day, as if you could physically see his life slipping away, month by month.

The miraculous healing effect brought by transmigration seemed to have vanished from him—at the very least, most of it was gone.

Harano had absolutely no move to make about this. He didn’t have the slightest idea how that miraculous recovery had happened, or why it was now fading away.

It was as if fate was playing a joke on him—a particularly cruel joke.

He sat beside Meng Ziqi and stayed with him for a while, forcing himself to perk up. He made everyone else leave for a bit, spoke in their hometown dialect with Meng Ziqi for a while, even tried to scare him, hoping to stimulate his brain. But as always, it was useless—Meng Ziqi’s breathing didn’t even change a bit.

He took his pulse again, but felt there was no way to further adjust the prescriptions, so he summoned the attendant maid back to ask about the situation, once again reminding them to take meticulous care of him—something he’d said over a hundred times by now. No one in the inner residence dared neglect this room anymore, but he still had to repeat it over and over.

He had to do everything in his power to get Meng Ziqi back alive to the modern world...

If he couldn’t, he also couldn’t let Meng Ziqi suffer even the slightest grievance before he died.

This was all he could do, and it was his responsibility—if only he’d refused to let the kid come visit him in Nagoya in the first place. But there’s a sale for everything in this world, except for regret medicine.

After the maid repeatedly assured him nothing would go wrong, he tucked Meng Ziqi in well before getting up to leave. He’d come again tomorrow morning. As long as he was home, this was his must-do [daily quest].

Princess Dog was kneeling on the veranda waiting for him. Harano quickly composed himself, put on a smile again, and said to her: "Let’s go, let him get some good rest."

Princess Dog nodded obediently, rose and followed him. Only then did Azhong and Axia quietly appear from a distance, trailing after them far behind.

Harano ignored the two and smiled as he asked Princess Dog what she’d been busy with lately, whether anything in life had been troublesome, or if she wanted anything. Princess Dog shook her head, saying she was doing very well here. Everyone respected her; her food and clothing were impeccable—she wanted for nothing.

Harano nodded quietly, thinking she was a little too easy to please—it actually made him feel a bit guilty. In truth, he had no feelings for Princess Dog. She wasn’t like A-Qing. He and A-Qing had gone through life and death together, really huddling for warmth in a cave. But with Princess Dog, there were no feelings, only a marriage of interest. She was so young, so meek and honest, never causing any trouble. He couldn’t help but feel a faint sense of debt.

It was a complicated kind of emotion. He wasn’t a psychologist and couldn’t put it into words, but he did truly feel some guilt.

He couldn’t help but say, "You really don’t need to stay cooped up at home all the time. If you have some free time, you could go out and stroll around the town."

Princess Dog hesitated, sneaking a look at his expression, then asked cautiously, "May I not go out?"

"Of course you can." Harano replied immediately, then hesitated a moment and asked, "You...don’t feel like going out?"

Princess Dog hesitantly shook her head and whispered, "I’m quite happy here. I don’t get bored reading—you see...so I’d rather not go out?"

"Alright then, as long as you’re happy." Harano didn’t force her. He’d originally wondered if he should try sending her to school, but thought that might be pushing things a bit. After all, sending your wife to grade school was a bit too startling—she probably couldn’t accept it.

The two of them talked as they returned to their quarters. Harano was just about to ask someone to order dishes and eat with Princess Dog. Since the wedding, he’d been off on campaigns in Minoh, busy resettling new immigrants, fending off Saito Yoshitada stirring up trouble—he’d barely eaten a few meals at the inner residence. Now that he’d just gotten back and wasn’t busy, he decided to take half a day off and keep her company—since they were married, he ought to take some responsibility. He couldn’t just leave her on her own all the time. At the very least, he owed her some basic respect.

Princess Dog was delighted to see him staying; Azhong and Axia, the two handmaids, were even more delighted, rushing off to oversee the meal. They already seemed quite accustomed to "the Nozawa family" life—at the very least, they’d learned to order food. Princess Dog, after a moment’s hesitation, went to a corner, opened a chest and pulled out a pair of long, white tabi (tie-on "socks" worn with armor), then, blushing, handed them to him.

Harano took the socks and unfolded them. He saw the Nozawa family’s blue gourd crest stitched on them, and on each side, Han characters for "Fortune on all roads of martial valor" and "Ever victorious in a hundred battles." All in all, the embroidery was quite impressive: tight stitching, beautiful writing—a real feat. Without talent and hard practice, this kind of handiwork would be impossible.

He flipped them over, surprised: "Are these for me?"

Princess Dog nodded gently, embarrassed: "Please try them on... I don’t know if they fit."

"Actually, I don’t..." Harano started to say that, over the last year alone, he’d approved six microloans to support enterprising Wanjin people in opening tailor and clothing shops. Such things could easily be bought, which would also boost the local economy—a win-win. But he managed to stop himself in time, didn’t blurt it out, hurried to try them on, and smiled, "They fit perfectly. Very comfortable."

After a pause, he added a polite line: "You must have spent a lot of time. Thank you very much."

Princess Dog hadn’t expected him to thank her, and was startled. She quickly waved her hands: "No, it didn’t take that long. I just...sewed them together casually."

"Uh, is that so..." Harano was a little at a loss too. After a moment’s thought he couldn’t help but laugh, "If you can sew this well just casually, that’s really something. Anyway, thank you again."

Azhong and Axia watched them from the doorway, practically about to have a cerebral hemorrhage from excitement. Princess Dog realized she’d said something awkward and, ashamed, mumbled, "You don’t have to thank me."

"I really do." This was the first time in Harano’s life someone had made him socks—a memorable thing. Looking at the petite Princess Dog, he was now sure she could never be the "spy princess" type of wife. With this personality, she’d never be a "spy" and would pose no threat to New Wanjin.

Harano folded up the socks and put them away, smiling as he asked, "Do you really like sewing...um, doing needlework?"

Without looking up, Princess Dog softly said, "My wet nurse was a great seamstress—she could make twelve-layered robes. I learned a bit from her..."

"I see!" Harano thought about it and figured she must like it. So he had Azhong and Axia bring brush and ink, and sketched some diagrams for her. "If you ever want to do some needlework to pass the time, just make more socks like these!"

He’d been secretly working on customs reforms in his territory. If Princess Dog hadn’t brought it up, he’d have forgotten about the whole socks issue. Later on, he could arrange for them to be made—people would probably want them in winter. If not, he could start by issuing them to the Wanjin Army; once the soldiers got used to them, the custom would naturally spread to the people.

Princess Dog took the "patterns" and stared at them for a long time before figuring out what they were. She wanted to mention that these tabi didn’t even have straps, and couldn’t possibly stay on, but didn’t quite dare. After hesitating, she decided to try to solve the problem herself, quietly saying, "Yes, please let me...give it a try!"

Harano was just being spontaneous, so he let her experiment however she liked—it didn’t matter. Soon the food arrived and they ate together. Their tastes were distinct: Princess Dog loved quick-cooked, tender greens, nibbling away rabbit-like, while he favored heavily seasoned meats. But occasionally, he’d pick out some lean meat for her, and Princess Dog would obediently eat it, not fussy at all.

Both had quieter, steady personalities. After dinner, there were no exuberant entertainments—they each picked up a book to read. Harano kept researching how Japan’s "Divine Kingdom ideology" had formed, to gauge if his future plans were off track, flipping through the notes of various samurai, scholars, priests, and monks, sometimes taking notes.

Princess Dog picked up a Collection of Waka and read beside him, but after a while, she peeked at him, recalled how he was always so mild-mannered and had never scolded her, gathered some courage, and secretly switched to a storybook. Soon, a smile bloomed on her face as she read, genuinely happy.

She truly felt this kind of life was wonderful—steady and content. Harano too increasingly felt he was lucky—in a political marriage, his partner turned out not to be a pain or faking it, but genuinely pleasant, free of any flaw.

He couldn’t help but wonder if he should bring her a gift on his next trip—after all, she’d made him socks. He really should reciprocate; otherwise, it would be awfully rude.

But aside from letting his mind wander during conversation, he was actually quite focused other times, soon becoming absorbed in his book and pondering his big plans again.

Now and then, he’d give his mind a break—thinking through his future work plans, laying out long-term strategies.

Otherwise, he really had nothing to do for now. Everything in New Wanjin was on track. For the moment, his territory couldn’t expand, and there was no need to develop new technology or products. He could only keep quiet for a while.

Perhaps, this was an interval between battles? It felt quite good, being able to rest for a while!