Chapter 10

 

“You lost!”

Zheng Gong burst out laughing as he swept up the silver shards scattered on the rock. Old Wang, the short guard who had been losing repeatedly, stood up with a scowl.

“What’s wrong, Old Wang? Lost a bit and now you’re giving up?” Zheng Gong teased.

The other guards joined in the ridicule, their jeers making Old Wang’s expression even darker.

The gambling resumed after Old Wang left, with Zheng Gong coaxing more of the guards to join in.

Watching Zheng Gong’s gleeful antics, Li Zhi found no trace of humanity in him.

Day after day, the gambling continued.

The more Old Wang lost, the more desperate he became to win, until he had nothing left to wager. Eventually, Zheng Gong excluded him from the games entirely.

Li Zhi knew her chance had come.

While Old Wang was guarding the women during their trip to relieve themselves, Li Zhi deliberately lingered at the back of the group.

“What are you waiting for? Hurry up!” Old Wang snapped, his frustration from days of losing making him irritable with everyone.

Li Zhi hesitated for a moment before speaking cautiously. “Sir, I shouldn’t say this, but… there’s a reason you’ve been losing.”

“What reason?” Wang’s face twisted with suspicion.

“If I tell you, could you give me something to eat?” Li Zhi swallowed nervously.

Old Wang didn’t doubt her. After rummaging in his coat, he produced a leftover piece of sweet potato and tossed it to her.

“Speak quickly! If you’re lying, you’ll lose your head!” His eyes gleamed dangerously.

Li Zhi picked up the sweet potato from the ground and hid it in her sleeve. After glancing around to make sure no one was watching, she leaned in and whispered a few words.

“Is that true?”

“…Absolutely. If you bet again, you’ll see I’m telling the truth.”

The rustling of clothes signaled the other prisoners were finishing up. Li Zhi didn’t say another word, quietly following the group back to the camp.

Back at the camp, Old Wang wasted no time seeking out Zheng Gong.

“You want to bet again?” Zheng Gong sneered.

“I do!”

Old Wang slapped down a murky jade pendant as his wager.

Zheng Gong hesitated, examining the trinket with disdain, but eventually agreed to another round.

The arid desert became their gambling den. Old Wang and Zheng Gong sat cross-legged on the sand while guards and prisoners gathered around to watch.

Li Zhi sat with her back to the crowd, her expression calm as she nibbled on the piece of sweet potato.

Her small teeth bit into the crispy flesh.

Crunch, crunch, crunch.

Methodically, relentlessly, she shredded the morsel to pieces.

Before long, an enraged roar erupted behind her.

“You cheated me!”

Old Wang’s voice was livid.

Gasps rippled through the crowd.

A scuffle broke out. Old Wang landed a solid punch, knocking Zheng Gong to the ground. The two men grappled violently, their fight quickly escalating.

Zheng Gong, lazy and gluttonous, was no match for Old Wang’s muscular frame.

“Stop this! Have you forgotten your duty to escort the prisoners?”

Zhen Qiao, drawn by the commotion, barked orders as he arrived. His scolding prompted the onlookers to intervene, dragging the two brawlers apart.

Zheng Gong was left battered and bruised, while Old Wang was only slightly winded.

“You’d better return every bit you swindled from me!” Old Wang shouted.

“Dream on, you sore loser!” Zheng Gong retorted, his face swelling with anger and humiliation.

Even as they were separated, the two continued hurling insults at each other.

Li Zhi finished her sweet potato, licking the crumbs off her fingers.

She knew it wouldn’t be long before Zheng Gong realized who had tipped off Old Wang.

A few days later, Old Wang handed out rations to the prisoners. When he reached Li Zhi, he paused before tossing her the largest portion from the bucket.

The envious stares of the other prisoners didn’t faze Li Zhi. She knew Old Wang and Zheng Gong had reconciled. This was just another step in her plan.

Li Zhi had become deeply engrossed in the art of strategy.

Unlike Old Wang or Zheng Gong, her stakes were higher—she gambled with lives, steering destinies toward entirely different outcomes.

And most importantly—she wasn’t afraid to lose.

She didn’t fear losing everything or facing ruin.

Old Wang’s favoritism lasted only three days. Soon after, he was reassigned and left the camp, taking his reclaimed possessions with him.

Without Old Wang’s protection, Li Zhi’s hardships resumed. Zheng Gong ignored her during ration distribution, purposefully handing larger portions to those around her.

The prisoners, eager to curry favor, wasted no time ostracizing and mocking Li Zhi.

Zheng Gong didn’t dare harm her outright, wary of Xie Lanxu’s unpredictable stance. Instead, he resorted to starving her into submission.

But if he found a more direct opportunity…

Every month, the convoy stopped near a water source, giving everyone a chance to clean themselves. Under the cover of night, prisoners formed groups based on gender to bathe discreetly.

Three days after Old Wang’s departure, the convoy reached a small oasis. Zhen Qiao decided they would camp there for the night, granting everyone a rare moment to wash.

Some refused, unwilling to brave the icy water. Others endured chattering teeth for a semblance of cleanliness.

Madam Zhu hesitated, eyeing her two young children with concern.

“I’ll watch them for you, Auntie. Don’t worry and go ahead,” Li Zhi said with a smile.

“Really? But…”

“You should hurry, or you might miss your chance,” Li Zhi urged gently.

Madam Zhu hesitated no longer. Thanking Li Zhi profusely, she hurried to join the other women heading towards the lake.

Left with the two children, Li Zhi hugged her knees and sat down on the cold ground.

She smiled faintly at the siblings.

The boy, Li Xiangsheng, instinctively moved to shield his younger sister behind him, his face wary.

The hardships of exile had turned the twelve-year-old into a prematurely hardened youth.

“Tonight, we can see Jiao Su…” Li Zhi murmured, gazing at the starry sky.

“What’s Jiao Su?” Li Cien asked curiously.

“It’s the name of a constellation,” Li Zhi replied.

“Why is it called Jiao Su?”

“Look at those two stars. Don’t they resemble the horns of a dragon?”

Li Cien squinted to make out the stars, her face lighting up with delight. “They do! They really do!”

Li Xiangsheng said nothing, but his gaze followed where Li Zhi pointed.

“Every star carries its own omen,” Li Zhi said softly.

“What does Jiao Su foretell?” Li Cien asked eagerly.

Li Zhi didn’t answer. Instead, she gazed up at the vast canopy of stars with a faint smile.

As Madam Zhu returned to her children, freshly bathed, she gathered her daughter in her arms and held her son’s hand, humming a gentle folk tune from their homeland.

The night deepened.

The wind whispered through the trees and rippled across the water, creating a melody of rustling leaves and rippling waves.

Xie Lanxu’s carriage stood alone, apart from the camp. Soft, warm dog fur lined the entryway, and the embroidered plum, bamboo, and orchids on the curtains swayed gently under the moonlight.

No one ventured to the lakeshore anymore. Those who wished to bathe and those who didn’t had long since retreated to slumber.

Madam Zhu’s humming had ceased, replaced by the uneven chorus of snores breaking the stillness.

This night, Zheng Gong was on watch, though the only difference was that he slept sitting upright instead of lying down.

Li Zhi rose quietly, stirring the half-asleep Li Cien.

“Sister…” Li Cien blinked at her drowsily.

Li Zhi smiled and held a finger to her lips, motioning for silence. Though she didn’t understand what Li Zhi intended to do, the obedient girl didn’t question further.

Sleeplessness had its benefits. It allowed Li Zhi to observe and memorize the rhythms of the night.

On nights Zheng Gong stood watch, he would remain alert for the first two hours. But once the others fell asleep, he would begin his usual routine: sleeping for an hour, waking for a short incense’s burn.

It was nearly time for him to wake.

When he did, the first thing he would see was her silhouette, walking alone into the woods.

A frail and slender figure, moving purposefully.

That sight would plant a wicked idea in his mind—something more satisfying than starving her to death.

He would tread lightly, careful not to snap any branches beneath his feet, and follow her like a seasoned predator stalking a naive prey.

But no matter how stealthy, one sound couldn’t be silenced: the soft rustle of fabric as he moved.

The noise irritated Zheng Gong. He slowed his pace, widening the gap between them to avoid alerting the girl.

He didn’t need to see her every moment; he already knew where she was headed.

He trailed her with the single-minded intent of violence, his thoughts dark with anticipation. He imagined her cries for mercy, savoring the power he would hold over her.

The moonlit lake came into view, its still waters glistening like a polished mirror reflecting the world’s sorrows and sins.

Li Zhi stopped at the edge, glancing over her shoulder as if checking for pursuers.

Zheng Gong darted behind a tree. When he peeked again, he saw her kneeling by the shore, scooping water to wash the dirt from her face.

The water dripped from her delicate fingers, tracing the contours of her cheeks and neck, accentuating her ethereal beauty in the moonlight.

Zheng Gong found himself transfixed.

Li Zhi looked around cautiously before removing her shoes and outer garments. The swaying reeds obscured her figure as she stepped into the lake.

Zheng Gong shifted impatiently, craning his neck to see more.

But before he could find a better vantage point, Li Zhi took a deep breath and plunged into the water, vanishing beneath its surface.

Zheng Gong waited, but she didn’t resurface.

He stepped out from his hiding spot, moving closer to the shore. The girl’s clothes lay abandoned on the ground, but the lake remained eerily still.

Panic began to set in. He stepped into the water, the icy liquid lapping at his calves.

Something wasn’t right.

Suddenly, a powerful force yanked at his leg.

He slipped on the muddy lakebed and fell backward into the water, sending up a violent splash.

The lake wasn’t shallow.

As Zheng Gong sank, muddy water stung his eyes and filled his lungs. He saw bubbles rise from his mouth and a pair of hands gripping his ankle like a vice.

A red cord strung with eight iridescent shells shimmered faintly in the dark water.

He flailed, desperate to break free. His arms churned the water, but his efforts only sent more bubbles to the surface. Through the murky depths, he glimpsed a heavy stone tied to the figure pulling him down.

The ripples on the lake smoothed into tranquility.

Li Zhi fastened the waterweed rope around Zheng Gong’s ankle and secured it to the stone.

She took one last look at his sinking corpse before swimming upward, her limbs moving with steady determination.

Breaking through the surface, she gasped for air, her lungs burning.

As her breathing steadied, she began wading toward the shore—only to stop short.

A pair of dark, calm eyes met hers.

Xie Lanxu stood silently on the shore, his gaze unreadable but probing.

Li Zhi held his gaze, realizing he had witnessed everything.

After a moment, she tilted her head and smiled innocently, like a mischievous child caught playing a prank

“Your Highness,” she asked softly, “are you going to expose me?”

The star-studded sky stretched endlessly above, the lake gleaming faintly under the moonlight. Wild grass and yellow reeds swayed gently in the night breeze.

In the stillness, Xie Lanxu’s voice broke the silence.

“Are you afraid?”

Li Zhi laughed quietly.

Fear? She had discarded that long ago, along with everything else.

“That day your half-brother died,” she asked, “were you afraid?”

Half-submerged in the lake, Li Zhi looked up at Xie Lanxu standing on the shore.

She saw it then—the subtle, enigmatic curve of his lips.