Chapter 11
Zhen Qiao’s expression was tense, and the remaining junior guards exchanged uncertain glances.
The sun had already climbed high into the sky. Normally, the exiles would have resumed their walk by now, but everyone remained stranded at the oasis.
There was only one reason: at dawn, the senior guard Zheng Gong, who had been on watch the previous night, was discovered missing.
“Should we search the oasis again?” one junior guard suggested.
“We’ve already combed through it four or five times. He’s nowhere to be found,” another guard replied, shaking his head.
“A grown man doesn’t just vanish into thin air!” Zhen Qiao snapped. “Gather all the exiles—I’ll interrogate them one by one!”
Of the 340 people who had set out from the capital, only around 150 remained alive. Even with that reduced number, questioning them all would be a laborious task for Zhen Qiao alone. He selected two particularly meticulous junior guards to assist in the interrogations.
Zhen Qiao focused his suspicion on individuals who had previous grievances with Zheng Gong, personally questioning this group.
When it was Li Zhi’s turn, Zhen Qiao gave her an extra glance, recognizing her as the girl who had stopped the carriage earlier to plead for help.
“What were you doing last night?” Zhen Qiao asked.
“I was helping Madam Zhu look after her two children so she could bath in the lake without worry,” Li Zhi replied. “When she returned, I stayed with the three of them to watch the stars. The Jue constellation appeared last night, so I explained its meaning to the children.”
“And then?”
“After that, Madam Zhu sang lullabies to put the children to sleep. Before I knew it, I had dozed off too. When I woke up, it was already this morning.”
“So, you’re saying all three of them fell asleep before you?”
“Yes, sir.”
“In other words, no one can verify whether you were truly asleep or just pretending to be,” Zhen Qiao remarked, narrowing his eyes suspiciously at the girl before him.
She wasn’t wearing a wooden cangue, which meant she wasn’t even sixteen years old yet. Could such a frail girl really be the culprit behind Zheng Gong’s disappearance?
“Sir, someone can vouch for her,” a junior guard interrupted, stepping forward. “A girl named Li Cien said this is her half-sister. She claimed she was woken up several times during the night by snoring nearby, and each time, Li Zhi was still by her side.”
Li Zhi met Zhen Qiao’s gaze with calm composure.
“…Fine. Next person!” Zhen Qiao waved her away, allowing her to leave.
After questioning several more individuals with known disputes against Zheng Gong, Zhen Qiao found no leads. Everyone denied any involvement in his disappearance.
The investigation reached a standstill.
“Sir…” A junior guard glanced at the sky, hesitating before saying, “If we don’t leave soon, we won’t cover much journey today.”
While the officials overseeing the exiles wouldn’t be held accountable for their deaths, they could face punishment for delays in the journey.
The comment struck a chord with the other guards, who exchanged uneasy glances but said nothing as they waited for Zhen Qiao’s decision.
Not far away, Xie Lanxu lifted the silk curtain of his carriage and coughed into his fist.
“Ahem… Why haven’t we set off yet? Has something happened?”
“Your Highness.” Zhen Qiao approached the carriage and bowed. “Senior guard Zheng Gong disappeared last night. I’ve been interrogating the exiles for clues.”
“Zheng Gong?” Xie Lanxu mused. “Early this morning, I opened my window to get some fresh air and saw someone resembling him heading east. Has he not returned yet?”
“Are you certain it was Zheng Gong?” Zhen Qiao asked, startled.
“I only saw his back,” Xie Lanxu replied, coughing again as a sickly flush spread across his cheeks. “But I believe it was him.”
“Was he alone?” Zhen Qiao pressed.
Xie Lanxu nodded.
“Sir…” one junior guard ventured cautiously, “Could Zheng Gong have deserted?”
The suggestion caused an uproar among the guards, who began murmuring in agreement.
“It’s possible. He’s always complaining about how this job is exhausting and unrewarding…”
Zhen Qiao, though familiar with Zheng Gong’s temperament, doubted he would be foolish enough to desert. Still, he felt too unsettled to rule anything out.
“This matter needs further investigation,” he said irritably. “To avoid delaying our journey, let’s get the exiles moving for now.”
For the time being, the mystery of Zheng Gong’s disappearance was left unresolved. At Zhen Qiao’s order, the guards shouted commands, and the exiles began their walk once more.
Madam Zhu, holding the hands of her two children, trudged wearily through the desert. Li Zhi approached Li Cien and took her younger sister’s hand.
Madam Zhu looked at her in surprise, but Li Zhi merely smiled. After a brief hesitation, Madam Zhu released her hold on Li Cien’s hand. Li Xiangsheng, walking beside her, peeked at his cheerful sister and Li Zhi, his wary expression gradually softening.
Although Li Zhi rarely interacted with Li Xiangsheng and Li Cien, the siblings were staunchly loyal to her.
In the Li household, their mischief was everywhere.
When Li Xia dared to provoke authority, Li Xiang boldly took the blame. Meanwhile, Li Xiangsheng and Li Cien trailed behind them like shadows, always standing guard for their pranks.
When no one was watching, Li Cien squeezed Li Zhi’s hand.
“…I will protect Sister Li Zhi on behalf of our other sister,” Li Cien whispered, her eyes shining with cleverness.
Li Zhi froze for a moment, then smiled.
“All right.”
“Sister, why are you so kind to His Highness?” Li Cien asked.
Li Zhi was silent for a moment before answering with a smile. “Because I’m the one who left him without a home.”
—–
The exiles trudged through the desert for two days before they finally saw the undulating silhouette of mountains and forests. Though this location promised potential food sources, the rising elevation brought with it was bitter cold. Snowflakes, like scattered cotton, began to dot the ground.
Clad in thin, insufficient garments, many exiles succumbed to chills and fever as the bitter weather set in.
When the convoy passed through the mountain city of Yangcheng, a new senior guard named Chen arrived to replace the missing Zheng Gong. Chen, aloof and harsh, clashed with Madam Zhu shortly after his arrival.
“Get away from me!”
Chen’s angry roar shattered the evening’s tranquility.
Madam Zhu, shoved to the ground, looked up in terror and humiliation at the furious Chen.
“Absurd! Do you think this is some brothel? Even if you were a prostitute from the pleasure quarters, I’m not someone who does that!” Chen thundered. “To think you would dare to harass me in front of everyone—you must have a death wish!”
He raised his fist as he spoke, his expression livid.
Madam Zhu’s face flushed, and tears streamed down her cheeks.
Li Xiangsheng rushed over to help her up, glaring at Chen with fiery eyes. Li Cien, sobbing, shielded Madam Zhu with her small body.
“We’re sorry! Please sir, don’t hurt our mother!”
“I don’t care what tricks you’ve used before,” Chen barked, “but let me tell you—such disgraceful methods won’t work on me!”
Previously, Madam Zhu had managed to bribe Zheng Gong in secret, but now she could only lower her head and weep as she endured this public humiliation.
Chen scoffed, cradling his blade as he returned to his seat.
“Mother, please don’t cry… let’s leave,” Li Xiangsheng murmured as he helped Madam Zhu to her feet.
Li Cien joined in, and the three retreated to an exposed, wind-swept corner, enduring the sneers and disdainful gazes of onlookers.
“Well-deserved,” Madam Wang sneered, holding Li Huizhi close. “That’s the nature of women from merchant families—shameless and seducing.”
Madam Zhu, known for her enchanting beauty, had long been disliked by the other women in the Li household for being favored by Li Qiaonian.
Following Madam Wang’s remark, Madam Zheng chimed in sarcastically: “If the old master were alive, he’d be angered to death by this woman!”
Despite having recently lost her only daughter, Madam Zheng’s sharp tongue remained as cutting as ever.
“I told the old master long ago—such women have no place in this household!” Madam Wang said.
“But Mother, Aunt Zhu had no choice,” seven-year-old Li Huizhi protested timidly. “I saw her giving all her food to Xiangsheng and Cien. If she had kept going without food, she would have starved…”
“I’d rather starve to death than resort to such disgraceful conduct!” Madam Wang retorted firmly. “That’s our dignity!”
“Exactly,” Madam Zheng agreed.
“But—”
“You must remember, you are the legitimate son of the Li family, a house of honor and distinction. Such talk is unbecoming of you!” Madam Wang silenced him with a stern glare, and Li Huizhi reluctantly fell silent.
Sitting nearby, Li Zhi toyed idly with a leaf she had plucked. She listened to their conversation, her mind full of disdain.
Nearly starving to death, yet still clinging to outdated notions of honor.
From then on, Madam Zhu became a target of Senior Guard Chen’s disdain. Whenever rations were distributed, Madam Zhu and her children received the smallest portions.
Forced to survive, Madam Zhu resorted to offering herself to the exiles in exchange for scraps of food.
Among the 150 remaining exiles, she became the most despised. Even the most ragged among them looked upon her with disgust and contempt.
When she needed to, Madam Zhu entrusted Li Cien and Li Xiangsheng to Li Zhi’s care. Li Zhi often covered Li Cien’s eyes and softly sang lullabies that Madam Zhu used to sing—children’s songs from the capital. Li Xiangsheng would sit nearby, his expression dark and stony.
But it was still not enough.
Even with the smallest portions of food, feeding three mouths required more than she could manage.
Madam Zhu did everything she could to scavenge food.
“What did you want to say?” Li Zhi asked, staring at Madam Zhu.
Pulling Li Zhi aside, away from the children’s curious gazes, Madam Zhu hesitantly repeated herself.
“I… I saw… Zheng Gong followed you into the woods. Later, only you came out, and he disappeared,” she said, her face flushed with shame. Her darting eyes refused to meet Li Zhi’s. “I saw it all…”
“If you give me food…” she continued, “I’ll keep your secret.”
Li Zhi understood.
She smiled. “All right.”
Madam Zhu’s eyes widened in disbelief. Was it really this easy?
“Is this enough?”
Li Zhi handed her a piece of newly received rations, still untouched.
“Yes, it’s enough,” Madam Zhu stammered, hurriedly accepting the food. Hesitating briefly, she broke off half and returned it to Li Zhi before rushing back to her children.
Li Zhi watched Madam Zhu’s retreating figure for a moment, then turned and walked toward the carriage.
Pulling aside the curtain, Li Zhi offered the half-piece of rations. In a regretful tone, she said, “Here, Your Highness. Food may become even scarcer soon.”
Xie Lanxu, half-reclined on a wolfskin-draped seat, his bloodless lips tinged with a sickly flush, looked up at her.
“…You were blackmailed,” he rasped, his calm demeanor suggesting he already knew the situation.
“It’s unavoidable,” Li Zhi replied with a smile. “So many people, so many eyes—accidents are bound to happen.”
“And this ‘accident,’” Xie Lanxu asked, “how do you plan to handle it?”
“Let nature take its course,” Li Zhi answered with a laugh.
Xie Lanxu made no comment, lowering his head as he stifled a cough. The draft from the raised curtain brought in cold air, and Li Zhi moved to leave, but Xie Lanxu waved away the offered rations.
“I can’t eat… Take it back,” he said between coughs, his tone genuine.
Li Zhi noticed the untouched rations from the previous day in a corner of the carriage.
“Your Highness, your health…” she began, frowning.
The curtain dropped, and the sound of suppressed coughing continued behind it.
Li Zhi lingered outside the carriage for a moment before leaving reluctantly.
Notes:
- “Jue xiu constellation” (角宿) – A star grouping in Chinese astronomy, part of the Azure Dragon in the Eastern Quadrant. Mentioning this highlights Li Zhi’s education and ability to weave ordinary moments into engaging stories.
