Chapter 17

Editor:- Mim

That day, Zhen Qiao personally paid out of his own pocket to buy a carriage for Xie Lanxu from a nearby village.

“Many thanks to Senior Guard Zhen for your kind gesture. Without it, I don’t know what I would have done with just these two legs of mine,” Xie Lanxu said.

“Not at all, Your Highness, this is merely my duty,” Zhen Qiao replied with humility.

Li Zhi watched Xie Lanxu and Zhen Qiao exchange formal pleasantries and couldn’t help but marvel at Xie Lanxu’s mastery of facial expressions.

She even suspected that he had genuinely been paralyzed before—how else could he so vividly embody the perfect melancholy and resilience befitting a man who had suffered misfortune?

After Zhen Qiao helped Xie Lanxu into the carriage, Li Zhi hurriedly followed like a dutiful maidservant.

Before leaving, Zhen Qiao glanced at Li Zhi and warned, “Serve His Highness well.”

Having survived a near-death experience, Zhen Qiao’s attitude toward Xie Lanxu had clearly shifted.

Later that day, while the other officers were distributing rations to the exiled prisoners outside, Zhen Qiao returned to the carriage with a farmer’s wife. He knocked politely before presenting freshly prepared porridge and simple side dishes.

“Your Highness has been through a great ordeal these past two days,” Zhen Qiao said humbly, bowing from outside the carriage. “On the way here, I found a family in a nearby village and asked them to prepare an extra portion while cooking their evening meal. It’s just simple home-cooked food, nothing refined, but it might make for a change of taste.”

After a round of polite refusals, Xie Lanxu eventually accepted the wooden tray holding four dishes and a soup.

Li Zhi examined the food that had been delivered, concluding that Zhen Qiao was likely telling the truth.

“The edges of the wooden tray are darkened and shiny from frequent use. The five bowls are simple earthenware, commonly used by farming households, and they’ve clearly been used for some time,” Li Zhi noted. “What does Your Highness think?”

Xie Lanxu picked up a silver needle from the corner of the tray—a tool for testing for poison.

“He’s a clever man,” Xie Lanxu commented.

The two of them shared the meal, finishing every dish and even the vegetable soup to the last drop. For the first time since leaving the capital, Li Zhi felt truly full.

“What kind of meals did Your Highness eat in the Eastern Palace?” Li Zhi asked casually. “I’ve heard that nobles in the palace have meals laid out across an entire long table.”

“That’s the Imperial Palace, not the Eastern Palace,” Xie Lanxu corrected. “The cooks in the Eastern Palace inherited their positions from their fathers. Their culinary skills were unremarkable to begin with. And because my father detested extravagance, he strictly limited the daily meal allowances for everyone in the Eastern Palace.”

“Even my father himself only ate five dishes and one soup per day. The meals in the Eastern Palace couldn’t compare to what some fifth-rank officials enjoyed.”

“As for me,” he continued, “I mostly ate steamed fish and boiled vegetables.”

Li Zhi thought to herself that his meals didn’t even compare to the food served at the Li family household. She kept the thought to herself and smiled instead, saying, “Once we reach Mingyue Tower, Your Highness will be in for a treat. Whatever you wish to eat, I can make it for you.”

“What if we’re not assigned to the same place?” Xie Lanxu asked.

By now, they had covered more than half of the three-thousand-mile journey. Mingyue Tower no longer felt like an unreachable destination.

However, they weren’t relocating to Mingyue Tower to start anew—they were going there to serve their punishments.

What awaited them were different forms of forced labor. Most men would be sent to build city walls, while women would be assigned as slaves to the soldiers stationed there.

If they were unlucky, what awaited the exiles would be a fate even more harrowing than their arduous journey through the mountains.

Though the crown prince had been deposed, Xie Lanxu still retained his royal lineage. He could still address the emperor as “Imperial Grandfather,” so it was likely that he would be treated as a guest of honor in the Duhu Mansion at Mingyue Tower.

But Li Zhi and the others were not so fortunate.

Their lives were as fragile as floating duckweed, easily wiped out by the slightest ripple.

“Even if we’re not assigned together,” Li Zhi said with a smile, as though the thought of becoming a soldier’s slave wasn’t terrifying, “I’ll still find a way to make Your Highness the food you want.”

Xie Lanxu studied her, as if trying to gauge the sincerity of her words.

After a moment, he averted his gaze and remained silent.

The journey continued. Without the sound of wind chimes, the passage of time felt fleeting, like a galloping horse passing by. Before they knew it, spring had come and gone.

The scorching heat of summer arrived. Some exiles collapsed mid-journey, never to wake again. Even while lying inside the carriage, their clothes were drenched in sweat, and the sweat on their faces never ceased.

Li Zhi had never found the sound of cicadas so deafening. It seemed as though the entire world was filled with their relentless cries.

During the height of summer, Li Zhi prayed daily for the season’s end. But autumn passed more quickly than she had expected, and before she knew it, the bone-chilling winter had arrived once again.

After a year and two months, the exiles’ journey finally came to an end.

On the day they arrived at Mingyue Tower, everyone simultaneously stopped in their tracks, staring silently at the solemn city gates shrouded in thick fog.

In the gray chill of winter, Mingyue Tower resembled a depiction of hell from storybooks. The gray-white forest surrounded the town, devoid of the sound of birds or animals. The eerie mist clung to the gates and watchtowers, and not a single human figure could be seen. It was as if all life had been extinguished here.

The officers cracked their whips, urging the exiles forward. Reluctantly, they resumed their steps.

As they drew closer, guards stationed at the gates became visible. Their heavy armor and stern expressions only added to the oppressive atmosphere of this unforgiving place.

After some negotiation between the officials and the gate commander, the exiles were permitted to enter the city.

The carriage was the last to pass through. From a distance, the gate commander and his trusted men saluted respectfully toward Xie Lanxu inside the carriage.

Li Zhi let out a breath of relief. It seemed Xie Lanxu wouldn’t have too hard a time at Mingyue Tower.

As long as he was doing well, her situation wouldn’t be too dire either.

Shortly after passing through the city gates, the carriage came to a stop. Zhen Qiao stood outside with a dark-faced officer she didn’t recognize.

“The Commander of Mingyue Tower has invited His Highness to the mansion for a meeting,” Zhen Qiao announced.

The dark-faced officer saluted, the clinking of his armor echoing faintly. Not far behind him, a carriage of understated luxury awaited, along with four burly men holding a sedan chair, ready to transfer Xie Lanxu.

Xie Lanxu cast a glance at Li Zhi, then disembarked and moved to the waiting carriage. When Li Zhi attempted to follow, Zhen Qiao stopped her and motioned towards the group of exiles.

“You may return to the main group now,” he said.

Li Zhi gave a respectful bow to Xie Lanxu’s retreating back and silently returned to the exiles.

Some of the exiles eyed her with hostility, their whispers of scorn purposefully loud. Yet Li Zhi kept her gaze low, her demeanor calm, as though she were not the subject of their gossip.

Most of the exiles, however, were too preoccupied with their own fears. They prayed silently, hoping for slightly better assignments, their faces pale with unease.

The group eventually stopped in front of the Mingyue Tower county office. Zhen Qiao stepped forward and urged everyone to remain calm, explaining that the county magistrate was in the process of determining their assignments.

The sun-darkened officers strutted about openly accepting bribes. Those exiles without anything to offer could only watch in envy and regret as others handed over their most treasured possessions—items they hadn’t even dared to bring out when facing starvation or beatings—in exchange for safer, easier roles.

Li Jinzhi approached a black-faced officer with an ingratiating smile. He pulled out a gold hairpin—an heirloom from his late mother, Madam Wang—and handed it over discreetly.

The officer took the hairpin with satisfaction and led Li Jinzhi into the county office.

From the crowd, Madam Zheng stared anxiously at her son’s back. A short while later, Li Jinzhi returned with a conflicted expression. After whispering something to Madam Zheng, her face went ashen, as though struck by lightning.

The assignment list was announced one name at a time. Those who had bribed their way through were mostly assigned to positions without life-threatening dangers or excessive labor.

Those who didn’t offer bribes were often sent to repair city walls or mine coal—the hardest, most grueling tasks. As for the women, they were either given to the most violent soldiers or sent directly to military camps as comfort women.

The atmosphere became chaotic. Some broke down in tears, while others celebrated in relief.

“Li Zhi—who is Li Zhi?”

The officer standing at the county office entrance called her name, his expression slightly surprised as he scanned the crowd.

“I am Li Zhi,” she said, stepping forward.

“You—” The officer pointed at her. “Report to the Duhu Mansion.”

Li Zhi wasn’t surprised. She accepted the assignment calmly.

Soon, someone arrived to escort her from the county office.

At the same time, in the Duhu Mansion, Lu Han, the commander of Mingyue Tower, welcomed Xie Lanxu into his study.

The study was furnished in deep rosewood tones. On the tea table by the window stood a cobalt-blue cloisonné vase adorned with intricate lotus patterns, filled with pink and white azaleas. The rosewood desk was neatly arranged with several precious inkstones and jade brush holders. A thin sheet of letter paper, weighted down by a recently opened envelope, lay on the desk.

As soon as Xie Lanxu entered, he was treated as an honored guest.

Lu Han, now in his forties, was a general with the demeanor of a scholar—elegant and meticulous. After obtaining Xie Lanxu’s consent, he summoned the most renowned physician in Mingyue Tower to examine the prince’s leg.

The physician began by testing with a silver needle, but Xie Lanxu’s expression remained unchanged.

The physician sighed and shook his head repeatedly.

The diagnosis brought only disappointment to Lu Han. Both Xie Lanxu and Li Zhi already knew the truth: even if a divine miracle physician were summoned, Xie Lanxu’s legs would never move again.

After dismissing the physician, Lu Han knelt before Xie Lanxu, his face filled with guilt.

“Your Highness, this humble servant has failed you. To think that you endured such peril on the journey, resulting in this paralysis—”

Xie Lanxu hastily helped him up.

“Exile across three thousand miles is fraught with risks. Even if you wished to prevent it, Commander Lu, it was beyond your reach,” Xie Lanxu said, suppressing a cough. His pale complexion only heightened his resemblance to a persecuted nobleman of unyielding character. “…To blame you would be to call myself unreasonable.”

“Your Highness is as virtuous as the late—” Lu Han paused, correcting himself, “as virtuous as the First Prince.”

“Please, Commander Lu, have a seat,” Xie Lanxu gestured to the other side of the couch.

After thanking him, Lu Han sat down properly and spoke solemnly.

“Your Highness need not worry. The physician today was only the best known in town. There are many reclusive experts hidden in the mountains and wilderness. I will order my men to search far and wide for a skilled healer. Surely, one day, Your Highness will walk again.”

“I appreciate your kindness, but I fear such efforts may bring danger to you,” Xie Lanxu hesitated. “…There are still many in the capital who want me dead.”

“As long as the emperor’s decree remains unchanged, no one can take Your Highness’s life here in Mingyue Tower,” Lu Han replied firmly, his resolute tone revealing the decisiveness of a battle-hardened general.

Xie Lanxu bowed in gratitude, and Lu Han quickly waved it off, saying he dared not accept such courtesy.

“To be honest, Your Highness, I once saw the First Prince many years ago, back when I was merely a fourth-rank general,” Lu Han began. “…It was during a New Year’s Eve banquet at the palace. I arrived late due to official duties and happened to pass by the corridor outside Jiangxue Palace. There, I overheard the First Prince’s advisor speaking to him.”

“It turns out that while the other princes were presenting treasures and auspicious items to the emperor, the First Prince had submitted a painting titled ‘The Famine in Hexi’, painted by a renowned artist. He pleaded with the emperor to cancel the grand feasts for the following year and use the saved funds to rebuild Hexi and aid its starving citizens.”

“Your Highness was still young during the Hexi famine and might not remember much. That year, Hexi experienced a freak drought with not a single drop of rain. The local officials, fearful of being blamed, concealed the disaster until refugees from Hexi began fleeing to the capital. By then, Hexi had become a living hell. Someone painted the horrors described by the refugees—of bark stripped from trees and even the tragedy of cannibalism—and that painting became ‘The Famine in Hexi.’”

“Many knew of Hexi’s suffering. Many knew that disaster relief could alleviate the famine. But only the First Prince had the courage to speak out for Hexi’s people, regardless of the personal risk.”

“That’s why I’ve always believed there’s more to the First Prince’s alleged treason than meets the eye,” Lu Han said. “If Your Highness wishes to uncover the truth, I am willing to offer what little help I can.”

After a long silence, Xie Lanxu finally spoke.

“The Three Judicial Offices have already concluded this matter. Even if I don’t believe it, I can only accept the verdict.”

Lu Han opened his mouth to argue, but Xie Lanxu began coughing again, cutting him off. Lu Han could only set his thoughts aside and handed Xie Lanxu a cup of tea.

“Your Highness, I will ensure that you receive the best physicians to nurse your health. Please, rest and recuperate here in the Duhu Mansion without worry,” Lu Han said. “As for the young woman you recommended to work here—where should she be placed?”

Lu Han’s tone was polite, but his true intent was clear: he wanted to know if this woman was Xie Lanxu’s companion or something more.

If she were part of his household, she would naturally be arranged to stay nearby. If not, her assignment would be determined by her level of importance.

“You may decide, Commander Lu,” Xie Lanxu replied. “She was of great help to me during the journey, but beyond that—”

“…There is no other connection between us.”

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T/N:- “Duhu” (都护) refers to a military and administrative title in ancient China. A Duhu was essentially a regional military governor or protectorate general, responsible for governing and protecting a specific frontier region.