Chapter 3

 

As the future wife of the third chieftain, Li Zhi was treated to fine food and drinks.

It was clear that the bandits had never encountered a woman voluntarily seeking refuge in their basecamp. Although Li Zhi was not physically threatened, she was confined to a small bedroom. Until the marriage ceremony, she wasn’t allowed to leave without permission from the chieftains.

Li Zhi managed to leave once under the pretense of needing to use the toilet. She discovered that guards were stationed at both the doors and windows of her room. Outside the courtyard, the basecamp bustled with villagers. Sneaking out without being noticed seemed almost impossible.

Fortunately, while Li Zhi was thinking of a way out, someone else was thinking of a way in.

A fiery young woman barged in, intimidating the guard outside Li Zhi’s room into opening the door. Once inside, she spoke in a scornful tone.

Though the woman babbled endlessly, her words boiled down to one thing: “You’d better accept your fate and become that fat third chieftain’s woman. Don’t even think about my eldest chieftain, or I’ll scratch your face off!”

Ordinarily, Li Zhi wouldn’t bother arguing with such a person.

Bandit women rarely joined willingly. Most were victims of pillage, forced to bury their past and adapt to harsh realities. Despite the woman’s hostility, Li Zhi could only feel pity for her.

But Li Zhi had her own goals, and to achieve them, she needed to provoke the woman further.

People are most truthful when they lose control.

Provoking this simple-minded young woman was very easy. Though Li Zhi was much younger, she knew precisely how to strike at the woman’s insecurities.

As the future wife—or one of them—of the third chieftain, Li Zhi was given a certain level of respect. Her room was not only warm and comfortable but also furnished with lavish items, clearly looted from wealthy merchants.

With just a glance at these stolen goods, Li Zhi blushed faintly, then said shyly, “What you say doesn’t matter. What matters is that all the chieftains seem to like me—otherwise, they wouldn’t ask me to marry the third chieftain.”

What followed was a one-sided torrent of insults and curses from the young woman.

From her tirade, Li Zhi gleaned a crucial piece of information: a distinguished guest had recently arrived and was staying in the western guest room. His accommodations were far superior to hers, and according to the eldest chieftain, he was a nobleman from the capital worth a great deal of money.

Having obtained the information she needed, Li Zhi fell silent. No matter how the young woman tried to provoke her, she kept her head bowed and said nothing. Frustrated but finding no excuse to continue, the woman eventually left in a huff.

Soon after, preparations for the wedding began—or rather, preparations for the consummation.

Several village women entered Li Zhi’s room, expertly decorating it with red candles and wedding ornaments. The canopy bed was transformed, draped in bright red quilts embroidered with mandarin ducks, and adorned with crimson peony pillows. One of the women helped Li Zhi change into a wedding dress, while another scattered longan and peanuts onto the bedding from a tray.

“I’m afraid of the dark. Could you prepare more lamps for me?” Li Zhi asked the women with a smile.

Her face, freshly washed with melted snow, exuded an air of authority within the basecamp. The women, unwilling to offend her, readily agreed.

****

Night fell quickly.

The third chieftain staggered into the room, reeking of alcohol.

The red candles flickered, casting a warm glow over the new bride sitting primly at the center of the canopy bed. Beneath her red veil, he could imagine an enchanting face.

With his bloated body and the alcohol roiling in his stomach, he struggled to make his way to the bed. Panting, he wiped his sweaty hands on his clothes and reached out to lift the crimson veil.

Born and raised among outlaws, he had never seen such breathtaking beauty.

He wanted her—would go to any lengths, even risking life and limb, to possess her. If she would smile at him, he thought, he might even give up his life of crime.

“Don’t… don’t be afraid,” he said gruffly, his alcohol-laden breath filling the air. “I’ll treat you well.”

Most women despised him for his appearance. Those he forced himself upon wept endlessly.

But this girl…. She smiled at him, her lips pressed softly together.

For a moment, he felt as if a temple bell had tolled, reverberating through his chest.

He could no longer hold back, pushing the girl roughly onto the bed.

The night stretched on.

*****

“Did you hear something?” The eldest chieftain set down his wine cup, frowning as he glanced toward the window.

The second chieftain followed his gaze but saw nothing amiss beyond the wooden panes.
“I didn’t hear anything. Are you drunk?” he teased.

The eldest chieftain doubted himself for a moment but then sniffed the air, his expression growing serious.

“No, something’s wrong! Do you smell that? It’s like… burning meat!”

The second chieftain sniffed too and laughed. “Brother, you’re paranoid. It’s probably just the kitchen roasting pork. Or—”

Before he could finish, a panicked guard burst in.
“It’s bad—really bad!” he stammered. “There’s a huge fire outside! The north courtyard is burning!”

“The north courtyard? Isn’t that the third brother’s area?” The second chieftain’s face darkened with shock.

“Get people to put it out!” The eldest chieftain stood abruptly, his face grim. “Second Brother, grab your weapon and come with me!”

The fire painted the night red, its roaring flames licking the darkness like ink blotting onto rice paper. Sparks danced in the air as the flames consumed everything in its path.

Amid the chaos, guards ran toward the flames, shouting for water. The strong east wind carried the fire far, even drawing away the sentries stationed near the western guest room.

With the area cleared, Li Zhi hurried to the guest room and unlatched the door, tossing the bolt aside.

Inside, there was only one person—the very man she had gone through all this trouble to save.

No one, no matter how cunning, could have foreseen Li Zhi showing up in a brilliant red wedding dress.

Without giving the stunned Xie Lanxu time to react, she grabbed his cold hand and pulled him outside without a word.

The air was chill, but the breeze carried the searing heat of the blaze.

Xie Lanxu’s hand twitched, as if to pull away, but Li Zhi only tightened her grip.

“Search everywhere for that woman! I want her torn to pieces!” The eldest chieftain’s voice rang out in fury, accompanied by the sound of chaotic footsteps heading toward the western courtyard.

There was only one path out of the west courtyard. Without doubling back, they were bound to meet the bandits.

Xie Lanxu glanced at Li Zhi. Her face showed no fear, nor did her steps falter. Intrigued by her composure, he allowed her to lead him onward.

The footsteps drew closer, echoing ominously around the corner.

Before they could meet them, Li Zhi jumped into the lotus pond.

Startled, Xie Lanxu followed her into the lotus pond.

Water surged into his ears, and the world fell silent.

The wilted lotus leaves swirled in the water, their former green hue lingering faintly in the ripples. Li Zhi’s silk sleeves, soaked through, floated gracefully around her like wings.

The scene continues to weave an intricate narrative of danger, vulnerability, and hidden histories.

Like a heron gliding through the water, Xie Lanxu’s crimson-gray sash drifted toward another patch of fiery red, swaying softly before the girl’s pale face.

Against the vibrant backdrop of her red wedding dress, her face appeared as delicate as a flowering crabapple bathed in sunlight. Under the faint moonlight, it seemed to glow with a halo.

The water dulled their senses, distorting sound and vision. The moment their eyes met should have been fleeting, yet it felt stretched into an eternity—long enough for the girl to reveal a puzzled expression, then lean closer, her hands gripping his arms.

He couldn’t comprehend her intentions until her soft lips pressed against his, gently transferring life-saving air.

Even as she shared her breath, her gaze sought to comfort him, silently reassuring him.

He could count every one of her lashes and see clearly that the sole reflection in her eyes was him.

In her eyes, he saw his own startled expression.

Xie Lanxu jolted in shock, instinctively trying to pull away from Li Zhi’s grip, but the sound of searching footsteps on the bank forced him to remain still.

The water held no fear for him. He had crossed countless bodies of water before—diving beneath dark lakes, threading through tangles of underwater reeds, emerging on unfamiliar shores.

Above them, withered lotus leaves curled like fallen butterflies.

Those scattered butterflies floated over their heads, faint silhouettes mirrored in the silver ripples of the pond. The girl’s eyes, luminous in the moonlight, reminded him of the burning sky above.

He was no more than a son of fleeting glory—an illusion crafted by the imagination of the ignorant masses.

His mother had been a princess of the fallen Cui Kingdom, while his father was the son of the traitor who had overthrown it to establish his own rule. He was neither fully a remnant of the old dynasty nor entirely part of the new. His existence straddled the deep-seated grudges between the two kingdoms. His parents, far from loving partners, shared only a cold, icy indifference cloaked in veiled hatred.

As a child, he had been gifted a Ferghana horse, a rare blood-sweating steed. It was the only gift he had ever received from his father.

Some whispered that the horse’s value lay in it being a gift from the crown prince, and that was why he cherished it.

But the truth was far simpler. It didn’t matter who had given him the horse; he loved it purely for what it was.

He still remembered that horse, named Jing Lei (“Thunderbolt”), its head bowed as it gently licked his palm. Its glossy, jet-black eyes had reflected his small silhouette.

Later, that horse had been killed—riddled with arrows for refusing to obey his half-brother’s commands.

Xie Lanxu had stood by Jing Lei’s lifeless body for a long time. Amid his half-brother’s raucous laughter, he turned and walked away, never even ordering the horse’s burial.

A few days later, his half-brother was found floating in the palace’s ornamental pond.

The water’s surface never stilled. Vibrant koi darted beneath the ripples, nibbling curiously at the large shadow above. His father, standing under the harsh sun, had looked pale as paper.

After that, one misfortune after another befell the Eastern Palace. Servants whispered that a curse had been laid upon it by evil spirits.

Claiming concern for his fragile health, his father confined Xie Lanxu to the isolated pavilion on the lake.

Unable to bear leaving him alone, his mother had petitioned to stay by his side. They had lived together in that lonely place—until he was left all alone.

Years passed and the world outside changed beyond recognition.

Then came the day when he stepped into the exile cart, leaving the pavilion behind for the first time.

And with it, he found the freedom of a bird escaping its cage.

—–

T/N:- Exiles / prisoners are the exiled people as well as other prisoners who have received the punishment.