Chapter 4
Dawn broke, its pale light chasing away the night. The fire had finally died out.
It was as if the heavens had heard Li Zhi’s silent pleas from within the lotus pond. The mountain basecamp’s alarm bell suddenly rang out, its echoes piercing the air.
The soldiers of Chongcheng, equipped with Dayan’s standard weapons stormed the basecamp in a swift assault. The villagers and bandits who had been frantically searching for Li Zhi and Xie Lanxu were thrown into disarray, scattering like panicked animals.
“I—”
Li Zhi tried to call out to the soldiers who appeared within her sight. She was just about to extend her hand above the water’s surface when Xie Lanxu grabbed her wrist, pulling her back beneath the surface.
Alerted by the faint sound, one of the soldiers turned back, scanning the surroundings warily.
Xie Lanxu’s body was submerged, only his calm, watchful eyes visible above the water. Affected by his unusual composure, Li Zhi followed his lead, sinking as far as possible into the pond.
The moment of transition from night to day cloaked the world in dim, uncertain light. Thin, icy mist drifted across the water’s surface, further obscuring the lotus pond. Failing to spot them, the soldiers turned their attention elsewhere.
Li Zhi exhaled silently in relief—just as one of the soldiers shouted toward a courtyard, “Who is there?”
Two soldiers charged into the yard, dragging out the eldest chieftain’s family.
Women and children huddled together, trembling as they stared fearfully at the weapons in the soldiers’ hands.
“I—I know where the people you’re looking for are—” the fiery young woman who had earlier confronted Li Zhi began to say.
Before she could finish, a military blade struck her across the face.
A shrill scream pierced the air, and the woman fell lifeless to the ground, her eyes wide open in disbelief. Hidden in the pond, Li Zhi stared in shock at the brutality.
One of the soldiers dragged a finely dressed teenage boy by the back of his collar and turned to his companion. “Does he look like him?”
The other soldier, unable to decide, waved dismissively. “Kill him to be safe.”
With a single stroke, the boy—no older than fifteen or sixteen—was dead. His severed head was strung onto the soldier’s belt like a trophy.
At that moment, Li Zhi understood why Xie Lanxu had stopped her earlier—these soldiers weren’t here to rescue anyone. They had come to kill.
From then on, whenever soldiers approached the pond, Li Zhi needed no prompting to hold her breath and sink further into the water.
Li Zhi realized she couldn’t count on anyone but herself to escape.
As she plotted her next move, the eldest chieftain, drenched in blood, appeared at the end of the road. When he saw the mangled corpses of his family strewn across the courtyard, his eyes filled with bloodlust.
Staggering forward, he cradled his son’s lifeless body, letting out a guttural roar of anguish.
The soldiers, scattered around the pond, were drawn to the sound. They surrounded the eldest chieftain, layering themselves in tight ranks.
“Speak! Who ordered you to abduct the imperial grandson?” the lead soldier demanded.
The eldest chieftain’s bloodshot eyes locked onto the head of the boy dangling from a soldier’s belt. A blood-soaked battle, with a foregone conclusion, was about to begin.
Though the eldest chieftain had been a cruel man, Li Zhi couldn’t help feeling a pang of pity as she witnessed his tragic end.
It was then that she noticed Xie Lanxu was gone.
Seizing the distraction created by the eldest chieftain, Xie Lanxu had quietly swum to the far side of the pond. Li Zhi hurriedly followed.
Her swimming skills were poor, but the shallow water allowed her feet to touch the ground. Half-wading, half-swimming, she eventually made it to the shore.
Xie Lanxu seemed oblivious to her presence, walking ahead with no regard for her. He used his soaked sleeve to muffle his coughing as he went.
“Your Highness, let me help you,” Li Zhi offered.
Still coughing, Xie Lanxu waved her off without even looking back.
Li Zhi didn’t take offense. She understood that a single act of saving his life wasn’t enough to earn the trust of someone who had fallen so far into despair.
The waterlogged wedding dress she wore clung heavily to her body. Aside from being uncomfortable, it was far too conspicuous. Spotting a relatively clean female corpse along the road, she whispered an apology before stripping the body of its plain clothing. She covered it with her red wedding attire.
Once she had changed, she quickly caught up with Xie Lanxu, who was on the verge of disappearing from view. Though he had stopped coughing, his face was still pale.
“Do you want to escape?” she asked.
Xie Lanxu did not turn around.
“I can help you,” Li Zhi called out.
At last, Xie Lanxu turned to her, granting her his first clear look since dawn.
“Aren’t we already escaping?” His frail face broke into a faint smile, as if puzzled by her suggestion.
“I mean—not to Mingyue Tower,” Li Zhi clarified. “Wherever you want to go, I’ll help you.”
“I want to return to the capital. Can you help me with that?”
“Yes,” Li Zhi replied without hesitation.
Xie Lanxu laughed softly at her quick response, droplets of water glistening on his long lashes. Despite his soaked robes and the fragments of debris clinging to his disheveled hair, his faint smile shone like a fragile light in the chaos.
A tattered lotus leaf clung to his disheveled hair, yet the youth’s natural elegance remained untarnished.
“Miss Li, I was joking,” he said softly.
The fire flared again, its orange-red flames spreading across the sky, overtaking the dawn.
Behind them, the towering mountain basecamp was engulfed in flames.
Whether the fire had been set by the troops or the bandits no longer mattered. Li Zhi had already realized that the threats Xie Lanxu faced extended far beyond exile.
Xie Lanxu’s frail condition worsened; after spending most of the night in the freezing lotus pond, he couldn’t stop coughing. Li Zhi worried he might collapse at any moment, his steps faltering with every blink of her eyes.
The frozen, steep mountain path was treacherous and slick. Li Zhi kept a constant watch on him, and when he stumbled, she quickly reached out to steady him.
“Let me support you, Your Highness. This way, we can move faster,” she said. “I know the way back to the convoy.”
At her words, the arm he had been about to pull away froze, and he stopped resisting.
Xie Lanxu looked at her as if to speak but ultimately chose silence.
*****
The return journey went more smoothly. Along the way, Li Zhi grabbed a handful of yellow clay and smeared it across her face. When the sun was high in the sky, they finally spotted the convoy’s banners.
Zhen Qiao’s disbelief gave way to relief when he saw Xie Lanxu safe and sound. The rescued imperial grandson was quickly ushered into a carriage, while Li Zhi—guilty of leaving the group without permission—was sentenced to thirty lashes.
Li Zhi had anticipated this punishment the moment she decided to return with Xie Lanxu.
It was only thirty lashes; it wouldn’t break her.
“Crack!”
Zheng Gong’s whip struck Li Zhi’s back heavily as she lay prone.
Li Zhi clenched her teeth, refusing to make a sound.
Her family, ashamed of the spectacle, had retreated far away, not wanting anyone to know the punished girl was a daughter of the Li family. Her younger half-sister, Li Xiang, however, stood among the onlookers, her face scrunched up like a dried paper soaked and then sun-dried.
Each lash split the skin of Li Zhi’s back, sending waves of searing pain through her. Yet at the height of her suffering, the humiliation of being punished publicly seemed insignificant.
“You’re tough, aren’t you? If you make it through without a sound, I’ll give you an extra steamed bun,” Zheng Gong sneered.
Compared to the agony and despair her twin sister had endured before her death, this whipping and the surrounding whispers were nothing.
Struggling to keep her composure, Li Zhi gripped her wrist tightly, her fingers curling around the shell bracelet she wore as if it were a source of endless strength. Cold sweat dripped from her forehead and nose, darkening the dirt beneath her face.
The whip, cold as winter frost, tore through her flesh like countless frozen needles piercing her body.
Was it painful? Was it terrifying?
She didn’t even see her own blood. What right did she have to be afraid?
The final lash cracked through the air before landing on her back. The sound echoed far into the distance. Zheng Gong, holding the whip, wiped sweat from his brow before tossing her a steamed bun as if feeding a dog.
No one helped her up. She didn’t need them to.
Li Zhi propped herself up with trembling hands, sitting upright. She picked up the dusty, hardened bun and, using a relatively clean piece of cloth, carefully wiped away the dirt.
Her back, bloodied and raw, stung as the cold wind touched her wounds, searing like fire.
Li Zhi didn’t care.
What she cared about had long since left her forever.
Floating alone in this world—that was the true unending hell.
Clutching the stale, sour-smelling bun, she let out a low, bitter laugh.
———
The exile trip of three thousand miles would not stop just because someone had been whipped.
Covered in cold sweat, Li Zhi, her head heavy and legs unsteady, kept pace with the convoy. Zheng Gong cracked his whip incessantly to hurry them along, but Li Zhi ignored him, maintaining her position at the rear of the group.
The bells on the corners of the carriage jingled mournfully in the wind, accompanied by the rhythmic clatter of hooves. The embroidered curtain, adorned with plum blossoms, orchids, and bamboo, remained firmly closed.
By evening, the convoy halted to rest.
Li Zhi took the extra bun she had earned earlier and, as usual, made her way to the carriage.
Knocking lightly on the carriage wall, she waited. After a moment, the embroidered curtain parted slightly. Xie Lanxu looked at the bun she offered, his expression complex.
“…Why do you keep bringing me these?” he asked.
Li Zhi understood his meaning. He was referring to the time she had seen him feed the food she had saved for him to a dog. Most people, even without harboring a grudge, wouldn’t bother showing goodwill again after that.
But Li Zhi didn’t mind.
She carried a weight of guilt that pressed heavily on her shoulders.
“Once I give it to you, what you do with it is your choice,” she said with a genuine smile. “As long as Your Highness doesn’t go hungry, it doesn’t matter who eats the bun.”
The wind howled through the valley, filling the hollows of the earth with a chilling whisper. Leaves rustled in the forest, their sound growing closer with the gusts. The descending night felt even more desolate.
Xie Lanxu’s gaze fell on the bloodstains spreading from Li Zhi’s back to her shoulders. The crimson blotches reminded him of winter plum blossoms, thriving vibrantly in the harshest cold.
Whether one felt humiliation depended on whether their spirit had been broken.
From within the carriage earlier, he had heard countless sounds during her punishment—but not a single cry from her.
For the first time, he felt a rare confusion.
How could a young woman, once a pampered daughter of a prestigious family, endure such suffering without succumbing to despair? Instead, she seemed to radiate an extraordinary resilience and unyielding strength.
“…Why?” he asked.
Silver moonlight bathed the scene with a soft, melancholic glow.
In the shadowy forest, pale beams of light filtered through the trees, casting an ethereal shimmer. Li Zhi tilted her head to look up at him, her face deliberately dirtied with yellow clay. Two faint trails, washed clean by sweat, extended from her misty eyes down to her thin chin.
For a moment, he was transfixed.
Under the moonlight, the girl smiled faintly. Her misty eyes sparkled like the surface of a lake breaking into brilliance after clouds part to reveal the sun.
“I could say it’s because I admire Your Highness,” she said. “Would you believe me?”
Translator’s Note:- Dear soft-hearted readers please be ready with tissues as you will witness the hardest lives of the exiles.
