Chapter 6

 

Several days later, the exile convoy entered the borders of Chongcheng. However, as usual, the convoy wasn’t permitted to enter the city itself.

Typically, the only officials joining the convoy from the city were the replacement junior guards. This time, however, a low-ranking official dressed in formal attire arrived, causing a stir. Even the arrogant senior guard Zheng Gong, who was accustomed to lording over the exiles, greeted the official from the provincial governor with exaggerated politeness, bowing and scraping until his smile stretched ear to ear.

The local official bowed before Xie Lanxu’s carriage, exchanged a few brief words, and then gestured for an elderly doctor carrying a medicine chest to board the carriage.

Outside, the exiles cast envious glances toward the carriage.

Zheng Gong, emboldened by the presence of the officials, drove the exiles back with even more vigor, forcing them to keep their distance from the carriage. Li Zhi held Shendan close, only half listening to her family’s heated discussion.

“Mother, you must go!” Li Jinzhi said irritably. “The wife of the Chongzhou magistrate was your close friend before marriage. With that connection, no minor official would dare slight you. Besides, we’re not asking for much—just some food and warm clothes.”

His biological mother, Madam Zheng, chimed in. “That’s right, Madam Wang! The Chongzhou magistrate didn’t even have the qualifications to speak with our master in the past, let alone his subordinates!”

Madam Wang looked hesitant. While tempted, her pride held her back.
“But what if they refuse me? I was once a second-rank titled lady. To be turned down by a mere ninth-rank official…”

“Mother, now is not the time for such concerns,” Li Jinzhi pressed, barely containing his frustration. “If you don’t seize this chance, there won’t be another. Without warm clothes or food, we’ll all starve or freeze to death!”

“Elder Brother, don’t force Mother if she’s unwilling,” Li Huizhi, the youngest, murmured softly. “Our teacher said—”

“Did your teacher also tell you that without food, people starve? Or that winter without warm clothing leads to freezing?” Li Jinzhi interrupted mockingly. “Even if we survive, you’re only eight. If something happens to you, where will Mother find the medicine to cure her regret?”

The mention of such a grim “what if” enraged Madam Wang, who retorted coldly, dismissing the thought as ill-fated nonsense.

“Mother, I’m only worried about Huizhi,” Li Jinzhi said righteously. “If I were the one with connections to the magistrate’s wife, I’d go without hesitation—for the sake of the family. Asking, begging—heck, I’d even crawl on all fours and bark like a dog if it meant ensuring the Li family’s survival!”

“This has nothing to do with age, I—” Huizhi’s voice, high-pitched and indignant, was lost in the clamor.

Li Zhi glanced over. Madam Wang, seemingly having made up her mind, stood and walked toward the local officials.

—-

Not long after, the elderly doctor exited Xie Lanxu’s carriage.

In the fleeting moment before the embroidered curtain fell back into place, Li Zhi caught sight of the dimly lit interior. Xie Lanxu, wrapped in a fur cloak, was coughing against the carriage wall. His face looked even paler than before.

The doctor whispered something to the horse-faced official from Chongcheng, who then bowed toward the carriage before boarding a vehicle back to the city.

Madam Wang soon returned, her expression embarrassed.

“Well, what did they say?” Li Jinzhi demanded impatiently.

“It’s your fault for forcing me to go!” Madam Wang snapped, her face grim. “They said the magistrate’s wife is away visiting relatives. They’ll need to report to her when she returns before making any decisions.”

“And who knows when she’ll return?” Li Jinzhi said angrily.

“There’s nothing we can do about it,” Madam Wang retorted. “We’re the ones asking for help now, remember?”

The argument continued until Zheng Gong ordered the exiles to move.

Li Zhi feigned ignorance of the bulge in Madam Wang’s sleeve. Unlike Huizhi, who had red eyes and was wiping away tears, Li Zhi remained indifferent to the unraveling state of her family.

In Chongzhou, the magistrate listened to the doctor’s report with growing astonishment. He set down a jade carving he had been admiring, depicting a child playing by a snowy pine.

“Poison?” the magistrate echoed.

“Yes,” the doctor confirmed with a humble bow. “The imperial grandson’s rations are provided separately from the others’. Upon inspection, I found traces of diamond powder mixed into his food.”

“Diamond powder? What kind of poison is that?” The magistrate frowned.

The doctor explained slowly, “Diamond powder is a ground mineral. Inedible in its natural form, it becomes lethal when ingested as fine powder. It adheres to the stomach lining, accumulating over time until it causes fatal internal bleeding.”

“I see…” The magistrate tapped the table thoughtfully. “Did you prescribe any medicine for him?”

“I gave him a few bottles of my own cold-dispelling pills to ease his frailty. However, they’re ineffective against the diamond poison.”

“If untreated, how long does he have?” the magistrate asked.

“A year at most. Half a year, if his condition worsens,” the doctor replied.

The magistrate fell silent, calculating. With a journey of three thousand miles ahead, the imperial grandson might not even survive to reach Mingyue Tower.

It would please many.

After a pause, the doctor added cautiously, “One thing troubles me. Although I found diamond powder, the symptoms don’t entirely match…”

The magistrate wasn’t surprised and waved dismissively. “I understand. You may leave.”

The doctor bowed and departed.

The horse-faced official approached cautiously. “Sir, should we summon another doctor for a second opinion?”

“No need,” the magistrate said, a cold smile on his lips.

“But the poison—”

“Xie Lanxu has many enemies,” the magistrate interrupted. “Diamond powder is just one of many things that could kill him. There’s no shortage of people willing to see him dead.”

The official quickly understood. “Ah, like the bandits—they were clearly paid to do the job.”

“Exactly. With so many willing hands, why waste my energy? Tell our people to stand down. Let the capital’s noble lords handle this—they’re far more skilled at these matters.”

The magistrate’s fingers idly caressed the jade carving, his smile deepening. “After all, some things are best left to experts.”

—-

The convoy of exiles wound like a gray ribbon through the dark green mountains.

Li Zhi and her family had left Chongzhou days ago, yet the landscape remained unchanging—endless mountains, devoid of life.

In the distance, the setting sun hung low, its light dim and sickly, as though afflicted by a mortal illness.

When the convoy finally stopped to set up camp, the exiles collapsed to the ground, utterly exhausted. It didn’t matter if they had once been merchants or officials; now they all sprawled together on the same barren earth.

Li Zhi sat in the back of her family’s group, keeping herself apart from the conversation centered on Madam Wang and Li Jinzhi. By her side, Shendan sat obediently, his dark eyes alert.

Li Zhi seized a moment when no one was watching to check the lash marks on her arm.

The once-bloody wounds had stopped bleeding, leaving behind thick, wormlike scabs. If such scars had been inflicted on Li Xiang, she would likely have fainted on the spot. Li Zhi, however, examined them absentmindedly, as if oblivious to the consequences they might bring.

“Time to eat! Don’t even think about grabbing more, or you’ll taste the whip!”

Zheng Gong appeared with his usual wooden bucket. Li Zhi quickly adjusted her sleeve.

“Here’s yours. Take it,” Zheng Gong grumbled, tossing her a piece of hardened bread.

Li Zhi caught it swiftly, only to find that the ration—once roughly the size of a fist—was now barely as big as her palm.

She glanced at the bucket and saw scraps that looked like leftovers: some the size of a baby’s fist, others rotting and moldy, discolored beyond recognition.

Silently, Li Zhi accepted her meager portion. But someone else wasn’t so resigned.

“Please sir, have mercy! This is too little—just a bit more, I beg you!” A man clutching a stale piece of bread no larger than his hand fell to his knees, clutching Zheng Gong’s leg.

“There’s no more! Ungrateful wretch, you’ll get nothing if you keep whining!” Zheng Gong snarled, kicking the emaciated man away.

Another woman fell to her knees, clutching her frail daughter, whose skeletal frame looked ready to collapse. “Please, sir, just one more bite for my child! I’ll repay you in the next life—”

“Get lost! Your bad luck is contagious!” Zheng Gong spat, turning a deaf ear to her pleas.

No amount of begging swayed him, and the rations remained as sparse as ever.

The bitter cold worsened as the convoy moved into Fengzhou. Each day, more exiles fell ill. Those too weak to walk under the lash were swiftly executed by the guards.

Li Zhi forced herself to eat whatever she could: the stinking, discolored bread, or leaves plucked from the roadside on her way to relieve herself. If she encountered a snake, she might have considered it a meal. Unfortunately, the only predators prowling the desolate winter wilderness were those beyond her capability to hunt.

To avoid attacks by wild animals, the latrine groups had been expanded from three to five people. Even so, Li Zhi occasionally glimpsed glowing green eyes in the forest.

As she choked down a mouthful of sour, sticky bread, she noticed the man who had begged at Zheng Gong’s feet earlier staring at Shendan with a predatory glint in his eyes.

Starvation makes beasts of men.

Li Zhi recalled harrowing tales of cannibalism during famines, recorded in local chronicles. Eating dog meat paled in comparison.

Her heart ached for Shendan’s uncertain fate in this merciless convoy. All she could do was hold the dog closer, shielding it from the man’s ravenous gaze with her own body.

Li Xiang approached Shendan and stroked its head. Taking advantage of her position, hidden from Madam Zheng and the others, she tried to feed the dog a small piece of bread.

Li Zhi recognized the bread as the ration Zheng Gong had given Li Xiang earlier. It looked nearly untouched—either Li Xiang had eaten very little, or not at all.

Frowning, Li Zhi moved to stop her, but Shendan, famished, eagerly devoured the bread before she could intervene.

People starving and dogs too—what could she say? Li Zhi couldn’t blame Shendan.

“Why aren’t you eating?” Li Zhi asked.

Li Xiang smiled faintly as she petted Shendan, but her expression quickly turned cold and resentful.
“I’m not hungry,” she replied icily.

“You should eat, even if you’re not hungry,” Li Zhi urged. “How else will you make it to Mingyue Tower?”

Li Xiang let out a mocking laugh, dismissive of the concern. “What difference does it make?” she said, her tone tinged with sorrow as she stroked Shendan’s head. “The Li family is finished. Even if we reach Mingyue Tower, what’s the point?”

After a long silence, she added stiffly, “I heard some people talking about eating dogs. You’d better watch out. Don’t get Shendan killed… like you got Li Xia killed.”

Her last words were barely audible, spoken so softly that Li Zhi almost didn’t catch them.

Li Xiang’s face was flushed with fever, her lips dry and colorless. Every sentence seemed to drain her strength, forcing her to pause and catch her breath.

Only a few weeks ago, though pale, she had at least some flesh on her face. Now, she was a walking skeleton, her eye sockets hollowed out.

The biting cold seemed to bury a million needles in each gust of wind.

Everyone else clung desperately to their threadbare clothing, shielding themselves from the chill. Only Li Xiang appeared indifferent, letting the icy air seep through her loose sleeves.

In this place, the sick could only rely on themselves. Even those clinging to life were met with greedy stares, their fellow exiles praying that their neighbor wouldn’t wake the next morning—so they could claim their clothing.

No one would help her. No one could.

Li Zhi couldn’t resist touching Li Xiang’s forehead.

“…You’re burning up,” Li Zhi murmured, her brow furrowing.

“Don’t touch me!” Li Xiang slapped her hand away, her voice sharp and hostile.

“Even if you blame me, you shouldn’t neglect your health,” Li Zhi said firmly.

Li Xiang laughed bitterly, the sound like a flicker of mockery across her fevered face.
“When have I ever neglected myself?” she said hoarsely. “Here, in this cursed place… what choice do I have but to resign myself?”

Refusing to say more, Li Xiang struggled to her feet and staggered back to Madam Zheng, who barely spared her a glance before resuming her conversation with Li Jinzhi.

****

The next day, Li Zhi’s worst fear came true.

Li Xiang’s condition worsened, leaving her unable to take another step.