Chapter 7

The harshest winter of the year had finally passed. After enduring the bone-chilling cold of melting snow, the small village at the foot of the mountain broke its silence, and at last, people began to move about the slopes once more.

Fortunately, it was also time for Gu Wan and Xie Ci to leave.

Xie Ci’s escape from prison had stirred up much commotion; by the fifth day of the new year, a verdict had been reached, but the seals of the various departments remained unbroken until the fifteenth day. The Xie family thus missed the original date for exile, and only after the Lantern Festival was a new departure date set: the twenty-third day of the month.

The brook murmured, spring buds unfurled, and Gu Wan, riding a worn-out horse, took the long way round the hillside to return to the hunter’s cabin. Xie Ci was shirtless, splitting firewood in the small courtyard. The young man’s shoulders had grown broader and sturdier; with a crack, he split a log as thick as a leg clean in two, then into quarters.

Sweat trickled down his forehead and spine, muscles taut, running over his narrow waist; his trousers were soaked. Hearing the sound of hooves, he immediately looked up.

Gu Wan was smaller and more agile than Xie Ci, so she handled the surveillance. Since the fifteenth had passed, she rode daily to and from the Iron Cage Temple.

This was the first time she had returned so early.

Her clear voice brimmed with excitement: “It’s today! Early morning, the officials from the Court of Justice and the Ministry of Punishments came with exile documents; I saw movement at the women’s prison!”

“Good!” Xie Ci exhaled deeply and stood up at once. “Let’s go then.”

“Pack quickly, we’re leaving now,” Gu Wan said.

Xie Ci nodded, stacking the split wood neatly on the pile, covering the straw mat, and putting the axe back in its place. They didn’t need so much firewood, but the little money and the horse they had were bought with the coins found in the cabin. Although Gu Wan had buried the old man, Xie Ci still chopped and stacked all the branches and deadwood the old man had left behind, tidied the cabin, and swept it clean.

After finishing, he scooped some warm medicinal water from the stove and washed off the sweat. When he emerged, Gu Wan had already packed their belongings and prepared the dried cotton bandages.

The wounds on Xie Ci’s body had scabbed over, some of the scabs had fallen off, revealing new pink flesh beneath. Scars crisscrossed his skin, but he paid them no mind. Gu Wan, ever meticulous, bound the thickest scabs with cotton bandages to prevent his clothes or movement from splitting them open again.

Once ready, Xie Ci shouldered the bundle and locked the cabin door.

At the gate where the horse was tethered, Gu Wan was carefully studying the yellow household registration paper before slipping it into her inner pocket.

—Though it was a forged document, Gu Wan had been inspected twice without being discovered.

Xie Ci took the reins, and Gu Wan mounted the horse, turning to hang the bundle on the saddle, but Xie Ci had already done it. Before mounting, he said earnestly, “Once this is over, I’ll find a way to get you a real registration as a woman.”

He spoke with solemnity, determined that she would not live forever as a nameless fugitive.

Gu Wan was stunned, then broke into a smile. “Alright!”

Fresh green grass had begun to sprout, tiny yellow flowers bloomed on the slope at the end of the cabin. The wind carried the scent of spring, golden sunlight warmed her face, forehead, and body. Her smile was as gentle as the spring light that flooded the hills.

Gu Wan’s mood soared; she reached out her hand to him. “Come on up.”

Xie Ci vaulted onto the horse.

…

Gu Wan was indeed in high spirits. Firstly, she hadn’t implicated the Xie family, and most importantly, although her registration was forged, discovering it worked eased much of her anxiety.

When she first arrived, she had many worries, and the registration was a crucial part. Once she held that yellow paper, she realized that surviving in ancient times might not be so difficult after all: when the boat reaches the bridgehead, it naturally straightens. Challenges might resolve themselves. She loved that yellow paper, hard not to be happy.

She felt that life was still full of hope.

The confident, spirited Gu Wan had returned.

In short, everything was moving for the better, wasn’t it?

…

They rode toward the Iron Cage Temple.

Ascending a mountain peak to the northwest, the sun blazed, visibility was high, and they could see clearly outside the temple: prisoners, horses, and dust billowing.

The escort soldiers and constables were in position, men and women prisoners were herded into columns, checked against the roster, handed over to the officials, and driven from the gates onto the open ground.

When Xie Ci and Gu Wan looked down from the peak, the handover was halfway done. Gu Wan opened her bundle and took out two corn cakes, their dry rations from home, broke one in half and handed it to Xie Ci.

They ate a simple lunch, and after midday, the handover was completed. The escorts mounted their horses, whipped the hundreds of exiles, driving them stumbling northeast.

Xie Ci pressed his lips tight, cast one last glance back, donned his bamboo hat, and together with Gu Wan, mounted their horse and rode down the mountain.

…

They would not take the same route as the main convoy, but would travel parallel northeast, seeking an opportunity.

Indeed, it was Gu Wan who first suggested rescuing the prisoners, but after Xie Ci’s near-death “illness” and Zhang Ningyuan’s desperate efforts that prevented the Xie women from being implicated, Xie Ci did not deliberate long. He quickly decided that before reaching the place of exile, he must rescue his family.

The exile destination, Tieling, was three thousand miles from the capital—nearly a year’s journey. Through spring, summer, autumn, and winter, enduring cold and heat, every step had to be measured by foot. Fortunately, even the women and children of the Xie family were sturdy enough, not overly frail, giving Xie Ci and Gu Wan time to observe and find their moment.

At first, they would remain inactive; in the beginning, defenses and vigilance would be at their peak. But the escort soldiers and constables were human too; whether walking or riding, fatigue would set in.

In short, near the capital was not the right time to act.

So they traveled, followed the winding convoy, numbers dwindling along the way. Xie Ci and Gu Wan were anxious, but Xie Ci, though worried, remained calm—they had only one chance.

…

“If the time is right, we can almost make our move,” Gu Wan whispered to Xie Ci as they lay in the grass.

The exiles had traveled half the distance, far from the capital, now on the official road between Shuo and Dai prefectures, amid wild winds and summer heat. Gu Wan couldn’t bear the grass for long; her feet itched and hurt, so she sat up, pulled off her boots, and found another blood blister.

She grimaced in pain.

—Lack of funds and the risk of being noticed if they rode too long had forced them to sell their horse; for the latter half, they trekked with the convoy.

Xie Ci saw her foot, sat up, struck his fire flint, heated the silver needle, and carefully pricked the blister, squeezing out the blood, then applied a yellow ointment and wrapped it with clean cotton bandages.

To save money and keep up with the convoy, they rarely stayed at inns, now dusty and disheveled.

Xie Ci felt distressed seeing her, and as the journey wore on, he worried even more for his mother, sister-in-law, and nephew, eager to act soon. Yet, someone in court was clearly on guard against him: Xie’s father’s rival, Minister Yan Lang’s trusted son, Feng Linde, was downgraded to personally lead the escort. Even now, the vigilance had not slackened; they had found no good opportunity.

But Gu Wan grew anxious, for in the original memories, torrential rain was imminent, a small dam upstream would burst, livestock would die, and the polluted water would force the convoy northward, toward Shuo Prefecture.

It was there that Xie family’s eldest grandson, Xie Mingming, twelve years old, seeking clean drinking water for the family, was kicked into the river by a constable. The shock of cold and heat, with no medicine, led to his death on the road.

The eldest daughter-in-law went mad.

For days, Gu Wan urged Xie Ci to act, and as he watched the swirling clouds, his anxiety grew.

At last, a major favorable event occurred!

The emperor fell ill again during morning court, fainted from the throne, struck his head and bled, and by the time the carrier pigeon brought the news, he still had not regained consciousness.

Receiving the urgent message, Feng Linde’s expression changed drastically. He immediately handed escort duties to his deputy, barely giving instructions, and rode day and night, rushing back to the capital.

Compared to such matters, neither Xie Ci nor the exiles mattered.

The opportunity had come!

Gu Wan clapped her hands—how timely the emperor’s illness, may he stay unconscious a while longer.

“I’ll go inform Mother and the others!”

With Feng Linde gone, though the deputy remained alert, the escorts' morale dropped a notch. Xie Ci wasted no time, deciding to act.

He observed a moment, then resolved to inform the Xie family, so they could prepare to aid from within. Recently, the convoy had camped by the surging Fen River, providing the necessary conditions.

Gu Wan took Xie Ci’s shirt, handed him the wax-sealed bamboo tube, thunder rumbled, rain was imminent. She whispered, “Be careful!”

Xie Ci nodded, took a deep breath, and plunged into the river.

The wind was fierce, waves muddy—an unfamiliar wild river. Gu Wan waited anxiously.

Underwater, Xie Ci moved like a fish, kicking swiftly toward the convoy’s camp.

He stayed beneath the surface, breathing through a reed, and at last, saw three Xie sisters-in-law with the older children coming to fetch water.

The water was murkier than yesterday; Second Sister-in-law frowned, carrying several bowls, walking up and downstream to find a clearer spot.

Suddenly, she saw a reed, then a hand reached from below. She glimpsed a blurred face, and a bamboo tube was pressed into her hand.

She widened her eyes, glanced around, covered with a bowl, and quickly hid the tube in her clothes.

…

Gu Wan waited more than an hour, anxious, before Xie Ci finally returned.

By then, it was nearly dark, clouds rolling, rain about to fall. He burst from the water, beaming: “I gave the bamboo tube to Second Sister-in-law!”

“Really!” Gu Wan was delighted—Second Sister-in-law was the best choice for their messenger. Wonderful!

“What do we do next?” she asked.

Xie Ci dressed quickly, and hand in hand, they ran swiftly.

From afar, they heard horses, cattle, sheep startled by thunder, bellowing and bleating. The area was close to the pass, known for its rugged people, teeming with livestock and merchants, households everywhere.

Standing on the hill, watching the chaos, the two exchanged a glance.

That night, they slipped into a large inn run by a wealthy horse merchant in the market town.

Rain poured most of the night; before dawn, it ceased. The stables were quiet, people either dead asleep or knocked out.

Gu Wan opened the gate to the animal pens.

She had found out—the horse merchant was rich and cruel, often beating servants and animals, a heartless tyrant. She might as well rob the rich to help the poor.

She had planned that if money ran out, she’d target such heartless types to solve their finances.

Wasn’t there many such heroic bandits in ancient times?

One couldn’t die of thirst—she’d do what needed to be done.

Those who could thrive as northern horse merchants had blood on their hands; it was not unjust.

The night was dark, rain drizzling, Gu Wan rubbed her hands, slipped into the stable.

Xie Ci followed; if he had to choose, he’d trade his life to save his family. But stealing was a first for him.

When his father was alive, he taught him: as a general, he must restrain his men, never disturb the people or take a single thing from them.

So even in his youth, he never bullied merchants or ate without paying, not even once. If penniless, he’d rather sleep in caves.

He felt somewhat uneasy.

Gu Wan noticed and whispered, “Saving lives is more important. We use it now—when you’re successful, pay him back, with a bit of interest.”

Xie Ci nodded, and they ran to the merchant’s flag by the wall. Gu Wan opened it; he looked carefully.

Afterward, they exchanged a smile.

A horn lantern hung on the gatepost, its dim light shining on Xie Ci’s face, his features radiant as a rose, glowing with a smile.

Youthful yet weathered, his brows dark and sharp, adding to his aura.

At last, hope had returned; his mood visibly improved.

They memorized the merchant’s details, bound the horses’ mouths, opened the gate, led out the head horse, Xie Ci mounted and controlled it, Gu Wan drove the stable’s horses out in a rush. The last one she mounted herself, drove the horses ahead, picked a direction, and hid them.

But, as fate would have it—

Just as they had secured the horses and returned under cover of night, intending to monitor the situation at dawn for safety, they suddenly heard muffled hoofbeats.

Looking toward the stable, thirty or forty yards away, someone quietly removed the lantern, silently opened the stable, and even went further: the horses’ hooves were wrapped in straw, making their movement almost soundless, and there were a dozen cattle.

“…"

Gu Wan and Xie Ci exchanged looks.

Gu Wan: “…Could there be others rescuing prisoners?”

Not surprising, given the number of exiles.

She assumed they were fellow rescuers and said happily, “That’s great! Maybe we can help each other!”

Twice the results with half the effort!

Just thinking about it made her happy!