Chapter 5: I Am Not a Refugee

“Forget it, let’s not talk about this for now. I’ll find you again about this matter once we’re back. But where exactly are we? Is there still a carriage available to take us out of the mountains?” Zhang Xiaolan realized the seriousness of the situation and decided that escaping this mountain should be their priority.

“There are no carriages here. Miss, where are you from?” Li Rui, hearing her question, quickly asked about her origins, hoping to escort her.

“I’m Chinese, of course! Isn’t it obvious?” Ever since learning the truth earlier, Zhang Xiaolan had stopped being polite with Li Rui.

Yet Li Rui remained gracious, not taking offense. Had it been someone else, perhaps they would have apologized by now, admitting to trespassing into his hunting grounds.

“Chinese? I actually meant, where do you live? I could escort you part of the way. But the way you speak, and the clothes you’re wearing, are rather unusual to me—I’ve never seen the like.”

Li Rui had no idea where this “China” was—perhaps it was some obscure village. But her attire was certainly unlike anything he’d ever seen.

“You’re the one dressed oddly! And your accent is so strange—are you an actor who’s gotten too absorbed in his role? Where’s the film crew? I don’t see any cameras around!” Zhang Xiaolan still hadn’t realized that this world, and this man before her, belonged to an unfamiliar reality. She assumed he was part of a crew filming on location.

“This is Rooster Mountain, fifty miles outside of Phoenix Call Town. There aren’t many residents in this area. Did you get lost, Miss?” Li Rui explained patiently, watching her carefully. She seemed lost, and indeed, this was no place for ordinary people—especially at night, when wild beasts roamed.

“Isn’t this the Cliffside Mountain in Lijia Village, Henan Province?” Zhang Xiaolan asked, startled by the unfamiliar names. He’d said this area was sparsely populated, and the nearest town was still fifty miles away—totally unlike what she knew.

“This isn’t the place you mentioned, Miss. This land falls under the Li Dynasty’s jurisdiction. The year is Yiwei, the eighth year of the Li Dynasty. As for Henan, you must mean south of the Yellow River. We’re in the north here, which is also called the Central Plains.”

Li Rui explained proudly, unaware of the utter shock on Zhang Xiaolan’s face. Her eyes were wide as copper bells, her voice dazed.

“I don’t know about the Li Dynasty, but do you know the fourth year of the Yanchang era of Northern Wei?” She turned to him, probing. Right now, she felt disoriented, uncertain whether he spoke of some obscure little country. She dropped a dynastic era name from roughly the same historical period, suspecting something uncanny.

“Yanchang, fourth year! Emperor Xuanwu of Northern Wei passed away in the first month, and now his six-year-old son, Yuan Xu, has ascended the throne. In Jizhou, the monk Fa Qing has led an uprising, raising the banner of Maitreya. Miss, are you a refugee from Northern Wei?” Li Rui immediately recognized the era she referenced, and recited the recent events in that neighboring kingdom. He reasoned she must have fled here, though he wondered how she could have made it over impassable cliffs and mountains alone.

“Refugee? Refugee… I’m not a refugee, I just want to go home—I don’t want to stay here, I want to go home…” As Li Rui recounted those famous ancient events, the realization that she had crossed into another era finally hit Zhang Xiaolan. There was no excitement, no joy—only stunned silence.

She repeated the word “refugee” with a kind of mockery. She was not a refugee. All she knew now was that she had somehow crossed through time, and the thought broke her. She began to cry.

Li Rui watched as she squatted on the ground, sobbing harder and harder. He was startled—he could handle warfare and leading troops, but comforting a weeping woman was well beyond his skills. He wanted to console her, understanding her longing for home.

“Miss, please don’t be so sad, I—” He had barely spoken when Zhang Xiaolan, sobbing uncontrollably, suddenly gasped for breath and fainted. Li Rui hurriedly caught her as she slumped, shaking his head at the deepening dusk. He decided to take her back to his mountain estate for her to recover.

Lifting her onto his horse, he mounted nimbly behind, supporting her as she slept, tear tracks still visible on her cheeks.

Looking at the girl in his arms, he was moved to gently wipe away her tears. With a sigh, he spurred the horse forward. At night, wild beasts often prowled Rooster Mountain—it would be best to bring her to his summer retreat.

“Whoa there…” Li Rui reined in his horse. As he stopped outside the gate, those inside, alerted by the sound, came out to greet him—a young man and woman, both still quite youthful.

“Master, why are you back so late?” The young servant boy called out before he’d even stepped outside, his tone indicating that Li Rui was an indulgent master.

“Master, why did you bring a woman back?” The servant, seeing the unconscious woman on horseback, asked curiously.

“Enough chatter. Xiaolian, come help me take her to a guest room,” Li Rui chided gently, summoning the young maid who’d followed him out. She moved to help, but as she was rather petite and Zhang Xiaolan was tall, she struggled to keep her from slipping off the horse.

“Master, who is she? And why is she unconscious?” The boy, ever inquisitive, persisted.

“Take the horse to the stable. If you forget the night feed, you’ll answer to me.” He tossed the reins to the boy, who caught them quickly and grinned.

“Don’t worry, Master, I’ll take care of everything.” With that, he led the horse away. Li Rui smiled faintly before turning to scoop Zhang Xiaolan into his arms, carrying her through the gate with swift, practiced ease. Xiaolian shut the door and hurried after them.

“Help her change and clean up,” Li Rui instructed Xiaolian as he laid Zhang Xiaolan on the bed in a guest room. He glanced back once before leaving.

“What’s gotten into the Master today?” Xiaolian tilted her head as she watched him go. She had never seen him show such concern for a woman before, yet here he was, unexpectedly rescuing one.

The next day, close to noon, Zhang Xiaolan awoke from a restless sleep as if jolted from a nightmare. She sat up abruptly, her eyes dull and unfocused.

The door creaked open, catching her attention. In walked a little maid, carrying a copper basin for washing, a white cloth draped over the side. She immediately noticed Zhang Xiaolan awake and sitting up, and spoke in a bright, pleasant voice.

“You’re awake, Miss. Last night, seeing you ‘sleep’ so deeply, I took off your coat and shoes and helped you lie down. I wanted to help you change into clean clothes, but I didn’t know how to undo what you were wearing.” As she spoke, she set the basin down, wrung out the cloth, and handed it over.

She wasn’t wrong—it had taken quite an effort just to remove the outer jacket, but when she saw Zhang Xiaolan’s undershirt and jeans, she was utterly baffled, having never seen such garments and not knowing how to remove them. In the end, she simply covered her with a quilt and let her sleep as she was.

Zhang Xiaolan listened to the girl’s chatter, glancing down at herself. Her windbreaker had been removed, but her short-sleeved T-shirt and jeans remained.

She did not take the cloth the girl offered, but instead got out of bed, walked barefoot to the doorway, and stood for a moment in the courtyard.

“Miss, you’re not wearing shoes—the ground must be awfully cold.” The little maid hurried out after her, holding a pair of embroidered shoes, and tried to help her put them on. But as she bent down, Zhang Xiaolan caught her by the shoulders.

“Where am I?” Zhang Xiaolan stared at her, gripping her shoulders, her eyes full of questions. Xiaolian, however, remained calm and smiled as she began to explain.