Night descended like an enormous iron cauldron, covering the wilderness beneath a heavy blanket of darkness.
As the last traces of sunlight disappeared beyond the horizon, the temperature on the barren wasteland plummeted.
Only hours ago, the scorching heat had felt capable of melting people alive.
Now, a cold wind swept across the plains, making everyone shiver uncontrollably.
The exiles were dressed in nothing more than thin prison garments.
Huddled together in small groups among piles of rocks, they trembled as they tried to preserve what little warmth remained.
But the cold wasn’t even the worst part.
Hunger was.
From the moment their homes had been confiscated that morning until now, not a single drop of water had touched their lips.
Food was even more out of the question.
Every stomach in the convoy was protesting violently.
The endless chorus of growls echoed through the silent night.
The sound was pitiful.
Not far away, Zhao Tieniu was still writhing in the dirt.
His guard uniform had long since been shredded into strips.
His neck, chest, and back were covered in bloody claw marks carved by his own hands.
After screaming for an entire afternoon, his voice was nearly gone.
Yet he continued to howl in despair.
The remaining guards, now leaderless, huddled behind supply wagons to block the wind.
They watched Zhao Tieniu warily, terrified that his strange affliction might somehow spread to them.
Their captain was half-dead.
Who had the mood to cook?
They didn’t even dare touch the sacks of rations.
The last thing they wanted was trouble.
Even Dowager Consort Shen and the old nannies, who usually barked orders without restraint, had finally quieted down.
They were starving.
Dizzy.
Weak.
Their cracked lips had begun peeling from dehydration.
The faint scent of dried provisions occasionally drifted from the guards’ side of the camp.
Yet no one dared demand food anymore.
The memory of Sang Wanwan snapping a tree in half with a single kick still haunted them.
All they could do was swallow their saliva and endure the cold and hunger.
The entire camp felt bleak and hopeless.
Like a gathering of people simply waiting to die.
“Wanwan… cold… hungry…”
Zongzheng Zhan had curled his tall frame into a miserable little ball.
Like a giant abandoned puppy, he pressed himself tightly against Sang Wanwan, trying to steal whatever warmth he could from her.
His usually bright, foolish-looking eyes were full of grievance as he stared at his own flat stomach.
Sang Wanwan glanced at him.
This man was crazy.
He was foolish.
He acted like a child.
Yet paired with that breathtakingly beautiful face, it was surprisingly difficult to stay annoyed with him.
“Be good. Just wait a little longer.”
She reached out and ruffled his messy but silky hair.
Her tone was the same one used to comfort a three-year-old child.
“Come on.”
“I’ll take you somewhere nice.”
Rising to her feet, Sang Wanwan grabbed his large hand and led him away from the camp under the cover of darkness.
They headed toward a small rise overlooking the campsite.
It was the perfect location.
An upwind position.
Any breeze passing through there would sweep directly across the entire exile camp below.
After arriving, she positioned Zongzheng Zhan with his back toward the wind to block the chill.
Then she casually slipped free of the chains around her hands.
Closing her eyes, she sent her consciousness into the Infinite Space within her mind.
The familiar scene appeared.
Silent.
Magnificent.
The mountains of gold and silver she had “liberated” from the Marquis Zhen Guo’s Manor sat neatly stacked in one corner.
But tonight, she wasn’t interested in treasure.
Her attention shifted directly toward the largest storage area inside the space.
There lay all the food she had emptied from the estate’s grand kitchens.
Thanks to the space’s absolute preservation effect, everything remained exactly as it had been when stored.
Freshly roasted ducks still glistened with dripping juices.
A clay pot of century-old ginseng black chicken soup still bubbled as though it had just come off the fire.
Exquisite pastries sat on white porcelain plates, filling the air with sweet aromas.
Looking at the feast spread before her, Sang Wanwan couldn’t help smacking her lips.
The first day of exile deserved a proper celebration.
Besides…
Certain people in this convoy desperately needed a lesson.
Hungry wolves didn’t respond to reason.
The most effective weapon was desire itself.
Destroying their mental defenses through temptation would be far more satisfying.
Her gaze swept across countless delicacies.
Eventually, it settled on a massive black clay pot.
Beside it sat a large bamboo steamer.
Perfect.
A mischievous smile appeared on her lips.
With a thought, she activated the space.
In the real world, her wide sleeve shifted slightly, providing visual cover.
The next second—
A steaming clay pot appeared in her hands.
Beside it, a bamboo steamer filled with fluffy white buns landed gently on a flat stone.
“Open the lid.”
She nodded toward Zongzheng Zhan.
He sniffed the air.
Immediately, his eyes lit up like searchlights.
Without hesitation, he lifted the lid.
Gurgle…
Gurgle…
The moment the cover came off, thick sauce bubbled vigorously inside.
The sound alone was enough to make mouths water.
Inside the pot was a masterpiece.
Braised pork belly.
The finest cuts of pork had been slow-cooked for four full hours with rock sugar, star anise, cinnamon, and premium spices.
Every piece glistened beneath a rich crimson glaze.
The fatty portions looked so tender they would melt upon contact with the tongue.
The lean meat had absorbed every drop of flavorful sauce.
Even the skin shimmered with a beautiful caramelized sheen.
In this frozen, hungry, silent wilderness…
This pot of braised pork was pure devastation.
And the deadliest part?
The location Sang Wanwan had chosen.
A breeze picked up at exactly the right moment.
The rich aroma of meat.
The sweetness of caramelized sugar.
The fragrance of spices.
All of it was carried by the wind like an unstoppable tidal wave.
Sweeping down toward the camp below.
Sometimes…
The wind had a flavor.
A moment earlier, the camp had been filled with nothing but despair, hunger, and exhaustion.
Then the scent arrived.
Everything froze.
Even the air seemed to stop moving.
Dowager Consort Shen had been leaning against a pile of rocks, eyes closed, trying to sleep through the hunger cramps twisting her stomach.
Suddenly—
Her nose twitched.
The aroma shot straight into her brain.
Her eyes snapped open.
“Meat…”
“That’s meat!”
She practically sprang upright like a corpse rising from the grave.
Disbelief filled her face.
Saliva flooded her mouth instantly.
The old nanny beside her, who had been groaning from hunger, inhaled sharply.
Her cloudy eyes suddenly gleamed with a hungry green light.
“Not just meat!”
“It’s braised pork!”
“Good heavens! How can there be braised pork this fragrant in the middle of nowhere?!”
It wasn’t just them.
The guards hiding behind the wagons reacted as well.
They jumped to their feet as though someone had stepped on their tails.
The dry corn buns in their hands instantly lost all appeal.
One by one, they turned toward the source of the scent.
Their throats bobbed violently.
Gulp.
Gulp.
Gulp.
Soon the entire camp was filled with synchronized swallowing.
The sound was so loud it nearly drowned out the wind.
After an entire day without food.
Without water.
Without even a sip of something warm.
Suddenly encountering a fragrance like this…
It was torture.
Cruel and merciless torture.
Everyone searched for the source.
Soon, countless glowing eyes locked onto two figures standing atop the rise.
Under the moonlight, Sang Wanwan calmly picked up a large white bun from the steamer.
The bun was bigger than a man’s fist.
She tore it open.
Then she selected a trembling piece of braised pork dripping with sauce and tucked it inside.
Finally, she held it out toward Zongzheng Zhan.
His face lit up like a fool who had just won the world.
Opening his mouth wide, he took an enormous bite.
Chomp.
Chew.
Chew.
Golden juices ran down the corners of his mouth.
The rich pork fat blended perfectly with the sweet fragrance of the bun.
Every sound of his chewing seemed amplified in the night.
“Delicious!”
“The meat Wanwan gives me is the best!”
He praised loudly between bites.
The juicy sounds.
The delighted expression.
The enthusiastic compliments.
Each one was like a blunt knife slowly carving into the hearts of the starving crowd below.
People were losing their minds.
The guards’ eyes turned red.
Their hands shook on the hilts of their sabers.
They wanted nothing more than to charge forward and seize the food.
But then they remembered.
The tree.
The kick.
The terrifying strength.
And Zhao Tieniu’s current condition.
Not a single person dared move.
All they could do was stand there.
Breathing in the scent.
Swallowing endlessly.
Suffering both physically and mentally.
Meanwhile, out in the dirt…
Even Zhao Tieniu caught the smell.
The aroma was so overwhelming that, for a brief moment, it actually suppressed the bone-deep itch tormenting him.
He stopped rolling.
Slowly.
Painfully.
He lifted his blood-covered face.
His bloodshot eyes locked onto the steaming clay pot atop the hill.
Tears.
Snot.
Drool.
All three dripped from his swollen face.
He didn’t want to die anymore.
He didn’t even care about the itching.
At this moment, he wanted only one thing.
One bite.
Just one bite of that trembling piece of braised pork.
His mental defenses shattered completely.
Reduced to dust.
On all fours, like a mangy dog stripped of its spine, Zhao Tieniu dragged his mangled body through the cold dirt.
Crawling.
Rolling.
Creeping toward the hill where Sang Wanwan stood.
Toward the braised pork.
Toward salvation.
“Meat…”
His cracked voice trembled.
“Please…”
“Just let me have one bite…”