“Alright, let’s go quickly,” Xing Yu said.
Shen Ruyi looked at her face in the dim light—she didn’t even need a mirror to know what she looked like. Indeed, the phrase “dusty and weary from travel” wasn’t exaggerated.
She rubbed her face, wiping away a layer of dirt, and hurried toward the river.
“Everyone, come get your food! One bun per person. If you have a bowl, you can get soup; if not, use this bowl and take turns,” a familiar bronze gong sounded, “Bang bang.”
These soldiers were amusing—they had even taken over the jailers’ gong during the handover. Shen Ruyi watched one soldier playing with it, grinning, until the leader glared at him and he sheepishly stopped, scratching his head.
Shen Ruyi technically had no bowl, but she couldn’t share one with so many people.
She grabbed a bun and found a quiet spot, slowly eating. She sipped some well water in between bites—finally avoiding choking.
The bun was made of dark flour and small, but the women’s appetites were modest. They had been on the carriage all day, and aside from the bumpy ride, they weren’t exhausted. One bun and a bowl of soup would satisfy almost everyone.
After dinner, night fell. The women, timid and cautious, stayed inside the space formed by the carriages, rather than wandering far. Overall, the group was manageable.
While lining up for food, Xing Yu saw Qing Ping and pulled her over to join Shen Ruyi. That night, the three slept close together.
Although it was nearly May, mornings and evenings were still chilly.
Everyone had been arrested empty-handed, then sent away. Only a few had relatives to see them off; most had nothing. Sleeping apart would have been unbearable in the cold.
The next morning, dawn barely breaking, the familiar gong woke everyone.
A few attentive maids helped the soldiers prepare breakfast.
Each woman received a bun; then the soldiers ushered them onto the carriages.
Shen Ruyi and the maids had only one bun for the entire day.
Finally, as night fell and the carriage stopped, the soldiers shouted “Get off!”—a sound sweeter than heaven itself to Shen Ruyi.
She eagerly rolled out, not the only one—everyone tumbled out of the carriage, no shame in it.
Once her body fully recovered, Shen Ruyi noticed they were outside a city for the night.
The distance was too far to read the gate’s inscription, but the walls were grand and imposing.
“Those needing supplies, hand over your money tomorrow morning. We can help you buy, or you can enter the city yourselves,” the leader who had only spoken briefly at departure now addressed them.
The women exchanged glances. Most had nothing, but the clever ones took note.
Shen Ruyi exchanged a look with Xing Yu—both clearly smart.
Xing Yu was genuinely clever; Shen Ruyi relied on her extraordinary abilities to hide her possessions.
Qing Ping quietly lowered her head—she truly had come empty-handed.
“Will you give the money to the soldiers to buy supplies, or go into the city yourself?” Xing Yu whispered.
“I want to go in myself. What about you?”
Shen Ruyi paused, thinking that using her space storage properly would be more convenient once in the city.
“My money’s small. Can I give it to you to buy for me?” Xing Yu asked sheepishly.
“Ah? You don’t worry I’ll keep it?”
Shen Ruyi was surprised—though they had been together for two days, their relationship in the mansion had been distant.
“I trust my judgment of people,” Xing Yu said, giving Shen Ruyi a compliment.
Unable to resist, Shen Ruyi nodded.
“What do you want to buy?”
“A bowl and a cloth to wipe myself at night. Nothing else,” Xing Yu replied. Simple necessities.
“Alright,” Shen Ruyi nodded. “Give me the money early tomorrow morning.”
At dawn, the familiar gong sounded again.
Those who wanted soldiers to buy items queued with their money; those entering the city themselves waited on the other side.
Shen Ruyi, holding the coins Xing Yu gave her, joined the latter group of fewer than ten people.
The lead soldier approached with two others. All three had changed into civilian clothing.
Shen Ruyi noticed the leader wasn’t very old—short beard, usually in uniform, always serious. In civilian clothes, freshly washed and groomed, he looked no older than thirty.
Although in ancient times, thirty could already mean grandfatherhood, so whether he was “old” was relative.
Shen Ruyi shook her head, dismissing the thought. Buying supplies was the priority.
It seemed the leader glanced at her—probably noting faces.
“Follow me,” he said, stepping ahead with long strides, a man of few words.
Shen Ruyi hurried to keep up.
One soldier walked in the middle, one at the rear.
As they approached, she finally read the two large characters on the city walls: Yingzhou.
She had assumed her world was a fictional dynasty. Seeing these characters made her doubt—was it really fictional? Perhaps the capital had existed in real history, or maybe a parallel universe?
Best to ignore it for now.
Soon they reached the gate. Entering the city, the crowd split into two lines.
One side had a long line of civilians, each paying five copper coins to the guards.
The other side had mostly people in carriages, also paying, though the exact amount was unclear behind the vehicles. Some paid, some didn’t, and some generously offered extra silver.