Gu Wan hauled him up, and together they hurled themselves down from the towering wall, more than ten meters high.
In the pitch-dark night, the moonlight had vanished, leaving only the dim glow of snow. Moss long dead had turned to ashen dust, and between the stacked bricks lay layer upon layer of powdery snow. Each step sank into hardness—icy, slick, treacherous.
The high brick wall was built like a fortress rampart, its eighty‑degree slope sending them plunging at a speed that was terrifyingly exhilarating. The north wind surged, whistling past their ears, freezing them until her ears felt ready to fall off. Her heart seemed to leap out of her chest. She braced Xie Ci with one arm, the other gripping the cloth rope so tightly her palm burned. He had brought the rope when climbing up, but now he was clearly at the end of his strength. His lips were pale and bluish, and he was barely able to stand. She had no choice but to take over.
Gu Wan flung the rope aside, gasping, white breath steaming from her mouth and nose. She quickly shut her lips, afraid that the little warmth inside her would escape.
Becoming a fugitive—this was something Gu Wan had never imagined for herself. Yet after a few steps, it almost felt natural.
After all, the original owner had never committed a crime. The Xie family lived simply. Even Xie Xinzhong, Duke Zhongyong, kept to three dishes and one soup at home—enough to eat, never wasteful. The men’s household clothes were mostly dark cotton, worn until threadbare before being replaced. Strict with themselves, lenient with others: apart from sons destined for the army, he was gentle with wife and children. He had no objection to frugality, only to extravagance. The women of the Xie family, shaped by the men’s example, were likewise never wasteful, content with their own modest joys.
To frame loyal men and punish their families by implication—she felt not the slightest guilt in running.
Gu Wan caught her breath twice, then immediately supported Xie Ci and rushed forward.
The wind across the open wilds was fierce. Tiekan Temple sat halfway up the mountain, with the military drill grounds built at its foot. Nearby towns and villages dotted the slopes, but overall the population density was far lower than in the city. Snow blanketed everything—fallen yellow grasses, black branches, jagged rocks—wrapping the land in stark white. The plains, the rolling hills, and the looming mountains all vanished into darkness.
The two staggered and stumbled as they fled. Gu Wan hesitated, then whispered, “Do you want me to carry you?”
The original body’s physical condition was actually quite decent. In Great Wei, customs were open; horseback riding and polo were everyday amusements for noblewomen. Marquis Zhongyong’s household was a military family, so even the girls practiced strength and fitness. When she first sought refuge with the Xie family, she trained hard to win their favor. Later, realizing they truly treated her well, she slackened off after a few years. Her frailty was in temperament, not in body—her foundation was solid.
Gu Wan herself had graduated from the Police Academy. Though she never became a forensic doctor, combat drills and physical training were compulsory. Before university, she had studied sanda for over ten years. Her elderly teacher liked her so much that he took her as a disciple, giving her private lessons, even introducing her to the basics of ancient sword and blade techniques. She tucked the long knife back into her belt, weighed the thought, and felt she could probably carry him.
Xie Ci froze, turning his head. The blizzard roared, flinging snow into their hair and clothes. Her face was smudged with dirt, but her eyes, lit by the snow’s glow, shone brilliantly.
For a moment, heat surged to Xie Ci’s eyes. His body, on the verge of collapse, seemed to regain a shred of strength. He didn’t know how to express it; after a long pause, he weakly shook his head. “No need. I can still manage.”
If Gu Wan carried him, their speed would be cut in half.
Xie Ci lifted his gaze to the vast wilderness. The black night wind howled—strange, yet familiar. He had ridden across the military drill grounds here countless times. He knew this terrain even better than the prison guards newly stationed at Tiekan Temple’s outer ward.
“Straight ahead lies Mount Yun’gang, leading into Ao Ridge. The foothills are all rolling hills, stretching to Pingxiang and the county a hundred li beyond. Five li southeast, seven or eight li west, there’s a river. The streams around Tiekan Temple all flow from the Yun’gang hot spring palace. Even in winter, they never freeze…” His voice was faint, but he recited the lay of the land from memory. As he spoke, tears spilled down his face.
The landscape was unchanged, but everything else had been overturned.
Gu Wan thought quickly. She pulled him along, plunging into the darkness, dragging him behind a mound of snow piled against a great boulder. Behind them, the thud of army boots and the flare of torches had already gathered beneath the high wall. Shouts carried on the north wind, closing in fast.
She glanced back. In the snow that barely reached their knees, their messy footprints stood out stark and clear.
The moment the torches lit up, they could easily follow the trail of footprints.
Gu Wan and Xie Ci exchanged a glance, then clenched their teeth and sped up, veering in a wide arc toward another path.
The outskirts weren’t deserted—Tiekan Temple was thriving with incense offerings. It was the first month of the year, and countless worshippers came to seize the “first incense” or pay respects, trampling out crisscrossing roads and footpaths.
Gu Wan, trained in investigation, was skilled in both surveillance and counter-surveillance. If it were spring or summer, slipping into the mountains would already be half the escape. But now, in the dead of winter, with snow everywhere, that option was useless. She immediately abandoned the idea of heading into the mountains. Supporting Xie Ci, she dashed along a woodcutter’s path down the foothills, across uneven ridges and open plains.
The night was pitch black. Her feet were so frozen she could no longer feel them. Xie Ci’s face was ashen, but at least the bleeding had stopped—whether from clotting or freezing, she couldn’t tell. His hands were like ice, yet he forced himself to stay conscious, struggling to walk on his own to ease her burden.
Gu Wan pressed forward, step by faltering step, toward the hot spring river. The water hadn’t frozen—thank heaven.
After sprinting as fast as she could for a stretch, she began deliberately leaving messy footprints in places untouched by others. But in truth, there was no need to fake it—their staggering, stumbling steps already left a trail so chaotic it was impossible to disguise.
Gu Wan didn’t realize her own face had gone pale as paper.
Cold and hunger gnawed at her. The original body had been raised in the sheltered inner chambers for years; now she was surviving on sheer willpower alone.
At last, they reached the riverbank. Gu Wan crouched down, scraping and scuffing with her hands and feet until she quickly left behind traces of a supposed river jump. Then, without hesitation, she and Xie Ci doubled back along their original path, skimming the shallow snow at the cliff’s base, racing eastward. She snapped off a branch from some nameless scrub tree, thick with twigs, and as they moved, she swept it behind them again and again. The cold wind roared, scattering fine snow powder over the ground. Unless someone looked closely, the footprints beneath would be nearly invisible.
At last, they reached the end of the cliff, where a stone cave opened. The two of them dove inside headfirst.
This was Xie Ci’s idea. Two years ago, he and his childhood friends had gotten into trouble, were beaten at home, and ran away—living in this cave for three days. He knew it had another exit that led to the far side of the small escarpment. They had finally shaken off the main force of pursuers.
Now, only small detachments remained.
The officer commanding the manhunt had some skill. He quickly connected the sick prisoner with the fire, ordering the inner gates shut to trap them like turtles in a jar. If Gu Wan and Xie Ci hadn’t moved fast enough, striking first, they would likely never have escaped.
The pursuers soon reached the riverbank. Large numbers of prison guards rushed downstream, but after chasing for a while without success, they quickly ordered the men to spread out, set checkpoints, and divide into squads to search for tracks in the snow.
Gu Wan and Xie Ci abandoned the main road. Inside the mountain cave, they sat down to catch their breath for a moment, but dared not linger. At once, they cut through the mountain, racing toward the other side.
It had already been more than an hour since they escaped the high wall. In another two or three hours, dawn would break. They had to shake off the pursuers completely before daylight.
When they sensed small patrols nearby, they carefully avoided them. Fortunately, after circling all night, the heavy clouds thickened again, and fine snowflakes began to fall.
Gu Wan’s heart leaped. “Perfect! The heavier the snow, the better for us!”
Yet advantage came with hardship. The road grew harder, colder. Xie Ci’s face was deathly pale, his hands like ice. Gu Wan worried he wouldn’t last. Both were exhausted and parched, but neither dared eat snow. “Are you holding up? Should I carry you after all?”
She looked at him with mounting fear. Without asking, she snatched away the dead branch he was using as a crutch. One end was stained with blood; his grip had been so tight his palm was bleeding again. Gu Wan shook her head, then without another word bent down, hooked his legs, and hoisted him onto her back. He was heavy!
Though lean, years of martial training had made his frame solid, weighing her down until she nearly collapsed. Luckily, she had braced herself for it and bore the weight. She tightened her grip on the long blade, leaning heavily on her staff as she forced herself forward. Once she grew a little more accustomed, her pace began to quicken.
Xie Ci lay slumped against her back, utterly spent. He stiffened his neck to murmur a few words, but in the end his head dropped against her shoulders.
Gu Wan trudged on, stumbling step by step for half an hour until she could no longer bear it. Xie Ci climbed down, and the two supported each other as they walked. After a short rest, she hoisted him onto her back again. They repeated the cycle again and again. By the time dawn was near and the snow had ceased, they finally managed to skirt around the mountain. But just as they crossed the main road and reached the edge of the town—escape almost within sight—they were discovered!
A troop of twenty cavalry had circled the road once, then turned back to search again, and now they came face to face with them.
The sudden thunder of hooves broke the silence. Gu Wan’s heart lurched; she quickly set Xie Ci down. Together they sprinted and leaped with all their strength, plunging into the roadside ravine.
Beyond the mountain, the open town offered no cover. The frozen creek was the only place to hide. Yet in the end, they were still found.
The sky was just beginning to lighten, the snow reflecting the faint glow of dawn. The cavalry leader scanned the ground near and far, and soon spotted the telltale mark where a patch of snow had collapsed.
Gu Wan heard the horses halt, footsteps pounding straight toward them. She couldn’t help but curse— Damn it!
She scrambled up, body low, and just as the boots were about to reach the edge of the creek, she sprang up with a shout—“Ah!”
Her leg whipped out in a spinning kick, striking the leader squarely in the head. He collapsed instantly, knocked unconscious.
There were twelve men in total. The squad split into two groups and fanned out to search.
Gu Wan’s keen eyes caught the soldier at the edge raising a signal arrow. As she landed, she veered left—blade flashing, foot snapping out. The arrow loosed; she dove, seized it mid‑air, and hurled it straight toward Xie Ci’s side.
“You little wench! Courting death—!”
The one with the arrow was the leader. Blood spurted from his nose as he staggered back, cursing furiously. Eight or nine men immediately closed in, surrounding Gu Wan on all sides. She swallowed hard. Cold, starving, utterly exhausted—and worst of all, she had never killed with her own hands before. In the desperate clash, she had already felled three or four, but the rest were hulking men, larger than her, and now wary of her legwork.
Gu Wan knocked aside the enemy’s blade, but a kick landed squarely on her back, sending her sprawling onto the leader. Another man crashed down on top of her, and all three lost their weapons, tumbling together down the snowy slope until they hit the frozen creek below.
Footsteps thundered behind them. Gu Wan yanked out a dagger and pressed it to her opponent’s throat—but at the instant she was about to slash, she faltered!
That brief hesitation—barely a heartbeat—was enough. Fighting against multiple foes was already a desperate struggle; her only hope was to hold them off and keep them tangled with her. The pause gave her enemy the opening: he shoved hard, drew a dagger from his boot, and drove it down toward her with brutal force.
Gu Wan twisted violently, rolling free, kicking back, stabbing with all her strength. But another man lunged in, pinning down the very legs that had scattered them moments before. She was trapped, unable to break free—her life hanging by a thread.
And then— “Ahhh—!”
Xie Ci erupted with sudden fury. A flash of steel blazed white against the snow, the blade slicing through a throat with a wet, tearing sound. Blood burst across the snow in four crimson sprays.
From that moment, killing the pursuing soldiers meant they were true fugitives. Even if wrongly imprisoned, they would never clear their names.
At the very last moment, seeing Gu Wan pressed to the ground, Xie Ci still struggled to rise. His face was as pale as paper, his lips tinged blue. He should have been too weak to move, yet in that final instant he let out a fierce shout, summoning a surge of willpower. With a sudden leap, he struck—three or four men who had been barely holding him down were instantly thrown aside.
Xie Ci swept forward like a storm, his sword flashing like a silver waterfall, cold and merciless. The armored guard charging toward Gu Wan felt a sudden chill at his throat, staggered two steps, clutching his neck, eyes wide as blood spurted forth—then collapsed.
Xie Ci’s beautiful eyes burned red, his youthful face smeared with blood until his features were unrecognizable. He seized the man attacking Gu Wan and drove his blade straight into the throat—cutting down him and the one clutching her leg in a single stroke.
Gu Wan, her own face and hair drenched in blood, scrambled to her feet. The two of them, panting heavily, looked at each other.
Xie Ci rasped, “We must go.”
“Yes—yes.”
His eyes stung and his hands trembled, but he gripped the sword tightly, and together they plunged into the wind and snow.
Snow had begun to fall again, drifting softly. The wind carried it against their faces. Hand in hand, they dashed across the main road, through the town square, running far, far away. At last they stopped, collapsing into the snow.
Xie Ci fell to his knees—and broke down crying. Blood and tears streamed together. He braced himself on the ground, choking at first, then sobbing uncontrollably.
The Xie family had been loyal for generations, yet today he had not only broken out of prison to become a fugitive—he had killed imperial guards.
Gu Wan stood beside him. After a long pause, she straightened and gently patted his shoulder. He slumped against her, and she felt his burning tears slide down along her collarbone.
She knew this feeling. She had a twin brother—since childhood, they shared the same ambition. But at fourteen, he lost a leg in a car accident, never able to walk quickly again.
Disasters, accidents—irreversible. No matter how much strength one has, some things cannot be changed.
Xie Ci’s burden was far heavier.
Gu Wan sighed softly. She knew that any words of comfort now would be hollow. So she said nothing, only stroked his back in silence, again and again.