The harshest depths of winter had finally passed. After enduring the bone‑piercing chill of the thaw, the small village at the foot of the mountain broke its silence—at last, people began venturing up into the hills again.
Fortunately, it was also time for Gu Wan and Xie Ci to leave.
News of Xie Ci’s prison break had spread like wildfire. By the fifth day of the New Year, the verdict was already settled, though the official seals of the various bureaus remained unopened until the Lantern Festival on the fifteenth. Because of this delay, the Xie family missed their original exile date. Only after the fifteenth would a new departure be set, and the final decision was made for the twenty‑third day of the first month.
The stream murmured, spring buds pushed forth, and Gu Wan rode a weary horse along a detour over the hillside, hurrying back to the hunter’s cabin.
In the small courtyard, Xie Ci was bare‑chested, splitting firewood. His shoulders had already begun to broaden and thicken; with a sharp crack, he brought the axe down and split a log as thick as a man’s leg clean in two, then into four quarters. Sweat slid down his forehead and along the line of his neck, tracing the taut muscles of his back before running over his narrow waist. His trousers were soaked through at the waistband. At the sound of hoofbeats, he immediately lifted his head.
Because Gu Wan was less conspicuous than Xie Ci, the task of keeping watch fell to her. Since the fifteenth, she had ridden daily between the Tiekan Temple and the mountains. But this was the first time she had returned so early in the morning.
Her clear voice carried a note of excitement: “It’s today! At dawn, officials from the Court of Justice and the Ministry of Punishments came with the exile documents to take prisoners away—I saw movement in the women’s prison!”
“Alright!” Xie Ci let out a long breath and rose to his feet at once. “Then let’s go.”
Gu Wan said, “Quickly gather a few things—we’ll set out right away.”
Xie Ci nodded. He bent down to stack the split firewood neatly onto the pile, covered the straw mat back over, and returned the axe to its place.
In truth, the two of them had no need for so much firewood. But the little money they carried, along with the nag horse, had all been bought with the coins they found in the cabin. Though Gu Wan had already buried and honored the old hunter, Xie Ci still finished splitting the heap of branches and scrap wood the man had left behind, tidied the cabin, and swept it clean.
When he was done, he went to the kitchen to ladle out some lukewarm medicinal broth, poured it over himself to wash away the sweat, and came out refreshed. By then, Gu Wan had already packed their belongings and prepared the coarse cotton bandages she had boiled and dried.
The wounds on Xie Ci’s body had scabbed over, some already peeling to reveal tender new flesh. His torso was crisscrossed with scars, but he paid them no mind. It was Gu Wan who insisted—though ointment was no longer needed —she carefully wrapped the thicker scabs with strips of cloth so clothing or sudden movement would not tear them open again.
Once everything was ready, Xie Ci slung the bundle over his back and secured the cabin door, now fitted with a repaired lock.
At the gate where the horse was tethered, Gu Wan was turning over the yellow household register paper in her hands before tucking it carefully into her inner pocket. Though it was a forged document, she had already been inspected twice without being discovered.
Xie Ci took the reins. Gu Wan stepped into the stirrup and swung herself onto the saddle. She turned to hang the bundle, but Xie Ci had already fastened it in place. Before mounting, he looked at her seriously and said, “Once this matter is settled, I’ll find a way to get you a genuine household record as a woman.” He spoke with solemn resolve—he would never allow her to remain forever a nameless fugitive, without household or status.
Gu Wan was taken aback, then couldn’t help but laugh. “Alright!”
Fresh green shoots were already breaking through the soil; tiny yellow blossoms dotted the hillside beyond the cabin. The breeze carried the breath of spring; golden sunlight warmed her face and body. She smiled, radiant as the spring light spread across the mountains. Her mood lifted suddenly. She reached out her hand to him. “Come up quickly.”
Xie Ci swung himself onto the horse.
Gu Wan truly felt cheerful. First, she hadn’t dragged the Xie family down with her. Second—and most important—the household paper in her hand, though forged, had already passed inspection twice without being exposed. The anxiety that had weighed on her heart was more than half gone.
When she first arrived, she had been full of misgivings, and household registration was one of the most pressing concerns. But once she held that yellow paper in her hand, she realized surviving in the ancient world might not be so impossible. When the boat reaches the bridge, it will naturally cross; difficulties might yet resolve themselves. She cherished that paper, unable to put it down, her joy irrepressible.
She felt that life was still full of hope. The spirited, confident Gu Wan of youth had returned. In short, everything was moving in a better direction, wasn’t it?
The two mounted their horse and took a detour toward the Tiekan Temple.
Riding up to a peak in the northwest, they found the sun blazing, visibility high. From there they could clearly see the prison grounds outside the monastery, dust rising as people and horses moved.
The escort soldiers and officials were already in place. Groups of male and female prisoners were herded into lines, each identified and checked against the register, then handed over to the escort officers and driven out from the inner gate to the open ground beyond.
By the time Xie Ci and Gu Wan reached the summit and looked down, the handover was already more than halfway complete. Gu Wan untied their bundle and took out two corn cakes—their simple rations from home. She broke one in half and handed it to Xie Ci.
They ate a quick lunch. After noon, the handover was finally finished. The escort officials mounted their horses, cracked their whips, and drove the hundreds of exiled prisoners stumbling northeastward.
Xie Ci pressed his lips tight, gave one last glance back, then put on his bamboo hat. Together with Gu Wan, he swung onto the horse. “Hyah!” He turned the reins and they rode down the mountain.
They would not follow the same road as the main convoy, but they would travel parallel toward the northeast, waiting for the right chance.
Yes—it had been Gu Wan who first proposed the prison raid. But with Xie Ci’s near‑death “illness” already staged, and Zhang Ningyuan’s desperate efforts ensuring the Xie family women were not implicated, Xie Ci did not deliberate long. He quickly resolved that before reaching the place of exile, he must rescue his family.
This time, the place of exile was Tieling, a full three thousand li from the capital. The journey would take nearly a year, measured step by step through spring, summer, autumn, and winter, through bitter cold and scorching heat. Fortunately, the Xie family—even the women and children—were not overly frail. Their resilience gave Xie Ci and Gu Wan time to observe, plan, and wait for opportunity.
At the beginning, the two of them naturally held back, staying still—after all, at the start, defenses and vigilance were at their strongest. But jail guards and escorts were human too; whether on foot or horseback, they had to march together, and fatigue would set in.
In short, the area around the capital was absolutely not the right time to make a move.
So they kept walking, kept following, the long winding line of prisoners gradually thinning. Xie Ci and Gu Wan were on edge, but though the former was worried, he remained calm—when they struck, it had to be with one arrow that hit the mark. There would be no second chance.
“If the timing is right, we can almost act,” Gu Wan whispered from the grass beside Xie Ci.
By now, the prisoner convoy had already covered half the journey, far from the capital, traveling along the yellow earth official road between Shuozhou and Daizhou. The wild wind was harsh, the summer sun blazing. Gu Wan couldn’t stay crouched in the grass for long before her soles began to itch and sting. She quickly sat up, pulled off her boots, and sure enough—a fresh blood blister had formed. She winced in pain.
Because their funds were insufficient, riding together for too long would draw attention. The two had already sold their nag, and for the latter half of the journey they blended in, walking with the convoy.
Xie Ci noticed her foot. He sat up, drew out his fire striker, lit it, and heated a silver needle. Holding her foot carefully, he pricked the blister at the edge, pressed out the blood, then applied a dab of yellow ointment. Finally, he wrapped it with strips of cotton cloth they had washed and dried the night before.
To save money and keep pace with the prisoner convoy, they had rarely lodged at inns along the way. Now, covered in dust, they looked rather bedraggled.
Xie Ci felt deeply distressed seeing her like this. As the journey dragged on, his worry for his mother, sisters-in-law, and nephews only grew heavier, and he longed to act quickly. Yet it was clear someone at court was guarding against him. His father’s rival, Yan Lang, had deliberately placed his trusted follower’s son, Feng Linde, in charge of the exile escort. From the start until now, Feng Linde had shown little slack, leaving them with no real chance to move.
Gu Wan, however, grew increasingly anxious. In the original host’s memory, torrential rains were about to fall. A small levee upstream would break, killing much livestock, and the floodwaters would contaminate the drinking supply. The exile convoy would be forced to change course, heading further north toward Shuozhou.
There, tragedy struck: Xie Ci’s eldest nephew, twelve-year-old Xie Mingming, secretly tried to fetch clean water for his family. A yamen runner kicked him into the river. The shock of the cold and heat, with no medicine to treat him, led to his death along the road. Xie Ci’s eldest sister-in-law lost her mind.
Watching the sky, Xie Ci saw the clouds coil and darken, and his own heart grew more restless. At last, a major turn of fortune arrived.
During morning court, the Emperor fell ill once again. He collapsed from the Dragon Throne, struck his head, and bled profusely. Even by the time the carrier pigeons brought word, he had not regained consciousness.
Receiving the message, Feng Linde’s face changed drastically. He immediately handed over the exile duties to his deputy, without so much as a word of explanation, and spurred his horse to race back to the capital day and night.
Compared with such a great matter, neither Xie Ci nor the exiled Xie family counted for much at all. The chance had finally arrived!
Gu Wan clapped her hands—this emperor’s illness came at just the right time. She only hoped he would remain unconscious for a long while.
“I’ll go tell Mother and the others!”
With Feng Linde gone, though the deputy still kept strict watch, the escort troops’ spirit immediately dropped a notch. Xie Ci did not hesitate—he resolved to act.
After a moment’s observation, he decided to first alert the Xie family so they could be ready to coordinate from within. Recently, the exile convoy had been camping by the surging Fen River, which offered the perfect conditions.
Gu Wan took Xie Ci’s discarded outer robe in her hands, pressed a wax-sealed bamboo tube into his palm, and whispered as thunder rumbled and a downpour loomed: “Be careful!”
Xie Ci nodded, drew a deep breath, and slipped beneath the river’s surface.
The wind was fierce; the muddy waves roared. It was a wild river with unknown currents, and Gu Wan waited anxiously.
But under the water, Xie Ci moved like a fish. With a kick, he sped toward the exile camp. Amid the rolling waves, he lay hidden at the riverbed, breathing only through a single reed. At last, he saw three of the Xie sisters-in-law arrive with several older children to fetch water.
The water was even murkier than yesterday, and Second Sister-in-law Xie frowned. Carrying several wooden bowls, she walked a stretch up and downstream, searching for a spot that was at least a little clearer. Suddenly, she noticed a reed stalk. Then, a hand shot up from beneath the riverbed. She glimpsed a blurred face under the water, and before she could react, a small bamboo tube was pressed into her palm. Her eyes widened. She quickly glanced around, covered the motion with her wooden bowl, and swiftly tucked the tube into her bosom.
Gu Wan waited for more than an hour, her anxiety mounting, until at last Xie Ci returned.
By then, the sky was nearly black, storm clouds rolling as mountain rain gathered. He broke through the surface, leaping up with joy on his face. “I gave the bamboo tube to Second Sister-in-law!”
“Really!” Gu Wan was overjoyed. Second Sister-in-law was the perfect choice to pass their message—this was excellent!
“What do we do next?”
Xie Ci quickly pulled on his clothes, and the two of them clasped hands and ran. From far off, they could already hear the thunder-frightened cries of horses, cattle, and lambs scattering along the official road. This place lay near the mountain pass, where the folk were rough and hearty, livestock and merchants were plentiful, and the road bustled with herds and caravans, while villages and townships dotted the land in endless succession.
The two of them stood on the hillside, watching the livestock scatter and the wardens curse, and couldn’t help but exchange a glance. That night, they slipped into a large town and found lodging at the inn of a wealthy horse merchant.
The rain poured in torrents through most of the night, only easing before dawn. The rows of sheds lay silent—everyone either dead asleep or knocked out cold.
Gu Wan pushed open the gate of the livestock pen. She had already inquired: this horse dealer was filthy rich, yet often beat his servants and animals. A man without compassion—so she would treat this as robbing the rich to aid the poor.
In fact, Gu Wan had planned that if they ever ran out of money, she would target such heartless profiteers to solve their financial troubles. Weren’t there plenty of knight-errants in ancient tales who did the same? After all, people can’t just sit around waiting to die of thirst—if she could act, she would. Anyone who could thrive as a horse merchant in the northern lands surely had blood on his hands; it wasn’t unjust to take from him.
The night was dark, the wind high, rain still pattering. Gu Wan rubbed her hands together, then darted into the stables like a shadow.
Xie Ci followed close behind. If forced to choose, he would gladly trade his life to save his mother, sister-in-law, nephews, and younger brother. But stealing—this was the very first time in his life.
When Xie Ci’s father was alive, he had taught him: as a general, one must restrain his men—never disturb the common folk, never take a single needle or thread from them.
So even in the past, Xie Ci had never done the sort of bullying where one eats without paying. Not even once. If he left home penniless, he would rather crawl into a mountain cave than extort others. Still, he felt somewhat uneasy.
Gu Wan noticed and whispered: “Saving lives comes first. Let’s use it for now. When you’ve made your way in the future, you can pay him back—with a little interest at most.”
Xie Ci couldn’t help but nod. The two of them ran together to the caravan’s banner leaning against the courtyard wall. Gu Wan pulled it open, and Xie Ci gave it a careful look. When they finished, they exchanged a smile.
On the post of the wooden gate hung a horn lantern, its faint glow falling across Xie Ci’s face. His features, as splendid as rose petals, lit up instantly with brilliance when touched by a smile. Though still youthful, his brow bore traces of hardship; his dark sword-like eyebrows lent him added vigor.
At last, Heaven had not cut off their path—there was hope. His mood and expression visibly brightened.
They memorized the horse merchant’s mark, tied up the horses’ mouths, then opened the fence gate. Xie Ci mounted the lead horse to control it, while Gu Wan drove the rest from the stable in a flowing rush. She leaped onto the last one, and together they rode off, one after the other, to hide them away.
But by coincidence—
Just as they had tethered the horses and concealed them, returning under cover of night to the town, planning to wait until dawn to observe developments and ensure safety, they suddenly heard the dull thud of hooves.
Looking down the lane, thirty or forty paces away at the relay station’s stable, someone quietly removed the lantern. The stable door opened without a sound. The intruders had gone even further than they had—wrapping the horses’ hooves in straw so their landing was muffled. There were even a dozen cattle.
“…”
Gu Wan and Xie Ci looked at each other.
Gu Wan murmured: “Could it be, others are breaking out prisoners too?”
Not surprising, really—there were so many in the exile convoy.
They assumed it was a joint rescue. Gu Wan even said happily: “Mm, that’s great! Maybe we can borrow each other’s strength!”
Half the effort, twice the result. Just the thought was enough to make one glad.