The chief officer, supported by his subordinates, limped back to a distance, his eyes burning with resentment, fixed on the black-draped prison carriage.
The other officers, still shaken, clustered together, keeping far from the prisoners.
This moment of peace was hard-earned.
Shen Qingzhu helped her eldest sister, Shen Qingyao, sit steadily, confirming that her breathing had calmed somewhat. Then, turning her back to the officers to shield them, she quietly drew a few translucent, droplet-like small spheres from her sleeve.
“Grandmother, Mother, you and eldest sister share these first.” She pressed the spheres into Lin Shi’s hand, speaking in a low whisper. “These are ‘Saliva-Generating Pills.’ They quench thirst and replenish some energy.”
Lin Shi stared at the trembling little spheres in her palm, full of doubt, but trusting her “child” completely, she asked no questions and immediately distributed them to the matriarch and Shen Qingyao.
The matriarch, parched from the journey, popped one into her mouth. A sweet, clear liquid slid down her throat, instantly dispelling all dryness and heat, spreading warmth through her limbs.
Shen Qingyao took one as well, and the tension in her dehydrated abdomen eased considerably. She looked gratefully at Shen Qingzhu, lips moving, but she said nothing.
Shen Qingzhu handed a few more to her second sister and Qian Miaomiao, taking one herself.
The short rest felt like a fleeting dream.
The chief officer, limping, loudly ordered the convoy to continue.
Perhaps the unseen “hidden weapons” were too uncanny, or perhaps they had concluded that the people inside the black carriage were not to be trifled with; the officers’ attitude for the remainder of the journey softened considerably.
They no longer lashed or cursed indiscriminately, and their pace slowed, seemingly deliberately accommodating the carriage.
The convoy moved forward in a tense, eerie calm.
Only when the last light on the horizon was swallowed by darkness did a solitary post station appear.
The chief officer negotiated briefly with the station steward, then drove the prisoners like livestock to a rear entrance leading underground.
“Down, all of you!”
The heavy wooden collars were finally removed from their necks, and for a moment, many could barely stand from the relief.
But what followed was an even deeper despair.
The dungeon was dark and damp, filled with a suffocating musty smell. Dozens of people were crammed into the tiny space, unable even to turn around.
At that moment, the dungeon’s barred door creaked open, and a shifty-looking station clerk carried a lantern inside, a merchant’s smile plastered across his face.
“Gentlemen, ladies, after a day of travel, you must be hungry?” He shook the few water pouches and a basket of dark, crude biscuits. “I have clean water and food here, but… it’s a bit pricey.”
He held up five fingers. “One pouch of water, five taels of silver. One biscuit, one tael. No deception, first come, first served!”
“You’re robbing us!” a pampered lady screamed.
“You jest, madam,” the clerk said with a fake smile. “This is lifesaving stuff. If you don’t buy, someone else will.”
Sure enough, as soon as he spoke, people produced hidden silver hairpins and jade pendants, handing them over eagerly.
The water and food were soon gone.
An official who had spent a fortune for a water pouch eagerly gulped it down, only to spit it out immediately with a “phut!”
“Ugh! What is this water? Bitter and harsh!”
The biscuits were so hard they could break teeth, full of bran, scraping throats painfully.
“A tiger fallen to the plains is bullied by dogs… a tiger fallen to the plains is bullied by dogs!” an elderly official, all white-haired, held the indigestible biscuit, tears streaming. “What sins have we committed to endure this shame?”
“All thanks to that traitor, Prince An! If not for him, we wouldn’t be in this mess!”
“Exactly! Even if he died, he cleared himself, he dragged our entire families down with him!”
At that moment, the sound of rolling wheels and the chief officer’s deliberately loud voice came from outside the dungeon.
“Move! Push this carriage in! Let this ‘sir’ taste the dungeon as well!”
Under the astonished gazes of all, the heavily black-draped prison carriage was pushed to the dungeon entrance by several officers.
Clatter—
The chief officer sneered, yanking off the black covering.
The flickering firelight revealed the person inside.
Shen Qingzhu’s breath caught for a moment.
Who was this person?
He sat quietly in the corner of the carriage, dressed in pure white prison robes, immaculate. His long black hair cascaded freely, framing a face of striking, almost supernatural pallor.
His features were exquisite, almost inhuman—eyebrows like distant mountains, eyes like cold stars, a high nose bridge, and lips pale. A beauty that transcended gender.
Yet most terrifying was his gaze.
When he slowly lifted his eyes, his cold, clear phoenix-like gaze swept across everyone with ultimate detachment and indifference.
A presence godlike, untouchable.
This person was none other than Zhao Jingzhan, heir of Prince An.
Shen Qingzhu felt something stir gently within her.
She had seen countless beauties, but never such dignity and strength of character. A cold and proud aura that could not be broken by wind or frost.
After the brief stillness, an eruption followed.
“That’s Zhao Jingzhan! That little bastard of Prince An!”
“Our fall to this point is all thanks to him and his father!”
“Beat him to death! Beat this curse to death!”
Those who had just been lamenting their fate, now seemed to find an outlet for their pain and rage. Their eyes reddened, transforming into grotesque demons.
Shouts of insult and curse surged toward the small prison carriage.
Zhao Jingzhan remained leaning back, expression unchanged, as if the vulgar words were nothing but the buzzing of flies.
His indifference utterly enraged a young prisoner named Li Ze. Formerly a promising official in the Ministry of Personnel, now a convict, his resentment was the strongest.
“Look at him, acting all high and mighty like some prince!” Li Ze’s face twisted. He grabbed a nearby pouch of bitter, foul water and sneered at the carriage.
“Today, I’ll make you taste the world!”
He raised the pouch, ready to douse Zhao Jingzhan with it.
The surrounding prisoners eagerly anticipated the spectacle.
The Shen family women shrank in fear; even Shen Qingdai instinctively turned her face away.
At the instant the water pouch was about to be thrown—
A hand, lightning-fast, grabbed Li Ze’s wrist with precise force.
Li Ze froze, then roared in fury. “Who the hell dares stop me?!”
He saw Shen Qingzhu’s face.
“You?” Li Ze’s eyes were full of disdain and confusion. “Shen family brat, are you insane? Have you forgotten how your father died? This is the son of your father’s killer!”
All eyes turned to Shen Qingzhu, filled with shock and ridicule.
Seeing her remain silent, Li Ze laughed even more arrogantly. He struggled against her grip, only to find the seemingly delicate hand as immovable as iron.
A twitch ran across his face, turning all his humiliation and anger into the most vicious words.
“To curry favor with a cripple, you forsake vengeance for your father! If Shen Jiru has any spirit in heaven, you’ll anger him so much you’ll die again!”