Su Nuan slowly raised her hand, realizing there was no avoiding it.
Just then, Cheng Feng came stomping in, grumbling curses. “Damn it all, this heavy rain makes traveling impossible. But we’ve received orders from above to wait. There are more exiled prisoners coming—we’ll join up with them and continue together.”
As he spoke, he went to pull Qin Shou along. “Sir, that castrated bastard insists on seeing you. You’d better go check it out.”
Distracted, Qin Shou frowned and asked, “What does that old eunuch want with me?”
Cheng Feng shook his head. “Not sure, sir. You should hurry over. These old palace rats are always scheming—best not to offend them.”
Qin Shou nodded, frowning as he walked out of the Mountain Cave.
Su Nuan pressed her lips together. She couldn’t kill Qin Shou yet—they were still too close to Jingcheng. If he died, someone else would just take his place.
They needed to put more distance from the capital first. With Qin Shou gone, Cheng Feng would be in sole command, making their journey much easier.
Su Nuan said, “We’ll rest in the cave these next few days and gather our spirits.”
“As long as your husband is alive and our family remains together, that’s our greatest fortune. Don’t dwell on other matters.”
Xue Shi, being more clear-headed, smiled. “I’ll listen to you, mother. Being alive is what matters—we won’t trouble ourselves with other concerns.”
Su Nuan nodded. They must look forward now—lingering on the past was useless.
With the heavy rain outside, Su Nuan stayed in the cave tending to Ling Cang.
By evening, she used the Carbon furnace to boil some zisū with dried meat. When the meat softened, she tore flatbread into strips and added them to the pot until tender enough to eat.
For Ling Cang, it was still Renshen Tang. Su Nuan took every opportunity to massage his xuéwèi.
Xue Shi handled the bathing—not due to distrust, but considering the new bride might be shy. Besides, with so many people watching, even Xue Shi felt her old cheeks grow warm with embarrassment.
After two days, the heavy rain began to ease. The cave occupants remained calm, allowing everyone to recover enough energy for the journey ahead.
Seizing the chance, Su Nuan went out to gather medicinal herbs, processing and storing them upon return.
Cheng Feng entered and announced, “Everyone pack up. Each person gets one Oilcloth and one dǒulì. We’re moving out.”
Su Nuan noted the distributed Oilcloth—roughly four square feet with a head hole cut in the center.
The leftover fabric from the hole was crudely stitched onto the dǒulì, creating serviceable rain gear.
Following Su Nuan’s instructions, Ling Yun settled Ling Cang in the carriage and organized their belongings, awaiting Cheng Feng’s departure order.
Suddenly, hoofbeats approached from behind the procession. A man in silver armor rode up to Cheng Feng, looking down at him. “Where’s your commanding officer?”
Cheng Feng immediately clasped his fists. “The sir is packing. We’re preparing to depart.”
The silver-armored man snorted coldly. “Trying to escape? He can’t shirk responsibility that easily. See that group behind us?”
Cheng Feng peered into the distance where a procession of twenty-odd people slowly approached.
They had no carts or horses, each wearing heavy suōyī as they trudged forward.
Su Nuan’s heart grew heavy. Another family condemned to confiscation and exile?
She hoped she wouldn’t recognize anyone among them. That damned emperor grew increasingly inhuman—no wonder his dynasty fell soon after in her previous life.
After waiting nearly an hour, the new group finally reached the Mountain Cave entrance.
When Su Nuan recognized the arrivals, she realized there were two pieces of news—one good and one bad.
The bad news was that the newcomers were familiar—so familiar they had once been as close as family.
The good news was that these familiar faces were from the Su Mansion. Scumbag father Su Liren wasn’t wearing shackles, but his leg irons remained—likely because he couldn’t afford to remove them.
His stepmother and sister supported Su Liren on either side, their faces hidden beneath dǒulì hats.
Su Liren’s sharp eyes lit up when he spotted Su Nuan. “Nuan Nuan, it’s your father! You have a carriage? Wonderful—let me up at once!”
Su Nuan had no choice but to climb down from the carriage shaft. “Auntie,” she called inside, “could you take the reins?”
“Of course,” Cui Yi replied.
Su Nuan approached Su Liren, studying him from head to toe before asking, “And you are?”
Su Liren was so enraged his tattered dǒulì nearly slipped off. “Su Nuan! I am your father!”
Su Nuan shook her head. “I have no father. Well, I used to, but he severed ties with me. So now I’m fatherless.”
Veins bulged on Su Liren’s forehead. “No matter what, my blood runs in your veins! I am your father! Defy me, and you’re unfilial—the heavens will strike you down for such disrespect!”
Su Nuan couldn’t help but roll her eyes. She’d heard this nonsense countless times but had yet to witness anyone actually struck by lightning for being unfilial.
Su Liren’s loud protests drew scornful murmurs from the crowd, but Su Nuan paid them no mind. Let others say what they would—in this world, might made right, not empty words.
She sneered, “Su Liren, you’d best not provoke me. Unless you want to learn what regret truly means.”
Blind to the situation, Su Liren only grew angrier at her words. His wife and daughter, exhausted from days of travel, remained silent, offering no support.
Shamelessly, he tried to clamber into the carriage.
Though once a maid, Cui Yi had served in the General’s Mansion and was fiercely loyal. Seeing Su Liren’s attempt, she kicked him off the carriage without hesitation. “Our Nuan Nuan may not lay a hand on you,” she said coldly, “but I certainly can.”
Su Liren tumbled to the ground, groaning in pain.
Su Nuan smiled, leaning over him. “I belong to the Ling family now. I have nothing to do with you—stay away from us.”
Before Su Liren could retort, Cao Qinghua cried out urgently, “Master! Zhen’er has fainted!”
Su Liren scrambled to his feet. “Your sister has collapsed. Let her rest in the carriage at once!”
Su Nuan blocked his path, her voice icy. “Are you suggesting Su Zhen share a carriage with my husband?”
Su Liren blurted out reflexively, “He’s not dead yet? Did you bring his corpse along? It’ll rot and stink on the road—just find a spot to bury him and be done with it.”
Su Nuan walked to the roadside, plucked a handful of zhéshǒucǎo, and rubbed it between her palms. “Old Man Su,” she said sweetly, “let me show you something interesting.”
Irked by the address, Su Liren opened his mouth to curse—only to receive a stinging slap across the face.
The blow wasn’t heavy, but the humiliation was profound.
Clutching his cheek, Su Liren was too furious to speak, his eyes wide with shock.
Su Nuan giggled. “If you can’t speak properly, then don’t. My husband is perfectly fine.”
With that, she settled back onto the carriage shaft and ignored him completely.
For some reason, this family was also exiled. Official silver was discovered in their courtyard, and the emperor’s secret treasury had been robbed. Shouldn’t this warrant a Beheading sentence?
Suddenly, Su Nuan thought of a point that made her realize the crux of the matter, and she couldn’t help but feel a bit of regret in her heart.