Following his gaze, everyone saw a familiar figure walking slowly beside a prison cart. The man’s posture remained upright and commanding, but his usual moon-white robe was replaced with a coarse, faded cloth tunic.
His black hair was simply tied with a hemp cord. Without the jade hairpin, his ethereal aura still shone through, impossible to conceal.
It was none other than Rong Jue, the Imperial Advisor, revered as the kingdom’s foremost cultivator.
“How… how could the Imperial Advisor be exiled too?” Meng Yunzeng whispered in shock. “He’s so trusted by His Majesty… how could this happen?”
Not only the Meng family but also the escorting officials glanced repeatedly, stunned. Who could have expected even someone so high-ranking to suffer this fate?
Before they could process this, a rough, gruff voice rang out, accompanied by the creak of a prison cart:
“Damn it! Why am I being exiled too?! I’ve fought for the empire half my life, and this is how it ends?!”
Following the sound, they saw a burly man, eight feet tall, dark-skinned, with a menacing scar across his face. His coarse tunic stretched over his muscles as he struggled against the chains, but to no avail.
It was none other than General Zhao Lie. Known for his rugged demeanor and bravery in battle, Zhao Lie had somehow been implicated in treason and was exiled along with his family.
Meng Yunxi gasped. The exile caravan was far more formidable than they had imagined.
Even more surprising, a young man with striking features and a relaxed stride followed nearby, dressed in blue coarse cloth. Though shackled, his defiant aura was unmistakable.
“Isn’t that the Young Prince of Anle?!” someone whispered. “He’s always been rebellious, even ignoring the Crown Prince… and yet he’s exiled too…”
The Young Prince’s gaze casually swept over the caravan before settling on Meng Wantang. A faint glint of amusement appeared in his eyes.
Meng Wantang, holding Xiao Muyan and supporting Xiao Jingyuan, walked quietly among the prisoners. She had already noticed Rong Jue, Zhao Lie, and the Young Prince, yet her expression remained calm and composed.
All these people were, like her, guilty exiles. No one knew what could happen along the way. Her sole priority now was to protect Xiao Muyan and Xiao Jingyuan until they reached the northern wastelands.
Xiao Muyan, perched in her arms, looked around curiously. “Mother, that scarred uncle looks so fierce… and that handsome uncle, why are they all going with us?”
Meng Wantang gently stroked his head. “Because we’re all going to the same place, Muyan. Don’t be afraid, Mother is here.”
Xiao Jingyuan leaned against Meng Wantang, eyes sharp beneath the guise of weakness, carefully observing those around: Rong Jue, Zhao Lie, the Young Prince—all influential figures now exiled. Something significant was happening behind the scenes.
He glanced at the woman beside him. In the sunlight, her profile was serene and soft, yet imbued with a subtle composure that calmed his once-tense heart.
Midway through the journey, another group of prisoners merged with the caravan. Among them, a slender figure in faded cloth caught everyone’s attention.
It was Su Yanci, last year’s top scholar. Slender yet upright, shackled yet brimming with scholarly aura.
Born into poverty, Su Yanci had been a prodigy, crowned top scorer in the imperial examinations and appointed to the Hanlin Academy. Honest and blunt, he had no taste for scheming, devoting himself entirely to study. Even he was now exiled, drawing sympathetic glances from the caravan.
“Isn’t that Scholar Su? How could he be exiled too?” whispered someone, regret in their tone.
“They say he offended a noble… I’m not sure of the details. Fortunately, his family wasn’t implicated—lucky for them,” another added, eyes sympathetic.
Soon, rumors spread: “I heard the Princess wanted Su Yanci as her consort, but he refused. She spoke ill of him before the Emperor, and that’s why he’s exiled!”
“Some even say… he already had someone in his heart… perhaps… the former Jing Prince’s consort, Meng Wanqing! That’s why he refused the Princess!”
At this, all eyes turned to Meng Wanqing in the prison cart.
Already weak from hunger, she looked up, meeting Su Yanci’s gaze. His calm expression immediately flushed crimson, as if someone had pierced his thoughts. He quickly looked down, ears and cheeks burning.
After a moment’s hesitation, he took careful steps to her cart. His voice was soft as a whisper: “Meng… Meng young lady… are… are you alright?”
His face grew even redder. Avoiding her gaze, fingers nervously fidgeting with his coarse tunic, he looked like he had been caught in a private embarrassment.
Meng Wanqing stared, heart churning. She recognized Su Yanci—they had met a few times at poetry gatherings before her fall from grace. Now, seeing him exiled for what was said to be rejecting the Princess… she was at a loss for words.
“I… I’m not well…” she sniffled, tears falling again, voice full of grievance. “Scholar Su, I didn’t expect you…”
“I’m fine,” Su Yanci said quickly, glancing up at her tears, flustered. He frowned, unsure how to comfort her, fingers trembling. “Don’t… don’t be sad. The exile journey is hard, but it will pass… I… I will help you as much as I can.”
He looked down quickly again, cheeks burning bright red.
Nearby, Meng Wantang, holding Xiao Muyan, observed the interaction calmly, leaning against a roadside tree.
She had heard of Su Yanci’s personality: honest, straightforward, somewhat naive. Now entangled in political schemes, he was likely just a pawn of power struggles.
His interest in Meng Wanqing? On this exile journey, it was little more than a comic distraction.
Xiao Muyan, curious, whispered: “Mother, why is that handsome uncle’s face so red? Is he sick?”