Shen Yaowen didn’t dare look at her, only nodding slightly.
Lady Zhou went pale, nearly fainting again.
Shen Jiaojiao was dumbstruck too; she hadn’t expected her father to embezzle so much, and for a moment didn’t know what to say.
Shen Shuangshuang looked at the speechless Shen family members, a cold smile curling at the corner of her lips, and turned back to her previous corner.
As she sat down, Shen Yaozong leaned over and patted her hand. “Don’t be upset, daughter. There’s no need to argue with them. The road of exile is long; let’s keep our distance. Out of sight, out of mind.”
“I know.”
Shen Shuangshuang rubbed her wrist; her hand was stiff from the earlier heated argument with Shen Jiaojiao.
“Just seeing their greedy faces makes me sick, as if our things were born to be theirs.”
Xiang Meimei nodded in agreement. “Exactly. Back at the Marquisate, even when we had enough to eat, they always envied it. Now, as prisoners, they’ve become even worse.”
She touched her belly and added, “Luckily, you have so much stored in your space. Otherwise, on this long exile journey, I wouldn’t have lasted being pregnant.”
The three of them were talking when suddenly the rain outside lessened.
The heavy, continuous downpour gradually thinned, then stopped completely. A corner of the dark clouds parted, letting a faint ray of sunlight through.
Everyone in the ruined temple was stunned, then someone cheered: “The rain stopped! Finally!”
The officials also breathed a sigh of relief. The lead one snapped his whip: “Stop gawking! Pack your things and keep moving! If you dawdle and don’t reach the Grand Market before dark, you’ll go hungry!”
No one dared slack off; everyone stood up and brushed off the mud.
Shen Yaozong helped Xiang Meimei stand slowly, while Shen Shuangshuang gathered the remaining pastries and water pouch into her bosom.
All of these were from the storage space, disguised so no one could tell.
The officials re-chained the men and tied the women with ropes. The long line of prisoners set off from the temple.
Not far along, Shen Jiaojiao deliberately pressed close to Shen Shuangshuang, hissing, “You little brat, I’ll get you for this! Count on it!”
Shen Shuangshuang glanced back, voice calm but commanding: “Anytime. Just afraid you can’t back it up.”
Shen Jiaojiao was left speechless, stomping her foot in frustration.
Lady Zhou watched with a dark look, probably scheming again.
After about an hour’s march, the scene ahead became lively.
In the distance, tents and stalls appeared, with many people moving about—it was a spontaneously formed Grand Market.
Likely due to the recent surge of exiles and the rain, many merchants had gathered here to trade.
“Stop!”
The lead official called out. “Half an hour for you to purchase supplies. Buy what you need quickly. Anyone who isn’t back in time will be treated as an escapee!”
The crowd immediately surged into the market.
Shen Shuangshuang and her family followed, only to be shocked by the prices.
A black flatbread that cost two wen in the capital now sold for ten.
Even a jug of ordinary well water was fifty wen.
As for herbs, the cheapest ones for colds went for one to two silver taels per packet.
“This is highway robbery!” Xiang Meimei muttered.
Nearby, a woman in rough cloth sighed: “Young lady, just accept it. This place is nowhere near a village or shop, and all exiles pass through here. If merchants don’t overcharge us, who will? My husband tried to buy medicine for diarrhea, asked three stalls, the cheapest cost one silver and five qian. We can’t afford that.”
Shen Yaozong whispered to Shen Shuangshuang: “I’ll stay with your mother. You handle the purchases. Be careful, don’t show off wealth.”
Xiang Meimei quickly retrieved twenty silver taels from a hidden layer in her clothing and handed them to Shen Shuangshuang. “Take this. It’s official silver. If it’s not enough, let me know.”
She knew Shen Shuangshuang had plenty in the space; this twenty taels was just for show.
Shen Shuangshuang nodded, pocketed the silver, and pushed into the crowd.
She first went to a stall selling handcarts. The owner was a burly man with a beard, leaning against a post smoking.
“Boss, how much for this cart?”
Shen Shuangshuang pointed to a sturdy wooden cart beside him.
The man glanced at her, exhaled smoke: “One silver tael.”
“What? One silver for this old cart? In the capital it costs two hundred wen!”
“Capital is capital. This is here,” he said, flicking ash. “Take it or leave it. Others are waiting.”
Seeing a few people behind her inquiring prices, Shen Shuangshuang knew bargaining wouldn’t work. She pulled out a silver tael: “Fine, I’ll take it.”
She pretended to wince at the cost, though it didn’t bother her—the space held mountains of gold and jewelry.
After buying the handcart, she continued through the market.
Next, she went to a herb stall run by an old man with glasses, preparing medicine for another prisoner.
“Boss, do you have medicine for colds or diarrhea? The best quality, and it should keep well,” she asked.
The old man sized her up: “How much do you need, young lady?”
“Ten packets for colds, ten for diarrhea, and some for stopping bleeding.”
After listing her order, she added: “Make sure it’s real medicine, none of those useless herbs.”
The old man smiled: “Don’t worry. All my herbs are genuine. Cold medicine one tael per packet, diarrhea one to two taels, bleeding medicine a bit pricier, three taels per packet. You’re buying so much, I’ll give you a discount—thirty-five taels total.”
Shen Shuangshuang scoffed inwardly. Prices here were ten times higher than in the capital, but she didn’t complain, paying the silver.
The old man efficiently packed the medicine. “Young lady, keep it dry.”
“I understand, thank you.”
She placed the medicine in the handcart and went to a nearby grain stall.
The owner, a plump woman, greeted her warmly: “What will you buy? I have flatbreads, steamed buns, and dried sweet potatoes—durable for travel!”
“How much for the flatbreads?”
“One wen each, ten for nine,” the woman smiled. “Buy plenty—you’ll need it on the long journey.”
“Give me fifty flatbreads,” Shen Shuangshuang said. “And two pounds of dried sweet potatoes.”
The woman’s eyes lit up as she quickly packed them: “Got it! Fifty flatbreads, that’s five hundred wen. Two pounds of sweet potatoes, two hundred wen. Total seven hundred wen.”