Aman knelt tightly on the ground, her forehead pressed to the earth, waiting only for the constable to finish reading the final words of the exile decree and hand out their ration of grain.
It was early July of the Great Xia Dynasty. After four full months on the road, she and the deposed Crown Prince Zhao Ye had finally walked from the imperial capital of Great Xia to Ningzhou Prefecture.
The constable closed the exile document and looked coldly at the kneeling convict-slave Shen Aman, as well as at the deposed Crown Prince Zhao Ye, whose legs were already completely paralyzed.
He tossed a sack of white rice weighing ten jin onto the ground.
“Shen Aman, this is your grain for the month. You’d better take good care of him!”
The constable’s teeth seemed to bristle with sharp edges. Aman hurriedly kowtowed in thanks.
“Thank you, sir! Thank you, sir!”
It was the hottest time of the year in Great Xia. The heat surged relentlessly upward. After taking the rice, Aman turned back and went to tend to Zhao Ye, who was sitting by the gate.
Aman’s life was truly miserable. She had been a perfectly ordinary modern person, only to be reborn into ancient times. Her own father sold her to a human trafficker, who then sold her into the Crown Prince’s residence.
Aman worked diligently as a servant in the Crown Prince’s household for twelve years. She knew nothing about making soap or gunpowder—none of that at all. All she learned was how to read people’s expressions, serve tea, and attend to others.
She had only hoped that when she turned twenty-five, Zhao Ye would give her a sum of silver and release her from the Crown Prince’s residence, so she could finally be free.
But she never made it to the day Zhao Ye let her leave. Instead, what came was Zhao Ye being accused of corruption and treason—and Zhao Ye being sent back to the Crown Prince’s residence after the emperor had ordered his legs broken.
The entire Crown Prince’s household was confiscated. Aside from her and Zhao Ye, not a single person was left alive.
Why had Aman survived?
Because once the imperial decree of exile was issued, the Empress had bitterly begged the emperor to allow one maid to accompany Zhao Ye into exile in Ningzhou Prefecture, so that at least someone would be there to take care of him.
Thus, when Zhao Ye was told to choose one maid to go with him, the half-dead Zhao Ye casually lifted his hand and pointed at Aman.
“Her will do.”
Aman had been sold into the Crown Prince’s residence at the age of eight. She was more capable than most children and stronger as well. Later, she was assigned to serve in Zhao Ye’s courtyard. There were many servants in the Crown Prince’s residence, and Aman was actually the most unremarkable one.
Once the Crown Prince chose Aman, all the remaining servants were beaten to death.
That day, Aman saw the entire Crown Prince’s residence stained red with blood. The blood washed out of the gates and flowed along the street for a long distance, the air thick with a terrifying stench of gore.
They set out in March, when spring was still cold. By the time they arrived, it was already the height of summer. Ningzhou Prefecture had always been a carefully chosen place of exile by the ancestors of Great Xia.
The summers were unbearably hot, the winters bitterly cold—so cold that many froze to death.
There was a well in the courtyard. No one knew who had last been exiled to this place; it had been uninhabited for far too long, and the weeds in the yard were taller than a person.
Aman carried the Crown Prince into the room. There wasn’t even a bed inside, but thankfully they still had the wooden handcart they had used along the way. Aman had pushed the Crown Prince on that cart for four whole months to reach Ningzhou.
Her shoes had worn through, the soles of her feet split open, and she had bled who knew how many times.
The sky had not yet darkened. Aman searched the place over and over before finally finding a rusty sickle. She cut down all the weeds in the yard, blistering her palms.
She spread the weeds out in the courtyard to dry in the sun—they would still be useful once dried.
The place had clearly been abandoned for a long time. As the angle of the sun shifted, light filtered through the broken wooden windows and fell upon the man inside the room.
Outside was Aman’s busy figure, her shadow stretching long and swaying past him from time to time.
After clearing the courtyard, she found a bucket and struggled to draw up a pail of water from the well—only to find it murky and foul.
Aman sighed helplessly. She took out a relatively clean thin garment from her bundle and began filtering the water, over and over, until it finally became clear. Only then did she carry it inside.
By the time she finished all this, it was already evening. Aman was hungry and exhausted, but she had no time to care about herself.
Because Zhao Ye was still lying inside.
Zhao Ye had traveled for four months on the road to exile. After failing in his rebellion, he had been burdened with numerous charges of corruption. It was even said that he had attempted to murder the Imperial Consort’s son, Prince Jin, nearly costing him his life.
Aman was just a maid and knew nothing of the inner details.
When they arrived, the constables gave them ten jin of white rice and a few candles.
Aman had already wiped down the floor of the room. Zhao Ye lay directly on it. She planned to wait until the grass outside dried, then spread it underneath him.
He had been a pampered Crown Prince, never having lived a life like this.
“Your Highness… please endure it for a moment. This servant needs to wipe your body.”
They had traveled for four months, from cold weather into heat. That Zhao Ye had not died along the way was already a miracle.
His body was covered in festering sores. Along the road, Aman had gathered what medicinal herbs she could find, mashed them up, and applied them to him, but the effect was minimal.
Their daily water was barely enough to drink, much less to wash. She didn’t even dare think about how bad she herself smelled—she could probably scrub off several jin of mud from her body.
Zhao Ye’s hair had grown very long, his chin covered in beard. His entire face was hidden beneath hair and beard, his original features no longer visible.
In truth, Aman felt a little heartache. She had entered the Crown Prince’s residence at eight, and by thirteen she had begun serving at Zhao Ye’s side.
She had seen that Crown Prince in his prime—gentle as the spring moon, mild and refined, never making things difficult for the servants.
Even when a maid broke a teacup while serving tea, Zhao Ye would simply tell them to leave and bring another cup.
When servants nodded off during night duty, he would turn a blind eye and never make an issue of it.
Back then, the Crown Prince had been truly handsome.
He had grown from an innocent child into a young Crown Prince with the bearing of a dragon and phoenix.
“Why aren’t you leaving yet?”
The man on the floor suddenly spoke.
During the four months of exile, Aman had not heard the Crown Prince say a single word. He had simply lain quietly on the handcart, letting her push him the entire way.
Through wind and rain, she pushed him like that, the cart’s wheels breaking several times along the road.
The constables escorting them only cared about giving them food and water. Everything else was ignored.
Did Aman not want to leave? Of course she did. But she truly couldn’t leave.
They called it transmigration, but this was clearly human trafficking.
Life in ancient times was hard. Her parents kept having children endlessly. Aman had six older sisters above her, and three younger brothers and one younger sister below.
Her mother’s belly seemed never to shrink; it was said several children before had even died young.
Aman thought her life would probably be just like this. Fortunately, the treatment in the Crown Prince’s residence had been fairly decent. Each month she could save a little money, thinking that once she reached the right age and left the residence, she could use it to start some small business.
She never expected the Crown Prince’s residence to be confiscated just like that—or for Crown Prince Zhao Ye to have his legs broken by imperial order and be exiled to this place.