Volume One, Chapter 15: The Sun Rises As Always
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When Zhu Xiaozhi, carrying an entire bundle of concealed weapons, arrived at the agreed meeting place, she was panting heavily. The sky was still dark, and the main gate had not yet opened. She knocked heavily several times on the bronze beast-head door knocker, but there was no response. Just as she took a few steps back, considering whether it was possible to climb over the wall, the door slowly creaked open.
“Are you Princess Zhaoyang?”
About twenty women, all gaunt and emaciated, stood shyly behind one another, some dressed in coarse hemp cloth, others draped in barely concealing silk and satin, watching her nervously.
Zhu Xiaozhi looked past their shoulders into the courtyard, searching for the figure of her “comrade.”
“It’s me. Where is Song Yun?”
A girl with bloodstains on her clothes stepped forward hesitantly, pressing a sugar pill into Zhu Xiaozhi’s hand.
“Sister Song is asleep. We mustn’t disturb her.”
The women instinctively parted to reveal the courtyard.
Song Yun’s thin, fragile body lay still on the stone slabs like a withered leaf, dressed in an apricot-colored gown. Nearby lay an unconscious young man, his back facing the door, motionless.
The old blood from Lady Liu’s severed arm had not yet been cleaned away, now mingled with several fresh wounds. The dark red stains soaked the stone floor, heavy with the metallic scent of rust and iron.
“You must be Little Pipa, right? Here, hold your weapon steady.”
After distributing the weapons from her bundle to the women, Little Pipa crouched down to close Song Yun’s eyes.
“Can we take Sister Song with us?”
The women exchanged glances but remained silent until a maid stepped forward to advise,
“Carrying her will make traveling difficult.”
“It seems you had already conspired with outsiders to escape. My actions have only made it easier for you.”
A flash of silver blade cut through the air, and a chill ran across Zhu Xiaozhi’s neck as a bloodied dagger pressed against her throat.
“But that won’t do. You want to live, and so do I.”
The previously unconscious young man suddenly awakened, gripping Zhu Xiaozhi’s throat with one hand while forcing her face to turn with the other.
“Let me see who dares to steal a woman from the Military Governor of Fanyang.”
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Before the sun had risen, with only faint daylight and a nearly invisible moon, he had to get very close to make out her face.
He squeezed her chin harder, and the dagger’s tip dug further into the pale neck, dark red droplets seeping out—unclear whether Song Yun’s or Zhu Xiaozhi’s blood.
Upon recognizing her face, his pupils dilated in surprise, and he withdrew the sharp blade.
“…It’s you?”
Zhu Xiaozhi ransacked memories spanning two lifetimes but could find no trace of recognition for this face.
Seizing the moment of his distraction, she plunged a knife into the left side of his sternum, using all her strength to push him forward. Before the blood soaked his clothes, she released him and stepped back.
“Run!”
No one had time to look at Song Yun one last time as the women fled like a flock of sheep driven by a herding dog, following Zhu Xiaozhi hastily through streets both familiar and strange, hurriedly recalling memories of Fanyang.
The abandoned young man lay on the stone floor, clutching his left chest to staunch the bleeding, then let out a low, hoarse laugh.
“You really are still doing these things—helping others.”
“Turns out you’re the daughter of that pathetic emperor, more interesting than he is.”
When he was at his lowest, starving and crawling on the streets, barely clothed and his long hair covering his eyes, passersby treated him like a dog.
Until a warm, fragrant meat bun was held to his mouth by a girl with braided hair and bright almond eyes, shyly saying,
“Eat, I’m treating you.”
Driven by instinct, he snatched the bun from her hand, swallowing it whole with hardly a chew.
The girl counted her few copper coins and bought herself a vegetable bun. Her sunken cheeks puffed with flour and filling as she hopped away.
Even with the original soul’s memories intact, it’s unlikely such a small kindness would have been remembered; Zhu Xiaozhi, coming from modern times, was utterly puzzled.
But she soon forgot the episode as the post-rain morning in Fanyang City was engulfed in thick fog, making the already unfamiliar streets seem even more alien.
At the sight of the same grocery shop sign for the second time, all the fleeing sheep helplessly looked to her.
“This way.”
Suddenly, a youth in white appeared from a street corner, grabbed the hem of Zhu Xiaozhi’s garment, and strode forward, clearly taking on the role of a new herding dog.
Zhu Xiaozhi took the opportunity to catch her breath, using his momentum to run.
“Lord Pei, what are you doing here?”
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“The princess’s thoughts are written plainly on her face, and her actions give her away. Clever people know to notice.”
He handed her a piece of white cloth. Zhu Xiaozhi noticed the edge of his white robe was missing a similar piece.
“We’re almost there. Princess, use this to bind your neck as a disguise.”
As Zhu Xiaozhi took the cloth, her fingertip accidentally pricked Pei Zai’s palm, who withdrew his hand as if shocked, as if licked by a puppy.
Finally catching up with the group leaving the city, Zhu Xiaozhi instructed the women to change their attire, then accompanied Pei Zai to the front. The women in the back courtyard were all wrapped in cloth and attached to the tail end of the convoy of female attendants.
Yet Zhu Xiaozhi remained deeply concerned for the women, so she parted the carriage curtain to look back. The white cloth tied with a butterfly knot around her neck fluttered, guiding the women’s path.
From a distance, she saw Little Pipa surrounded by soldiers being questioned. She shouted loudly,
“Little Pipa, come play me a tune to relieve our fatigue!”
After pulling the girl onto the carriage and watching the last woman pass through the inspection unnoticed, Zhu Xiaozhi finally relaxed completely.
Hesitating, she opened her contacts list, only to see the scene she most dreaded: Song Yun’s name was permanently dimmed, the red heart below her name darkened forever, all functions disabled, marking her departure.
Strangely, a new unfamiliar name suddenly appeared: Ning Zongyuan. Below it, a red heart flickered continuously with a small note stating “In Trial.”
Who was Ning Zongyuan, and what did the trial mean?
If Pei Zai had not concealed his official identity, he could not be this Ning Zongyuan.
If it was someone from the Ning family, then it was like the detestable Military Governor of Fanyang, Ning Dehai.
The convoy heading back to the capital grew more distant, a ray of sunlight pierced the carriage curtain, falling upon Little Pipa’s delicate hands.
She cupped the sunlight in her hands, lifted the curtain, and the fine down on her face was illuminated. Her crystal-clear eyes, like two glass marbles, radiated brilliance.
“Sister Song, I waited for the sun.”
On the plain, the sun rose as usual.
The crisis in Fanyang ended for the moment with the sacrifice of one woman. Yet Ning Dehai was still alive. The threat posed by the northern regime gradually breaking free from imperial control hung like the Sword of Damocles, uncertain when it might fall.