Chapter 10

Chapter 10: Someone Asked Around at the Relay Station

Xie Zhen’s sudden appearance knocked the wind out of the entire family.

Third Madam Shen—Xie Zhen’s mother—took it the hardest. When her daughter appeared in front of her, she froze, eyes wide and unblinking, like she’d seen a ghost decide to walk home.

“Zhen Er… you?”

After passing the escort officers’ inspection, Xie Zhen finally made it to her people. The moment she saw them, every last thread holding her up snapped. She sank to the ground like a puppet with its strings cut.

Madam Shen’s voice shook. “You were supposed to live properly in the capital. What are you doing here?”

Xie Yu Chuan already knew what had happened to his second sister—thanks to the household god—but he hadn’t said a word.

Xie Zhen met her mother’s gaze. Then she reached inside her robe and pulled out a folded paper: Zhuang Xu’s divorce letter.

Madam Shen read it with trembling hands, then passed it on. The paper went from palm to palm until it reached Old Madam Xie. Old Madam Xie scanned it once, and her temper detonated.

“Zhuang Xu, you faithless cur! What kind of husband do you think you are?”

Madam Shen’s eyes went red. She gathered Xie Zhen into her arms and choked, “My child… you’ve been wronged.”

Xie Zhen patted her mother’s back, gentle and steady. “Mother, Zhuang Xu was never a good match. Since I don’t have children, cutting it clean now is actually for the best.”

Not far away, Tu Hua stayed hidden—and hearing that, she nearly clapped.

So the Xie family’s Second Sister was the straight-to-the-point type. Tu Hua liked her already.

Madam Shen had always looked soft, but her spine was iron. Seeing her daughter take it so calmly, she stopped spiraling and swallowed the worst of her panic.

“You… you child,” she muttered shakily. “You’re comforting me now?”

Xie Zhen was her only child. Madam Shen had been widowed early, and every last hope she had was wrapped around the single “seedling” Third Master Xie had left her.

When the Xie family was exiled, she’d even been grateful her daughter—Zhen Niang—was already married and didn’t have to suffer with them.

Now…

Forget it. Whatever else the world had taken, it had returned this much. With things this bad, at least mother and daughter were together. At least they could look after each other.

Xie Zhen wasn’t on the official roster, but Xiong Jiu Shan still sent a yamen runner over to record her name.

Xie Yu Chuan glanced aside. Xiong Jiu Shan looked like a brute, but there was caution under the roughness.

When Xie Zhen had a moment, Xie Yu Chuan asked quietly, “Did the Zhuang family swallow your dowry?”

“After our family fell, they stopped pretending,” she replied, voice flat.

Xie Yu Chuan nodded. His expression didn’t change, but something in his eyes cooled like steel dropped into water.

By the time everyone had exchanged what little comfort they could, night had settled deep. It was time to sleep.

The escort soldiers and yamen runners divided into three shifts to keep watch. The wilderness didn’t only have bandits. It had teeth and claws, too.

The prisoners huddled together for warmth, pressed shoulder to shoulder against the chill.

Xiong Jiu Shan looked at the crowd—old people, women, children, the sick—and didn’t want anyone dying before the road had even properly begun. He ordered fires lit on all four sides of the prisoners. Even when the flames burned down, the embers still held heat, pushing the cold back a little.

It earned him plenty of grateful looks.

The Xie family’s men formed their usual protective ring, keeping the women and children inside. Even with yamen runners on guard, Xie Yu Chuan arranged a night-watch rotation among the men, taking turns staying awake.

Tu Hua had been outside too long. Seeing the family settled, she returned to her own world.

She washed up, changed clothes, and went to her study to draw.

Outside the window, insects chirped. Wind whispered through leaves. Moonlight lay thin and hazy, soft as gauze.

Perfect weather for staying up and pretending you’d meant to all along. She worked late into the night before finally closing her laptop and collapsing into bed.

This time, she slept a little too well.

When Tu Hua woke, the sun was already high—nearly noon.

Out of habit, she checked on Xie Yu Chuan’s side. The exile convoy was only two or three li from a small relay station where they could rest briefly.

After a full day and night of chaos, quite a few clever prisoners had saved part of the morning’s flatbread, tucking it away in case they got hungry on the road with nothing to chew.

Xie Zhen had originally brought a cart—meant for Old Madam and the youngest child—but last night she’d been afraid the officers would block her, so she’d given it up.

Now, walking beside her family, the shackles looked more unbearable with every step.

She carried several bundles and slipped up beside Xie Yu Chuan. After checking left and right, she lowered her voice.

“Yu Chuan. I still have a few banknotes and gold leaves—emergency money. Can we… smooth things over a little and get these off? Everyone’s suffering. If we keep walking like this, someone’s going to collapse.”

Xie Yu Chuan shook his head. “Sister. You just gave away the cart last night. It’s not the time to show you have money.”

“I know,” Xie Zhen said, lips tight. “It just hurts to see.”

“Once we pass the relay station, we should reach a village tonight,” Xie Yu Chuan said. “I’ll handle it then.”

“You have a way?”

He gave the slightest nod.

Companions weren’t allowed to interfere with the punished. Xie Zhen stared at the heavy wooden collar around Madam Shen’s neck and felt like she’d rather wear it herself.

Madam Shen waved her hands in a panic. “Don’t be foolish. You’ll implicate yourself too.”

The convoy trudged on from early morning under the brutal midday sun. When the escort officers finally called for a stop, people dropped one after another—some even collapsed flat on their backs. They were truly out of strength.

As soon as Xiong Jiu Shan’s group arrived, relay station staff rushed out, bowing and apologizing.

“There are benefactors resting inside the station, Official. About this…”

He gestured toward the long exile line behind Xiong Jiu Shan. After a day and night of marching, some prisoners still looked decent enough to draw attention.

“It’s… not pleasant to look at,” the staffer said carefully. “I hope Superior Officer can understand.”

Xiong Jiu Shan sized him up, saw the shifting eyes and uneasy face, and waved a hand. “Fine. Just bring water.”

The station man’s expression brightened instantly. “Yes, Official! I’ll send men right away!”

As long as the convoy didn’t get close enough to offend the benefactors’ delicate eyes, everything could be negotiated.

The convoy rested in a grove about five hundred meters from the station. The prisoners didn’t know what quiet bargain had been struck, but they were happy enough—there was shade.

The forest should have been quiet, but with that many people, it wasn’t. Even so, music drifting from the relay station—strings and flutes, light and elegant—still floated through the trees.

Xie Yu Chuan sat with his sleeve rolled up, tending the wound on his arm. The trauma salve the household god had provided was absurdly effective. He applied it to each injured family member in turn.

Xie Wu Ying had been forced to use it last night under Sixth Brother’s watch. Today the swelling was gone and scabs were already forming. He couldn’t stop marveling.

“This medicine is incredible!”

Xie Yu Chuan didn’t explain where it came from. A soldier carrying wound remedy wasn’t unusual.

The station escort officer arrived with a few subordinates to deliver water. Xiong Jiu Shan took his men over to handle paperwork. Every time they passed a station, seals had to be checked and documents recorded—so if anything went wrong, it could be reported immediately.

No issues. The station escort officer even reserved a few rooms for Xiong Jiu Shan and the escorts. Small rooms, but better than sleeping outside.

Xiong Jiu Shan listened to the singing and laughter from the best rooms next door and felt his temple twitch. He’d rather sleep in the dirt than listen to someone “appreciate music” while he tried to do his job.

But on the stairs, he ran into a young master coming out from the opposite side—handsome, refined, and wildly out of place in a dusty relay station.

The young master smiled politely. “May I ask, Official—among the exiles you’re escorting, is there someone from the Xie family of the capital’s Protector Duke Manor?”