Chapter 9

Chapter 9: The Xie Family Woman Really Knew How to Pick Her Moment

“A Xie family woman?”

“Yes, Official. She claims she’s from the Xie family.”

“She didn’t show herself when we set out,” Xiong Jiu Shan said, irritation sharpening his voice. “What is she doing running over now? Bring her here.”

As a yamen runner went to fetch her, Xiong Jiu Shan looked toward the Xie family in the distance. He’d just been thinking they were almost too quiet.

Apparently he’d tempted fate.

Up on the slope, the escort camp stirred. Prisoners chewing rough cakes stretched their necks to stare.

Xie Wu Ying leaned close to Xie Yu Chuan. “Sixth Brother, it’s noisy over there. Looks like someone arrived.”

Xie Yu Chuan’s gaze darkened. “Watch first.”

Xie Wu Ying tugged Xie Wen Jie forward toward the open ground. Both listened hard.

Ever since they left the city, the convoy had been sealed tight—route, campsite, even food all under strict control. Outsiders weren’t supposed to get close, not without leaving fingerprints that could turn into blame.

Which meant anyone who appeared now was either very foolish or very determined.

Other households watched too. Tu Hua could feel the tension like a wire pulled tight.

She slipped around the resting prisoners and walked straight into the escort camp.

A young woman in plain clothes was being led to the leader.

Tu Hua recognized him at once: Xiong Jiu Shan, the official sent to handle the escort. Broad-shouldered, tall, stern as a courthouse door, with a knife scar cutting across his left cheek like a warning.

The young woman—Xie Zhen—had chased them for miles, only catching up after dark when the convoy camped.

On the road, she’d rehearsed her words again and again, hoping the escort official would allow her to stay and care for her family.

But standing here, with the prisoners visible just beyond—her closest kin sitting on cold ground—her eyes filled instantly. For a moment, she couldn’t speak at all.

Xiong Jiu Shan frowned and coughed hard, impatient. “You’re a Xie family woman? Chasing after exiled convicts without cause—do you know I can execute you on the spot?”

Xie Zhen flinched, wiped her tears, and forced herself upright, respectful to the bone. “Replying to the official: I am indeed a married-out daughter of the Xie family. Before marriage, I was second among my sisters. Three years ago, I married the new Third Laureate, Zhuang Xu, as his wife. My identity is genuine. I beg the official to verify it.”

Second miss of the Xie family, married out…

Tu Hua lifted an eyebrow. That made her Xie Yu Chuan’s sister.

Xiong Jiu Shan served in the capital. His rank wasn’t high, but he knew Zhuang Xu’s name. The man had followed Right Chancellor south for flood control, earned merit, and leaped ranks to become a Han Lin Lecturer. It was said he came and went from the Eastern Palace like he owned the doors.

So why was Zhuang Xu’s madam kneeling in the dirt in front of him?

Xiong Jiu Shan’s instincts screamed trouble. He started to wave her away.

Xie Zhen dropped to her knees with a thud.

“Official, have mercy. After the Xie family’s disaster, my husband’s family divorced me without cause and took another wife. I have nowhere to go. I chased after the convoy only to beg permission to stay with my family. Even if the road is hard, I want to be with them.”

Xiong Jiu Shan stared. “You… were divorced?”

The question was blunt enough to cut. Xie Zhen didn’t blink. “Yes.”

“Empty words are not proof.”

Xie Zhen lifted a document with both hands—a divorce letter.

A yamen runner passed it up. Xiong Jiu Shan read it once, then read it again, as if the ink might rearrange itself into something reasonable.

When he looked back at Xie Zhen, he couldn’t find words.

Tu Hua edged closer and read it too.

The calligraphy was gorgeous—showy, elegant, the kind of handwriting that made people sigh in admiration.

The contents, however, were pure garbage.

Every fault was piled onto Xie Zhen, while Zhuang Xu painted himself as spotless, noble, and tragically misunderstood.

Tu Hua’s temper flared hot and fast. She looked Xie Zhen over again. The resemblance to Xie Yu Chuan was there in the brows and eyes, but the stubborn set of her jaw was all her own.

A yamen runner beside Xiong Jiu Shan stepped forward, sharp and eager to end the problem. “Bold woman! You didn’t report and register when the convoy set out. Now you show up wanting to follow—if something happens, who takes responsibility? Leave at once!”

Xiong Jiu Shan didn’t stop him. A woman tied to Third Laureate Zhuang was trouble on its own. A woman tied to the Xie family on top of that was double trouble.

Tu Hua had assumed they’d still accept Xie Zhen. She pulled out her phone and contacted Xie Yu Chuan.

“Xie Yu Chuan,” she messaged, “do you have a sister named Xie Zhen? She chased after the convoy.”

Xie Yu Chuan had been watching the commotion. The moment the question reached him, he rose so fast the chains at his ankles rang.

He answered immediately: “Yes. My second sister, Xie Zhen. She married Zhuang Xu three years ago.”

Tu Hua didn’t waste time softening the blow. “Your brother-in-law divorced her.”

There was a pause long enough to feel like a held breath.

Then Xie Yu Chuan started toward the escort camp, dragging his shackles. Xie Wu Ying and Xie Wen Jie jumped up after him, alarm flashing across their faces.

Guards snapped and moved to block them. Xiong Jiu Shan turned at the disturbance and saw Xie Yu Chuan’s expression—grim, controlled, dark as storm water.

He glanced back at Xie Zhen, who had sprung up, trembling with urgency.

An escort officer leaned in and murmured, “Official, this breaks procedure.”

Xie Zhen pointed desperately toward a large cart behind her. “I know I came without permission. I sold everything I had to buy supplies for the road. I only beg the constables to make an exception and allow me to follow. The world is vast, but I truly have nowhere to go.”

The yamen runner who’d been shouting at her fell silent instantly. His eyes lit with greedy interest. “Official… shall I go check?”

Xiong Jiu Shan nodded once.

The yamen runner ran to the cart and returned quickly, grinning so hard it looked painful. He leaned in and whispered.

Xiong Jiu Shan’s expression shifted—calculating now.

He looked at Xie Zhen. “Your Xie family is… interesting.”

Xie Zhen didn’t know what that meant. She only knew everything hung on the next word.

Then Xie Yu Chuan’s voice cut through the camp like a knife. “Second Sister. Why are you here?”

That one line confirmed what no document could.

Xiong Jiu Shan hesitated, weighed the risks, then handed the divorce letter back to Xie Zhen and flicked his hand sharply.

Permission—given, without ever saying the word.

Xie Zhen clutched the paper and ran, lifting her skirt, stumbling toward her family like she might vanish if she slowed.

Behind Xiong Jiu Shan, the yamen runners were suddenly cheerful. A few threw arms over each other’s shoulders and went to “inspect” the cart with suspicious enthusiasm.

The road ahead was dangerous. Escort duty was miserable. Extra supplies from a prisoner’s relative was the kind of blessing men didn’t question too closely.

They were far from the capital now—far from the neat eyes that pretended not to see.

Xiong Jiu Shan understood his subordinates too well. Refuse benefits, and you’d spend the whole road dragging resentment behind you like another chain.

So he let it happen.

He only watched Xie Zhen rejoin the Xie family—watched how perfectly she’d arrived: after departure, after the gate, after the easy refusals were already behind them.

This woman really did know how to pick her moment.