Chapter 2
Chapter 2: Escape
The old slave broker stared at the cloth-wrapped face, suspicion narrowing her eyes.
Ling Jin Sui tightened the rag at once and said, rough in Madam Zheng’s tone, “That girl’s got strength. She scratched my face raw.”
The broker hesitated, then produced a pouch of broken silver.
She flicked a glance toward the main room where Jiang You Zhi stood, as if still weighing whether to trust him.
Ling Jin Sui snatched the pouch in one motion, then shoved the broker.
“You go check too. Don’t let that man’s clumsy hands ruin her face.”
A pretty face was the most valuable thing about a young lady.
The broker hurried inside.
Time snapped tight.
Ling Jin Sui sprinted into the kitchen, poured the oil from the lamp over the stacked firewood, and struck her fire striker.
Flames leapt up at once.
Smoke rolled thick and black.
She slipped the striker into her sleeve, grabbed a kitchen knife, and rushed out.
Jiang You Zhi forgot the silver entirely. Panic shoved him toward the kitchen.
Ling Jin Sui flew into the courtyard and slashed the hemp rope tying the blue-gray donkey to the cart.
From inside, the slave broker shrieked, “The girl ran!”
The broker and the driver barreled out just as Jiang You Zhi stumbled from the kitchen, face smeared with soot, fire roaring behind him.
Ling Jin Sui swung onto the donkey’s back, the fifteen taels heavy against her chest.
She threw her head back and laughed once—hard and bright—then slapped the donkey’s rump.
She was certain Jiang You Zhi wouldn’t dare raise an alarm and summon a whole village to chase her.
The slave broker would dare even less to report it to the authorities.
Even if they found horses, the pursuit wouldn’t begin until tomorrow.
By then, she would be water poured into the sea, a bird vanished into deep woods.
Still… poisoning Madam Zheng mute, burning Jiang You Zhi’s kitchen, stealing fifteen taels and a donkey—it all felt far too cheap.
The real Ling Jin Sui had died in that house.
Right now she lacked the strength to strike back properly.
But she would.
One day, she would take the debt and pay it out in full.
She had taken another person’s body. If she did nothing for the little miss, her conscience would never settle.
Once she cleared the village, she realized she didn’t know the road at all.
Worse, the original owner’s memories held nothing about the paths beyond the village.
Wind carried faint, frantic shouting behind her.
Ling Jin Sui didn’t dare slow.
She found north by instinct and drove the donkey forward.
The donkey ran faster than she expected.
By the time the moon climbed above the ridge, the village had vanished behind her.
Even the smoke from the Jiang family kitchen was gone.
Then her body reminded her what it was.
Her chest burned. Her lungs felt scraped raw.
Dizziness swam behind her eyes. Her limbs went weak as wet rope.
This was no time to stop.
She folded low against the donkey’s neck and let it carry her through the night.
Frost-laced wind pressed in from all sides, needling through cloth and skin. She tightened the wrap around her head and made a choice.
No villages.
No roads crowded with eyes.
She turned into the mountains.
She couldn’t find a cave, so she tied the donkey to a thick tree and touched the fire striker hidden in her sleeve.
Good.
Without it, she might freeze out here.
She gathered dry branches and lit a fire.
Warmth spread, pushing back the cold.
Ling Jin Sui no longer cared about dirt, fleas, anything.
It was too cold.
She leaned her back against the donkey’s belly and let that living heat keep her alive.
Only then did she have room to think.
It wasn’t a dream.
Not delirium.
She had truly crossed into another world—and the start was hell.
Behind her: Jiang You Zhi and the slave broker, greedy and vicious.
Ahead: soldiers and checkpoints.
Far beyond: the Yan Lands, where the mother and the brother had been exiled.
Even if her frail body could survive the distance, there was another fear—what if Grandpa Ling, or the original owner’s mother, realized she was an outsider soul wearing their child’s face?
Even the thought of calling someone else Mother made her throat lock.
She felt the silver and glanced at the donkey.
Maybe the smart choice was to reach a large prefecture city, change her name, and disappear into the crowd.
With her medical skills, she could live.
Once her body recovered, she could quietly ask about the original owner’s family and do what she could.
She couldn’t take a body and leave nothing behind.
Cold and hungry, she drifted into sleep.
Sleep in the wild never stayed clean.
The sound came and went—sometimes echoing from a distant slope, sometimes pressing right against her ear.
Broken sobs, over and over, calling, “Grandfather… Grandfather…”
Each cry threaded into the next, an invisible net tightening around her.
Fear crawled up her spine. Her skin prickled.
Cold sweat broke out.
Her body refused to move, as if something had taken the reins—like she’d be tangled forever unless she obeyed the obsession in that voice.
In her old life she’d been a firm materialist.
Now she’d crossed worlds.
How could she keep pretending ghosts and gods were only stories?
She forced her mind clear, snapped her eyes open, and shouted into the wind-dark hills, “Grandfather! Grandfather! What are you—one of the Calabash Brothers or something?”
“I’ll go find your grandfather, all right? Stop crying!”
Alive, you were soft enough to be trampled. Jiang You Zhi and Madam Zheng bullied you to death.
Dead, you only know how to cry.
Ling Jin Sui pitied the original owner’s misery and hated her helplessness in the same breath.
Soft-hearted. Even as a lingering spirit, the little miss couldn’t bear to truly frighten anyone.
Ling Jin Sui stroked the donkey’s neck.
The animal’s eyes were wide, but it stayed silent, trembling.
She let out a short, bitter laugh.
“So much for hiding in a city. If I don’t go find Grandpa Ling, she won’t rest.”
There was no free lunch in the world.
She had taken someone else’s life and lived again.
The price would be paid, one way or another.
She closed her eyes and searched the original owner’s memories for everything tied to Grandpa Ling.
From then on, grandfather and granddaughter had lived together in a small town.
Grandpa Ling was mischievous, never strict, always indulgent.
Winter meant roasted rice cakes shared over a brazier.
Summer meant fruit chilled in the well.
When she was little, he braided her hair crooked and laughed about it.
Every market day he came back with small gifts: a silk flower, a bright strip of cloth, malt sugar, rice cakes.
In her old life, she had been an orphan.
She had never known this kind of steady, ordinary love.
The last time the original owner had seen Grandpa Ling was in Jiang family village.
He had walked her to Jiang You Zhi’s gate, eyes full of tenderness, voice full of worry.
“Once Grandfather brings back your mother and brother, I’ll come take you home too. Stay at your uncle’s and don’t fret. Your body is weak—don’t brood, don’t worry. Don’t catch cold…”