It was just past noon, and the sun was far too bright for a day that felt like a funeral. The caravan that would escort Princess Lian Zhi stood ready. The air was heavy with despair. Even the maids and guards avoided meeting the sad princess's eyes.
The Hua Emperor, unwilling to risk further embarrassment before the Tughril Envoy, had ordered a small escort of four soldiers to accompany her. He claimed it was for safety, but everyone knew the truth. They were there to make sure Princess Lian Zhi did not try to run.
Ruhan, the Envoy, stood beside the carriage with his usual composure, arms lightly folded across his chest.
Behind him, Duran, his trusted warrior, was motionless as stone. The four Hua guards stood apart, looking tense and uneasy.
Xiao Zhi stood at the center of the scene, her thin veil fluttering in the breeze. Consort Ling was standing next to her, holding her hands tightly, refusing to let go.
"Zhi'er… my daughter," She whispered in a trembling voice. "Be careful, my sweet child. Whatever happens, promise me that you will take care of yourself."
"I promise, Mother." Xiao Zhi gave her mother a reassuring smile. She leaned in and hugged her one last time before letting go. Her hands trembled slightly as she straightened her veil. Then, bracing herself, she turned and stepped into the carriage.
Ruhan, standing by the door, lowered his head in respect. No mocking smile this time, only solemnity. He slid inside the carriage and seated himself across from Xiao Zhi. His dark eyes studied her calmly, taking in the faint sadness in her gaze, but he said nothing.
Xiao Zhi drew back the window drape, watching her mother and Shen Han one last time as the carriage began to move. Consort Ling stood still, her hands still clasped together, while Shen Han gripped her arm tightly as if afraid she would crumble.
The road beyond the capital was long and dusty. Xiao Zhi didn't take her eyes from the window, taking in every bit of Hua scenery she could, as if saying goodbye to her freedom.
After a long, quiet ride, Ruhan finally spoke to break the silence. "The road to Tughril takes four to five days. It won't be easy. The path is rough. You should brace yourself."
Xiao Zhi gave a small nod. No words came from her mouth.
"Are you frightened?" he asked in a surprisingly gentle voice, as if he was genuinely curious.
She hesitated, then shook her head. "No… I'm just tired."
After that, Ruhan said nothing more. He only watched her, his eyes searching hers as if trying to read a closed book. Her tone was hollow, drained of emotion. She sat upright, staring into the distance as if she had already made peace with whatever awaited her.
By dusk, they reached the halfway point between the inner provinces and the borderlands. When they spotted an open plain and a small lake, they stopped.
Ruhan stepped down first, scanning the area. "We'll camp here for the night," he told Duran. "Let the horses drink. Prepare the fires."
The Hua guards dismounted nearby, exchanging cautious looks but obeying silently. When the campfire lit up and the smell of roasted meat filled the air, Ruhan walked over to the carriage.
"Princess," he called softly. "Dinner is ready."
"I'm not hungry," came a grumpy reply from behind the curtain.
"You haven't eaten since we left the palace."
"I have this." Xiao Zhi lifted a small cloth bundle and revealed the bun her mother had pressed into her hands before departure. "It's enough."
Ruhan peered at her through the curtain but didn't say anything. He nodded once and left her alone.
The scent of roasted rabbit, rich and savory, soon filled the air. By the fire, Ruhan exaggerated his enjoyment, biting loudly into the meat.
"Ah, this is delicious," he said, his voice louder than it needed to be. "You Hua people know nothing of spice. This Tughril seasoning," he pointed at the roasted meat in his hand, "This is flavor!"
The guards chuckled, and Duran smirked. "My lord, you sound like a hungry wolf."
"I am a wolf," Ruhan replied easily, licking his fingers.
Inside the carriage, Xiao Zhi's stomach growled audibly. She pressed a hand against it, glaring at the window as if it were Ruhan's fault. Ruhan wouldn't stop describing how much he enjoyed the small feast. She couldn't stand it and covered her ears, but her nose betrayed her.
Giving up, she pushed the curtain aside and stepped out.
Ruhan looked up from the fire, his eyes bright with amusement he didn't even try to hide. "Ah, the princess finally honors us with her presence."
"I just wanted some fresh air," she muttered, refusing to meet his eyes. She stole a glance at the fire, where the skewers had once held rabbits, but now only the bare bones remained.
Her eyes widened in disbelief. "You… ate it all?"
"Would you have preferred I let it burn?"
She glared at him and turned sharply back toward the carriage. Ruhan could see the pout on her face before she turned around. He only chuckled.
"Sleep well, Princess."
Moments later, he returned carrying a small plate of meat and visited her inside the carriage.
"What now?" Xiao Zhi said, frowning. Her tone turned grumpy.
"Leftovers," he said simply, setting the plate on the carriage seat. "Eat, or don't. You decide."
"I told you, I'm not—"
"Hungry. Yes, I heard." Without waiting for a reply, he left.
For a few minutes, Xiao Zhi sat in silence. The scent of the food was teasing her senses, and she might not be able to hold it any longer. She sighed in defeat and took a tentative bite. The meat was tender, spicy, and smoky. She devoured the whole plate in a few seconds.
Outside, Ruhan smirked faintly at the soft munching and the small, satisfied noises she made. Even the guards noticed, and they too chuckled.
Later that night, the camp was quiet. The soldiers slept in scattered positions, swords within arm's reach. Ruhan lay on the grass near the fire, cloak over his shoulders, eyes half-open. He could still see the faint shadow from the carriage window, and he knew she wasn't asleep either.
Inside, Xiao Zhi leaned against the wall of the carriage, her thoughts drifting. She had done everything she could. The bandit raid, the fake plague, the bargaining, the begging...
...And still, she was being sent away, just like the story said.
But she had also changed something monumental. Her mother was alive.
Consort Ling had not died in the Great Hall. Shen Han still stood by her side. That alone proved the story could bend. Maybe not fully, but enough to give her hope.