By the time Yuelai reached the border city of Qinghe, she could barely stay upright in the saddle.
Three days of hard riding had taken their toll. The drugs still lingered in her system, making her movements sluggish and her thoughts foggy. She hadn't eaten more than a handful of dried provisions. Hadn't slept except for brief, restless moments when exhaustion forced her to stop. Every muscle in her body screamed in protest, but she'd pushed through the pain, driven by a single thought: *distance*.
Put distance between herself and the capital. Between herself and Tianyu. Between herself and everything she'd lost.
Qinghe was a trading town that straddled the border region between Shen and Luo territories—technically part of Shen, but close enough to Luo that it had a mixed population and a certain lawlessness that came with being far from either empire's seat of power. The perfect place for someone who needed to disappear.
The sun was setting as Yuelai guided her exhausted horse through the town's main street. Even through her drugged haze, she could feel eyes on her. Merchants closing their shops. Street vendors packing up their wares. All of them noting the stranger in travel-stained clothes, swaying slightly in the saddle.
She needed shelter. Food. Rest.
But more than that, she needed to not be recognized.
Yuelai found what she was looking for in a narrow alley between a tea house and a fabric shop—a small shrine with offerings of fruit and incense. Behind it, someone had discarded a set of men's clothing, probably left by a beggar or traveling laborer.
She dismounted, nearly falling as her legs buckled. Steadying herself against the wall, she quickly changed, binding her chest with strips torn from her undershirt and tucking her hair up under a worn cap. The clothes hung loose on her frame—she'd lost weight over the past few days—but that only helped the disguise.
When she looked at her reflection in a shop window, a young man looked back. Thin, exhausted, unremarkable.
Perfect.
The inn she chose was called the Jade Lotus, a modest establishment that catered to merchants and travelers. The kind of place that asked few questions as long as payment was provided.
The innkeeper was a middle-aged woman with sharp eyes and a no-nonsense demeanor. She looked Yuelai up and down, taking in the quality of the horse, the expensive boots barely visible beneath the peasant clothes, the way the young "man" held himself despite obvious exhaustion.
"Room for the night?" Yuelai kept her voice low, rough. Close enough to her natural tone that it didn't sound forced, but deeper. Masculine.
"Five silver coins. Includes a meal and stabling for your horse."
Yuelai reached into the pouch Ming Hao had pressed into her hands during their goodbye. Inside was more money than she'd expected—enough for weeks of travel, if she was careful. Her friend had planned well.
She paid for three nights. The innkeeper's eyebrows rose slightly but she took the coins without comment.
"Room's on the second floor, last door on the right. Stable's out back." The woman paused, studying Yuelai with an expression that might have been concern. "Word of advice, young master—if you're planning to continue west tomorrow, be careful. There's been bandit activity on the western road lately. They're getting bold, hitting travelers in broad daylight."
"I'll keep that in mind. Thank you."
The room was small but clean. A simple bed, a washbasin, a single window overlooking the street. Yuelai barely registered any of it. She stumbled to the bed and collapsed, not bothering to remove her boots or weapons.
Sleep claimed her instantly.
---
The sound of boots on wooden floors woke her.
Heavy. Multiple sets. Moving with purpose through the inn below.
Yuelai's eyes snapped open, her hand instinctively going to the sword beside her bed. The room was dark—she'd slept through the evening and into the night. Voices drifted up through the floorboards. Male. Authoritative.
Soldiers.
She moved to the window, peering carefully through a gap in the shutters. Torches illuminated the street below. At least a dozen men in Shen military uniforms, their armor bearing the marks of the imperial guard. Tianyu's men.
They were searching for her.
Yuelai's heart hammered against her ribs. She'd known pursuit would come, but not this fast. Not this organized. Tianyu must have mobilized every available unit the moment he discovered her escape.
Downstairs, she could hear the innkeeper's voice, carefully neutral: "Yes, officers, of course you may search. We have nothing to hide."
Footsteps on the stairs. Coming up.
Yuelai looked around the room frantically. No back exit. No place to hide that wouldn't be found in a thorough search. The window? She was on the second floor, but—
Wait.
She forced herself to breathe, to think past the panic. She was disguised. They were looking for Princess Yuelai—a young woman in noble's clothes. Not a peasant boy in borrowed rags.
Moving quickly but quietly, Yuelai mussed the bed to make it look recently used but currently empty. She splashed water on her face from the basin, then grabbed the chamber pot and headed for the door.
The hallway was empty, but she could hear soldiers checking rooms at the far end. She walked toward the stairs with the shambling gait of someone half-asleep and in desperate need of an outhouse, keeping her head down, the chamber pot held conspicuously.
A soldier appeared at the top of the stairs. Young, maybe nineteen, with the rigid posture of someone new to his position.
"You there," he called out. "Halt."
Yuelai stopped, swaying slightly. Let her eyes unfocus the way they did when the drugs hit hardest. Spoke in that same rough, low voice: "Sir? I just need to—" She gestured with the chamber pot, looking embarrassed.
The soldier's nose wrinkled in disgust. "Which room?"
"Last door on the right, sir. Is something wrong?"
"We're searching for a fugitive. A young woman, about your age. Dark hair, aristocratic features. Have you seen anyone matching that description?"
Yuelai let herself look confused. Slightly stupid. "A woman? No, sir. Just me and the merchant in the next room. He snores terrible loud, sir. Kept me up half the night."
Another soldier appeared behind the first. Older, more experienced. His eyes swept over Yuelai with professional assessment—taking in the rough clothes, the chamber pot, the exhausted slouch of someone who'd spent too many days on the road.
"Let him pass," the older soldier said. "Check his room, but quickly. We have a dozen more inns to search before dawn."
Yuelai shuffled past them, keeping her gait unsteady, her head down. She could feel their eyes on her back as she descended the stairs. Every instinct screamed at her to run, but she maintained the shambling pace of a sleepy traveler until she was out of sight.
In the inn's courtyard, she leaned against a wall and let herself shake.
That had been too close.
She could hear the soldiers moving through the inn above, their searches growing more cursory as frustration set in. They were looking for a princess, and all they were finding were merchants, laborers, and one embarrassed young man with a chamber pot.
By the time they left, the first hints of dawn were touching the eastern sky.
Yuelai didn't return to her room. Instead, she went to the stables, saddled her horse, and prepared to leave. The innkeeper found her there.
"Leaving early?" the woman asked. She didn't seem surprised.
"It seems like a good time to travel."
The innkeeper nodded slowly. Then, surprisingly, she reached out and pressed something into Yuelai's hand. A small cloth bundle. "Food for the road. And young master?" Her voice dropped. "I don't know what you're running from, and I don't want to know. But those soldiers will be back, and next time they'll be more thorough. If you're going west, be careful. The bandits I warned you about? They're worse than I said. But they might be preferable to what's behind you."
Yuelai met the woman's eyes and saw understanding there. Not knowledge of who she really was, perhaps, but recognition of someone fleeing something terrible.
"Thank you," she said quietly.
"Don't thank me. Just survive."
---
Yuelai left Qinghe as the sun rose, her horse moving at a steady trot along the western road. The city disappeared behind her, and with it, the last traces of Shen civilization. Ahead lay the borderlands—wild territory where both empires' authority was more suggestion than law.
Three hours to the Luo border, if she kept a good pace. Three hours to safety.
But the drugs were still affecting her. Her shoulder ached from days of tension. Her vision kept blurring at the edges. And she was so, so tired.
The road wound through increasingly rough terrain. Farmland gave way to forest. The well-maintained imperial highway became little more than a packed dirt path. And the sun climbed higher, beating down without mercy.
Yuelai stopped once to let her horse drink from a stream. She forced herself to eat some of the food the innkeeper had given her—rice balls and dried fruit. Her stomach protested, unused to food after days of near-starvation, but she knew she needed the strength.
Just three more hours. She could make it.
The attack came without warning.
One moment the road was empty. The next, men materialized from the forest on both sides—at least a dozen of them, armed with swords and spears, their faces covered with cloth masks.
Bandits.
Yuelai's hand went to her sword as her horse reared in alarm. She managed to stay mounted, but her movements were too slow, her reactions dulled by exhaustion and lingering drugs.
"Well, well," one of the bandits said, his voice mocking. "What do we have here? A noble boy playing at being a peasant?"
They'd seen through her disguise. Or at least, they'd noticed the quality of her horse and weapons beneath the rough clothes.
"I have money," Yuelai said, keeping her voice steady despite the fear coursing through her. "Take it and let me pass."
"Oh, we'll take your money," another bandit laughed. "And your horse. And those fancy weapons. And maybe we'll have some fun with you first, pretty boy."
They moved in closer, forming a circle. Yuelai dismounted in one fluid motion—better to fight on the ground where she had more control. Her sword sang as it left its sheath.
The bandits hesitated. Whatever they'd expected, it wasn't someone who moved like a trained warrior.
"Last chance," Yuelai said. "Leave now, or I'll make you regret it."
The lead bandit spat. "Big words for someone who can barely stand. Get him."
They rushed her all at once.
Yuelai's training took over. Her first strike dropped the nearest bandit, her blade finding the gap between his ribs with precision. The second fell to a slash across his throat. But there were too many, and she was too slow. Too weak.
A spear grazed her side. A sword came too close to her head. She dodged, parried, struck back—but each movement took more effort than it should have. The drugs and exhaustion were catching up to her.
Then a blade found its mark.
Pain exploded in her shoulder as a bandit's sword cut deep. Yuelai stumbled, her vision blurring. Blood soaked through her shirt, hot and wet. Her sword arm weakened.
The bandits pressed their advantage, sensing victory. Yuelai fought on, desperation lending her strength, but she knew it was over. She couldn't win. Couldn't even run.
After everything—after escaping the palace, evading the soldiers, surviving three days of hell—she was going to die on a nameless road at the hands of common bandits.
Then a figure in black appeared.
He moved like flowing water, like shadow given form. A sword flashed in the morning light—different from hers, curved and wickedly sharp. The bandits who'd been closing in on Yuelai suddenly found themselves facing something far more dangerous than an exhausted traveler.
Three fell before they even understood what was happening. The rest scattered, their courage evaporating in the face of this new threat.
Yuelai tried to focus on her rescuer, but her vision was fading. She caught a glimpse of dark clothing, a masked face. And something else—as he turned, his collar shifted, revealing a mark on his neck.
A tattoo. Intricate, beautiful. A phoenix in flight.
"Who—" Yuelai tried to ask, but her legs gave out. She felt herself falling.
Strong arms caught her before she hit the ground. A voice, muffled behind the mask, spoke close to her ear: "You're safe now."
Then darkness swallowed her whole.
---
Pain woke her.
Not the sharp, immediate agony of her shoulder wound, but a deeper ache that seemed to pervade her entire body. Yuelai's eyes fluttered open, taking in unfamiliar surroundings.
She was lying on a simple bed in a small room. The walls were bare except for a few hanging scrolls with Taoist symbols. Incense burned in a corner, filling the air with a medicinal scent. Through a window, she could see mountains in the distance and hear the sound of wind chimes.
A Taoist temple.
Her shoulder was bandaged, the wrappings clean and white. She wore a simple robe—not her own clothes. Someone had changed her, treated her wounds while she was unconscious.
Yuelai tried to sit up and immediately regretted it. Her shoulder screamed in protest, and dizziness washed over her.
"Easy, child." An elderly man appeared in the doorway. He wore the simple robes of a Taoist monk, his white hair pulled back in a topknot, his face lined with age but his eyes sharp and clear. "You've been unconscious for two days. Your body needs time to heal."
Two days. She'd lost two days.
"Where am I?" Her voice came out rough, parched.
"My temple, about three hours east of the Luo border. You were brought here by—" The monk paused, seeming to choose his words carefully. "—a benefactor who wished to remain anonymous."
The man in black. The phoenix tattoo.
"He's gone?"
"Left the same day he brought you. Paid well for your treatment and departed without giving his name." The monk moved to a small table and poured water from a pitcher. "Drink. Slowly."
The water was cool and sweet. Yuelai had never tasted anything so good.
"Your shoulder wound was deep but clean," the monk continued. "I've stitched it and applied healing ointments. You'll have a scar, but no permanent damage if you're careful." He paused, studying her with those keen eyes. "I also found traces of a drug in your system. A powerful sedative, mixed with something else I couldn't quite identify. I've given you a tonic to help flush it out, but it will take time."
So that was why she finally felt clearer. The fog that had clouded her mind for days was lifting, replaced by sharp, painful clarity.
"How long until I can travel?"
"A week, at minimum. Preferably two."
"I don't have two weeks."
The monk's expression softened with what might have been sympathy. "Whatever you're running from, child, arriving at your destination dead won't help anyone."
Yuelai wanted to argue, but she knew he was right. Her body was at its limit. If she pushed any harder, she would break.
"One week," she said. "I'll stay one week. Then I have to go."
The monk nodded, accepting the compromise. "Then rest while you can. I'll bring food shortly. You need to rebuild your strength."
After he left, Yuelai lay back and stared at the ceiling. Her hand went to her neck, finding the pendant still there—Junwei's orchid. The mysterious benefactor hadn't taken it. Hadn't taken anything, apparently.
Who was he? Why had he helped her?
And that tattoo—a phoenix. She'd never seen a mark quite like it. Intricate enough to be noble work. Distinctive enough to be recognized.
If she ever saw it again, she would know him.
---
Three hours away, a contingent of riders approached the Luo Empire's border.
At their head rode Prince Luo Zhenge, his expensive black robes replaced with the formal attire of royalty now that he was back in his own territory. The mask was gone, revealing aristocratic features and dark eyes that missed little.
"Your Highness," his personal guard said as they rode. "If I may ask—why did we help that girl?"
Zhenge was silent for a long moment, his gaze fixed on the road ahead. Finally, he spoke: "Do you remember, during the Crown Prince of Shen's coronation journey, when bandits attacked our procession?"
"Of course, Your Highness. You ordered us not to engage."
"Because I wanted to see how the Shen forces would respond." Zhenge's lips curved slightly. "That girl—she caught an arrow meant for my carriage. Mid-flight. Without hesitation."
The guard's eyes widened. "That was her?"
"Indeed. I thought she was simply a skilled guard at first. Then I saw the pendant around her neck—jade orchid, royal craftmanship. And later, after the accusations..." Zhenge paused. "The supposed princess who murdered her brother looked nothing like the warrior I'd seen. Different bearing entirely. It made me curious."
"So you followed the reports of her escape?"
"I was already traveling this route when I heard she'd been spotted in Qinghe. A simple matter to intercept her path." Zhenge's expression remained neutral, but something calculating flickered in his eyes. "She caught my arrow. Saved my life, whether she knew it or not. Call it repaying a debt."
"And the real reason, Your Highness?"
Zhenge smiled—a cold, strategic expression. "A Shen princess accused of murdering her brother, hunted by the man who seized her throne, fleeing to Luo territory? The political implications are... interesting. If she survives the journey to her uncle, if she proves to be more than just a pampered royal playing at warrior—" He glanced at his guard. "—she could be quite useful in the future."
"And if she doesn't survive?"
"Then she was never worth the investment." Zhenge turned his attention back to the road. "But I suspect Princess Shen Yuelai is more resilient than she appears. We'll see if I'm right."
The contingent rode on toward the Luo capital, leaving the temple and its unexpected guest far behind.
Behind them, unaware of the calculation in a prince's eyes, Yuelai slept deeply for the first time in days—her body finally beginning to heal, her mind finally clear of drugs, her future uncertain but, for the moment, her own.
---
END OF CHAPTER 4