Chapter One

The northern wind howled, sweeping up snow in a chaotic dance. The sound of the Imperial Guards’ boots striking the hard blue-stone floor echoed like clashing metal, slicing through the dusk. At the end of the street, the common folk gathered on either side, packed so tightly not even water could seep through, their voices buzzing with disbelief and debate—a chorus that was swiftly drowned out by the thunderous hoofbeats.

Loyal ministers, valiant generals, protectors of home and country—now, their entire household had been condemned, their estate confiscated this day. The people watched, uncertain and afraid. Some read aloud the yellow proclamations, cursing them; others argued loudly, refusing to believe it. All were swallowed by the roaring wind and snow, their voices lost in the tumult.

The Imperial Guards split into two columns, racing around the mansion, crashing open the gate. Soldiers poured in like wolves and tigers. The leading officer let out a long sigh, waved his hand, and gave the order with a metallic clang. The mansion he once entered with reverence was, in an instant, reduced to chaos.

Cries and screams, shouts and hurried footsteps, all mingled with the roaring storm, and in a heartbeat, everything was thrown into disorder.

All vanished into the twilight.

...

The dead of winter, snow still heavy. By imperial decree, all male members of the Xie family had been executed. The women and children were sentenced to exile at the border as forced labor, transferred from the estate’s gates to the prison outside Iron Gate Temple, their fate sealed.

The women and children, bound together hand-to-hand by a long hemp rope, were driven down the main street, out toward the city’s edge.

Gu Wan’s feet, clad in thin embroidered shoes, touched the ground, sending a chill shooting up from her soles to her very core, making her shiver uncontrollably. The children suffered most, sobbing and whimpering; from the eldest sister-in-law to the third, each held their child tightly, wiping away tears, their voices breaking in the wind: “Don’t cry, child, if you cry more, your face will crack.”

It would only get worse.

Gu Wan saw her third sister-in-law suddenly set her child down, struggling fiercely with the rope, freeing her hand. She grabbed her child and dashed toward the corner of the street, crying, “Father! Mother! Save us, save Wan’er, save Wan’er—”

The storm blurred the sound, making it indistinct; all that could be seen was the pair of middle-aged parents, their hair streaked with silver, weeping— the woman covered her mouth and knelt, her cries barely reaching through the wind: “Father and mother can do nothing,” “The decree... the crime is settled,” “The investigation was led by Commander Liang Mingjing…”

The rest was lost to the storm.

For half a month, the capital had been tense and fearful, more and more families swept into the case, their homes confiscated, titles stripped, thrown into prison. The panic spread even to the market districts—now, even the residents dared not open their windows. The long street was silent, save for the wind and snow. That the third sister-in-law’s family dared come to say farewell was already a rare courage.

The bailiffs stood a moment, then stepped forward, forcibly separating the families.

The cries echoed down the street, quickly swallowed by the wind and snow. The group, stumbling and staggering, drawn along by the rope, step by step reached the prison outside Iron Gate Temple. With a creak, the door opened, and they were thrown inside.

...

The prison outside Iron Gate Temple lay to the east of Yun’gang’s Iron Gate Temple, converted from the old Eagle Guard training grounds. Rows of half-ruined barracks now served as cells; the only advantage was walls and brick beds, cold but shielding from wind and snow.

Whether by the design of a young bailiff or not, their cell had a tattered curtain. Gu Wan pulled it down, shook out the dust, thought for a moment, and finally sighed, dividing it in two—half for her mother-in-law, Lady Xun, now over fifty, and the other for the third sister-in-law, Lady Zhang, who held her two-year-old daughter. “Wrap Niu Niu up,” she said.

She was cold too, but as the youngest, she couldn’t justify wrapping herself.

Such was their situation.

A household famous for loyalty and virtue, the Xie family descended from the founding general Xie Guanshan, ennobled as Marquis Loyal and Brave, hereditary without interruption.

The original Gu Wan knew that every generation of the Xie family lived up to their title. The current head, Xie Xinzhong, spent thirty years at the border, repeatedly averting disaster, quelling the nationwide “Mi Liang Rebellion” ten years prior, saving the dynasty and the people. His military achievements earned him elevation to Duke Loyal and Brave.

Second Uncle Xie died in battle at the border; Third Uncle as well. Now, the eldest and second sons served at the border and guarded the capital for over ten years. The third son pursued a civil career, achieved the top scholar title, and served under the upright Minister Pei, recently appointed as a junior official.

He was the family’s only scholar. That night, his father took him to the ancestral hall, kneeling before their forebears, admonishing him never to idle, never to be corrupt or negligent—that as an official, he must serve the people wholeheartedly.

Third Brother Xie bowed solemnly in assent.

Yet in the blink of an eye, all was shattered.

The emperor, in his later years, became obsessed with immortality elixirs. Early in the year, he fell ill in court, bedridden for months, triggering a fierce struggle among princes and factions. The capital was thrown into turmoil.

The Xie family’s loyalty to the crown and the heir was well known. They had repeatedly obeyed the crown prince, and the emperor himself arranged for their support. Whether intentionally or not, they were seen as the crown prince’s allies.

Now, all the factions rose against the heir, the emperor’s grave illness leaving his position ambiguous, forcing the crown prince to sacrifice his own safety. What had once been imperial orders were now regarded with suspicion. The “Lantian Treason Case” erupted, sweeping through the capital and border, toppling countless civil and military officials, filling the prison to bursting.

The Xie family stood at the heart of the storm.

...

After the false accusations, the entire family was seized and imprisoned; three courts convened, and within half a month, “evidence was irrefutable.”

The emperor, furious, issued a decree at court: the Loyal and Brave Duke’s estate confiscated, title stripped, all male members executed, the rest exiled as forced labor at the border.

How did Gu Wan know all this?

Because the original Gu Wan had been reborn.

...

Lady Xun, her mother-in-law, who sat on the brick bed clutching her young grandson in a daze, was a good woman. The daughter of an old family friend, her father and brother captured, her mother and sister killed, she alone survived, hidden in a haystack, found by young Xie Xinzhong.

The Xie family remembered their old ties, honored the promises made in letters, arranged a marriage. Xie Xinzhong, mindful of her hardships, cherished her for over thirty years, treating her as if she were a child, giving her lifelong happiness.

So when her cousin suffered misfortune and journeyed a thousand miles to entrust her child, she took her in without hesitation.

Gu Wan, the original, was granddaughter of the Lady of Yongjia, but her maternal family had been implicated in the Mi Liang Rebellion, stripped of titles, executed. Her father divorced her mother, who fled with her to seek refuge. Fortunately, their relatives were kind; Lady Xun, recalling her own past, treated her as her own daughter, never caring about her origins. When she came of age, she fulfilled the old promise, marrying her to the fourth son, ensuring her lifelong security.

It should be known that the marriage had only been a playful arrangement, not even exchanging keepsakes.

Sadly, within weeks of the wedding, her husband’s family was swept up in the “Lantian Treason Case,” their home confiscated, her father-in-law executed, the family exiled.

Her new husband died of illness in prison. She journeyed a thousand miles, and years later, was forced to remarry her younger brother-in-law. When the family finally received the imperial pardon, she herself was at the end of her life.

Good people rarely receive good fortune.

The Xie family, loyal for generations, all male members branded as traitors, executed, their heads rolling, the city showering them with scorn.

The eldest sister-in-law sat nearby, weeping uncontrollably, her twelve-year-old son holding back tears to comfort her. The boy, already wise beyond his years, had lost his father and did not want to lose his mother.

Yet, on the exile road, the boy secretly fetched clean water for his family, only to be kicked into the river by a bailiff. He caught a cold, and without medicine, died on the journey.

The eldest sister-in-law went mad.

The second sister-in-law, born to a military family, was strong and resilient, but the hardships of exile were too great. She tried to support the family, but one day her fourteen-year-old daughter disappeared. When found, the girl, roughened by wind and sand but still beautiful, was discovered in the barracks commander’s small side room, clothes torn, bruised, dead with her eyes open.

The commander, over forty, with a brutish face and yellow teeth, his wife fierce as a tigress, cursed as she dragged the naked girl out, slamming the doors in the desperate mother’s face.

That night, the second sister-in-law took out a hidden sword, climbed over the walls, broke into the commander’s house, and killed his entire family of thirteen.

She was shot to death.

The third sister-in-law, of noble birth, gentle and refined, sacrificed the most for the Xie family. In the border garrison, where rain rarely fell, many noble women would rather die than endure such suffering. Delicate, pampered ladies, sent to such places, were little better than those in the brothels.

A fallen phoenix is less than a chicken; the more glamorous one was, the harsher the fate. After Commander Zhu Mingyou was replaced, the Xie family’s situation worsened.

Ultimately, the third sister-in-law entered the new commander Yan Shichong’s second residence.

Even Lady Xun, over fifty but well-preserved and still graceful, was subjected to harassment.

As for Gu Wan—

Someone outside delivered food. A bailiff carried a large bucket down the row of cells, “clank,” dropping a wooden tray, ladling out a scoop of unknown gruel, opening a small window in the wooden bars just wide enough for the tray, and pushing it inside, followed by a bundle of vegetable cakes.

A boy, around ten, stood up, fetched the tray and bundle, and placed them before his mother and sisters.

This was Xie Xinzhong and Lady Xun’s youngest son, Xie Wulang. Perhaps because his parents were older or because he’d struggled to be born, he was a bit slow compared to his brothers, but brave. He was struck on the head while protecting Gu Wan, and never woke up.

The third sister-in-law summoned a doctor, who diagnosed “wooden stupor”—what would be called a vegetative state in modern terms.

As the original Gu Wan grew older, suitors abounded, her steps difficult, while Xie Wulang needed constant care—feeding, cleaning, turning.

In the end, Gu Wan remarried Xie Wulang.

It was both forced and voluntary.

Five years later, a new emperor ascended, the Lantian case was reopened, and the Xie family’s innocence was restored.

When the imperial pardon reached the north,

The Xie family wept with joy.

...

Lady Xun purchased arsenic, first feeding a cup to her unconscious son.

Then, at the table, four cups were poured.

“Drink, and we’ll enter the Xie family’s ancestral tomb together,” Lady Xun said, tears streaming.

Wind and snow raged, and only these four worn women remained of the Xie family.

They had finally waited for their vindication.

But they refused to let the family’s reputation be stained, to return to the capital only to be shamed and ridiculed.

Let them wash away the taint with their own blood, enter the coffins clean, and reunite with their husbands and children.

...

Gu Wan wiped her face.

It truly was a trail marked by bloody footprints.

She had already lived through the hardship of exile in the original’s memory.

As for escape—forget it. If it were possible, any of the sisters-in-law would have run with their children. They could die, but would exchange their lives to let their children live.

On the exile journey, roll call was daily, and the punishment was collective, implicating their entire family.

The bailiffs were seasoned, and it was impossible for women and children to escape.

Even if one or two fled, the rest would suffer greatly. No one in the Xie family would let others pay for their escape.

Most importantly, the Da Qing dynasty had just updated its census registers last year. The system was strict, far beyond what Gu Wan, newly arrived in the inner quarters, could manage.

Without registration and travel permits, discovery meant a beating and assignment as slave labor in the mines, regardless of gender.

If they were fugitives, execution was immediate.

...Slave labor in the mines meant tattooing and cutting ears.

That was worse than being a garrison soldier; at least exile as forced labor only meant military household registration, hard work without leaving, but with land to farm.

Gu Wan touched the wooden basin, still a little warm. She sighed, got up, fetched the old wooden bowls from the corner, ladled out gruel, handed it to the children, and gave each a vegetable cake. “Eat first, whatever happens, fill your stomach.”

Otherwise, when it all cooled, there’d be no warmth left.

Not for herself, but at least for the children.

The Xie family wiped their tears, fed the children, and stuffed the cakes into their mouths.

Gu Wan herself picked up a vegetable cake, sat hugging her knees on a pile of wheat straw, gnawing away. The straw, never seeing sunlight, smelled musty and rotten, but it couldn’t stop the cold from seeping up through her body.

Gu Wan felt like howling at the sky—what a mess!

Still, living was better than dying.

After surviving a blow to the head, she cherished life.

But the question was: how to escape this predicament?

After much thought, Gu Wan couldn’t see escape as much better than exile. At least, following the original path, she knew who was good and who was evil.

She touched her disheveled hair.

Yes, it seemed her only way to save herself was that so-called husband—the famed “First of the Five Tombs,” a young man of fresh clothes and fiery spirit, renowned in Chang’an for both literary and martial prowess, yet on the verge of death.

Much of the family’s later tragic fate could be blamed on the weakness of women and children alone. If only one adult male had survived, even in exile as forced labor, their situation would have been far better.

Many families exiled to the border as military households put down roots and survived.

So, he must not die, no matter what!