Chapter 4

Damn it! Gu Wan couldn't help but curse aloud. She jerked upright, staring tensely at the opening of the passage.

She watched as the two men rushed straight toward the small cell, swiftly drew out a key, and unlocked the iron door. With a creak, the iron bars began to open. At the same instant, the shadow holding a length of white silk darted inside. He bent low, flicked the silk with practiced ease, and aimed straight at his target!

Their actions were swift and decisive. Xie Ci, feigning unconsciousness, was caught off guard. When he sensed the door opening, he hesitated for just a fraction of a second—too long. The white silk looped over from behind his head. Alarmed, he sprang up in a carp leap, but the initiative was lost. The shadowed man twisted his arm, yanked, and in an instant, the silk tightened around Xie Ci's neck!

The man at the door was momentarily surprised, but in the next moment, he lunged forward, seized Xie Ci's hands, and clamped a palm over his mouth!

Everything happened so abruptly. There were no voices inside—only the harsh rustling of footsteps on straw. In the pitch-black darkness of the cell, a murder was unfolding.

Xie Ci struggled violently, but he was pinned down hard. The silk at his neck drew tight with deadly strength. In little more than a minute—less, perhaps—he would suffocate. With that force, even ten seconds would be enough to permanently destroy the soft tissues at the hyoid, bringing swift death.

Cold wind whistled through the vent. Gu Wan’s blood surged to her head.

Damn it, what should she do?!

She froze in the passage, fist clenched in hesitation for two seconds. To hell with it!

Gu Wan bent down, moved the cover with as little noise as possible, braced against the stone lip, and launched herself in a running leap. Both feet left the ground as she dove into the small cell!

With a tearing sound, she appeared so suddenly that the two shadows could never have imagined someone in this ward—supposedly full of the sick and dying—would not only be able to stand, but would also move so nimbly and carry a weapon. The vent was five or six meters from the cell, but Gu Wan landed, jumped, and crashed hard into the back of the man strangling Xie Ci! The silver spike in her palm drove precisely into the silk, and with a jerk, she tore it apart! The silk, stretched to its limit, snapped with a sharp sound.

The force of her charge was tremendous. As the silk ripped, she bowled the assailant over, slamming both of them into the wall. There was a dull thud as the man's head struck the stone, and he went limp.

The other man was handled by Xie Ci.

In the chaos, that second attacker reached to seize the remaining ends of silk, but Xie Ci yanked it away. The man hastily tried to draw his sword, but Xie Ci, desperate for life, twisted and locked his arm around the man's neck.

In a scant ten seconds, sweat streamed down Xie Ci’s face, his complexion still mottled with the blue-black of near suffocation and mingled fury. He kicked the man’s hand as he tried to draw his sword, pounced, and gripped his throat with all his strength.

Neither of them had proper weapons, and one was seriously injured. But in that desperate moment, the force born of survival was immense. Xie Ci held the man down, squeezing until he was motionless.

Both men gasped for breath.

They struggled to their feet. Gu Wan had banged her knee painfully and was grimacing. Xie Ci felt a hot trickle flow from his brow into his eye—blood or sweat, he couldn't tell.

He wiped his face with effort. It was sticky and red—blood.

In the murky dark of the cell, the fate of the two attackers was uncertain. Outside, silence reigned in the corridor. They could clearly hear the voices of jailers at the far end, fawning and conversing with their superiors.

—They would soon discover something was wrong.

Gu Wan caught her breath, sprang to her feet, and whispered, “Quick, come with me!”

Xie Ci managed to stand, bracing himself against the wall, the rich scent of blood in his nostrils—a sign his wounds had reopened in the struggle.

But years of military training had instilled in him a habit of standing straight, even at the limits of weakness.

Gu Wan reached out, speaking rapidly.

They couldn't stay here. Remaining was a death sentence.

Strangely, Gu Wan’s panic faded at this point. Damn these fugitives and this absurd predicament—it was so far from anything she’d ever expected! But even if she had to do it all again… she would.

She’d hesitated enough before. “Come on, move! They’ll realize something’s wrong any second.”

Whether it was old enemies or the authorities cleaning up, the fact that these men could stroll in here meant the whole prison was complicit.

Gu Wan’s heart pounded. She reached for the swaying Xie Ci, who dragged himself along the wall, bracing a hand on her shoulder. Stumbling, he followed her toward the vent.

…

They half-dragged, half-pulled each other out through the vent, and Gu Wan hurried to replace the cover.

Only now did Xie Ci cough, forcing the sound low and rough. He knelt, catching his breath, then silently set the cover back in place.

Tonight, the snow had stopped. A crescent moon hung in the sky, its pale light reflected off the snow. Gu Wan could see clearly the hands gripping the cover—Xie Ci’s hands, covered in scars, crisscrossed with whip marks and bruises from torture, stained with blood; calluses between thumb and forefinger stark against dried blood.

—All these years, Xie Ci had trained through the harshest winters and hottest summers, hands gripping weapons countless times.

He had been a mischievous youth, but the spirit and backbone of the Xie family were still there.

Had it not been for this disaster, after his sixteenth birthday he would have formally joined the army as a private—just as all the men of the Xie family did.

He was playful and bold, but never a wastrel.

But now, the proud boy who once rode so freely had lost that glint in his eye in just a short time.

His spirit remained, but fractured—grief and sorrow so deep a mere touch might break him.

From the memory of the original host, Gu Wan saw that proud, laughing boy—frame by frame, never fading. He could be infuriating, but he was not bad at heart. Her own heart softened. She dug out the coarse firewood she’d hidden in the snow just in case, jammed the cover tightly in place. “Are you all right?”

She pulled him up, concern in her voice, then tried to encourage them both: “We’ll make it out. We will!”

At that, Gu Wan couldn’t help looking up. The Iron Prison’s outer ward was officially called the Zhongdu Outer Prison. Most striking were the four tall walls of blue brick and white stone—thick and high, nearly four zhang, about ten or more meters, almost four stories tall. No matter where you stood, you could see them.

Xie Ci spoke in a hoarse voice, “There are two walls—the inner and the outer.”

His throat was injured, his voice so rough Gu Wan had to lean in to hear.

The Iron Prison had once been the Eagle Guard’s drill yard. Xie Xinzhong and his father had brought Xie Ci here for training many times. He was once very familiar with the grounds, though he hadn’t been involved in later renovations. But he knew there were two walls.

As a proper prison, escape was nearly impossible.

A gust of wind brought a streak of cloud, half-shrouding the moon.

In the shadowy light, Gu Wan tilted her head for a moment. “Should we… set a fire?”

Set a fire—to create chaos.

It was certainly effective, but Xie Ci said, “But we don’t have any flint.”

“I do!”

Gu Wan dashed into the firewood shed, rummaged through the pile and produced an old flint and steel—scavenged from behind a guard’s desk among a basket of discarded tools. She’d left the new ones, but hid the old pair in the shed.

Now it was perfect timing!

She struck it a few times—nothing. Xie Ci took over, and immediately struck a spark. Gu Wan hurriedly caught it with a handful of dry grass. The fire caught at once. She scattered burning grass around the shed, grabbed a flaming stick, and darted out, closing the door behind her.

Already, angry shouts and hurried footsteps echoed from the vent below. Gu Wan’s heart raced. She quickly tidied the little courtyard, then tossed the burning stick toward the left side of the yard.

“Go!”

The dry winter air made the shed burn fast. Flames licked up the posts and out the windows. Gu Wan and Xie Ci, having tidied their tracks, sprinted to the edge of the yard.

Xie Ci knelt by the wall, his face pale and bloodstained, but there was no time to worry. Gu Wan ran up, leapt from his cupped hands onto his shoulder, kicked off the wall, and climbed up. She reached back and helped Xie Ci, who carefully avoided smearing the wall with his blood as he joined her.

They dropped down together. Flames flared behind them.

“Fire! Fire!” came the shouts as copper gongs clanged. Gu Wan was in luck—the burning stick had landed in the warehouse holding tung oil, hemp rope, lamp oil, wooden stocks, and more. The flames spread quickly, faster even than in the wood shed.

The uproar of fire-fighting and chaos among the sick prisoners filled the night—the whole outer prison was thrown into uproar. Orders rang out, feet pounded, and half the patrol teams rushed to fight the fire.

Gu Wan grabbed Xie Ci’s hand and darted around a corner. Torchlight flickered outside; she kept her head down, eyes on the manholes.

Even in the chaos, they couldn’t just walk out the gates.

Gu Wan had crawled these dry channels many times—she immediately focused on the sewers. “We’ll go underground!”

They found a cover, pried it up together, and slipped inside. Before entering, they scattered snow over the cover and set it carefully back.

Gu Wan never underestimated others. In such a prison, there were certainly clever people. It wouldn’t take long for someone to connect the fire and the sick ward, and then link the escape to the sewers.

Gu Wan led the way, crawling fast, heading for the wardens’ office area.

It was winter, so there was no standing water—just cold. They crawled for ten minutes, then Gu Wan peered out through a hole in the cover. She boldly pushed it open.

She’d observed this manhole in the courtyard earlier—it was just like the dry channel. She found the latch, tried a few times, and got it open.

Gu Wan emerged—no one was there. This seemed to be a senior warden’s quarters; everyone must have run off to command the fire-fighting effort.

She and Xie Ci climbed out, with Xie Ci replacing the cover and covering blood and footprints with handfuls of snow. Gu Wan hurried to the corridor, poked a hole in the rice paper window, and peered inside. Instantly, she had an idea.

“Quick, over here!”

She ran for the side room, broke the lock, and found exactly what she hoped—the guards’ dormitory.

There were four bunks—two on duty, two off. The off-duty men had leapt up and run at the fire alarm, leaving the beds still warm.

She opened the chest, picked out the smallest set of armor, and dressed at lightning speed.

“Xie Ci, can you manage?”

“If we can, we’ll walk out the front!”

Xie Ci, bloodied and weak, had dragged himself along, leaving smears of blood behind. He was pale as death, his skin tinged with a corpse-like blue, but he gritted his teeth and didn’t pass out.

He was awake, but the heavy scent of blood and his ghastly pallor made him look ready to collapse.

Gu Wan dressed quickly, adjusting her sleeves, boots thudding steadily as she moved to the window to observe.

“I can,” Xie Ci rasped.

Blood seeped through, but his injured body summoned a last reserve of strength. He dressed swiftly, masking the scent of blood with inner layers, then donned the armor.

He was practiced at this, and moved almost as quickly as Gu Wan.

She handed him the standard-issue saber. The two stood for a moment, then Gu Wan opened the door and the “guards” strode out into the yard.

Outside, the fire had set off explosions in the tung oil barrels. Shouts, curses, and orders to search echoed through the chaos.

In the confusion, Gu Wan and Xie Ci joined a group and moved with the flow—short on numbers, but lost in the crowd.

“My sister-in-law, my nephew, and my mother…” Xie Ci panted. Even in this desperate moment, he hadn’t forgotten his family—still locked in the women’s cells. The hope of escape made him remember them at once, and he grew frantic.

“We get out first!” Boots crunched in the snow as they moved through the shadows. Gu Wan spoke in a low, urgent voice, “Everything else comes after!”

She’d already blocked up the hole in the women’s ward with bricks and snow. She trusted Chief Cao to do everything possible.

But once Xie Ci escaped, Madam Xun and the others would stand out all the more.

But nothing could be done until they were out.

Even if Xie Ci were executed, his family would still be doomed—whether by swift blade or slow death, the result was the same.

Gu Wan, with her instructor’s training, snapped at him with the sternest command voice from her days drilling young recruits: “If you want them to live, you have to live first! Otherwise, I wouldn’t have come for you!”

…

They made for the inner gate in quick strides. Gu Wan deepened her voice and barked, “What are you dawdling for? Split up! Fight the fire, hurry!”

The guards at the gate, startled by the explosion, hesitated. At her words, they rushed to open the gate. “Yes, yes, sirs, please—!”

Gu Wan cursed, kicked one guard in the backside, and strode through the inner gate into the outer yard.

As soon as they were through, she fell silent, then grabbed Xie Ci and sprinted toward the outer wall.

The last gate was guarded by prison soldiers, not mere jailers. Without the proper tokens, there was no chance of passing.

Gu Wan had never planned to walk through the main gate. Their deception would soon be discovered.

She and Xie Ci raced hand in hand for the high wall.

Behind them, the sound of boots and shouting swelled—patrols pouring out from the inner gate, whistles shrilling across the entire prison.

In a life-or-death moment, they gritted their teeth and sprinted through alleys, across the camp, until they reached the wall.

From a distance, Gu Wan produced a grappling hook she’d improvised from a guard’s weapon. It was heavy; Xie Ci rasped, “Let me.”

She handed it over. Xie Ci, his right arm bloodied, swung the hook and sent it flying. It caught securely at the top.

He looped his arm around Gu Wan’s waist, braced himself, and with a burst of strength, vaulted them both up the four-story wall.

He knelt at the top, gasping.

The wind howled, cold and biting, driving snow in the moonlight.

Xie Ci began to tremble.

Gu Wan quickly retrieved the hook, secured the rope, and heard the pounding boots and torches surging toward them along the wall.

A split second to spare.

Just one step more, and they’d be free of the prison.

But at that moment, Xie Ci’s legs felt weighed down, unable to move.

He knelt there, trembling, tears streaming down his face.

Like all the Xie men, though still young, his shoulders were broad and strong. He had endured torture without breaking, but now he collapsed, kneeling atop the wall, shuddering with silent sobs.

Gu Wan understood immediately.

She was an outsider, and even she had hesitated—she’d spent five years in public service, after all.

She had never imagined becoming a fugitive. Thankfully, this wasn’t the world she was born and raised in, so her mental barrier wasn’t so high.

But for Xie Ci, whose family’s loyalty and honor were etched into their very bones, this was a matter of faith—a legacy of military and ministerial duty for which generations of the Xie clan had died. Their blood and bones bore that weight.

If he could, Xie Ci would rather die, be hacked to pieces, his remains scattered to dust, than become a fugitive and stain the family’s honor, built with the lives of his ancestors.

Gu Wan felt a pang in her heart. She gripped his shoulders, turned his face to her.

The wind howled. She heard herself speak, calm and solemn: “The dead are gone. The living must endure. For the sake of your mother, your sisters-in-law, and the last children of the Xie family, you must live!”

“If you die, nothing remains. If you live, there is still hope!”

Xie Ci’s tears fell, scalding and hot, soaking into her fingertips.