Chapter 5

Gu Wan pulled him up, and together they leapt from the towering wall more than ten meters high. In the pitch-black night, the moon had vanished, leaving only the hazy glow of snow. The moss, having withered, left behind a layer of ashen gray, and between the stacked bricks, countless layers of snow dust had settled. Each step was hard, cold, and slippery.

The high blue-brick wall resembled a city rampart, its eighty-degree incline making their plunge feel dangerously exhilarating. The northern wind surged, roaring past their ears, numbing her to the bone and making her heart feel as if it would leap from her chest. She braced Xie Ci with one arm, gripping the cloth rope tightly with the other, her palm burning from the friction.

—Xie Ci had brought the rope on their climb, but now he was clearly at his limit, lips pale with a bluish tinge, barely able to stand. It was up to her now.

Gu Wan discarded the rope, breathing heavily, her breath white against the night. She quickly shut her mouth, desperate to preserve what little warmth remained inside her. Becoming a fugitive was something Gu Wan had never imagined for herself, but after a few steps, she found it surprisingly easy.

After all, the original owner had never committed a crime. The Xie family lived with modest means. Even Xie Xinzhong, the loyal and brave marquis, allowed only three dishes and a soup at home—enough to eat, nothing wasted. The men wore simple, dark cotton clothes at home, only replacing them when they were threadbare. Though strict with himself, he was lenient with others, indulgent with his wife and children except for wastefulness, and the women of the Xie family, influenced by the men, never indulged in extravagance and found joy in simplicity.

To be implicated in a treacherous plot and punished by association—she felt not the slightest guilt for running.

She took a couple of breaths, hauled Xie Ci up, and hurried on. The wind in the open fields was fierce. The Iron Threshold Monastery sat halfway up the mountain, with the military training ground built at its base. Nearby villages were scattered, but the population density was far lower than the city. The snow blanketed the withered yellow grass, the world cloaked in white, black branches and rocks barely visible, the wilderness and rolling hills swallowed by darkness.

They staggered onward. Gu Wan hesitated, then whispered, "Do you want me to carry you?"

The original owner had decent physical strength. In Da Wei, it was common for noblewomen to ride horses and play polo for amusement. The Marquis Loyal and Brave’s household was a military family—every girl trained for strength and health. When she first came to the Xie family, Gu Wan had worked hard to win their favor, but once she realized their kindness was genuine, she eventually let her training lapse.

Her frailty was of temperament, not body; her foundation was strong. Gu Wan had graduated from the police academy—not as a forensic doctor as she’d hoped, but combat and physical training were compulsory. Before university, she’d studied martial arts for over a decade under a little old man who’d taken a special liking to her, even tutoring her privately in ancient sword and blade techniques.

She tucked her long saber back into her belt, gauging her strength. She felt she could probably carry him.

Xie Ci was startled, turning to look at her. The snow-laden wind whipped her disheveled hair and dirt-streaked face, but her eyes shone bright in the snowy glow.

For a moment, a strange heat surged in Xie Ci’s eyes. Though dizziness threatened to overtake him, her words seemed to lend him strength. At a loss for words, he shook his head weakly, “…No need. I can still walk.”

If she carried him, their speed would be halved.

Xie Ci lifted his gaze to the vast wilderness. The cold wind howled, the landscape both strange and achingly familiar. He’d ridden across these training grounds countless times, and knew the terrain better than the newly stationed guards outside the Iron Threshold Monastery.

“Ahead lies Mount Yungang, connecting to Ao Ridge. The foothills are all low hills, reaching as far as Pingxiang and the county a hundred li away. Five li to the southeast and seven or eight li to the west are rivers—the streams near the monastery flow from the hot springs at Yungang Palace, and never freeze in winter…” Xie Ci’s voice was faint as he detailed the area from memory.

As he spoke, tears streamed down his face.

The scenery remained, but everything else had changed.

Gu Wan considered for a moment. Now hidden in darkness, she dragged Xie Ci behind a snowdrift beside a large rock. Behind them, the pounding of military boots and the glow of torches converged at the base of the high wall, angry shouts carried swiftly by the north wind.

She glanced back—the shallow snow was crisscrossed with their messy footprints, each one glaringly obvious.

With a torch, it would be easy to track them.

She and Xie Ci exchanged a look, gritted their teeth, and broke into a desperate run, circling around toward another path.

Though the outskirts had fewer people, the Iron Threshold Monastery was thriving with worshippers—especially in the New Year, when countless devotees trampled out both large and small paths. Gu Wan, skilled in investigation and counter-surveillance, knew that in spring or summer, slipping into the mountains would have guaranteed their escape. But now, in the winter snow, that wasn’t an option.

She immediately gave up on the mountains, guiding Xie Ci along a woodcutter’s path out of the foothills, traversing the uneven hills and barren plains.

The darkness was so deep she could no longer feel her feet. Xie Ci’s face was ashen, but at least the bleeding had stopped—whether from clotting or freezing, she couldn’t tell. His hands were icy, but he forced himself to stay conscious, trying to walk unaided to lighten her load.

Gu Wan headed straight for the hot spring river—the water was not frozen, thank goodness.

After covering some distance as quickly as possible, she began to deliberately leave a trail of scattered footprints in untrodden areas. But there was hardly any need to fake it—their stumbling left a chaotic trail as it was.

Unbeknownst to her, her own face was as pale as paper.

Cold and hunger gnawed at her; the original owner had been pampered in the inner chambers for years—now she relied on sheer willpower.

At last, they reached the riverbank.

Gu Wan crouched down, using hands and feet to scrape and scuff, quickly leaving marks to simulate a river jump. Then, she and Xie Ci doubled back, following the shallow snow along the base of the cliffs, heading east.

She snapped off a branch from an unknown shrub, its twigs dense, and as they walked, she swept away their tracks behind them. The wind howled, swirling fine snowflakes over the path, making it impossible to spot their footprints without a close inspection.

At last, they reached the end of the cliff, where a cave opened before them, and they ducked inside.

Xie Ci had shown her this place; two years ago, he and his childhood friends had hidden here for three days after getting into trouble and running away from home. He knew the cave had another exit, leading out the other side of the small escarpment.

At last, they had shaken off the bulk of their pursuers.

…

Now, only a small group remained.

The prison official commanding the manhunt was shrewd—he quickly connected the sick prisoner and the fire, ordering the inner gates closed to trap them like rats. Had Gu Wan and Xie Ci not acted swiftly and brazenly, they’d never have escaped.

The pursuers reached the riverbank, and a large contingent searched downstream. When that yielded nothing, they spread out, setting up checkpoints and scouring the snow for traces.

Gu Wan and Xie Ci abandoned the main road, catching their breath in the mountain cave before immediately pressing on, traversing the hill to the other side.

It had been over an hour since they’d scaled the wall; in two or three more hours, dawn would break—they had to lose their pursuers before then.

Spotting small search parties, they cautiously avoided them. Luckily, after circling for half the night, the clouds thickened once more and a fine snow began to fall.

Gu Wan was overjoyed. "This is wonderful! The heavier the snow, the better for us!"

But advantages came with drawbacks—the path was harder, the cold more intense. Xie Ci’s face was corpse-like, his hands like ice, and Gu Wan worried he wouldn’t last. Both were exhausted and parched, but neither dared eat snow. "Are you alright? Should I just carry you after all?"

Watching him so anxiously, she snatched the withered branch he was using as a crutch—one end stained with blood. He’d gripped it so tightly his palm bled anew. Gu Wan shook her head, and without a word, hooked his legs and hoisted him onto her back.

He was heavy!

Though he looked lean, years of martial training made him surprisingly solid. Gu Wan almost buckled, but she’d prepared herself and managed to bear the weight.

She cinched her saber tighter, leaned on the stick, and pressed on laboriously. As she grew accustomed, her pace quickened.

Xie Ci clung to her back, at the end of his strength. He stiffened his neck to murmur a protest, but finally rested his head against her back.

Step by stumbling step, Gu Wan carried him for half an hour before she could go no further. Xie Ci got down, and they staggered on together, helping each other, resting briefly before she carried him again, repeating the cycle.

They pressed on until nearly dawn, the snow finally ceasing as they rounded the mountain.

But just as they crossed the main road and neared the market town—escape nearly within reach—they were discovered!

A squad of twenty-odd cavalrymen had circled the road, doubling back, and now met them head-on.

The thunder of hooves split the dawn. Gu Wan’s heart lurched—she quickly set Xie Ci down. They both ran and leapt into a roadside ditch.

Beyond the mountain, the way to town was wide open, but also utterly exposed. The frozen creek was their only cover.

But they were still spotted!

The sky was growing pale, the snow had stopped, and the faint light reflected off its surface. The cavalry captain scanned the ground, quickly noticing the disturbed snow.

Gu Wan heard the horses halt, footsteps approaching fast. She couldn’t help but curse.

Damn it!

She sprang up, pressed herself low, and as the footsteps reached the ditch, she erupted upward with a cry, delivering a spinning kick to the leader’s head. He collapsed, unconscious.

There were twelve men in all; the squad split in two, fanning out to search.

Gu Wan caught sight of one man at the edge raising a signal arrow. She landed and dove left, flicked her blade, and kicked—the arrow flew. She lunged, grabbed it, and tossed it toward Xie Ci.

"You little wench! Courting death—"

The man with the signal arrow, the squad leader, was kicked bloody, cursing as eight or nine men immediately surrounded Gu Wan.

She swallowed hard, cold, hungry, and utterly exhausted. Most crucially, she had never killed with her own hands before. At the edge of life and death, she felled three or four men, but the rest were all larger than her—and now they guarded against her kicks.

She parried a blade, but was kicked from behind, tumbling onto the squad leader. Another man jumped atop her, and the three of them tumbled down the frozen creek, weapons scattered.

With footsteps closing in, Gu Wan drew her dagger, pressing it to her enemy’s throat. But at the instant she was about to slash, she hesitated.

Just that briefest pause—already outnumbered and struggling just to keep the enemies focused on her—proved costly. The man seized his chance, shoved her aside, drew a boot knife, and stabbed down hard!

Gu Wan wrenched herself aside, kicked, stabbed desperately, but another man tackled her, pinning her strong legs—the very ones that had decimated their squad.

Pinned, she couldn’t break free. Death loomed.

And then—

"Aaaah—!"

Xie Ci erupted. A flash of snowy steel, the sound of blade slicing flesh—a spray of blood burst over the snow!

—To kill a soldier in pursuit meant true escape, but also true criminality. Even if he’d been wrongfully imprisoned, there would be no washing it away.

But at the final moment, seeing Gu Wan pinned beneath her attacker, Xie Ci forced himself up.

His face was ghostly, lips blue, utterly spent. Yet in that last instant, he shouted, summoning the last of his strength, leapt up, and three or four men fell immediately.

He swept through like a whirlwind, his sword a silver torrent, cold and fierce. The armored guard charging at Gu Wan felt a chill at his throat, stumbled forward two steps, clutching his neck, eyes wide as blood gushed out.

He collapsed.

Xie Ci’s beautiful eyes glowed red, his handsome face spattered with blood. He seized the man attacking Gu Wan, drove his sword through his throat—then the one pinning her legs as well.

Gu Wan, blood-soaked, scrambled to her feet. The two of them stared at each other, breathing hard.

Xie Ci’s voice was hoarse: "...We have to go."

"Yes. Yes."

His eyes stung, his hands trembled, but he gripped his sword tightly, and together they plunged into the wind and snow.

…

No one knew when the snow had started again, drifting down in silence.

The wind carried the flakes, blanketing their faces and hair.

Hand in hand, they crossed the road, passed through the market, and ran far, far away.

At last, they stopped, collapsing in the snow.

Xie Ci fell to his knees, and then he wept.

Blood and tears mingled on his cheeks.

He braced himself on the ground, first choking, then finally sobbing aloud.

The Xie family had been loyal and upright for generations—yet today he’d not only broken out of prison, but killed a soldier.

Gu Wan knelt beside him, pausing for a long while before straightening and gently patting his back. He slumped against her shoulder, and she felt his scalding tears trickle down her skin.

She understood that feeling. She had a twin brother. They’d shared the same ambitions since childhood, but when he was fourteen, a car accident took his leg, and he could never walk fast again.

Disasters and misfortunes—some things could never be undone, no matter how hard you tried.

For Xie Ci, it was worse.

Gu Wan sighed softly. She knew that any comfort now would sound empty and powerless, so she said nothing—simply, silently, patting his back, time and again.