Jiang Sheng had been running downhill for his life.
But his childhood memories were fuzzy, and he took several wrong turns. He’d never walked such muddy, wild mountain paths; stumbling, he fell several times along the way.
He dared not stop. He knew the servants would soon discover his escape; the Jiang Family was probably searching for him already—maybe even the North-Guarding Prince’s people.
The more he thought, the more terrified he grew, and he quickened his pace—but his body simply couldn’t keep up. His legs felt filled with lead, aching more and more.
The sky gradually darkened.
Maybe it was suggestion, but Jiang Sheng kept thinking he could hear animals howling—wolves or something. His heart leapt into his throat, his little head swiveling in fright—and suddenly, not watching where he was going, his foot slipped, and he tumbled straight down a slope.
“Ahh—”
“Your Highness! What’s wrong?!”
Lu Yan’s body swayed abruptly. Cheng Yu, startled, hurried to steady him.
A flash of heart-piercing pain, as if his heart were being torn apart. Lu Yan’s face went a little white, but that brief vulnerability lasted only an instant; the man quickly straightened his spine, expression normal again.
“It’s nothing,” he said flatly.
Cheng Yu couldn’t help glancing at him again, but didn’t dare ask more.
Partway down the mountain, a Shadow Guard came to report.
The foot of the mountain had filled with servants and retainers, all the Jiang Family’s, searching for someone.
The Shadow Guard bowed his head. “Word is, the Jiang Family’s Second Young Master ran off.”
Cheng Yu’s eyelids twitched wildly.
This Jiang Family young master had real nerve—escaping the marriage right under the Prince’s nose?
Yet Lu Yan’s face remained utterly bland, as if this Young Master Jiang, about to be delivered to his manor, were no different from a pebble by the roadside.
For the first time, Cheng Yu felt a twinge of pity.
It’s actually good if this young master ran, he thought. At least he’d keep his life—better than being delivered to the manor. Judging by the Prince’s attitude, he probably wouldn’t let him live past three days.
At the foot of the mountain, lights blazed.
Lu Yan lounged in the spacious sedan when he saw someone swing down from a horse across the way and hurry toward him.
Guards with blades blocked the sedan.
The man dropped to his knees at once. “Paying respects to the North-Guarding Prince.”
Lu Yan lifted a hand and raised the curtain a fraction, his lowered gaze indifferent, saying nothing.
Cheng Jing, hugging his sword, said coldly from the side, “Since when can any random cat or dog come pay respects to our Prince?”
The kneeling man trembled and hastily spoke again. “This official, Jiang Yuan, Vice Director of the Ministry of Personnel, kowtows to the North-Guarding Prince. May the Prince be well.”
Lu Yan finally spoke, flatly. “Oh. Lord Jiang.”
Propping his cheek on one hand, he said carelessly, “Lord Jiang, out so late with so many men—those who know would say you’re worshipping Buddha. Those who don’t might think you’re staging a rebellion.”
Jiang Yuan’s face drained white. “This official wouldn’t dare. My son went missing on the mountain today; I’ve been worried sick, so I sent servants to search. We’ve disturbed Your Highness.”
Lu Yan’s gaze held no warmth.
The Jiang Family had latched onto Prince Ying, and Prince Ying was of the Empress Dowager’s maternal clan. That he hadn’t found an excuse to deal with Jiang Yuan today was already him accruing merit on Shengsheng’s behalf.
He lowered the curtain, too lazy to spare another word.
The sedan moved off into the distance. Jiang Yuan knelt, not daring to breathe, and only after it vanished from sight did the servants help him up.
Jiang Yuan ground his teeth, face dark. “Find him! Turn the whole mountain over if you must—dig out that little beast!!”
“Yes, Master!”
Jiang Sheng, meanwhile, had no idea how much commotion his escape had caused below.
He’d been rescued by a Hunter on the mountain, who said he was lucky—there were wolves up here. If Jiang Sheng had spent a night out there, he might well have ended up in a wolf’s belly.
In a thatched hut in the mountains, shabby everywhere but warm with cheer. On the table were dishes the Hunter’s Wife had just brought out—mountain greens, all of them—and because they had a guest today, they’d even killed a chicken, set right in the middle.
Jiang Sheng’s twisted ankle had been bandaged; he now sat on a little stool, playing with the Hunter’s child.
“Niuniu, come here. Stop pestering your big brother.”
The Hunter’s Wife was gentle, smiling. “Children are just lively. Are you a pilgrim, young sir? Why come down so late?”
Jiang Sheng paused, choosing his words. “I got separated from my family, and I couldn’t find the way down.”
“If you don’t mind, young sir, stay the night. The mountain paths are treacherous after dark.”
That suited Jiang Sheng perfectly; he nodded gratefully.
“Thank you.”
He pulled a jade thumb ring from his finger and set it on the table. “A small token of thanks.”
“Oh my! That’s far too precious—we can’t take it!”
Everything Jiang Sheng wore marked him as rich or noble; anything he produced was bound to be valuable.
“If you hadn’t saved me, I might not even be alive. Please, take it.”
Not wanting to argue, Jiang Sheng simply pressed it into Niuniu’s hands.
“Stop fighting over it. It’s for the child.”
That worked like a charm; the family settled down quietly to eat.
Jiang Sheng, starved for a day, buried his head and ate with more relish than anyone. The ingredients were simple, but the Hunter’s Wife’s skill was excellent—everything had a special fragrance.
But after only a few bites, the Hunter suddenly set down his bowl and chopsticks, face grave.
“There’s noise outside.”
Jiang Sheng jolted, the color draining from his face.
Reading him, the Hunter guessed. “Young master, have you offended someone?”
Jiang Sheng bit his lip. “I…”
The sounds drew closer—voices, footsteps…
The Hunter frowned. “No time. Wife, take the young master and hide him in the chest.”
The Hunter’s Wife hurried to comply.
She led Jiang Sheng to the back room. Luckily he was slight; curled up, he fit the chest just barely.
The lid closed, and darkness swallowed everything.
Jiang Sheng clenched his fists, heart pounding so hard he felt dizzy. He swallowed again and again, trembling all over.
Unable to see, his hearing sharpened; every word outside fell clearly into his ears.
“Did a young man come begging lodging here?”
“No. This is the middle of nowhere—where would a young man come from?”
The retainer narrowed his eyes, sweeping the room, and his gaze landed on Niuniu sitting obediently in the corner—clad in coarse hemp, but holding a jade thumb ring.
His eyes lit up. He snatched it away. “Where did this come from? So you dare lie to me! Do you know who my master is? A high minister of court! Are you tired of living?!”
Niuniu, startled by the sudden move, burst into wails.
In an instant the room descended into chaos!
Jiang Sheng had been holding back since the first sound of the child crying. He couldn’t drag innocents into this.
He shoved the chest open and stepped out. “I’m here.”
His clothes were disheveled, his hair a mess—so wretched, as if his whole escape had been one complete joke.
Caught after all.
Bound on the spot, Jiang Sheng was hauled back to the Jiang Manor and thrown into the woodshed.
He didn’t sleep a wink that night.
Jiang Sheng knew he was about to be sent to the North-Guarding Prince’s Manor.
Would he die there?
At some point, Jiang Sheng found that death no longer seemed so frightening.
He just missed Mom and Dad a little. Missed his brother.
Missed Lu Yan.
He didn’t know how long he lay there before the woodshed door finally opened. Jiang Sheng watched his cheap excuse for a father stride in, look down on him from above, and sneer coldly.
“Tie him up and stuff him straight into the sedan. No mishaps on the road this time.”
“Yes.”
Jiang Sheng had no strength left; he let them do as they pleased.
He was being delivered to a prince’s manor, after all—they couldn’t send him looking like a vagrant. They washed and dressed him, changed him into red robes, tied up his hair and set on the cap. He looked almost the part.
It would’ve been better if his hands and feet weren’t bound in red silk, though.
The courtyard was crowded with people.
Old Master Jiang, Madam Jiang, Jiang Yan…
A tidy family of three.
Jiang Sheng couldn’t be bothered to pretend anymore. He bounced up and cursed them, baring a mouthful of little white teeth. “You’re all doomed, you know that?”
“My husband is a ghost! A super powerful one! I’ve already filed my complaint with him, so wait for your deaths!”
“How dare you bully me! My husband won’t let you off!”
Jiang Yan, mid-sneer, silently swallowed his words.
“Mother, is he insane?”
Madam Jiang backed up a step.
Old Master Jiang looked at him indifferently. “Jiang Sheng. Playing mad is useless. This is your fate—accept it.”
He tilted his chin, and the servants, understanding, stuffed him straight into the sedan.
Departure: the North-Guarding Prince’s Manor.
