Chapter Eighteen: The Charges Are Confirmed

Zhi had not come to the prison at all. By midday, the jailer brought two bowls of prison food. After they finished eating, an unexpected visitor arrived—Xing’s father, the civil official of the Purple Palace.

The civil official was of medium stature, dressed in plain clothes, with a long beard and a face full of anger. He looked at Xing with an expression of deep disappointment. Xing timidly called out to him, only then realizing this was the renowned civil official.

The official stood with his back to her, quietly reprimanding Xing. All Kaimei heard was Xing’s repeated responses. Kaimei found it somewhat amusing; she hadn’t expected the usually imposing Xing to fear his father so much—there was always someone who could keep another in check.

Finally, she heard the official say, “You only need to go there. Everything is arranged. Do you understand?” Xing hurriedly replied. The official sighed, “You are the only son of our family. Even if you cause trouble, I may complain, but I must protect you. Your great-grandmother has been asking after you these days. We’ve kept it from her, fearing her old age can’t bear the news. When you go over there, I’ll find an excuse to delay for a while, and once the sentence is served…”

Kaimei’s sharp ears caught the words “once the sentence is served,” and her heart skipped a beat. She blurted out, “Civil official, civil official, have we already been sentenced?”

He turned to look at her in surprise. “And you are?”

“She’s my friend, Kaimei,” Xing quickly interjected. Seeing the official’s brows knit, Xing hurried on, “She was also framed by Dai Yuheng this time. You needn’t hide anything from her.”

The official gave Xing a stern look, then turned to Kaimei. “So you’re my son’s friend. What do you wish to ask?”

“It’s about the sentencing!” Kaimei pressed anxiously. “We haven’t even been questioned or faced trial. How could we be sentenced already?”

“There’s no need for trial. Everything is clear,” the official replied impassively. “Dai Yuheng is recuperating at his residence. Dai Huang submitted a memorial to the emperor, accusing me of failing to discipline my son, allowing him to commit violence, and laid a heavy charge…”

“What?” Xing was stunned and angry. “Father, does the emperor simply accept Dai Huang’s words and ignore the truth? Couldn’t a royal physician examine the injuries to clarify everything?”

“You think the emperor hasn’t considered that? The physician did go to Dai’s residence,” the official said coldly. “Dai Yuheng suffered injuries deemed life-threatening. That’s the physician’s report.”

Xing jumped up in anger. “Impossible! I never even touched Dai Yuheng. How could he be so gravely injured? This is a false accusation! The physician must have been bribed!”

The official remained calm. “Whether it’s a false accusation or bribery, the verdict is already made. The emperor has sentenced you both to exile at the border. You’ll depart this afternoon.”

Kaimei collapsed, murmuring, “What is this? No trial, no confrontation, just a few words and a cursory examination, and we’re convicted? This is injustice as deep as Dou E’s!”

The official looked at her. “You shouldn’t complain. The emperor has shown me great favor, giving you a light sentence. Dai Huang wanted nothing less than the death penalty. Over half the Purple Palace is influenced by the Dai family. The emperor resisted their demands and insisted on his own judgment. You still have a chance to live. You should be grateful, not complaining.”

Kaimei’s heart sank. She had nothing more to say, and Xing was equally shocked.

“This is a lesson for you both. Do not act recklessly in the future!” With these words, the official swept his sleeves and left.

“So heartless,” Kaimei muttered.

“He’s done more than you know,” Xing sighed, knowing only he understood the risks his father had taken.

“Is exile hard?” Kaimei recalled the official’s words, feeling uneasy.

“It’s much like new recruit training,” Xing smiled. “Just poorer lodgings, bland food, and no wine to drink.”

“No wine?” Kaimei exclaimed, then noticed Xing’s amused gaze and quickly tried to cover up. “I didn’t mean it that way, you know…”

“I know,” Xing laughed. “I’ve never seen anyone, with their life on the line, still worrying about wine. You’re the first.”

Suddenly footsteps echoed; someone descended the stone steps toward Xing’s cell.

“A Kuang?” Xing stared at the newcomer, puzzled.

A Kuang nodded to the person behind him, who swiftly unlocked the cell and whispered, “Hurry up, or the imperial guard will scold us.”

“Don’t worry, it’ll be quick.” A Kuang entered, saying to Xing, “Master sent me to bring you some medicine for your injuries.”

Xing nodded in understanding, letting him help remove his shirt. A Kuang set down the wooden box and took out the medicines, item by item. Kaimei turned away, smelling the strong medicinal scent and hearing their low conversation.

“This time, Master asked me to accompany you to the border,” A Kuang said.

“I’ve caused you trouble,” Xing replied.

“Not at all. My life belongs to Master anyway…”

Their voices became so low even straining ears could not catch them. Kaimei had to give up eavesdropping. From their words, it seemed A Kuang was the official’s trusted retainer, like the loyal warriors in martial tales—those who risked their lives for their master, taking blows and protecting in crises. Yet, looking at A Kuang, she couldn’t see any trace of a killer’s demeanor.

The official had not lied to them. As soon as A Kuang finished, the jailers came in, opened the cell door, and led them out, fastening handcuffs and shackles, the chains jangling as they were pushed forward.

At the prison gate, a circle of guards, male and female, awaited them. Xiao Qiao wore a blank expression, while Chun Hua, eyes brimming with tears, waved at her dramatically from afar. Kaimei wondered at this woman’s loyalty and felt a surge of heroic spirit as she called out loudly, “I’ll be back!”

Before anyone else could react, she burst out laughing, remembering horror films where, after the carnage, the monster always promised: I’ll be back!

Yet now, she was neither demon nor monster, just a prisoner in shackles awaiting exile, and suddenly, her bravado faded.

Chun Hua was startled by her shout, her waving hand frozen in midair.

The smile lingered on her lips, but as Kaimei glanced outside the circle, she caught sight of a figure—the imperial guard. Still in plain clothes, his hair tied back, hands folded in front, his phoenix eyes fixed upon her. His gaze unsettled her, but she quickly resolved not to lose face. She widened her smile into the brightest, most radiant grin she had ever worn.

Zhi was caught off guard by her unexpected gesture, even looking a bit flustered. Kaimei no longer looked at him but turned away, striding ahead.

Ten prisoners, five escorting officers, and A Kuang, who had volunteered, marched under the blazing sun. Kaimei dragged her chains, which burned from the heat. Unable to bear the pain, she pleaded countless times—whether to rest or loosen the shackles—but received only scoldings and a few blows for her trouble. Xing stopped her from any further futile attempts, so she gave up.

“Prisoners deserve humane treatment!” she insisted, but humanity was clearly out of reach here.

At last, as the sun set, they saw an inn by the roadside and the escorting officers stopped for a break. The inn welcomed the officials warmly; the prisoners each received a steamed bun and were sent to the side to rest.

Kaimei eyed the officers’ lavish meal—fish and meat piled high—and drooled with envy. “It’s so unfair. We’re all human, but the difference is so great!” She fiddled with the lump of dough in her hand, unable to swallow it.

Xing teased her, “Not eating? They won’t save you any food for later. If you’re hungry at midnight, you’ll have to drink your own urine.” He reached to snatch the bun from her hand.

Kaimei quickly stuffed the bun into her arms, glaring at him. “Don’t be so disgusting! My appetite is gone in this heat. Can’t I eat later?”

“Keep up your strength. If we get through the journey, everything will be easier. Father has arranged everything for us at the destination; we won't suffer there,” Xing smiled.

Kaimei looked at him. His face, dirty and covered in dust, now seemed more handsome than any pampered noble. Her heart stirred; she wanted to speak but couldn’t find the words. Was this what they meant by adversity revealing true hearts?

“Your wrists and ankles are rubbed raw. Women’s skin is delicate and can’t stand this,” Xing called A Kuang over to apply cooling ointment.

A keen-eyed jailer noticed and deliberately shook his head. “Rich young masters—always need their servants, even in exile.”

“No wonder the palace is full of weak men. These sons of the Purple Palace are worse with every generation.”

“Isn’t that the civil official’s son? Outside, he’s fierce as a lion, but look at him now—like a mangy, hairless dog!”

“Hahaha!” A wave of laughter thundered through the air.

Kaimei tried to retaliate, but Xing gripped her wrist tightly, holding her back. She glared at him, seeing he was hardly better—his face flushed, jaw clenched, bearing it with extreme restraint.

Even A Kuang whispered, “Young master, should I…”

“No one is to act recklessly! Do you hear me? No one!” Xing’s voice was low and tense, reminding her of a dog ready to pounce.

They had to let it go. Xing released her wrist, and she saw five red marks on the back of her hand, smiled bitterly. The proud, headstrong Xing, who once fought Chun Hua, now endured the taunts of a few petty officers—she could not understand.

The prisoners took turns washing their faces in a basin of water. Kaimei watched the black, muddy residue left by those before her, her hair standing on end. Fortunately, Xing received special treatment; A Kuang fetched water, and Kaimei benefitted from his care.

The officers locked them in an empty room. The prisoners sprawled out, each falling asleep the moment their heads touched the floor. The muggy room stank in the summer heat, the foul odor overwhelming. Kaimei pinched her nose, unable to sleep, leaning against the hard wall, tormented by the deafening snoring that far surpassed anything she’d heard in the women’s barracks, making her head throb.

“What’s wrong?” Xing noticed her discomfort and leaned over, whispering.

Kaimei pinched her nose, unable to speak, gestured at the sprawled prisoners and the air, waving at nothing, frowning. Xing watched her gestures, amused, and nodded. “I understand.”

“You understand?” she asked in surprise.

“Come, rest your head on my sturdy leg,” he said, patting his thigh.

She raised her eyebrows, wondering if this would really solve the problem.