He was still a child, prioritizing people he had seen, heard of, and was familiar with.
He had never known of Chu Yi or Chu Zhao before, and hearing these names would not have evoked any reaction.
But just recently, these names had been engraved in his heart, accompanied by the shock of life-and-death separation.
He watched her from the darkness under the woodpile, motionless.
Beside him, there was a rustling sound as someone stood up and softly asked: “Miss Chu?”
Chu Zhao was overjoyed, seeing a figure rise from beside the woodpile. She hurried forward, her lamp illuminating an elderly man.
The old man’s hair was somewhat disheveled. He had a pale face without a beard, wearing servant’s clothes that were ill-fitting.
“I am Chu Zhao. I overheard Uncle talking with someone,” Chu Zhao said directly without waiting for the old man to speak or ask questions. “Is the young prince here?”
The old man’s expression changed slightly. He understood the word in the girl’s speech, overheard, others.
Chu Lan was talking with others!
He looked at this girl and, without hesitation, reached out to move aside the nearby firewood.
“The young prince is here,” he said.
Chu Zhao then saw a small figure curled up under the woodpile. In the flickering lamplight, the child’s large eyes stared at her fixedly, unmoving.
For some reason, at this moment, Chu Zhao’s eyes grew moist. She extended her hand.
“Come,” she said softly. “Follow me.”
The old man was about to say something, but saw the motionless child stand up and grasp Chu Zhao’s hand.
Chu Zhao pulled him close to her side, intending to pick him up.
Although she was thirteen years old, she was still essentially a child herself. Trying to pick up a six-year-old child was like a cat trying to carry a mouse—
The old man hurriedly said: “Let me, let me.” He quickly picked up the child.
Chu Zhao didn’t insist, turning to walk out. The old man didn’t ask any questions, simply following her.
The back courtyard was pitch black. Chu Zhao held up the small lamp, dimly lighting the way. Only the sound of their light footsteps could be heard as they quickly arrived at a courtyard gate.
“Miss,” A-Le’s voice came from the side, and the door was opened.
Chu Zhao led the old man and child through. A-Le closed the door, securing it with several bolts and bracing it with a wooden plank.
“Miss,” she finally looked at the old man and child, not asking any questions, but opening a bundle on the ground. “The things are ready.”
Chu Zhao said to the old man, “We need to go out. People are guarding outside, so you need to disguise yourselves.”
…
…
The sounds of crying and fighting in the night streets seemed to have diminished, while the noises inside Chu Garden suddenly became much more chaotic.
Chu Tang, hiding in a crevice of the rockery, was startled.
“What are they doing?” she asked in a low voice.
The maid squeezed beside her, nodded angrily: “Indeed, at a time like this, it’s already dangerous enough that Miss Chu Zhao let them hide in here, and now they’re making such a racket.”
Despite their words, neither mistress nor servant moved to stop the commotion.
“What’s happening?!”
The servants guarding the door were panicking, watching an elderly person and a small child push past Miss Chu Zhao.
In the dim light, an old woman in a floral cotton dress was carrying a little girl. She looked awkwardly bulky but surprisingly strong, shoving aside both Chu Zhao and A-Le.
“We need to go home, my son is still there,” the old woman cried, her voice tearful, indistinct, and strange.
“It’s still very dangerous outside,” Chu Zhao said urgently. “Don’t go out.”
A-Le was angry: “Miss, don’t worry about them. If they want to die, let them die. Making such a commotion here will get us all killed.”
Hearing this, the door-guarding servants became even more anxious. Yes, making noise in the house would bring trouble—
They stepped back, not blocking the old woman carrying the child as she opened the door and ran out.
Chu Zhao stamped her foot: “It’s too dangerous. I’ll go persuade them to come back.”
She ran out after them.
“Miss, don’t worry about them—” A-Le tried to dissuade her mistress, following her out.
The servants stood inside the door, at a loss. They dared not chase after them, but they also dared not stay behind.
“Miss, Miss—” they clung to the door, calling softly, “Come back quickly—don’t mind them—”
The commotion was conspicuous in the night, attracting the attention of watchful eyes hidden around them.
What was happening?
“Someone is running out.”
“Just ordinary people.”
“Many civilians have taken refuge in Chu Garden.”
Low voices conversed, gazes met, and the night remained stagnant.
Chu Zhao had already caught up with the old woman carrying the child: “It’s too dangerous outside. Wait until daybreak to go home.”
“You’re worried about your son, but if something happens to you, think how heartbroken your son would be,” A-Le complained angrily.
The old woman wailed in a drawn-out voice, “Even if I die, I want to die together with my son—”
Suddenly, the girl in her arms began to cry as well.
Chu Zhao reached out to comfort them: “Don’t cry, don’t cry—”
A-Le scolded: “Lower your voices, lower your voices—”
The four of them tugged and pulled at each other as they walked along the alley toward the exit. Soon they would leave the alley and disappear into the night—
The frozen gazes in the darkness suddenly began to shift.
“No.”
“Not a single person, not even a dog, can be allowed to leave.”
…
…
Walk faster.
But also walk slower.
Chu Zhao told herself.
The street entrance ahead was almost within reach.
“Where are we going?” A-Le asked in a low voice.
Chu Zhao looked at the night ahead. In the distance, there were sounds of fighting and continuous crying.
Behind them was a beast with open jaws, but what lay ahead was no different.
“I don’t know,” she said softly.
Staying at home meant death, running out might offer a chance—
They had escaped, yet didn’t know where to go. How desperate and doubtful this made one feel. But the old woman carrying the child didn’t question her once, nor did her steps falter as she followed closely behind the girl.
The child in her arms had stopped crying too.
It seemed that even if she were to lead them into the depths of hell, they would follow her step by step.
In truth, weren’t they already in hell?
“Miss—”
A shout suddenly came from behind.
“Miss, come back quickly, the master has ordered—”
A-Le looked back and saw two dark figures emerging from the direction of the house, giving chase.
The voices sounded like concerned servants, but looking at their movements, these servants were running surprisingly fast.
A-Le clenched her hand. So, this approach wouldn’t work either—
Chu Zhao stopped: “You’ve come at the right time.”
She said, turning to face the approaching figures, standing in the middle of the path, blocking them from the old woman.
“Please help me persuade them—or escort them, it’s too dangerous—”
Seeing Chu Zhao’s movement, the approaching servants lowered their hands, using their clothes to conceal something, and slowed their pace.
“Alright,” they said. If they could bring the people back without creating a disturbance, that would be better.
They weren’t afraid of killing; they just wanted to kill more people without alerting others.
They lowered their heads, pretending to be docile servants, and walked past Chu Zhao.
At the moment they passed, two short blades slid from the girl’s sleeve. Like a wild cat, she leaped up, striking left and right with both knives.
The two servants’ throats were pierced. They twisted violently, pulling out knives from under their clothes, but it was too late. They only had time to turn and look at the girl.
The blood spurting from their necks splashed across the girl’s face and body. In the darkness, her white face and the red blood flashed with an eerie light.
With a clang, the knives fell from their hands, and the two men collapsed to the ground.
…
…
A shadow on the wall at the edge of the street moved slightly in the darkness, letting out a silent whistle.
“Impressive,” his small eyes widened. “Sister A-Zhao is indeed formidable in a fight.”