Chapter Two — A Chance Meeting

The sun was leaning westward, its light filtering through a canopy of towering pines. Shafts of golden warmth spilled across the uneven forest path, dappling the roof of the carriage as it rolled steadily along. The wheels crunched over loose stones and roots, accompanied only by the creak of wood and the rhythmic snorts of the two black horses pulling it.

Inside the carriage, Li Xinyue leaned slightly against the cushioned wall, her gaze distant. She rarely traveled without reason, and this route toward the northern territories had been planned in meticulous detail. The air outside carried a crispness unique to the borderlands — colder, sharper — a silent reminder they were moving further away from the central provinces.

A sudden jolt snapped her out of thought.

The horses reared violently, neighing in alarm. The carriage lurched to a sharp halt, and Xinyue’s hand instinctively gripped the armrest.

“What is going on?” Her voice was calm but carried authority.

From outside, Xiaohua’s startled tone followed. “Mistress, something… someone is in the road!”

Xinyue’s brow furrowed. “Check.”

The sound of her attendant’s hurried footsteps faded as Xiaohua climbed down. A moment later, muffled voices drifted in, along with the rustle of fabric and the faint, fragile sound of shallow breathing.

When Xiaohua returned, her face was pale. “Mistress… it’s a young woman. She’s collapsed right in front of the horses. She—she looks like she hasn’t eaten or drunk for days. Her lips are cracked, her skin is ice-cold.”

Xinyue tapped the wood beside her with a single finger, thinking. This stretch of road was deserted — the nearest town was still about two shichen away by carriage. Abandoning someone in this condition here would be a death sentence.

“Bring her inside,” Xinyue said at last.

The girl was lifted carefully into the carriage, her head lolling limply against Xiaohua’s shoulder. Even under the grime and tangle of her hair, she had delicate features — but her face was drawn and her complexion frighteningly pale.

As the carriage moved again, Xinyue kept her gaze fixed on the stranger. “What do you make of her?” she asked Xiaohua.

Xiaohua adjusted the blanket over the girl. “She’s wearing fine embroidery, but the thread is worn… and the shoes on her feet are too thin for travel. I don’t think she’s from the north. And…” she hesitated, “Mistress, her arms… they have fresh rope marks.”

Xinyue’s eyes narrowed. “So she ran from something.”

Silence settled for a moment, broken only by the steady creak of the wheels. Then Xinyue spoke again, her tone dry. “If she turns out to be trouble, you’ll be the one explaining why she’s here.”

They reached Qinghe Town as dusk deepened. Oil lamps were being lit one by one, casting pools of warm light onto the cobbled streets. Merchants were closing their stalls, the smell of grilled meat and steamed buns mingling with the faint chill of night air.

The inn they chose was modest but clean — red lanterns swayed gently over the doorway, and the sound of laughter drifted from the main hall. Once inside, Xinyue ordered a private room and immediately summoned the local physician.

The doctor, a wiry man with sharp eyes, arrived with a worn medicine chest. After examining the unconscious girl, he shook his head. “Severe exhaustion. Dehydration. She’s lucky to have been found when she was — another night and she might not have woken at all.”

“Will she live?” Xinyue asked.

“With proper care and rest, yes. But she’ll need at least two days before she regains full consciousness.”

So they waited.

For two days, the girl lay still, her breathing light but steady. Xinyue busied herself with travel arrangements while Xiaohua tended to the patient, spooning broth between her lips and wiping away the sweat that sometimes gathered on her brow.

On the morning of the third day, the silence in the room broke.

A sudden gasp. A rustle of bed sheets.

The girl sat upright, eyes wide, her breath coming fast. She looked wildly around, taking in the unfamiliar walls, the carved wooden screen by the window, the faint smell of herbal medicine.

When the door slid open, Xiaohua entered carrying a basin of water. She froze mid-step, her eyes widening.

“You’re awake!” she blurted, startled enough that the basin slipped from her hands. Water splashed across the polished floor. “Mistress—!”

She darted out, calling for Xinyue.

Moments later, Lady Xinyue stepped into the room, her presence filling the space with an unspoken command. She was not smiling, but neither was her expression unkind — simply measured, as though weighing the worth of what she saw before her.

“I see you are awake at last,” Xinyue said, her tone smooth as silk yet carrying the faintest trace of amusement.

The girl stiffened. Her eyes narrowed with guarded suspicion. “Who are you? Where am I? What is this place?”

“This is the Qinghe Inn, in Qinghe Town,” Xinyue replied evenly. She crossed the room, stopping a few paces from the bed. “Three days ago, you appeared in front of my carriage — quite literally — and collapsed. Given that the road was deserted, I had two options: leave you to die, or bring you with me. I imagine you can guess which I chose.”

Her words carried a faint, sarcastic lilt.

The girl’s fingers tightened around the blanket, her wariness deepening. “Why help me?”

Xinyue’s lips curved in a faint, unreadable smile. “Because, as inconvenient as you were, I dislike leaving debts to fate. You were… an unavoidable interruption.”

The girl’s jaw tightened, her suspicion unsoftened. But beneath it, there was something else—weariness so deep it seemed carved into her bones.

And for the first time, Xinyue wondered what kind of road this stranger had walked to end up alone, half-dead, in the middle of nowhere.

Outside, the sounds of Qinghe Town drifted in — a hawker’s call, the clatter of chopsticks, the low hum of evening conversation. Inside, the air between them hung taut, as though both were measuring the other’s worth in silence.

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