The next morning, the air felt different, as if it too had been waiting for something to unfold. The forest was quieter than before, the birds stilled in their nests, and even the wind seemed reluctant to move the trees. It was as if the very earth had become aware of their presence, of the choices they had made.
Wenyan stood at the edge of the clearing, staring into the distance. The trail ahead wound through thick undergrowth, where the trees grew close together, their branches intertwined like the threads of fate. Somewhere beyond that wall of green lay the river Qi had mentioned—the one that would lead them out of the Empire's reach, if they could survive its dangers.
Lianfang was already packing their belongings. Baoqin, still wrapped in the warmth of sleep, rested beside a tree.
Wenyan felt the weight of his thoughts settle over him like a stone. The world seemed far too big, far too dangerous for what they were trying to do. And yet, they had no choice but to press forward.
"We need to move quickly today," Lianfang said, her voice cutting through the stillness. "We can't afford to waste time."
"I know," Wenyan replied, turning to face her. His eyes lingered on the pack she was tying. "But we can't rush blindly. We need to understand what we're up against."
She met his gaze. "We've been running from the past for too long. We can't keep looking behind us."
"I'm not looking behind me," he said, his voice low. "I'm trying to understand where we're going."
Lianfang's expression softened. She stepped closer to him, her hands steadying the straps of the pack before lifting it onto her back. "We're running toward something. Toward a place where we can finally breathe again. But we need to keep moving."
Wenyan nodded, his gaze dropping to the child. Baoqin stirred as the sun began to climb higher, the pale light reflecting off the leaves and the soft earth.
When the child woke, she looked up at them with large eyes, as if expecting something. Her gaze flicked to Lianfang first, then to Wenyan.
"Are we going to the river?" Baoqin asked, her voice still soft from sleep.
Wenyan crouched beside her. "Yes, we're going to the river."
"And then?" she pressed.
"And then…" Wenyan hesitated, trying to find a way to explain something he barely understood himself. "And then, we'll find a place where you can be safe. Where we all can be safe."
She nodded, though there was no smile on her face. Instead, her expression was distant, as if she could already sense the weight of what that safety might cost.
They left the grove behind, following the trail Qi had marked for them. The path was increasingly difficult to follow, with branches hanging low and the ground uneven beneath their feet. Every step seemed to take them deeper into unknown territory, and though the forest was quiet, it was not a silence of peace. It was the kind of silence that made you look over your shoulder, that made you question every rustling leaf, every crack of a twig underfoot.
After several hours of walking, they reached the river. Its waters were dark and fast-moving, the current rushing with a power that seemed almost alive. The rocks near the edge were slick with moss, and the air smelled of wet earth and the freshness of flowing water.
"This is it," Wenyan said. "We cross here."
"Can we?" Lianfang asked, looking at the river with doubt. "The current is too strong."
"It's the only way." Wenyan glanced downstream. "We'll have to move quickly. Stay close to the rocks and keep your footing."
Lianfang nodded, though her face was tight with concern.
The crossing was treacherous. The water was colder than they had expected, and the rocks beneath their feet were slippery, making each step feel like a risk. Wenyan led the way, steadying himself with one hand against the jagged rocks as he pulled Baoqin behind him. Lianfang followed closely, her eyes constantly scanning their surroundings.
The current tugged at them, threatening to pull them off balance, but they moved forward, one step at a time. For a moment, everything felt like it was happening in slow motion—the rush of water, the cold seeping into their bones, the effort it took to keep moving against the pull of the river.
When they finally made it to the opposite shore, they collapsed onto the wet ground, gasping for air.
"Is it always like that?" Baoqin asked, her voice small, her eyes wide with fear.
"No," Wenyan said, his voice hoarse. "It's not always like that."
But in truth, he wasn't sure what lay ahead. Every path seemed fraught with danger, every decision weighing heavier than the last. There was no safety, no peace. Only the river, the crossing, and the uncertain road beyond.
As they gathered their strength and dried their clothes by the edge of the river, the reality of their situation settled over them again. They were no longer just running—they were chasing something. A hope, a place where they could start again.
But Wenyan couldn't shake the feeling that the past was not done with them. And that the river, the same river that had carried them to safety, was also a river of memories—memories that would one day rise up and demand their due.
"We'll head toward the mountains after this," he said finally, as the water continued to rush beside them. "The high roads will be harder to track."
Lianfang nodded, though there was a distant look in her eyes. She was already thinking ahead, already bracing for the next challenge.
As they turned their backs to the river, they knew that what awaited them was far from certain. But for the first time in a long while, they were walking together—not as fugitives, not as victims—but as something else.
Survivors.