At dawn, the sun rose far too quickly.
Bo Xi opened her eyes, already awake before the light fully settled.
She slipped out of the carriage, washed up, and began her routine.
Han Fei was still asleep.
Seeing the faint exhaustion on his face, she chose not to wake him yet.
Only after breakfast was prepared did she return and gently rouse him.
"You need to eat," she said softly.
Han Fei stirred, his brows faintly furrowed.
Lately, he had been sleeping more, but the heat made it difficult to rest properly during the day. His appetite had decreased as well, though thankfully, he hadn't experienced any severe symptoms.
Still… it worried her.
—
Cooking duties had gradually shifted.
Old Man Li proved to be unexpectedly skilled, his movements steady and efficient. Under his hands, even simple ingredients turned into something more palatable.
Because of that, he had been placed in charge of cooking alongside a few others.
But trust was not given easily.
A pair of guards always lingered nearby, subtly watching both him and his granddaughter.
The old man never complained.
If anything, he worked harder.
—
Soon, the caravan set out again.
The road stretched endlessly ahead.
Dust rose under the hooves of the horses, the heat already beginning to build even in the early hours.
After some time, one of the scouts returned.
Her expression was tense.
"Refugees ahead."
The words spread quickly through the group.
The atmosphere shifted instantly.
Hands moved toward weapons. Formations tightened.
Bo Xi's gaze sharpened as she looked forward.
Not long after, they saw them.
Figures scattered across the land, thin, worn, moving without direction.
Not a single group, but many broken ones.
That… was both good and bad.
Good, because scattered people were less dangerous than a large, desperate crowd.
Bad, because desperation made people unpredictable.
The caravan did not stop.
It maintained its pace, steady and controlled, as if nothing had changed.
But everyone knew—
They were about to cross paths.
The soldiers were already tense, hands close to their weapons as the caravan moved forward.
From a distance, the refugees looked like scattered shadows across the land, small groups of five or six clinging together. But as they drew closer, their condition became clear.
Tattered clothes hung loosely from skeletal frames. Dirt and grime covered their skin so thickly that their original appearance was almost unrecognizable. A sour, rotting smell lingered in the air around them.
The moment the refugees spotted the caravan, everything changed.
Hope.
Desperation.
Madness.
Like starving wolves catching sight of prey, some of them rushed forward, stumbling, shouting, arms outstretched. Others, more cautious, stayed where they were, watching with hollow eyes.
"Hold formation!" one of the guards barked.
In an instant, the soldiers tightened around the carriages, forming a protective wall.
The first wave reached them.
There was no negotiation.
No hesitation.
Steel flashed.
A blade cut through the air, followed by a scream.
Blood spilled onto the dry ground.
Bo Xi moved without thinking.
A woman lunged toward the carriage, her expression twisted with desperation. Bo Xi stepped forward and drove her weapon into the attacker's side. The force pushed the woman back, and she collapsed, clutching her bleeding stomach.
For a brief second, their eyes met.
Then the light faded.
Bo Xi pulled her weapon back, her expression unchanged.
Around them, chaos erupted.
Shouts, cries, the clash of movement, then, just as quickly, fear took over.
Seeing blood, seeing resistance, many refugees stumbled backward. Some turned and ran. Others froze, caught between hunger and fear.
But the caravan did not stop.
It did not slow.
It moved forward as if nothing had happened.
Inside the carriage, Han Fei and Han Wei remained still, not daring to look outside. They could hear everything the screams, the begging, but they kept their heads down.
Outside, the refugees changed tactics.
Those who dared no longer rushed forward.
Instead, they followed at a distance.
Begging.
Kneeling.
Crying.
Some held up children with sunken cheeks. Others dragged along the elderly, their voices cracking as they pleaded for mercy.
"Please… just a little food…"
"We will do anything…"
"Take me instead… just feed my child…"
The words echoed behind the caravan.
Some voices turned bitter when ignored.
Curses followed.
But no one in the caravan responded.
The guards kept their eyes forward.
The wheels kept turning.
Bo Xi rode at the front, her expression cold, steady.
This was only the beginning.
—
The road stretched on.
More scattered refugees appeared as they continued, some too weak to even stand, some watching silently as the caravan passed, their eyes empty.
The group stopped only when necessary, resting briefly, eating quickly, then moving again.
No one spoke much anymore.
Everyone understood.
This journey would not just test their strength,
It would test how much of their humanity they could afford to keep.
By the time the sun began to dip, the caravan slowed and eventually came to a halt.
The guards quickly chose a resting spot—open enough to see approaching danger, yet close enough to a sparse cluster of trees to provide some shade. Fires were lit again, and the usual routine began.
But this time, they were not alone.
In the distance, three small groups of refugees had also settled for the night. Each group kept its distance, wary yet watchful, like animals sharing the same water source but unwilling to come too close.
Bo Xi's gaze swept across them calmly.
Most looked the same, thin, exhausted, hollow-eyed.
But one group caught her attention.
Four strong-looking women, their builds still carrying some strength despite the hardship. With them were husbands, children, and an elderly couple. Even in their ragged state, there was something different about them.
The old couple, in particular, had sharp eyes—too sharp for ordinary refugees.
They were not simple people.
As Bo Xi observed them, a woman from that group stepped forward. Her clothes were no better than the others, but her posture was straight, her gaze steady.
She approached the caravan until a soldier stepped in front of her, blocking her path.
"Greeting, esteemed Madam," the woman said directly, her tone respectful but not submissive. "I wonder… is the city still letting people in?"
Her bluntness was almost jarring.
But it wasn't foolish.
Bo Xi answered without hesitation.
"They aren't."
The woman's face darkened slightly.
Another woman from her group came to stand beside her, clearly a relative. The two exchanged a brief glance, one that carried far more meaning than words.
"Then… where do you think it will be safe?" the first woman asked again, carefully this time.
She had sensed something.
Not kindness, no, Bo Xi wasn't radiating that.
But clarity.
A person worth asking.
Bo Xi's lips curved faintly.
She did appreciate straightforward people.
But appreciation didn't mean trust.
"I don't know," she replied simply.
The answer was neither helpful nor dismissive.
Just… closed.
—
Inside the carriage, Han Fei had heard parts of the conversation.
Curiosity stirred in him.
With the help of a guard, he stepped down carefully.
Bo Xi noticed immediately.
Her attention shifted at once as she moved toward him, steadying him as he sat down nearby.
The two refugee women watched this interaction closely.
Their eyes lingered on Han Fei.
At first glance, they had assumed he might be someone of importance, perhaps a sheltered noble husband, given how carefully he was treated.
But looking closer…
His clothes, though clean, were not extravagant.
His demeanor—gentle, unguarded.
Not noble.
A commoner.
That realization passed silently between them.
"What's the matter?" Han Fei asked softly, his voice low as he looked at Bo Xi.
"Nothing," Bo Xi replied, her tone noticeably gentler than before. "They were just asking for directions."
Then, her gaze flicked over him, sharp with concern.
"Are you feeling hot?"
Han Fei nodded faintly, though he tried to downplay it. "A little."
Without another word, Bo Xi reached out and adjusted his sleeve, then signaled for someone to bring water.
Her focus had already shifted away from the refugees.
To him,
Nothing mattered more than him.
—
The two women watched this quietly.
One of them exhaled slowly.
"She's not someone we can approach carelessly," the second woman murmured under her breath.
The first nodded.
They had seen enough.
Without another word, they turned and walked back to their group.
Behind them, the night deepened.
And the fragile distance between the living… remained.