Escape Failure

Wei Lan quietly lifted the carriage curtain and saw the man with the bronze mask driving the carriage with one hand, his soft sword swaying against the side of the cart. Outside the window, patches of pine forests passed by, indicating that the carriage had been out of the city for some time.

Honghua suddenly tugged at her sleeve, her tone anxious: “Don’t jump out of the carriage! You’ll turn into a pancake if you fall!”

“Who said I’m going to jump out?” Wei Lan shrank back and lowered her voice, “He’s alone, and we are two against one. This way… that way… he’ll…” She leaned toward Honghua’s ear and whispered a few words, her eyes full of cunning.

Honghua’s eyes widened in shock as she asked, “Will this really work?”

Wei Lan blinked: “We have to try.”

It was getting late, and the carriage stopped in front of an inn by the roadside. The masked man lifted the curtain: “We’ll rest here for the night.”

Wei Lan jumped down with a wooden box in her arms. The bumps from the ride made her bones ache. Huan Ying reached out to take the box, but Wei Lan instinctively stepped back. Honghua pinched her arm, and Wei Lan finally realized, reluctantly handing the box over.

“Such a precious box?” Huan Ying weighed the wooden box in his hand.

Wei Lan didn’t respond, walking briskly into the inn behind Honghua. There was a constant feeling of being watched, and when she turned her head, she saw Huan Ying following closely behind, seemingly afraid that she might escape. Wei Lan cleared her throat: “Uh… may I ask your name, hero?”

“Huan Ying,” the man tightened his grip on his sword.

“Huan Ying, nice to meet you. I’m Wei Lan.” She introduced herself in as casual a tone as she could manage. When she saw that Huan Ying remained silent and simply stared at her, his eyes seemed to carry a hint of pain and loss. Wei Lan didn’t probe further and followed Honghua into the guest room.

A quarter of an hour later, the innkeeper brought in four dishes and a soup: stir-fried pickled pork with green peppers, steamed carp, fern and egg stir-fry, and oil-braised spring bamboo shoots, along with a bowl of steaming pickled vegetable soup. Honghua stopped the innkeeper: “Bring a pot of wine.”

The innkeeper quickly returned with the wine. Wei Lan took a sip, finding it too weak, so she took out a small bottle of alcohol and mixed it in until the taste was closer to that of strong liquor. She took another sip, the strong flavor made her gasp, and she added a packet of anesthetic powder into the wine. The liquid began to bubble lightly.

She hummed to herself: “You tried to drug me, so I’ll use their methods against them.”

Honghua still seemed worried, hesitating before speaking: “Should I go and call him? Do you think he’ll come?”

Wei Lan analyzed: “From the way he looks at me, he seems very familiar with me, probably an old acquaintance. He’ll likely give me some face.” She shook the wine jug, frowning: “Besides, he’s heading north, and Ming Yi and the others are south. We’re still not far from Changsha, if we don’t act now, when will we?”

Honghua gritted her teeth, a look of determination flashing in her eyes: “Alright! I’ll go now!” She took a deep breath and turned to walk out the door, ready to carry out the plan.

After Honghua left, Wei Lan stared at the wine jug on the table, sweat forming in her palms. Huan Ying looked like he could break someone’s neck with one hand—could she really drug him?

She grabbed her own cup of wine and drank two large sips to bolster her courage. The burning sensation went down her throat, and she felt the alcohol’s effects immediately; after just two sips, her face flushed.

The wooden door creaked open. Huan Ying was standing in the doorway, leaning against the frame with his arms crossed. He looked at Wei Lan’s reddened cheeks, his Adam’s apple moving: “Just a sip of alcohol, and your face turns red. You haven’t changed.”

Wei Lan immediately jumped to her feet, the wooden stool scraping against the floor with a loud noise: “Sit, sit down!” She pushed the drugged wine over to him, “I have so many questions to ask you. Shall we drink and talk?” Her voice trembled, but she tried to remain composed.

Huan Ying sat down but didn’t touch his cup: “What do you want to ask?”

“I really have amnesia!” Wei Lan leaned forward on the table, “You suddenly kidnap people, do you know that violates the ‘Great Ming Code’? It’s called abduction, and you could be sentenced!” Her voice grew weaker and less convincing.

Huan Ying suddenly chuckled, rubbing the hilt of his sword: “Go on.”

Wei Lan, frustrated by his laughter, leaned forward: “So… can you let me go? Pretend you never met me? Is that okay?”

“Huang Yunrong.” The three words pierced her movements like ice picks. The man took out a yellowed portrait from his chest and unfolded it, “The only daughter of Princess Le’an, the jewel of Prince Gong Yonggu. Disappeared after falling off a cliff in October of the twelfth year of Chongzhen.” With each word he spoke, he closed the distance by an inch. “Pretended to be Liu’s adopted daughter, studied medicine, did corpse dissections, published books, and caused such a ruckus. If your identity is exposed…”

Looking at the portrait of a woman who looked exactly like her, Wei Lan’s heart raced. She had long gotten used to her current identity, but suddenly being told she was a princess felt like a heavy stone weighing on her chest.

Huang Yunrong… She was really Huang Yunrong. The jade pendant with the engraving “Yorong” on it, and the ghost who said her soul had swapped with Huang Yunrong’s. She really was Huang Yunrong, the princess of the Great Ming.

“Who are you really?” She gripped the edge of the table, her voice trembling.

The candlelight cast dancing shadows on the mask: “Your dark guard leader, the one who’s been by your side since childhood.” Huan Ying’s voice suddenly softened, tinged with tenderness but also with a hint of helplessness: “You said you would take me out of the princess’s residence, Yunrong.”

This feeling of being led by the nose was incredibly uncomfortable. All the past explanations were based on his words. What if it was all a lie? But since they had grown up together, at least he wouldn’t harm her.

Wei Lan forced herself to take a deep breath, calm down, and picked up her cup, forcing a smile: “Huan Ying, I think I remember something. I used to feel so lonely, but now I know I have you, and I’m happy.” She tilted her head back and drank a large gulp, the wine running down her chin and soaking into her collar.

“Cough! Cough, cough!” The strong wine made her cough. Suddenly, a warm hand patted her back, and Huan Ying’s voice was filled with amusement: “What’s the rush?”

When Wei Lan looked up, she saw Huan Ying drinking the drugged wine in one gulp. He flipped the empty cup, shook it, and suddenly collapsed on the table with a loud thud.

Wei Lan shook his arm: “Huan Ying, Huan Ying, is your tolerance this bad?” When she got no response, she breathed a sigh of relief and whispered, “It worked!”

She jumped up and pulled out a rope, expertly tying a surgical knot to bind his hands to the back of the chair, then tied his legs to the bed curtain. She wiped her sweat, realizing she had to secure him tightly because his skills were too dangerous.

Just as she was about to lift his mask, her fingers froze. The bronze mask was tightly fitted, even covering his ears. She muttered to herself: “You don’t take off your mask even when drinking? It must be ugly underneath.”

“Xiao Lan!” Honghua’s urgent knocking sounded like a death sentence. Wei Lan gritted her teeth and gave up on investigating, sneaking out with Honghua into the inn’s backyard. As they arrived, seven or eight men in black suddenly jumped down from the roof and surrounded them like an iron barrel.

“Is this never-ending!” Wei Lan stomped her foot in frustration.

Warm breath suddenly hit the back of her ear: “Princess, this knot is tied very well.” Huan Ying was suddenly standing behind her, his voice low and teasing, “I spent some effort getting out of it.”

Wei Lan glared at him: “That cup of wine was finished!”

“Even if I drank until I couldn’t move,” Huan Ying suddenly appeared in front of her, his fingers lightly brushing her earlobe, “I could still handle you.” He purposely dragged out his words, “So vile!” Wei Lan’s face flushed red, and she stepped back. This bastard was clearly teasing her.

Huan Ying suddenly stopped smiling and raised his hand, signaling for the black-clad men to stand down, his tone turning serious: “Yunrong, stop messing around. You can’t escape.”

Late at night, Wei Lan and Honghua huddled together on the inn’s hard wooden bed. Honghua turned over and, by the moonlight, saw Wei Lan’s wide-open eyes. Unable to hold back, she asked: “Wouldn’t it be nice to return to being a princess?”

Wei Lan pulled the blanket up to her chin: “It’s just too sudden. He says I’m Huang Yunrong, but I can’t even remember what my parents look like.”

Honghua took her hand, speaking softly: “No matter what happens, I’m here.”

Wei Lan turned her face into Honghua’s embrace: “Flower, I don’t know if Ming Yi has realized we’re missing.” Her fingers twisted the blanket, “If he thinks we’ve been captured by bandits…” Her voice trembled slightly, muffled in the fabric.

“You don’t mean… you like Ming Yi, do you?” Honghua lightly patted her back. “I always thought you two were just like siblings, but now, looking back, his gaze at you was clearly different.”

Wei Lan stiffened, gripping the blanket tightly, her voice barely a whisper: “I… I don’t know…” Her heart was in turmoil, feeling a heavy weight on her chest.

“Who you like, you’ll always think about,” Honghua’s fingers combed through her loose hair. “Earlier, you said you wanted to go to Liangguang, but in the end, wasn’t it because of him that you stayed?”

Wei Lan suddenly fell silent. She remembered that winter night three months ago, when she didn’t dare sleep and stayed up all night with Liu Mingyi under the same blanket until dawn. At the time, her chest felt hot, but now she understood: that was the feeling of her heart racing.

Wei Lan suddenly threw off the blanket and sat up. Moonlight spilled through the window paper onto her reddened eyes. She whispered: “That day, after we argued, I didn’t speak to him for several days, not even a proper goodbye.”

Her throat suddenly tightened: “I need to write a letter to Ming Yi!”

The two women quickly dressed and got up. While Honghua prepared the ink, Wei Lan grabbed the brush and hastily wrote the missive, the clumsy words “Ming Yi, please read” glaring at her.

Tears suddenly splashed onto the words “Ming Yi, please read.” She frantically tried to wipe them away with her sleeve, only to smear them further.

Honghua sighed, taking the letter from her: “We’ll send it by courier tomorrow, urgently.” Seeing Wei Lan’s swollen eyes, she said, “Admit it, you like him.”

Wei Lan froze. She thought about how only Liu Mingyi had listened to her talk about the modern world, stayed with her in the lab through the long nights, and understood her “unconventional” medical theories. This camaraderie, fighting side by side, had transformed into something more, something she hadn’t realized.

When the envelope was sealed, Wei Lan finally admitted it to herself: she liked him.