The night was dark and heavy. Jiang Huai woke up with a start, feeling a chilly breeze brushing against his body. Only then did he notice the unusual commotion outside the shed.

The dim glow of lanterns carried by the constables cast flickering shadows. Someone holding a lantern approached the shed, their blade already drawn. The other prisoners sensed something big might happen and dared not move a muscle, terrified of drawing the constables’ attention.

Jiang Huai curled up tightly against the wall, his eyes nervously fixed on the activity outside.

When he first entered the shed, it felt like a cage that robbed him of his freedom. But now, it was the only place that offered a shred of safety.

The group of newcomers circled the shed, seemingly counting the prisoners. A few who were lying down hurriedly sat up, fearing they might be missed.

As the constables completed their rounds, Jiang Huai grew increasingly anxious. Could someone have escaped while he was sleeping?

Using the corner of his eye, Jiang Huai tried to scan the shed for anything amiss. But the light was too dim, and he hadn’t counted the prisoners during the journey. A glance revealed nothing useful.

Fortunately, after some time, a constable came to report. The lantern-wielding constable, Zhang Tou, cursed, and Jiang Huai recognized his voice.

Zhang Tou’s face was stormy. Earlier, a constable had let out a bloodcurdling scream, leading Zhang Tou to suspect an attack or a jailbreak. The constables were on high alert. Who would have thought the noise was caused by a fool who broke his leg while relieving himself in the middle of the night?

Now they were stuck. They couldn’t leave the injured constable behind, nor could they wait for his leg to heal. The only option was to replace him with someone local, which meant a delay of several days.

Zhang Tou spat on the ground, checked the number of prisoners in the shed one last time, and sternly instructed the guards to stay vigilant before leaving.

Once Zhang Tou was gone, the other prisoners gradually relaxed.

After all this, Jiang Huai’s drowsiness had vanished. But looking at the night sky, he realized dawn was still far off. If he didn’t force himself to rest, he’d be exhausted during the day when there was no opportunity to sleep. He closed his eyes, telling himself that even resting with his eyes shut was better than nothing.

He didn’t know how long he endured before sleep finally crept back in. Half-asleep, Jiang Huai noticed the faint light of dawn before his consciousness faded completely.

When Jiang Huai woke up, he felt surprisingly refreshed. For a moment, he was dazed, unsure of where he was. It wasn’t until he saw the prisoners sprawled around him and the wooden planks above that he remembered his situation.

Jiang Huai sighed. If only this were a dream, and he could wake up back in the modern world. He missed his school dorm, the cafeteria, and his roommates and teachers.

After sulking for a while, Jiang Huai reluctantly pulled himself together and noticed that the sun was already high in the sky.

Based on the routine of the past few days, they should have been on the road by now. Yet here they were, still lying in the shed, with no constables urging them to move.

A sudden thought struck Jiang Huai, and he anxiously glanced at the other prisoners. Seeing their hands empty, he breathed a sigh of relief. Dry biscuits might be unpleasant, but they were still food. If he had slept through breakfast, he’d go hungry for the entire day.

“Come get your rations!” A constable entered and shouted. The shout startled awake several prisoners who had still been sleeping.

Jiang Huai saw the constable bringing dry biscuits and quickly got in line. The constable gave him a look and handed him one.

The other prisoners swarmed forward, and the constable, running out of patience, began tossing biscuits into the crowd. The quick ones caught them mid-air; the slower ones scrambled to pick them up from the ground.

As the others began eating, Jiang Huai hesitated. The biscuit was so dry that without water, it was hard to swallow. After two bites, he found himself torn. Should he eat it now or save it for later? After all, he wasn’t very hungry since he had eaten the night before.

As he hesitated, Jiang Huai noticed a prisoner approaching him. Instinctively, he stood up and watched the man warily.

The man stared at Jiang Huai silently for a moment before suddenly lunging for the biscuit in Jiang Huai’s hand.

Jiang Huai’s nerves were taut. He couldn’t back down or let the biscuit be taken. Without it, he’d go hungry for the day, grow weaker, and risk not surviving the journey.

The man’s movements were sluggish and weak, likely from hunger. Even so, fighting would expend precious energy and could draw the constables’ attention, resulting in a whipping.

Jiang Huai’s mind raced. His eyes fell on the man’s legs. Letting go of the biscuit, he gripped the railing behind him and aimed a powerful kick at the man’s shin.

The man, thinking Jiang Huai had given up, bent to grab the fallen biscuit. But before he could react, pain shot up his leg, and he toppled to the ground, clutching his shin and howling.

Jiang Huai quickly picked up the biscuit and stepped back a few paces, holding onto the railing and remaining vigilant.

Some prisoners seemed tempted but hesitated after witnessing Jiang Huai’s counterattack. Seeing the man writhing in pain, they decided it wasn’t worth the risk for a biscuit.

A constable glanced over at the commotion. Noticing it wasn’t escalating, he chose to ignore it.

After a while, the man staggered to his feet, glaring at Jiang Huai with resentment. But the kick had been so forceful that, no matter his intentions, he couldn’t act on them. Limping, he retreated to his spot.

Only after the man gave up did Jiang Huai relax. If the man had continued, Jiang Huai wasn’t sure his tactic would work a second time. He had no real fighting experience.

Still, the encounter taught him not to save food for later. Now everyone had a biscuit, but once they finished, others might attempt to steal his. With that in mind, Jiang Huai forced himself to finish the dry biscuit, despite the difficulty.

As the sun climbed higher and the heat grew more oppressive, there was still no call to set out.

Jiang Huai felt a mix of curiosity and relief. His legs and feet still ached from the previous day’s march. If they could rest longer, all the better. The shed was stifling, but being on the road would mean enduring both heat and exhaustion.

However, resting too long meant they’d have to camp in the wild again.

Jiang Huai was pondering this when Wang Er arrived, looking tired. The events of the previous night had clearly disrupted his sleep too.

This time, Wang Er came with water and snacks. Few prisoners wanted to buy the food, having just eaten biscuits, but water was in demand. Those who had skipped buying water the day before now had no choice but to purchase some.

“Lower the price? Hah! You’re not traveling today. My water is the only option. Take it or leave it,” Wang Er said, his tone sharp.

The prisoners reluctantly paid full price. But Wang Er’s words caught their attention. They weren’t leaving today? Excitement spread through the shed. Everyone loved an unexpected break, no matter the reason.

After selling his goods, Wang Er approached Jiang Huai.

“Kid, I’ll cover your water and food today if you teach me again,” he said.

Earlier that morning, a group of travelers had stopped by the inn. Using the method Jiang Huai taught him, Wang Er calculated their purchases with ease. He was eager to learn more while he had the chance.

Despite the envious stares from the other prisoners, Jiang Huai felt grateful for yesterday’s boldness. Without it, he wouldn’t have access to water or food, let alone the energy to fend off the earlier attack.

Driven by necessity, Jiang Huai taught Wang Er with extra effort. Wang Er, recognizing the value, paid close attention.

Even the constables guarding the shed listened in, intrigued. They didn’t have much education, but they knew the importance of accounting skills. And since Wang Er was footing the bill, they could learn for free.

Just as Jiang Huai’s voice turned hoarse, Zhang Tou returned with the newly recruited constable.

Zhang Tou’s face darkened upon finding the guards distracted. “You idiots!” he yelled, delivering two swift kicks to the inattentive constables. He had just lectured the new recruit, Wei Xi, about vigilance, and these fools had promptly embarrassed him.

“Wang Er, what are you doing here? This isn’t a place for you!” Zhang Tou snapped.

Used to scolding, Wang Er simply laughed it off and quickly left, satisfied with what he’d learned.

Turning to Jiang Huai, Zhang Tou frowned. His hand reached for his whip but found it missing—it was still in his quarters.

“Behave, all of you! Or you’ll taste the whip!” Though he addressed the group, his glare was fixed on Jiang Huai.

Next to him, Wei Xi, the new constable—no, deposed Crown Prince Xiao Jingzhao—stared intently at Jiang Huai. His pupils contracted upon hearing Jiang Huai’s name.

This wasn’t just a resemblance. Jiang Huai was the youngest grandson of Grand Tutor Jiang, once set to become Xiao Jingzhao’s personal companion. But due to his frail health, Jiang Huai had been excused from the role.

Did Jiang Huai recognize him? Xiao Jingzhao’s gaze was seemingly indifferent, but he observed Jiang Huai carefully. If Jiang Huai had indeed recognized him, no matter their past connection, Xiao Jingzhao couldn’t allow him to stay alive.