CMWKSD -Chapter 2 Escape

Jiu Yue’s head was buzzing. Chaomian’s mother sniffed back her tears, yet still wiped Jiu Yue’s body clean. Hu Chunhua refused to pay to hire a doctor, clearly intending to let Jiu Yue die.

The two of them had brought Jiu Yue back and landed her in this mess, but after living for so long under Hu Chunhua’s grinding oppression, they had long since lost any will to resist.

As Chaomian’s mother wiped Jiu Yue’s body, she kept saying she was sorry.

Jiu Yue rolled her eyes inwardly. If “sorry” worked, what would the police be for?

Besides, no need to apologize. I’ll be saying sayonara to you all tonight anyway. Just don’t know what kind of place this is—ID cards are apparently so easy to get?

Jiu Yue was already starting to doubt whether this place was even still Huaxia.

What if she’d drifted into some godforsaken backwater—no chickens laying eggs, no birds shitting—then it’d be even harder to get back.

While she was thinking this, a tall, burly man came in carrying someone on his back. Chaomian’s mother—Su Ruo—jumped up abruptly. “Third Brother-in-law, what is this…?”

Ji Dajiang’s eyes swept over Jiu Yue on the bed. After clearly seeing her face, a flash of amazement filled his eyes. He flung the man on his back down beside Jiu Yue. “Mother said, since they’re already married, shouldn’t they be living together?”

Su Ruo sobbed softly. Back when the two children were still fine, whenever they faced Hu Chunhua, it was always Ji Chaomian and Ji Yiqing who charged ahead.

Now that both brothers had met with disaster, Su Ruo—always obedient by nature—had long since lost her bearings.

……

Night fell. All was silent.

Jiu Yue opened her eyes.

She’d lain on that rock-hard bed the entire day. Not only was her body stiff, the longer she lay there the more it hurt—this bed board was simply too hard.

She pulled out the silver needles embedded in her acupoints. The girl who had looked like she was breathing in but not out instantly sprang back to life, full of vitality. She only had some superficial wounds.

Jiu Yue flexed her wrists and ankles—taking on thirty or fifty people wouldn’t be a problem.

She flipped over and climbed straight off the bed, pressing down on the man beside her in the process. Jiu Yue felt not the slightest bit guilty.

There wasn’t even a lamp in the room. By the dim natural light that hadn’t completely faded yet, Jiu Yue finally had the leisure to look around.

Calling it a room was generous—even the toilets at her organization’s base were thousands of times more luxurious. Calling it a bed board wasn’t wrong either; it really was just a bare board, completely naked.

At the head of the bed was a broken-down cabinet. Beside the bed were two long benches, and next to them a large wooden board with some brushes and paper on it—looking vaguely like a desk.

Jiu Yue smacked her lips. Who the hell has a desk like that?

The floor was bare dirt. When people walked, dust visibly flew up. Jiu Yue nearly wanted to howl at the sky. What kind of hellhole was this?

It was even more backward than the war-torn places she’d seen on TV.

On top of the cabinet at the head of the bed was a piece of paper. Jiu Yue picked it up and looked—whoa. She could actually read these characters. All traditional Chinese. Don’t ask her why she knew traditional characters.

She didn’t know herself either.

Marriage Contract: to unite two families in good relations…

On the far left, two names were written clearly: Jiu Yue, and Ji Yiqing.

A strange feeling flickered through Jiu Yue’s heart. Then she violently shook her head, convinced that something this absurd couldn’t possibly happen to her.

This is ridiculous.

She casually put the marriage contract back on the cabinet, not caring much.

Then she turned to look at the man sleeping on the bed. The first thing that caught her eye was the wound on the left side of his face—almost cutting through the entire cheek, bloody and terrifying to look at.

But aside from that scar, the man’s features were exceptionally well-proportioned. Sword-like brows, starry eyes, deep-set sockets, a high nose bridge—clearly a man with extremely outstanding looks.

Even lying down, it was obvious he had a narrow waist, broad shoulders, long legs, and a body full of muscle. This figure, this height—if he debuted as a model, he’d definitely become a big hit.

Why would someone like this be stuck in a place that couldn’t even afford cement?

Jiu Yue couldn’t be bothered to waste any more time here. She missed her soft bed, missed her several-hundred-square-meter luxury bedroom…

The sky turned completely dark.

Jiu Yue pushed open the window. Perhaps because there was no electricity here, not a single point of light could be seen.

She flipped over and jumped straight out, landing without a sound, disappearing into the night in the blink of an eye.

Ji Yiqing, lying on the bed, suddenly opened his eyes. He’d known Jiu Yue had woken up the moment she did.

Scenes from before he lost consciousness flashed through his mind, his eyes filled with bleak sorrow.

He was supposed to take the provincial exam next year. To earn some travel money, he and Ji Chaomian had gone up the mountain to hunt and sell game. Who would’ve thought they’d run into a pack of wolves?

Ji Chaomian fell off a cliff trying to protect him, and he himself had his left face slashed open by a rock.

In fact, he’d already woken up during the day, but was so dazed he could barely even open his eyes.

Still, he’d heard that Ji Chaomian’s legs were crippled.

And Hu Chunhua, for her own selfish motives, had actually married a completely unfamiliar girl to him. Not to mention that he hadn’t planned to marry so early to begin with—judging by how the girl looked during the day, barely breathing—

Ji Yiqing could easily guess Hu Chunhua’s intentions.

It was good that the girl had run away. If she ran, he wouldn’t be a widower, and he could use the excuse of searching for his wife to avoid remarrying.

As for wanting him to marry Hu Chunhua’s ugly, lazy, fat niece—she must be dreaming.

Jiu Yue moved lightly along the rural path. There were no streetlights; she could only rely on moonlight to read the traces on the ground. The more she looked, the more uneasy she felt.

She knew this place was backward, but it couldn’t possibly be so backward as to not even have bicycles or motorcycles, right?

Yet looking at the tracks on the ground now—forget bicycles and motorcycles—there were only traces of donkeys, mules, and horse-drawn carts. The most common were all kinds of footprints.

And those footprints weren’t the leather shoes or high heels she was used to. With Jiu Yue’s extensive knowledge, she could tell at a glance—they were thin-soled cloth shoes.

Jiu Yue could no longer stroll leisurely.

Good heavens, what kind of place is this?

In truth, she’d already sensed something was wrong.

Her assassination target this time was an expert specializing in biochemical weapons. The secret base was built in the mountains, and before infiltrating, Jiu Yue had thoroughly scouted the entire surrounding area.

Even if there was a cliff, there should have been normal villages at the bottom—backward perhaps, but not so backward as to lack cement roads and electric lights.

That outrageous truth wasn’t something Jiu Yue hadn’t considered. She just felt it was too absurd, so her brain automatically rejected it—she simply didn’t believe it.

After walking for nearly three hours, to the point where Jiu Yue was about ready to give up, she finally saw towering city walls ahead. Her mouth fell open in disbelief.

And when she reached the base of the walls and saw the notice posted beside the city gate—yes, a notice!

The kind of notice posted beside city gates in ancient times.

All along the way, Jiu Yue had been giving herself psychological hints—maybe this was a filming location. After all, the Ji family looked Chinese, and she could understand what they were saying.

There was no way she’d drifted abroad.

But now, seeing the city walls, thinking back on the villages she’d passed, Jiu Yue couldn’t believe any film crew would go to such lengths—to build a historical drama set so vast that even at her pace, it took three hours to walk across.

Then she looked again at the notice, where it was written clearly:

The 41st Year of Jinyuan.