Over the next few days, in addition to gathering necessary food and fetching water from the stream, the two of them made a special point of collecting quite a bit of wild mugwort, which they spread out to dry on the sunlit rocks near the mouth of the cave, hoping to take it to the medicine shop in town and exchange it for a few copper coins.
“Mugwort has many uses,” Lin Wu explained as she turned the leaves over. “People use it to repel mosquitoes and ward off unclean things. The medicine shops in town might be willing to take it.”
Even though it was light as a feather once dried and a whole bundle barely weighed anything, it might still be easier to trade for a few coins than other wild weeds.
She also casually dried some mint, but mint, like mugwort, became very light after drying—fluffy and bulky, inconvenient to carry.
By comparison, mugwort was more practical and probably worth a bit more. So for now, the mint was only being used as a base for their mouth rinse.
Lin Jing took this money-making endeavor especially seriously.
Every day at the first light of dawn, he would carry the wicker basket of mugwort out and patiently spread the leaves evenly across the rocks.
When the sun climbed higher and the tree shadows shifted, he would move the mugwort again and again to the sunniest spots, carefully turning it with his small hands, afraid that any part might not dry thoroughly.
When he had a moment of leisure, he would sit on a nearby stone, quietly keeping watch, chin propped in his hands, his round eyes fixed intently on the gradually curling leaves, occasionally leaning in to sniff them. Judging by that little demeanor, anyone would have thought he was a seasoned young herb farmer.
As a result, after several days, the wild mugwort still wasn’t fully dried, but little Lin Jing’s once fair face had already been baked tan.
Watching Lin Jing’s darkened, rosy cheeks, Lin Wu actually started to form a plan. Far from trying to keep out of the sun, she deliberately led Lin Jing out to walk under the sun these past few days. Within barely a month, both their faces had turned quite dark. And with the days of constant labor, their hands had grown rough as well—a far cry from their original soft, pale appearance.
Now, aside from their clothes, which were worn and torn but still revealed fine quality upon closer look, the two of them mainly appeared to be people with finer, more delicate features than the average village folk.
The weather stayed clear for days on end, and the mugwort and mint on the rocks gradually shriveled and curled, giving off a dry fragrance baked by the sunshine.
As for that lumpy, ugly thing they had dug up by chance, Lin Wu had tossed it into a corner of the cave and almost forgotten about it.
The day before they were set to leave, Lin Wu took out the jewelry she had brought from the palace to take inventory.
There were three thin gold leaves, two silver hairpins with small beads at the tips, plus five taels of loose silver and sixty-two copper coins—this was all she owned.
Though the collection was small, she couldn’t help feeling grateful that she had merely been an inconspicuous maid tasked with sweeping and cleaning. What she had were only ordinary items typical of palace servants, bearing no distinctive patterns or exquisite craftsmanship that would reveal their palace origins.
“For A Wu.” Seeing this, Lin Jing silently rolled up his own sleeves and held out his two plump little wrists. On one was a jadeite bracelet carved with an intricate chi-dragon pattern. The little chi-dragon, though chubby, was lively in form, its scales, claws, whiskers, and hair all exquisitely detailed.
On the other wrist hung a heavy solid-gold bracelet engraved with elaborate cloud-bat patterns, its edges set with a ring of tiny rubies that gleamed even in dim light.
Lin Wu took one look and felt a wave of worry. The quality of the material and craftsmanship made it clear that the owner was of noble status. Far from being able to pawn it off, even the slightest trace of it could invite disaster. Yet she also dared not throw it away.
“A Jing’s things must be hidden carefully first—they’ll be of great use later.” She pushed aside her anxiety, helped him remove both bracelets, then dug out his pouch, placed the bracelets inside, and buried it back.
Next, she came back to deal with the two silver hairpins.
She picked up the silver pins and used scissors to pry off the tiny pearls attached to them.
She held up the pearls and the pins, examining them closely. The pearls were just ordinary freshwater pearls, and the pins were plain silver without any engraving.
Still, she wasn’t reassured, so she took the scissors again and made repeated scratches across every part of the pins, leaving behind a mess of chaotic marks.
Lin Jing watched from the side, his eyes full of confusion.
Lin Wu scraped forcefully as she explained in a low voice: “These ornaments came from the palace. I’m worried the imperial craftsmen’s techniques have unique traits that sharp-eyed people might recognize. So for now, we can’t even use the gold leaves—too conspicuous.”
Hearing this, Lin Jing suddenly understood, and then thought of what was inside his pouch, his little face turning slightly pale.
“Don’t be afraid. We’ll just hide these things well. The silver pins can still be exchanged for money in town.” Lin Wu continued her work, bending the pins out of shape, making sure they were utterly unrecognizable.
Early the next morning, after a simple breakfast, Lin Wu began carefully sorting their belongings.
The dried mugwort gave off a faint fragrance as she wrapped it neatly in a piece of torn cloth she had picked up by the stream. As she was wrapping it, her gaze fell on the forgotten ugly lump in the corner. She picked it up and weighed it in her hand, noticing it felt lighter than when she had first dug it out, and its skin looked drier and more shriveled—likely due to the dry autumn weather.
She thought to herself, It doesn’t take up much space anyway, and I can ask at the herbal shop what it is. So she wrapped it in a corner of the same cloth and stuffed it into the bundle of mugwort.
Before bed the previous night, they had selected some chestnuts and wild hawthorns that were intact, clean, and plump, wrapping them separately in broad leaves and placing them into a freshly woven wicker basket.
Lin Wu didn’t dare to carry too much. She had few copper coins on her, and the worst-case scenario was that if the town charged a transit levy, these mountain goods might serve as payment in kind—but too much would only draw unwanted attention.
The next step was the most crucial: changing their appearance.
Lin Wu took off her original clothes. Though they were merely palace maid’s garments, the court fabric was tightly woven, evenly dyed, and stitched with meticulous regularity—utterly different from coarse civilian cloth. Wearing these to the county town would be as good as announcing her identity.
She changed into a short jacket and trousers she had picked up from the abandoned hut and the stream bank. Even after being carefully washed, the clothes still looked old, loose, and baggy on her, making her appear entirely like a poor country girl.
She then cut a strip from the pile of rough cloth, gathered her hair into a bun at the back of her head, and wrapped it tightly with the cloth—a common style for married women of the time.
Once everything was ready, she instructed Lin Jing, “A Jing, you must stay hidden in the cave and not come out for anything. I’ll seal the entrance tightly from the outside. Before I return, no matter what sounds you hear, you must not make a sound or step out.” She had already stocked the cave with roasted yams, wild fruit, and a clay pot of fresh water.
“Mm, A Wu, you be careful too.” Lin Jing nodded vigorously, his small hand unconsciously tugging at the hem of her clothes. This was their first time apart since they had fled, and his unease ran deeper than Lin Wu’s.
“I’ll be back before sunset,” Lin Wu said, squeezing his little hand as a promise.
With that, Lin Jing crawled into the cave, and she shifted stones to block the entrance, carefully arranging the brush she had prepared in front of the gaps between the rocks.
Only after checking several times that no flaw was visible from the outside did she sling the tattered bundle onto her back, hoist the wicker basket in one hand, and grip a sturdy wooden stick in the other, making her way step by step down the mountain.
She had already surveyed and planned this route over the past few days, deliberately skirting the village homes and instead circling toward the sparsely visited woodland behind the hill.
Passing through this grove and walking a little farther, she would connect to a narrow path that led to the county town.
The other end of that path ran toward the crematorium grounds, far from any dwellings, and saw few travelers—which would minimize the risk as much as possible.
She walked for half an hour before reaching the foot of the mountain. Fortunately, she had set out early; by the time she made her way through the trees and brush along her planned route and finally stepped onto the path toward the county town, the sun was just beginning to climb higher in the sky.
