Transmigrated into the Villain's Cannon Fodder Ex-Wife (Transmigrated into a Book) - Chapter 22

“Sister-in-law, I promised Brother Yan I’d ensure your safe arrival in Yao City!” Shi Liu’s tone was resolute, unmoved by Lin Chu’s request.

Lin Chu understood his hesitation and softened her approach. 

“It’s still early. If you take the road to the left, it’ll lead to South Alley. It won’t take much extra time, I promise!”

From South Alley to the North City Gate was only a slight detour, barely adding any time to their journey.

Shi Liu, having grown up in Qiang City, knew the roads like the back of his hand. Seeing the urgency in Lin Chu’s eyes, he relented and guided the carriage toward South Alley.

Lin Chu had been thinking earlier that if she had to leave, she couldn’t do so without saying goodbye to Aunt Song. Jiang Wanxue’s antics were the least of her concerns, but if she could, she wanted to help Aunt Song’s family escape.

As soon as they arrived at Aunt Song’s house, Lin Chu jumped down from the carriage, her heart racing. She pushed open the courtyard gate and called out, 

“Aunt Song!”

Aunt Song’s warm voice floated from the kitchen. 

“You child, where have you been? You disappeared without a word earlier. I was starting to wonder—”

“Auntie, come with me!” Lin Chu interrupted, rushing in and grabbing her hand. Her urgency startled Aunt Song, who turned to glance at the carriage waiting outside the gate.

“What’s wrong?” Aunt Song asked, her smile fading slightly.

“Qiang City is about to go to war. Auntie, come with me to take refuge!” Lin Chu’s voice was earnest, her tone filled with urgency and care. To her, Aunt Song felt like family in this foreign world, and she couldn’t bear to leave her behind.

Aunt Song smiled gently, patting Lin Chu’s hand. 

“Child, Qiang City is always at war. You’re new here—you’ll get used to it.”

Lin Chu shook her head firmly. 

“It’s different this time. Please, Auntie, trust me!”

Aunt Song studied Lin Chu’s expression for a long moment, her eyes searching for answers. Yet she still shook her head. 

“Old Song is up on the city wall. Even if something happens, I can’t leave. I have to stay here and wait for him to return.”

“Then we’ll go to the city wall and bring Uncle Song with us!” Lin Chu blurted, desperation tinging her voice. She knew how naive her suggestion sounded, but she couldn’t bear the thought of Aunt Song and her husband perishing in Qiang City.

Aunt Song chuckled softly, her face softening with a kind of resolute warmth. 

“Old Song has never been one to run from duty. Whether the city holds or falls, he’ll stay at his post. And if he guards the city, I’ll guard with him…”

Her words hit Lin Chu like a wave, heavy with the weight of love and unwavering devotion.

“Auntie…” Lin Chu’s voice trembled, her throat tight with emotion.

Aunt Song smiled faintly and reached out to pat her cheek. 

“Don’t overthink it, child. Brother Yan probably arranged this because he didn’t want you to worry. Go in peace—and live a good life with him. Next year, I want to hold a fat little grandbaby from you two!”

If they stayed, there wouldn’t even be a next year.

“Auntie!” Lin Chu’s heart felt like it was breaking. Tears welled in her eyes and streamed down her cheeks.

Startled, Aunt Song quickly wiped at Lin Chu’s tears with her rough, work-worn hands. 

“Why are you crying, silly child?”

“Sister-in-law, we have to go!” Shi Liu called urgently from outside the courtyard, his voice cutting through the moment.

Aunt Song stepped back into the kitchen, returning with a bundle of warm, meat-filled flatbreads wrapped in a clean cloth. She pressed them into Lin Chu’s hands. 

“I was going to keep you for lunch, but since you’re in such a hurry, take these for the road.”

Lin Chu clutched the flatbreads tightly, her heart heavy with grief as she walked out of the courtyard. Every few steps, she glanced back over her shoulder.

Little Gray, the dog, followed her closely, circling the carriage and whimpering. Its dark eyes shimmered with unshed tears, as if sensing the impending tragedy.

Unable to bear it, Lin Chu scooped the little dog into the carriage. Turning back, she saw Aunt Song standing at the gate, watching them leave.

Aunt Song still wore a kind, warm smile, but her weathered eyes reflected quiet acceptance—an understanding of life’s impermanence. She stood there, steadfast and unshaken, like a rooted tree in the face of an impending storm.

“Mrs. Yan, take care!” Aunt Song called out firmly, her voice steady and resolute as the carriage began to move.

“Auntie!” Lin Chu’s voice cracked with sorrow. She knew this parting was final, but there was nothing she could do. Tears streamed down her face as the carriage rolled forward, carrying her farther and farther away from South Alley and the woman who had shown her such kindness.

The carriage sped forward, and soon the low walls and tiled roofs of South Alley faded into the distance.

When they reached the North City Gate, the carriage came to a sudden stop.

Lin Chu, puzzled, pulled back the curtain, only to see Yan Mingge’s cold, striking face. His sharp gaze rested on her for a moment before he asked in his usual calm tone, 

“Why are you crying?”

“What are you doing here?” Lin Chu’s voice, hoarse from crying, carried a hint of grievance, like that of a wronged young wife.

“Just came to check on you,” he replied, seated tall on his horse. His tone was flat, devoid of any warmth, making his words sound nothing like a romantic gesture.

Lin Chu struggled for a response, but before she could speak, Yan Mingge’s eyes swept over the area. His brows furrowed. 

“Where’s Mrs. Han’s carriage?”

Shi Liu, already on edge, stammered nervously, “Mrs. Han’s carriage went to the General’s residence. No matter how much I called out, I couldn’t stop her.”

It wasn’t difficult to guess what had happened. The driver of Jiang Wanxue’s carriage was a simple coachman—if she had given him some silver to change routes, it would have been effortless.

Yan Mingge’s frown deepened.

Shi Liu asked cautiously, “Should we go back to look for Mrs. Han?”

“She chose her path,” Yan Mingge replied coldly. “You head out of the city first.”

He turned his attention back to Lin Chu, his gaze softening slightly as he handed her a bulging money pouch through the carriage window. 

“This should cover your expenses in Yao City for the next few days.”

Before Lin Chu could respond, he turned his horse, giving Shi Liu a signal to move. The carriage began to roll forward again, leaving Lin Chu no chance to speak.

As they neared the city gate, Lin Chu couldn’t resist sticking her head out of the window. She turned back and called out loudly, 

“Yan Mingge! Yan Heng!”

Her voice drew chuckles from the soldiers guarding the gate. They exchanged amused glances, whispering among themselves. Though they knew Yan Mingge’s stoic nature, they couldn’t help teasing him.

Yan Mingge, hearing their jokes and watching the carriage disappear down the road, allowed a rare flicker of tenderness to cross his otherwise impassive face.

Meanwhile, Jiang Wanxue had no trouble gaining entry to the General’s residence. She had stayed there before with Han Zichen and was warmly received by Feng Yan’s concubine, Madam Zhao.

Madam Zhao, with her oval face and coquettish almond eyes, was undeniably pretty, but her seductive charm undermined any pretense of innocence.

“Half a month ago, my husband told me that Young Master Han had met with misfortune,” Madam Zhao said, dressed in a bright rose silk blouse adorned with peony patterns and weighed down with heavy jewelry. Her tone was warm, but the falseness in it was palpable. 

“I cried for you then and urged him to search for you. Now, seeing you safe and sound, my heart is at ease.”

Jiang Wanxue could see through the act. Women are natural actresses, she thought. It’s just a matter of who performs better. With tears at the ready, she dabbed her eyes with a handkerchief and replied, 

“Thank you for your concern. My survival is no doubt due to my late husband’s protection from the heavens.”

After exchanging a few more insincere pleasantries, Jiang Wanxue casually asked, 

“The residence seems lively today. Is there a special occasion?”

Madam Zhao, cracking open a sunflower seed between her teeth, replied nonchalantly, 

“My husband mentioned an esteemed guest. As a woman, I wouldn’t know much about it.”

The casual gesture irked Jiang Wanxue, who thought disdainfully, So vulgar. No sense of decorum. However, she maintained a gentle and dignified expression as they continued their small talk.

She knew that when influential families entertained distinguished guests, they always prepared guest rooms, even if the guest didn’t plan to stay overnight. After what felt like an eternity of trivial conversation, she finally managed to glean a useful piece of information: the room prepared for the Sixth Prince was in the eastern side courtyard.

Jiang Wanxue’s eyes gleamed. She knew the Sixth Prince would be attending a banquet at the General’s residence later that evening. With fine wine and beautiful women abounding, it wouldn’t take long for the prince to become more than tipsy. Once the prearranged beauty was sent to his room, the matter would be sealed.

This was her final opportunity.

As long as the “raw rice became cooked rice,” everything would fall into place.

Her status as a widow could be concealed. The only real problem was her son.

After chatting with Madam Zhao a while longer, Jiang Wanxue returned to her guest room. On the way, she passed through the courtyard and saw Han Junye standing beneath a plum tree, staring intently at the snow-covered blossoms.

She glanced at the tree as well. It was nothing extraordinary—just winter plums—but he seemed entranced.

At the inn, he had often gone out to look at plum blossoms, refusing to say a word to her. The thought irritated Jiang Wanxue.

Once, she had placed all her hopes on him, dreaming he would achieve great things and elevate her status as his mother. But now… Han Junye had become an obstacle on her path to wealth and power.

If only Han Junye were gone.

She suppressed a shiver at the thought. After all, she was still young. She could have more children—children with the Sixth Prince, no less.

The more she considered it, the faster her heart raced.

Beside the plum tree, a large pond glimmered. The wind and snow had left its waters unfrozen.

Jiang Wanxue’s hands and feet stiffened as she approached Han Junye.

The crunch of snow underfoot made him turn. He silently watched his mother, his clear black eyes reflecting her pale face like a ghost’s.

Her hand froze midair but then awkwardly landed on his shoulder. She brushed off the snow, forcing her voice to sound gentle. 

“What are you looking at?”

Han Junye remained silent, his expression unreadable.

His gaze unnerved her. She straightened, preparing to leave, but as she turned, he spoke softly.

“Father.”

Jiang Wanxue froze. Her pupils constricted as she turned back sharply. 

“What nonsense are you spouting?”

Han Junye’s small, chubby finger pointed at the plum tree.

“Father is in the tree,” he said. “He’s been watching you the whole time.”