A week had passed since their escape from the capital. Prince Jin sat quietly, watching the flames of their campfire dance.

Shi Xiu was preparing another meagre meal, something that didn’t suit his palette as a prince, but it was that…or starve.

‘You can’t be an Emperor if you starve like that.’ Shi Xiu warned, and ever since then, he’d barely stomached the meals.

“The mushroom soup is ready, your highness,” Shi Xiu said softly, handling him a wooden bowl.

“Thank you,” Prince Jin replied. Shi Xiu extended his hand with the bowl, the prince accepted it and winced from the heat, something he wasn’t used to.

Anytime he ate, his bowl would’ve been placed on a tray in front of him, he never had to touch a heated bowl until now.

He paused, remembering their earlier conversation about maintaining their cover. “I mean, thank you, Uncle.”

Shi Xiu nodded approvingly. The past week the dingshe had been teaching the young prince to shed his royal mannerisms as it had been about putting distance between them and their pursuers. They had taken on the identities of a merchant uncle and his orphaned nephew, traveling north to seek better fortunes.

As they ate, the prince’s mind wandered to the conversations they’d overheard in the villages they’d passed through. The news of the imperial family’s massacre had spread like wildfire, each retelling more elaborate than the last. Some spoke of supernatural interventions, others of foreign conspiracies, but all agreed on one thing – the dynasty had fallen.

“Uncle,” Prince Jin said, his voice barely above a whisper, “In the village yesterday, I heard them say my father was a fool for trusting his advisers.” His small hands tightened around the now cooled wooden bowl. “They said our family deserved what happened.”

“Idle gossip,” Shi Xiu said calmly, his face neutral as ever not giving away to any emotion. “Peasants often speak without knowledge, especially in times of chaos. Your father—“

“My father is dead!” Prince Jin cut in, flustered. “And I must learn from his mistakes if I am to survive.” He set down his bowl, his appetite gone. “I need to be stronger. Smarter. I can’t be a child anymore.”

The prince could feel Shi Xiu’s eyes, he usually did that, go silent whenever the prince was in a foil mood, and this was like any other day…at this point.

…and that frustrated him.

The young prince had to grow up and fast. He was forced to, due to circumstances beyond his control, but ensuring he didn’t spiral due to the pressure was Shi Xiu’s job.

“You already are your highness. We have to take each day as it come…trust me. We will get to Faizou and seek refuge there. Alright?”

The prince didn’t answer, he just dipped his head, feeling as though the world was on his shoulder. Once he had the courage to speak, he finally said something. “Yes Uncle.”

“Good…Tomorrow we’ll reach the Yangzhou checkpoint. It will be our first true test with our identities. Are you prepared?”

“Yes, I’m ready.” The prince nodded.

“Good. What’s your cover story?”

“My name is Tang Ren, my parents died of a fever in Luoyang. You’re my father’s brother. We’re heading north to start a new life after your business in Sichuan failed. We’re traveling to Faizou because the silk trade is better there.” He said then stopped suddenly. “…and I must remember to slouch slightly, keep my eyes down, and speak with a commoner’s accent.”

“Good,” Shi Xiu praised. “But remember, it's not just about the words. You must believe the story yourself. Feel it in your bones.”

“In my bones?”

“Yes, when you talk about your father, remember what happened, let the emotion of their death in a bit It will come across as authentic, but never allow it to swallow you. Alright?”

“I think I understand.”

“Good, I can’t fight my way through the Yangzhou checkpoint, we lucked out in Longyan, but our luck has run its course…its about outwitting everyone around us, alright?”

“Yes, Uncle Tong,”

“Good, that’s very good…get some rest. We leave at the first crack of dawn, that way we hopefully reach Yangzhou before the afternoon suns arrives.”

----------------------------------------

The fortified gateway of the Yangzhou checkpoint stood imposingly across the main road, guards in leather armour checking each traveller’s papers and goods. Merchants, farmers, and refugees formed a long line, each waiting their turn to pass through.

Prince Jin joined the queue and his heart raced each step he took, the closer he got to the gate. He inhaled deeply, forcing himself to breathe slowly, just as Shi Xiu had taught him. The cotton clothes he wore, felt itchy on him as he was used to silk clothes. His once-pristine skin was now tanned and slightly dirty from travel.

This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.

He leaned forward slightly, trying his best to maintain a slouched posture, mimicking the peasant children that stood in the line with him.

“They say the emperor’s body was burned beyond recognition...”

“Oh? I heard the Dragon Palace was completely destroyed…”

“I heard that as well, but that’s not the most chilling news. The barbarians from north have broken through the northern wall!”

The prince tried his best to bury his frustration, but he failed. He turned to them, but a tightening sensation erupted from his shoulder. A loud clap blossomed and he looked up. “Don’t worry Ren’er, the lines coming to an end soon,”

How dare you touch the prince! his eyes said, but he realised his situation. “Ok uncle.”

An hour passed and they reached the checkpoint. A guard with a scarred face approached their cart, his eyes sharp and suspicious. “Papers,” he grunted.

Shi Xiu handed over their forged documents. “State your business.”

“My nephew and I seek passage to Faizou,” he said calmly. The guard examined the papers carefully, his eyes occasionally flicking between them and their faces.

“Why are you heading to Faizou?”

“Trade, sir,” Shi Xiu replied. “The silk markets in the south haven’t been ideal these past few years. We hear trade in Faizou has yet to falter.”

“With the death of the imperial family, Faizou will likely have its own problems, regardless of trade.”

Prince drew a line with his lips, flustered by the guards’ words, but also catching his eye. The guard turned to the prince and eyed him up and down. “What’s your name boy?”

“Tang Ren,” Prince Jin said, cowering his head.

“Where are you from boy, you don’t sound like your uncle.”

“I was born in Sichuan, but I grow up in Luoyang.”

“Luoyang? What happened to your parents.”

“They died due to the yellow fever”

The guard's expression softened slightly. “There are many orphans on the roads these days…two copper coins per person for passage.” He said handing the papers back to Shi Xiu.

Shi Xiu pulled his pouch free and poured the coins into the guard’s hand. The guard waved them through and relief washed itself over the prince’s face.

“Very well done, your highness” Shi Xiu whispered.

As prince Jin and Shi Xiu made their way through the small city. The marketplace bustled with life just beyond the checkpoint. Merchants called out wares, whilst children and other adults weaved through the crowds. The aroma of food filled the air. Prince Jin stayed close to Shi Xiu, trying his best to maintain a commoner’s posture as they guided their cart through the throng of people.

“Remember,” Shi Xiu murmured, “No matter what catches your eye, don’t stare too long. It’ll attract vendors we don’t need the attention. You haven’t been doing this too long, so I don’t want anyone to mishear how you speak.”

The prince nodded, fighting his natural instinct to observe everything with royal scrutiny. A group of children ran past them, laughing as they chased each other with wooden swords. Just days ago, he would have found their behaviour barbaric, but now he felt a strange longing. They seemed so... free.

They found a modest inn at the edge of the marketplace. Shi Xiu secured a small room on the second floor. The room was sparse, two thin sleeping mats and a wooden table sat in the middle, but it offered a view of the street below.

As Shi Xiu went to tend to their horses, Prince Jin sat by the window, watching the life unfold below. A young girl helped her mother sell dumplings, counting copper coins with careful precision. An old man taught his grandson to repair a wheel, their hands working in tandem. A group of merchants argued over prices, their animated gestures carrying up to his window.

“It’s different, isn’t it?” Shi Xiu said “Seeing them like this.”

“They seem... happy. Even though they have so little.”

“It doesn’t much for people to be happy your highness. People just want to live comfortably…sometimes that’s enough.”

“I see…” The prince calmly, holding back tears. “You know…at the checkpoint, when I spoke of my parents dying of fever... I thought about them. My real parents. The pain made my voice shake, just like you said it would.”

“You used your true feelings to make the lie believable. That's exactly right.”

“But it felt wrong.” Prince Jin said, turning away from the window, “Using their deaths like that. Pretending they weren't who they were.”

“Your father would be proud of you for doing what’s required of you to survive. That’s what leaders do your highness. They do what’s required to lead.”

A loud thud blossomed in the wind, drawing prince jin’s attention. He snapped his head left, looking back down through the window and seeing a commotion on the street. Imperial investigators were moving through the crowd, showing something to the merchants.

“Shall we leave?” He whispered.

Shi Xiu watched the investigators for a moment, then shook his head. “No. Moving now would draw attention. We’re just another uncle and nephew seeking trade. Nothing more.”

They spent the afternoon in their room, eating simple rice and vegetables they’d purchased from a vendor. The young prince found himself thinking about the cook in the palace, how he’d once refused to eat when his soup wasn’t perfectly seasoned. Now, every grain was precious.

As evening approached, they ventured out into the marketplace again. Shi Xiu needed to purchase supplies, and staying hidden in their room would seem suspicious. Prince Jin walked beside him, practicing his role.

“Ren’er,” Shi Xiu called, using his false name, “help me carry these vegetables.”

The prince took the bundle, noting how natural the exchange felt now. A week ago, the mere thought of carrying his own food would have been preposterous. But as he walked through the market, he saw other children his age doing far more strenuous work.

A boy no older than him struggled to help his father load heavy sacks onto a cart. Two girls carried water buckets balanced on poles across their shoulders. Even the youngest children had duties, responsibilities, purposes.

“They’re stronger than I thought,” Prince Jin said, as they entered their room. “The common people. I’ve always thought they needed us – the imperial family – to survive. But they’ve built their own world, haven’t they?”

“They have their own strength, their own wisdom. A good ruler understands this.”

“If I ever...” Prince Jin said then paused, lowering his voice as he spoke. “If I ever take back what was stolen, I want to remember this. Remember them.”

“That’s wise, young master.” Shi Xiu glanced out the window at the bustling night market below. “Actually, I have a suggestion. This town seems safe enough, and you’re learning valuable lessons here. Perhaps we should stay for a while.”

“Stay? For how long?”

“A few weeks, perhaps. Let you truly learn the ways of the common people. And it would help throw off any pursuers.”

The prince sat quietly for a long moment, considering. Part of him wanted to rush to Faizou, to his cousin, to safety. But another part recognized the wisdom in Shi Xiu's words. Every day spent here was another day learning how to survive, how to blend in, how to understand the people he might one day rule again.

“One week,” He finally said, “We can stay one week, but no longer. Faizou is still far, and...we don't know how long the roads will remain safe.”

“As you wish. One week it is.”