The sun had barely crested over the peaks when Sun Longzi and Zhu Deming descended the mountain trail with the Third Prince's cage in tow. The four remaining soldiers staggered under its weight, their uniforms torn and soaked in blood, but they said nothing.
In fact, no one had spoken since they left the clearing.
However, Zhu Lianhua hadn't stopped crying.
His sobs came in fits—sometimes high and choking, sometimes soft and wheezing like a child. At some point during the descent, he had soiled himself, but no one acknowledged it. To do so would be to invite death to several generations of their family.
The royals protected themselves, so it would already be an act of heaven not to die for letting the Third Prince get into this state, let alone seeing something so disgraceful like soiling himself.
