Chapter 1 001: Exile

"Stop playing dead, get up!"

In her dazed state, Shen Tang felt someone kick her.

Not only did they kick him, but the other party also started cursing.

[Damn it, who kicked me?]

She winced in pain, curled up her legs, and weakly opened her eyes.

The world before my eyes seemed to have had its veil removed, transforming from a matte finish to high-definition tempered glass.

【what happened? 】

The excruciating pain made her gasp, staring blankly at the unfamiliar surroundings.

[Weren't you drinking with someone last night?]

It seems that in the latter half of the drinking session, the editor called to urge her to finish her manuscript, so she had no choice but to grab her paintbrush despite being drunk...

More than that, I can't remember no matter how hard I try.

But one thing is for sure: it shouldn't be like this!

Shen Tang secretly pinched herself hard until a clear, stinging pain came from that skin, shattering her wishful thinking.

Upon seeing my unfamiliar hands, four words immediately popped into my mind—

She time-traveled!

It also carries the meaning of "time travel".

[It's unclear whether he died from drinking too much or from overworking and rushing to finish a manuscript.]

The more she thought about it, the more her head ached, as if a tiny person was hitting her inside with a hammer. The pain made Shen Tang stop immediately.

"Eat quickly, so you can get going."

She was covering her head to ease the stinging pain, the sunlight overhead blocked by the tall, imposing figure.

The newcomer, wearing straw sandals covered in dark brown mud, casually tossed over a palm-sized, rough, burnt-brown flatbread that landed on the muddy ground outside her skirt. Without caring whether Shen Tang would eat the muddy flatbread, he proceeded to hand it out to the next person.

The next second, a hand shot out from beside her like lightning.

He grabbed the pancake and pulled it back.

Shen Tang was a beat too slow and could only look over suspiciously.

The woman grabbing the pancake was disheveled and filthy; she was stuffing the pancake into her mouth with both hands, looking like a starving ghost reincarnated.

Afraid that Shen Tang would snatch it back, she didn't even bother to brush off the mud off the pancake. In no time, she stuffed the small pancake into her mouth, and then, as if she hadn't had enough, she sucked the crumbs off her fingers.

Shen Tang: "..."

It was unclear how many days this person hadn't cleaned herself; her once jet-black hair was matted with oil, and upon closer inspection, a layer of yellowish, sticky residue had accumulated on the exposed parting. A careful sniff revealed a strange, fishy stench emanating from her—somewhat like the juice extracted from a pair of stinky socks and photinia flowers that had been sitting for three to five weeks. The only redeeming quality was her strikingly beautiful face, which even the filth couldn't conceal.

Shen Tang patiently reasoned with her, "Madam, those are my cakes."

The woman seemed deaf, ignoring her completely, and continued smacking her lips, savoring the taste of the pancake.

At this moment, Shen Tang noticed that the color of the woman's sucked knuckles was several shades different from the rest of her hand, and his throat involuntarily spasmed and rolled.

She doesn't have obsessive-compulsive disorder about cleanliness, but being subjected to such a visual shock at close range made her subconsciously feel physically uncomfortable.

Out of the corner of her eye, she noticed a change in Shen Tang's expression. Worried that this fool might go crazy and hit her, the woman shifted her position slightly in the opposite direction.

It was fine when it didn't move, but when it did, Shen Tang also felt a pulling sensation.

Looking down at the source of the pulling sensation around her waist, she saw an extremely thick hemp rope. This rope, like a string of grasshoppers, connected her body with the woman and other disheveled women of varying ages.

Looking up and around, all I could see were elderly, weak, women and children, both men and women, dressed in coarse hemp prison uniforms and looking exhausted.

There were also about a dozen young men dressed in similar uniforms, with knives hanging from their waists, some on guard duty and others keeping watch on people.

His gaze would occasionally linger a while when it swept over a young female prisoner with a good figure.

This, this—

Was it a large family that committed a crime and was taken to the execution ground to have their household registration cancelled?

It's also possible that they're on their way to exile.

The difference is simply whether you die early and are reborn early or die late and are reborn late.

[Gurgle gurgle gurgle]

An inopportune moment of hunger struck, making a noise so loud that others could hear it.

Shen Tang raised her hand to cover her slightly cramping stomach, her hunger causing her to drool continuously.

The more I swallowed, the more pronounced the hunger became, to the point that it was impossible to ignore.

Shen Tang frowned, trying to distract himself from the torment of hunger by diverting his attention—within his line of sight, a prisoner was eating too quickly, and because the biscuit was dry, he choked. He kept pounding his chest, trying to push the biscuit stuck in his throat down, his face gradually turning pale.

Everyone was used to it.

They neither patted his back nor offered him water.

He struggled to crawl toward the man dressed as an official, stretching out his right hand with all his might to beg for help. But as he breathed his last, his right hand fell limply. The official made no attempt to help, kicking him twice to confirm he was truly dead, muttering, "Bad luck!"

He drew a dagger from his waist, bent down, and cut off the skin from the man's right side near his ear, then casually tossed it into a dirty cloth bag.

Shen Tang: "..."

"Time to hit the road!"

"Hurry up!"

"Get up, or I'll have to whip you!"

The prisoners were put back in heavy shackles.

The female prisoners' shackles were smaller, weighing about 35 kilograms, while the male prisoners' shackles were a size larger, weighing at least 50 kilograms, if not 80.

The dozen or so uniformly dressed young men urged the prisoners on while kicking and shoving them when they couldn't react in time. If they still didn't get up after being kicked and shoved, they would whip them with great force, leaving a bloody welt a finger wide with each lash, a horrifying sight.

Shen Tang walked silently with her head down, trying hard to find memories related to this body.

Unfortunately, the result was unfortunate.

Not only did she fail to secure the welfare benefits for transmigrators and lose the original owner's memories, but her own home was also raided—aside from knowing that her name was Shen Tang, that she had a pen name called "You Li," that she made a living by drawing, and that she was afraid of being pressured by editors to submit her work, all other memories were vague!

Peeking at the prisoners and the guards watching them, he sighed inwardly: "Damn it, this is a hellish start!"

It's like bad luck has opened the door for bad luck; bad luck has reached its peak!

No matter how things start, your life is the most important thing.

Should we choose to run away halfway?

Or should they follow the group to their destination and then try to escape?

At present, neither option seems optimistic.

They traveled under the scorching sun, and several prisoners fainted along the way. They were only allowed to rest and spend the night on the spot when the evening glow painted the sky.

The officials gathered together to build a fire, took out dried meat from their bags, put it in a pottery jar to cook, and sprinkled a little salt on it to make a pot of meat soup.

Shen Tang reacted quickly this time and saved the cake.

He plopped down on the ground, chewing the hard, cold biscuit slowly, softening it with his saliva before swallowing, his attention focused on the officials talking in hushed tones. Although their conversation was fragmented, he could still piece together some information.

These prisoners are from the same family.

The family, surnamed Gong, included everyone from the elderly and children to their servants and maids; none of them escaped capture.

They were divided into three waves and escorted to their destination in batches.

The men were sent to the frontier to serve as soldiers and laborers, while the women were sent to the Xiaocheng Jiaofang (a type of brothel).

Shen Tang's group was the second batch, mostly consisting of women and maids from the Gong family. Among them were the most senior old lady, several young mistresses in their prime, young and beautiful concubines and aunts, children of varying ages, and the rest were servants and maids.

She guessed that her body belonged to either a maid or a child.

A quick check of bone age suggests he's around eleven or twelve years old.

Men were tattooed on their faces, while women were tattooed behind their ears.

If a prisoner dies halfway through his journey, his face or ear, with writing on it, is cut off as evidence of his head.

She raised her hand and touched her ear, and sure enough, she felt a scabbed blood clot behind her left ear.

Shen Tang: "...Damn it!"

My new book is out, and it's been a while since I last asked for recommendation votes!

July 15th, a fresh start.

(End of this chapter)