Chapter 106 "As long as she's there, the men..."
The three of us began to work together. After Deya and I pinpointed the exact location, we dug into the ceiling with all our might, while Atrist often pressed herself against the wall to listen for anyone walking by outside, or sometimes stood on the bed to listen for any sounds above. Although she couldn't press herself against the ceiling, her hearing was amazing. She would immediately make us stop before the jailers even got close, and sure enough, after a short while, we could hear faint footsteps.
I am often amazed by this mother and daughter.
My mother was highly knowledgeable and eloquent, able to teach us complex language knowledge and national situations in a simple and easy-to-understand way; my daughter was thoughtful and extremely perceptive of the outside world, reacting to even the slightest changes.
As time went on, we gradually learned the times when the prison guards came and went, as well as the times when the prisoners upstairs were allowed to go outside for fresh air each day, and did our best to reduce the impact of the digging sound to zero.
We cannot let anyone notice anything unusual underground, otherwise all our efforts will be in vain.
In the daily grind, I almost forgot about people like Bernot, Mamboa, Artis, and the Elf King. Of course, they might have forgotten about me too.
I almost thought that everything that had happened before was just an illusion.
—Only in the story of another book.
—That was so long ago.
Three months later, the soil on the ceiling began to harden, making it impossible to dig by hand. We had to find a suitable tool.
I racked my brains, and suddenly slapped my thigh. Wasn't my current situation exactly the same as that of the Count in "The Count of Monte Cristo"? How did that Count find the right tool?
After thinking for a while, I imitated the count and smashed the soup pot, pretending to be crazy from being locked up for too long. The jailer believed me, since prisoners who had been locked up for too long were often a little mentally unstable. He was too lazy to clean up after me, and after glancing at me, he brought over an old soup pot next time.
Di Yaruo and I forcefully dismantled the broken iron pot, using the slightly sharper side of the handle to dig in the dirt. We also modified the broken iron pot slightly, using the sharper side to dig in the dirt as well. Although it was still not very handy, it was much more effective than using our hands and a piece of wood.
The small piece of wood was Di Yaruo's previous digging tool. According to her, it was a piece of wood at the foot of their bed that had rotted, and it was rotten quite badly. She used all her strength to remove that piece of wood.
"You used this piece of wood to dig through the ceiling of your cell?" I asked her suspiciously.
She replied with a smile, "Do you believe it? The ceiling between your cell and mine is thinner than the ceiling above your cell. Maybe no one would believe that someone would use this method to escape, so they cut corners during construction and gave me an opening."
That's very likely. I've found her reasoning ability to be extremely strong.
I started teaching the little girl how to make clay figures. We dug up a pile of dirt from the ceiling, and we needed somewhere to put it. I remembered a scene from "The Shawshank Redemption" where people sculpted clay into figures or other crafts, so I taught the little girl to make clay figures too.
Crafts are my forte. Back in school, I loved participating in the craft club. Folding paper airplanes, sculpting clay figures, and pottery were all my specialties.
Besides clay figurines, I also taught Beatrice to sculpt vases, small bowls, carriages, and some small animals. Beatrice had never seen these before, and as I taught her, I explained their uses, as well as the names and special skills of the animals.
Tell her that vases are for holding flowers, and flowers are beautiful plants with many colors; carriages are for carrying people, and many people like to ride in carriages when they can't walk or travel long distances; and horses are fast-running animals with four legs that can run like they're flying.
Beatrice listened with great interest, and her kneading became even more enthusiastic. Her mother said that sometimes when she couldn't sleep at night, she would sit on the ground in a pile of straw and knead clay figures, and she wouldn't feel tired even after several hours.
And so, a long time passed for us.
I looked at the marks etched all over the earthen wall and counted them one by one. There were already 730 marks. It had been two years. If I didn't count the days since I entered, it should have been more than two years, maybe almost three? Who knows.
During this time, Beatrice sculpted clay figures every day, and the little clay figures filled the space under her bed, along with various other small items.
I was surprised when I saw the clay items all over the bottom of the bed; there had been so many accumulated.
Another month later, we finally broke through the ceiling—thanks to the fact that the prison was old and dilapidated, the earthen walls were worn out, and the dampness and soft soil deep underground made it possible for the three of us women to successfully break through.
We also have to thank that the ceiling wasn't very thick, which made it possible to actually break through. Although the opening wasn't very big, it was big enough for one person to pass through.
I suspect that when the prison was built up to my floor, the ceiling was relatively thin due to budget or other reasons.
This guess was quickly confirmed.
When I was exploring alone at midnight, I secretly climbed out of the ceiling and crawled up the stairs on all fours—to avoid making any noise. I stepped onto the higher handrail, reached out and touched the ceiling above, and gently knocked a few times. The extremely deep echo confirmed that the wall was very thick.
It's frustrating; the thicker the wall, the higher the cost of breaking through again, both in terms of effort and time.
Sitting on the wooden stairs, I looked around for a long time before climbing back down to my cell under the ceiling.
The ceiling that was knocked down was at the corner of the stairs, where some miscellaneous items were piled up. The moment we knocked it down, several sacks fell down, containing some scattered miscellaneous items.
Suddenly, my gaze froze—in the corner of the wall opposite, amidst the pile of clutter, there was a ventilation opening.
This prison has seven underground levels, and it is through this ventilation shaft that the prisoners and guards on the last level can breathe freely.
This presented us with a tremendous opportunity. We embarked on a new round of efforts—working together to expand the ventilation openings.
Six months later, we dug a long passage through the ventilation shaft. Every so often, we would use tools to dig deeper into the mud wall, wide enough to fit half a foot on, so that we could climb upwards.
I originally thought this project would take a huge amount of time, probably a year or two to complete, but to my surprise, the soil became easier to dig as we went up. The prison had been in disrepair for years, and it was extremely damp, making the soil increasingly loose. The passageway became wider as we went up, and by the fourth level, the passageway itself was already wide enough for one person to crawl through, so there was no need to dig any further.
On a stormy night, we climbed out of the long ventilation shaft, stepping on the mud walls and using ropes, tools, and mutual support. The hardship, fear, excitement, and pain we experienced are indescribable. When we breathed our first breath of fresh air, were drenched in the first downpour, and were nearly blown away by the gale, we broke down in tears.
All three of them cried.
In the midst of a raging storm, in a secluded corner, we embraced and wept bitterly…
——
The magnificent banquet hall was filled with elegant attire, the aroma of wine, and loud laughter—a high-society ball for the elite of the Eastern Territory.
A stunningly beautiful woman, adorned with jewels and exquisite makeup, was being courted by five or six powerful and influential figures.
The beautiful woman is dressed provocatively, her low-cut neckline arousing the imagination. Her thin-strapped, backless long dress has a slit in the middle, making her exceptionally sexy, and her pair of long, fair, and smooth legs are faintly visible.
Her allure was palpable, and the elegant smoke rings she exhaled were incredibly captivating.
The five or six powerful figures looked at her as if they were infatuated, offering her drinks, flattering her, telling jokes, or massaging her shoulders and legs, as if they would die for her.
The stunningly beautiful woman tilted her head back, exhaling smoke rings while laughing uncontrollably.
The men who were not of high enough status looked at the powerful and wealthy with envy, jealousy, and hatred.
The ladies of high society or noblewomen whispered among themselves not far away, their faces showing dissatisfaction.
"Whenever she's around, the men are like they've lost their souls."
"Why doesn't Prince Bernard do anything about it? His chief mistress is about to sleep with someone else."
"Look at her breasts, they're about to fall out."
The women's eyes blazed with fury, wishing they could tear this damned vixen to pieces.
A short while later, the stunningly beautiful woman rose with captivating charm, supposedly to go to the restroom. The powerful and wealthy immediately rushed to help her, one on each arm, with several more following behind. Swaying her sexy peach-shaped hips, she moved forward alluringly, almost blinding everyone with her beauty.
However, a short while later, something unexpected happened—
The powerful figures guarding the toilet door heard a loud bang, followed by the scream of a stunningly beautiful woman. Just as they hesitated whether to rush in to see what was happening, they saw the beautiful woman, covered in excrement and urine and with disheveled hair, running out crying. The stench was overwhelming. The powerful figures pinched their noses and instinctively stepped aside, watching in horror as she rushed out of the banquet hall like a madwoman.
People were stunned. After a moment, a dozen or so women burst into laughter at the same time...
——
“Those excrement and urine contain my Five Poisons Powder. Even if she washes her whole body clean, she will be covered in red sores. If she doesn’t use medicine, they will subside in six months. If she uses medicine indiscriminately, the red sores will only get worse and will not disappear for two years.”
On the ship, where the wind was rising late at night, Di Yaruo sat on the bow deck and said to me with a smile.
She had the connections to bribe a sailor to get us undocumented immigrants on board. I suspect she already knew about this "professional refugee route," which is why she was so adept at it.
I stared at the dark sea without saying a word.
"You are too kind. If it were me, I would have made sure she died a horrible death." Di Yaruo smiled and brushed a stray hair from her forehead.
"Where did you get these things, like the human skin mask and the Five Poisons Powder?" I finally asked.
After escaping from the underground prison, I thought there would be even more difficult challenges ahead—the prison gates were heavily guarded, making passage incredibly difficult. But unexpectedly, thanks to the "supernatural" planning of Di Yaruo, we escaped almost effortlessly.
She magically produced three human skin masks, covered our faces with them, and then stuck on beards, turning us into men.
While the two guards were relieving themselves in a corner, we knocked them unconscious from behind, stripped them of their clothes and hats, put them on ourselves, and dragged them into the bushes.
We infiltrated the town's guard. It was during shift change, and there was a slight commotion. We deliberately lined up side by side to block the view of those in front, allowing little Beatrice to dart across the bushes like a rabbit and escape to a large tree ahead to wait for us.
While the leader was counting heads, we, who were standing at the back of the guard, quickly and silently sank into the pond next to us.
We each had a long blade of grass in our mouths, and with the help of breathing, we swam underwater to the other side.
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Author's Note: Thank you everyone! Please continue to support me!
Please also click to read "Cinderella Wants a Satisfying Novel Script", "All the Male Gods in the World Are in Love with Me", and "Love Between Ice and Fire".
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