Chapter Six: The First Experience in Prison

It felt as though I had been trapped in a long, lingering dream. In that dream, I saw Zhu Di again, though his expression remained indistinct. That deep, muffled voice returned, echoing incessantly in my ears: “Qinger, you’ve come back, you’ve come back.”

In the darkness, I struggled drowsily, trying to shake off the voice...

If only this were all just a dream.

When I awoke again, daylight had already broken. I found myself confined within a tent, surrounded by scattered dry straw and a tattered quilt stained with specks of blood.

The ground was damp and uneven, the air thick with the scent of mildew and decay. This must have once been a holding place for prisoners of war. So last night, I had fainted here.

The door was a low wooden barrier, secured tightly with iron chains, guarded by two soldiers outside.

Nearby lay a set of clothes, presumably prepared for me. Their style resembled that of a minority ethnic group—perhaps the garments of a captured Northern Yuan female prisoner. The clothes were stained and bloodied, ragged and worn; likely, their owner had already been executed.

No matter. It was freezing... I needed to change quickly.

As I undressed, I realized all my wounds had vanished—the bruises on my wrists and arms, marks from the soldiers’ grip, gone without a trace. How could this be? Had I slept so long that my injuries healed?

Surveying the surroundings, it was clear I had been imprisoned as a captive. They evidently did not believe a word I said.

Had my sentence been commuted from death to a suspended execution? I couldn’t help but smile bitterly.

At that moment, a small figure peeked cautiously outside the door, seemingly observing me.

Who could it be?

“I see you. Come in,” I called softly.

The shadow froze, reluctant to be discovered. After a while, it slowly approached the entrance.

It was a boy of about twelve or thirteen, sturdy and lively, his eyes darting around with sharp intelligence.

He carried a tray with some food. He watched me warily, a trace of fear in his gaze.

So, he was the one delivering meals.

With a clang, the soldier at the door unlocked the chains and pushed it open, glancing at me curiously. I guessed he must have heard about last night’s incident and thought I was some kind of monster.

Amused by his frightened expression, I smiled warmly and asked, “Are you here to see me?”

Perhaps sensing my kindness, the boy cautiously stepped forward.

“Y-Your Highness the Prince of Yan sent me to serve the young lady,” he said carefully, placing the tray on the ground.

On it was a bowl of watery rice soup and several dark, burnt-looking cakes.

Seeing the food, hunger overwhelmed me. Without minding the heat, I eagerly lifted the bowl and drank greedily.

He stood by, seemingly hesitant to speak.

After finishing, warmth spread through my body. I wiped my mouth and took a bite of the blackened cake while asking, “Mmm... what’s your name?”

“I don’t have a name. They all call me Seventeen. Because I’ve followed His Highness the Prince of Yan for a long time, he bestowed upon me the surname Zhu!” he replied proudly.

“Oh, so you’re Zhu Seventeen. Hello, Seventeen!” I said with a smile.

The boy was utterly endearing—somehow, I felt a fondness for him.

He seemed less afraid now, stepping a bit closer and finally daring to ask, “They say you’re a goddess. Are you really from the heavens?”

I chuckled inwardly and feigned seriousness: “Of course I am!”

Hearing this, he took several steps back, eyes wide with terror.

“The young lady truly is a celestial fairy…”

“Now, tell me, what exactly did the Prince of Yan send you here for?” I asked, pretending to scold.

Hearing that, he quickly knelt down. “M-Miss, His Highness the Prince of Yan went to meet General Fu and the others yesterday. He might not return for over ten days. Before he left, he specially ordered me to attend to you. I thought you were dead since you hadn’t awakened these past days. When I heard from guard Xiao Wu just now that you had woken, I hurried here to check. You’ve been asleep for days and must be hungry, so I brought some food... Please spare me, Miss!” He stammered, bowing repeatedly.

His panicked demeanor made me smile secretly. I walked over, helped him up, and patted his head. “I was just teasing you. Don’t be afraid. Come, sit down.”

At that, he obediently sat nearby, nervously watching me.

“His Highness the Prince of Yan sent you to serve me, yet he lets me stay in a place like this?”

Seeing his naive expression, I decided to probe further.

He answered seriously, “His Highness said that although you have divine signs, your origins are unknown. To prevent you from contacting the soldiers and disrupting morale, he ordered you to be temporarily confined until he returns to decide your fate. He also said I should keep you company these days and report back to him when he comes back.”

Just as I suspected, Zhu Di had sent him both to test and to watch me. They clearly doubted what I said that night.

“Do you have any magical tools on you? They said that night you revealed something terrifying, something even our Daoist Master Daoyan has never seen. May I have a look?” he asked, curiosity getting the better of him.

Such a child indeed. I found him increasingly charming.

“You want to see? Then go fetch me a basin of hot water, and I’ll show you my treasure, alright?”

“Alright!” he exclaimed, happily running off.

Before long, he returned carrying a basin of water. “Miss, you want to wash up? Seventeen will help you.” He handed me a clean coarse cloth—truly a considerate child.

I quickly washed, feeling much refreshed. Then I rummaged through my bag and pulled out my makeup mirror, handing it to him. “Have you ever seen a treasure like this?”

The mirror reflected his face clearly. He was stunned. “Wow! What kind of treasure is this? I’ve never seen such a clear bronze mirror before!”

I smiled. This ordinary makeup mirror, in ancient times, had become a treasure; back then, they hadn’t yet mastered glassmaking.

Taking the mirror back, I gazed at myself in it—softly curled, subtly golden hair cascading to my waist, my makeup completely faded, revealing a delicate yet plain face that needed no embellishment, gracefully enchanting though tinged with a faint melancholy between my brows.

Seeing I fell silent, Seventeen asked with concern, “Are you thinking of your home in the heavens? I’ll take my leave first. Call me if you need anything.” Saying that, he slipped away discreetly.

Indeed, though I had escaped death, I was now a prisoner. Looking around at my bleak surroundings, sorrow welled up inside me. How long would they keep me here? Would they wait for Zhu Di’s return to execute me? My future was uncertain. Staring at the heavily locked door, despair crept in. Could I ever go back?

But what would going back even mean? In the real world, I was already cornered. I thought of what Seventeen had said and longed for my parents. Did I still exist there? Were they dead or in a vegetative state? And the huge debt I had left behind—would the bank chase my parents for repayment? They were old and would have to bear this burden for me. I felt deeply sorry for them. Worse still, if I truly died or disappeared, they would be devastated beyond measure—that would be the greatest blow to them.

On reflection, it wasn’t worth it. It was just a job; if I lost it, I could find another. The debts could be repaid gradually. As long as I lived, there was hope. Yet why had I been so stubborn with myself then? Or was it because of Lin Ping’s pressure? Otherwise, I wouldn’t have fallen from the mountain drunk that night, inexplicably ending up in the Ming Dynasty’s era. I hated it all.

My thoughts tangled in chaos.

During my confinement, Seventeen came every day to keep me company. As ordered by the Prince of Yan, he asked me countless questions. Though his intentions weren’t pure, the boredom of imprisonment was overwhelming, and having someone to talk to was a comfort.

Since then, during the day I taught Seventeen to write modern simplified characters (I couldn’t read traditional or classical Chinese), and at night I told him fairy tales and taught him to sing Jay Chou’s songs.

I told him much about the present world—about great flying machines that carry hundreds of people hundreds of kilometers through the sky, about phones with endless functions that keep us connected, and about the enchanting Disneyland.

Seventeen listened entranced, as if the world I described were truly a fairyland. He admired me deeply, almost revering me like a deity.

He also told me about the Prince of Yan. From his words, I learned it was the thirty-second year of the Hongwu reign, when Zhu Di was leading troops against the Northern Yuan. Yet they still hadn’t found Nairbuha. Though several battles had been fought, only remnants of the Northern Yuan forces had been encountered; the main army remained elusive.

The General Fu who recently joined Zhu Di’s forces was none other than Fu Youde, the founding general of the Ming Dynasty and the Martial King of Jing!

Over ten days passed. With Seventeen’s company, I no longer felt lonely.

In that time, we became inseparable friends.

I treasured those moments—they helped me forget my troubles, if only for a while. He was my first friend in the Ming Dynasty and the most precious person to me.