She had been able to remain "free of desires" while sweeping the corridor at night—but once she lay on the couch that morning…

Hongyi tossed and turned all morning.

She blamed herself for asking too many questions and hearing too much yesterday. Now she knew exactly what fate awaited those orphans. The human trafficker and the brothel madam couldn’t reach a deal—she had tried to drive down the price, claiming that getting them registered through connections and teaching them arts like music and calligraphy would cost a fortune. No one knew what they'd grow up to be or if they'd even survive long enough to learn anything. Suicide halfway through was always a possibility.

To a brothel, this was a "risky investment."

But the trafficker wouldn’t budge. He’d brought them all the way from the border to Changyang City, and no matter how she argued, he refused to lower his price.

In the end, they settled on “discussing again tomorrow.” The trafficker agreed to let the madam see the children first.

That’s how Hongyi learned where the orphans were—they were all living in a dilapidated abandoned temple ten miles north of the city.

There was no need to imagine what “dilapidated temple” meant. Nor did she want to picture how these children, mourning their entire lost families, were dragged to Changyang. It was all simply horrifying from beginning to end.

She had only ever seen things like this in the news—mostly after the cases were solved. As a bystander, sitting behind a screen and cursing “monsters” or calling for justice was the extent of her involvement. She never really thought about what happened afterward.

But this time was different. This was human trafficking still in progress. And it was happening right next to her.

It was even more vile than any case she’d heard of in the modern world. These children weren’t being sold to childless couples as adopted sons and daughters—they were being sold to brothels. After losing their families, they’d be thrown into a life of degradation, branded as outcasts, their lives essentially destroyed forever.

Lying flat, she took a deep breath and tried to remind herself that she could barely protect herself—how could she afford to care about others?

But to stand by and do nothing? That was nearly impossible.

There was a moral line she couldn’t cross. That line had been built from years of compulsory education, higher learning, and books filled with the wisdom of those who came before her. She couldn’t destroy it—nor did she want to.

There’s a saying: “Put yourself in others’ shoes.” She had only lived in this identity for a few months but already deeply understood the cruelty of being branded as “lowborn.” And that was with her own life experience and the ability to navigate and avoid danger. For those children under ten years old…

The very thought of what they might go through sent chills down her spine.

From noon until dusk, she forced herself to focus on teaching dance. But as soon as she returned to her room, she grabbed Lvxiu and headed out, startling the maid. “What are you doing? Your rash hasn’t healed yet! Can’t you just rest properly?”

“I’m going to report it to the authorities,” Hongyi said through clenched teeth. “Those orphans outside the city are being sold like livestock. The magistrate can’t ignore this.”

“…They won’t care,” Lvxiu faltered, weakened by Hongyi’s fiery resolve. “Didn’t you see that Jin Hong Brothel is involved? No brothel in Changyang operates without ties to someone in power.”

…Collusion between officials and criminals?!

Hongyi’s heart sank. The situation was even darker than she had imagined. “Isn’t this the capital city under the Emperor’s nose? How dare they—”

“It is,” Lvxiu interrupted with a sigh, dragging her back into the room and shutting the door behind them. “But no one tells the Emperor about these small matters. How would he ever know?” She added seriously, “You really shouldn’t get involved. I don’t know who’s backing Jin Hong Brothel, but if this causes a stir… if it reaches the young master, won’t it only harm you?”

That was the kind of statement that could truly crush someone’s will.

Thinking back on everything, Hongyi knew Lvxiu made sense. This wasn’t a society of “equality before the law.” Reporting crimes to the imperial court was something that only existed in plays.

If things got out of hand, no way would lowborn dancers like them get the chance to “appeal to the Emperor.” They probably wouldn’t even make it past the mansion gates. One word from Xilin Chuan, and her life would be over.

After all, “make a big thing small, make a small thing disappear”—that saying had remained effective for thousands of years.

“Then… I…” Hongyi’s expression stiffened. She felt utterly powerless.

She knew there were dozens of children not far from the city. She knew what would happen to them. To do nothing would be to watch them walk into hell.

But to do something… there was no path forward.

“This really isn’t something you can handle,” Lvxiu said with a bitter smile. “If anyone could, I wouldn’t have been kidnapped at such a young age. I tried reporting to the authorities too. What good did it do? The family paid twenty taels of silver, and the officials turned a blind eye. I was almost beaten to death in public. If not for the Princess passing by at the right moment, I wouldn’t be alive today.”

Her words stabbed into Hongyi’s heart like a dagger.

She slumped into a seat, arms hugging her knees, and fell into a long silence. Her mind wasn’t consumed by fear for the orphans anymore—but by fear of the entire world she had landed in.

It was terrifying.

Once someone was branded as “lowborn,” they lost all human rights. If they made a mistake—or even if their master was in a bad mood—they could be beaten to death without consequence. Surviving became “good fortune,” and they had to live cautiously and submissively, asking for nothing more than their next breath. Because even that was considered a luxury.

It was something she simply couldn’t accept, no matter how hard she tried to rationalize it.

“But those are human lives…” she murmured. As she looked back at Lvxiu, her voice cracked. “But… those are human lives!”

Lvxiu didn’t know what to say. She looked down at her for a long time, and in the end, simply repeated her earlier words:

“The authorities… won’t do anything.”

Pushing open the door, a cloud of dust fell from the dilapidated wooden panels, choking Hongyi into a few coughs. Once she caught her breath and looked up, a single ray of sunlight streamed in through the only small window, illuminating the room—what she saw stunned her into silence.

As expected, all twenty-three children were here. As expected, the conditions were terrible. What she didn’t expect was that every single child was tied up. From five or six to eleven or twelve years old, they all had their hands bound behind their backs, and their ankles secured with straw rope.

She took a deep breath and turned her head. At that moment, she saw the trafficker pocket the last coin before hastily leaving. Remembering what Lüxiu had said about traffickers disappearing after a big profit, she knew he was fleeing to avoid trouble.

Everything that followed, she would have to handle alone.

The first step… was to get these children back to Changyang.

Weighing her options between “young kids are easier to coax” and “older ones are more sensible,” Hongyi calmly approached a girl who appeared to be around ten. She knelt down beside her. “Little girl, I’m going to untie your hands and feet, but you mustn’t run away…”

The girl looked at her timidly and dropped her eyes without saying a word.

Hongyi wasn’t sure whether that meant consent or silent resistance. She thought for a moment, then tried coaxing again, “Be good, come back to Changyang with me, and I’ll buy you something tasty tonight.”

The atmosphere around them suddenly shifted, an odd tension creeping in that made Hongyi feel a chill.

She glanced around, meeting the eyes of one child after another before returning her gaze to the girl in front of her. Ignoring the unease, she continued in a soft voice, “From now on, I’ll take care of you all. I promise you’ll have enough to eat and warm clothes to wear, alright?”

“I don’t want to…” The girl’s eyes turned red, and she burst into tears, shaking her head vigorously, not sparing Hongyi a single glance. “Mama said… there are no good people in brothels. I won’t go!”

The child’s voice, innocent but piercing, left Hongyi momentarily frozen.

She blinked, baffled. “...Who said I was a brothel madam?”

“I don’t want to go! I won’t go! I won’t go!” The girl kept repeating, struggling and shouting. If she weren’t tied so tightly, she might have started hitting her.

“If you don’t go, how will you survive? I’m not doing some vile business of forcing girls into prostitution. I bought you all because I want to find a safe place to settle you, so you can each find your own path later.” Hongyi patiently explained, scanning the other children again. “How about this? Come with me first. If I’m lying, you can run away. There are so many of you—do you really think you can’t overpower me?”

The children around her didn’t speak, each lost in thought. The little girl also looked at her with uncertainty but remained silent.

“Even if we go with you, how do we know you’re alone?” a childish but aggressive voice chimed in. Hongyi turned to see a boy around eleven or twelve, locking eyes with her. She gave an approving smile. “Good sense of caution, huh…”

She stood and walked over to him, examining him and the few nearby. “Are you the oldest among them?”

No response.

“You’ve got some spine to speak up like that. How about this—you come with me first. See for yourself. If everything’s fine, come back and tell them. If I really am a bad person, I won’t let you come back. If you’re not back by dusk, they can run.”

The boy turned pale, tension tightening his face as he looked up at her.

“Do you have the guts to protect them?” she asked, baiting him, knowing kids his age couldn’t resist a challenge.

“…Fine!” the boy grit out.

Hongyi gave a satisfied smile.

After rummaging through the ruined temple, she managed to find a rusty knife. She cut the ropes from the boy’s wrists and ankles and got ready to leave when he stopped her. “You have to untie the others too!”

She turned back in surprise. “...Huh?”

“Otherwise, if you’re not a good person, how can they run?” His tone was harsh and unkind, making Hongyi frown. “What if they run off on their own once unbound? It’s freezing out—they’d starve or freeze to death.”

The boy stepped into the center of the room. “You all wait here. I’ll go with her and check things out. If I don’t return by dusk, then you run!”

The other children hesitated, then slowly nodded.

So he’s the leader, huh? Hongyi thought. He was really putting his life on the line for the others.

She untied a few children, and those already freed began untying the rest, quietly but efficiently.

Hongyi took the boy and returned to Changyang. Along the way, neither of them said a word, occasionally sneaking sidelong glances at each other.

They entered the city and stopped at the nearest teahouse to the gate, where Lüxiu was waiting. She blinked when she saw only the two of them. “Didn’t you say there were a lot of children?”

“They’re wary. I brought him back first,” Hongyi replied irritably, glancing at the boy. Then she asked Lüxiu, “Did you find a place?”

“Found it. In the neighboring ward—two courtyards, eight qian of silver a year. It’s not new, but clean and usable. I paid ten years in advance for you.” Lüxiu sipped her tea and smiled. “No rush to pay me back. But I also hired a matron to help care for the kids—that, you’ll have to cover. I’ve only got my small savings and monthly wages…”

“Thank you!” Hongyi said sincerely, then followed her to check out the courtyard.

From then on, things began to fall into place. The two of them went back with the boy and brought the other children over, stopped by the western market to buy essentials, and also got fabric and a tailor to make new clothes for them.

That evening, Lüxiu and the new nanny Madam Qin made a large meal. But just as the food was served, Lüxiu pulled Hongyi out the door.

“What now… I’m starving!” Hongyi complained. After a full day of work, she wanted to eat.

“It’s almost 9 p.m.,” Lüxiu reminded her. “If you don’t head back now, you’ll be questioned by Steward Qi. We can’t explain any of this.”

Hongyi sighed and gave up her hunger. Lüxiu was right—if word got out, and it somehow reached Xilin Chuan’s ears, who knew what disaster would follow?

That man wouldn’t care about a bunch of orphans anyway.

The two of them hurried back toward Yankang Lane. Though night had fallen, the streets were lively. There was no curfew in the Da Xia Empire, and vendors still called out under the moonlight.

The bustle held a strange kind of peace. Hongyi took a deep breath and silently prayed that all twenty-three children would grow up safely, walk their own paths, and one day stroll these streets freely, buying whatever they pleased.

“Victory at the front—!”

A man’s loud cry tore through the streets like thunder.

Hongyi turned in shock, as did the others nearby. All eyes followed a man galloping past on horseback, heading straight for the palace: “Victory at the front—!”

Victory… at the front!

They had won!

Cheers erupted all around. The streets, once lively but calm, suddenly boiled over with joy. Some people even hugged one another, overcome with emotion.

“We won!” Lüxiu cried, gripping Hongyi’s hand so tightly it hurt. “We won… we won!”

Hongyi stood dazed.

For years, war had been something distant from her world.

Now, she had lived through it—seen the displaced orphans it created—and at last, news of victory had arrived…

And strangely, she didn’t know how to feel. It still felt like she was a bystander, watching a faraway war on a TV screen. Her heart stirred, but she couldn’t define the emotion.

Then, the next thought that came to her was…

Xilin Chuan was coming back.

For a long while afterward, Hongyi and Lüxiu were extra cautious.

Without delaying their main duties, they took turns visiting the children daily, under the pretense of going out to “buy snacks” or “visit the market,” never staying long to avoid suspicion.

That day, they were especially careful. Lüxiu stayed in the mansion while Hongyi left alone—an easy excuse: her skin rash hadn’t cleared yet, and she needed to visit the doctor.

She reached the courtyard just before late morning. She kept a strict eye on the clock—she had to return before mid-afternoon. Not only did she have to teach the household girls to dance, but Xilin Chuan had already returned to Changyang. He was in the palace reporting matters and, based on what Hongyi had subtly asked around, was expected back before dinner. She needed to play it safe.