Chapter 12 – A Narrow Escape (Part 2)
The maid panicked completely, not knowing what to do.
Fang Yurou pressed down on her arm, biting her lip to endure the pain in her abdomen. After forcing herself to catch her breath, she said in a trembling voice, “Don’t panic. Take the door panel from the second floor, carry me to somewhere flat to lie down. The bundle—inside there’s clean cotton cloth. And bring a jar of liquor. Hurry…”
Her words came out in fragments; she was barely holding on. Her hair was soaked through with sweat.
The maid quickly found some workers and told them to do as Madam Fang said. They pried off a thin door panel and brought it over, but the men had never dealt with something like this before. When they tried to lift the madam onto the board, the maid stopped them immediately, glancing around for something soft to cushion it. Finding nothing, she tore off her own thick padded coat and spread it on the board.
“Now, give me a hand—careful, lift the madam gently!”
Fang Yurou was carried into a small storage room in the corner. It was used to store grain, with the stale scent of old millet lingering in the air. She was already in such pain that she couldn’t speak. Her breathing grew shallow, her sweat-damp hair clung to her cheeks, and she kept silent only by biting her lip hard enough to draw blood. She knew this was a crucial moment. Her strength was fading fast—if she didn’t hold on, both she and her child would die here.
The maid dared not move even a step away. There was nothing useful in the room, so she tearfully sent a worker upstairs to fetch Master Bai Jiu, while she wet a handkerchief and wiped her mistress’s face.
Upstairs, Bai Rongjiu had just finished instructing Xie Jing how to shoot when he couldn’t help glancing at the boy carefully.
When Xie Jing stopped the carriage earlier, Bai Rongjiu had thought him merely brave. But now, he realized he had underestimated him.
He had only intended to teach Xie Jing how to fire a gun—no need to be accurate, just enough to shoot and frighten the bandits so Fang Yurou could escape.
But Xie Jing was far better than expected.
He moved deftly, not at all weak as his youthful face suggested. There was a hard, resilient quality in his bones.
At first, when Bai Rongjiu guided his hands, Xie Jing trembled. But soon, he adapted completely. Whatever Lord Bai Jiu ordered, he did, quick and precise—as if they’d trained together for years. He became Lord Bai Jiu’s other hand, his second pair of eyes—where Lord Bai Jiu pointed, he shot.
Bai Rongjiu looked at him again and said quietly, “You’re good.”
The bandits were pushed back once. Xie Jing’s wrist and shoulder were numb from recoil, but after that single praise, his eyes shone.
One of Bai Rongjiu’s guards, having finished reloading, came over. He, too, had seen the boy’s performance and was impressed. If this weren’t the middle of a siege, he would’ve wanted to recruit the kid and train him properly—his marksmanship talent was undeniable. But now wasn’t the time. The guard lowered his voice, “Lord Bai Jiu, we must go. We don’t know how many more bandits there are on the mountain. We’re low on guns and ammunition—we can’t hold much longer.”
Before Bai Rongjiu could respond, a worker stumbled up the stairs, gasping, “Bad news! Madam Fang—she’s gone into labor!”
Xie Jing froze and turned toward the stairwell. The tower was narrow and dim; no light reached the lower floor. He could only faintly hear the muffled noise of chaos below.
The bandits, having retreated briefly, regrouped and surrounded the watchtower again.
This time, the defenders fired fewer shots—but each one was deadly accurate. Any bandit who came near lost his life.
Bai Rongjiu wanted to retreat, but Fang Yurou’s premature labor made movement impossible.
He clung to one last hope—that they could hold out a bit longer until reinforcements from the Bai family’s Heihe firm could arrive.
They held until nightfall, surviving several waves of gunfire.
Some food was sent up, divided among them. The men looked less panicked than before.
One guard silently accepted his portion, took a few bites, then handed another share to Bai Rongjiu.
Bai Rongjiu’s face remained grim. He ate a little, then set the food aside and kept watch out the window.
They waited an entire day. No one came.
The Heihe firm must have fallen into chaos as well. There would be no help. They would have to save themselves.
Those in the tower could only trust Bai Rongjiu. Several older workers huddled together, whispering after eating. “We’ve got food, but… I heard those mountain bandits are vicious. They don’t go back till they’ve killed someone. Last year, they burned a whole village. You think they’ll burn us too?”
“Yeah… if they set fire, even a tower this tall won’t hold…”
“Shut your mouth!” another hissed. “I’m not dying here. My wife and kids are waiting for me to come home!”
The mutters died away when a sharp cry of pain echoed from the corner storeroom.
Inside—
Fang Yurou’s belly rose high, trembling violently, veins bulging like snakes across her pale skin.
Her clothes and hair were soaked. She looked as if she had been pulled from water, her eyes glassy and weak.
The maid’s forehead was slick with sweat as she gripped her mistress’s wrist and whispered urgently, “Madam, hold on—just a little longer! I can see the baby’s head! You mustn’t sleep, please stay awake!”
Fang Yurou had already fainted once and now woke again from the pain. She gritted her teeth, clutching the maid’s arm, and rasped, “Bring me a bowl of rice wine.”
The maid hurried to fetch it. Fang Yurou sipped it slowly in small gulps, regaining a bit of strength. She didn’t cry out or scream, only bit down on a strip of cotton cloth and pressed on silently.
She had the hard endurance of a northern woman—at the moment of life and death, she became even more stubbornly determined to survive.
If she let herself relax for even a moment, the baby would die.
Just before dawn, the child was born—
Bathed in the first rays of morning light, the baby’s wailing echoed through the tower. After a long night of fear, everyone finally exhaled in relief.
Bai Rongjiu said in a low, steady voice, “Prepare two horses. Take Madam Fang to the carriage—we’re leaving.”
It was the perfect moment to escape.
They still had food, but little ammunition. They couldn’t hold out much longer. The Heihe area was remote—no reinforcements would arrive soon. They had to break through. And with winter’s chill, neither Fang Yurou nor her newborn could survive much longer in that freezing stone tower.
Their carriage was intact, but the horses had been stolen. The bandits were skilled at raiding—they left no chance for anyone to escape alive.
Bai Rongjiu’s guards, agile and fierce, stole back a few horses. They quickly helped Fang Yurou into the carriage. The shaft had been slashed, and one guard tested it with a firm grip. “Use one horse only. The shaft’s cracked—it won’t hold so much weight. Only the madam can ride!”
He gave the other horses to the workers, shouting for them to flee. The maid jumped from the carriage to share a mount with a familiar worker. The guard saw her thin clothes, tossed her his coat, then turned back toward Bai Rongjiu.
Bai Rongjiu was already on horseback, ordering most of his guards to ride around the carriage to protect Fang Yurou, keeping only two or three men at his side.
Xie Jing saw him and pulled on his reins, trying to climb up behind him. Bai Rongjiu stopped him with his whip. “You go to the carriage. Madam Fang needs someone to drive it. You’re small and light—you won’t crush the frame.”
“I won’t!” Xie Jing’s eyes reddened. “The maid’s lighter—let her go!”
“She doesn’t know how to drive.”
“Give her the whip! Just tell her to go forward—”
“Xie Jing!”
Xie Jing looked up at him, eyes shining red with tears. Everyone knew the carriage had the best chance of survival—but he didn’t want to live alone. He’d had enough of loneliness.
“You’re the youngest,” Bai Rongjiu said firmly from his saddle. “Women and children first. That’s my rule. Go!”
He was about to spur his horse forward when suddenly the animal neighed and reared up in panic. Bai Rongjiu quickly yanked the reins, struggling to steady it—when the weight behind him shifted.
A small, wiry boy slipped up onto the saddle like a fish, settling into the space behind him.
“I’m thirteen,” Xie Jing said through clenched teeth. “Not a child anymore!”
He wrapped his arms tightly around Bai Rongjiu’s waist and refused to let go.
This time—even if he died—he would not leave the man’s side.
