Chapter 1: 001: Banishment

"Stop playing dead, get up!"

In her daze, Shen Tang felt someone kick her.

That wasn't enough—they cursed up a storm too.

[Damn it, who kicked me?]

She curled her legs in pain, eyes fluttering open weakly.

The world before her seemed to have shed a layer of that barely-concealing gauze, shifting from frosted texture to high-definition tempered glass.

[What happened?]

Pain near to bursting made her suck in a sharp breath, staring blankly at the unfamiliar surroundings.

[Wasn't I in a drinking contest with someone last night?]

Seemed like halfway through, her editor called demanding the manuscript, so she had to prop up her drunken self and grab her brush...

The rest, no matter how hard she thought, wouldn't come back.

But one thing was certain—this absolutely shouldn't be what she was seeing!

Shen Tang pinched herself hard, until clear, stabbing pain radiated from that patch of skin, shattering her wishful thinking.

Seeing those unfamiliar hands, four words popped into her mind—

She had transmigrated!

Along with the meaning "transmigration" represented.

[Just don't know if I drank myself to death or dropped dead from staying up all night rushing a deadline.]

The more she thought, the more her head hurt, like a little man with a hammer was constantly pounding away inside. Shen Tang hurriedly stopped, pained.

"Eat up, eat fast so we can get moving."

She was pressing her head, easing the stabbing pain, when a tall figure blocked the sunlight above her.

The newcomer wore straw sandals caked in dark brown mud, casually tossing a palm-sized cake—charred black and rough on the surface. It landed in the mud beside her skirt. No regard for whether Shen Tang would eat a mud-caked cake, they moved straight to the next person.

Next second, a hand shot out like lightning beside her.

Snatched the cake and retracted.

Shen Tang reacted a beat late, only able to look over suspiciously.

The thief was a disheveled woman, shoving the cake into her mouth with both hands, looking exactly like a starved ghost reincarnated.

Afraid Shen Tang might snatch it back, she didn't even brush off the mud stuck to the cake. In moments, the small cake was entirely stuffed in her mouth, and she even sucked the crumbs off her fingers with unsatisfied relish.

Shen Tang: "..."

No telling how many days since this person cleaned up. Hair that should've been glossy black was greasy and knotted, exposed partings visibly coated in a layer of yellowish grime. A careful sniff revealed a bizarre fishy stench from her—like sweaty socks sealed for three to five weeks mashed together with snakewood flowers—the only presentable thing being those delicate features that even filth couldn't hide.

Shen Tang reasoned with her good-naturedly: "Ma'am, that was my cake."

The woman acted deaf, not even glancing at her, just smacking her lips, savoring the taste.

Shen Tang then noticed the woman's sucked knuckles were several shades lighter than the rest of her hand, and her throat convulsed involuntarily.

She wasn't a germaphobe, but this close-range visual assault triggered instinctive physiological revulsion.

Catching Shen Tang's changing expression from the corner of her eye, the woman—worried this fool might go crazy and hit her—scooted her butt away in the opposite direction.

That movement would've been fine, but it dragged Shen Tang along.

She looked down at the source of the tug at her waist—a thick hemp rope. This rope linked her body to the woman and other disheveled females of varying ages like so many grasshoppers on a string.

Looking up and around, all she saw were old, weak, women and children in coarse prison garb, faces weary. Men and women both.

Another dozen or so able-bodied men wore relatively uniform attire, knives at their waists. Some stood watch, some guarded prisoners.

Gazes occasionally lingering a beat longer on the younger, shapely female prisoners.

This—this—

A whole clan arrested and dragged to the execution grounds to cancel their household registration?

Or possibly on the road to exile.

Difference being: die early, reincarnate early; die late, reincarnate late.

[Gurgle gurgle gurgle]

Her empty five-viscera temple chose this inopportune moment to rebel, loud enough for others to hear.

Shen Tang covered her faintly cramping stomach, hunger making her salivate uncontrollably.

The more she swallowed saliva, the more obvious the hunger became, intense to the point of being undeniable.

Shen Tang frowned internally, only able to divert the torture of hunger by shifting her attention—within sight, a prisoner ate too fast, and the cake was dry. He choked.

He kept pounding his chest trying to force the cake stuck in his throat down, face gradually turning cyan.

Everyone treated it as normal.

No one stepped up to pat his back, no one offered water.

He struggled, legs kicking, trying to crawl toward the officer-types, stretching his right hand out with all his might to beg for help. But until his last breath, his right hand fell limp, and the latter showed no intention of saving him. Kicked him twice, confirmed he was truly dead, muttered: "Bad luck!"

Drew the dagger at his waist, bent down and sliced off the skin on the right side of the man's face near the ear, tossed it casually into a filthy cloth bag.

Shen Tang: "..."

"Time to move!"

"Hurry it up!"

"Get up, don't make me whip you!"

Prisoners重新戴上沉重枷锁.

Women's shackles were smaller, about thirty-five catties; men's were a size larger, no less than fifty catties if not eighty.

Those dozen uniformed men urged them on while kicking those slow to react. If kicking didn't work, straight to the whip—tremendous force, each lash leaving a finger-wide bloody gash, horrifying to behold.

Shen Tang kept her head down, walking silently, desperately searching for memories related to this body.

Very unfortunate result.

Not only did she not get the transmigrator's welfare package—no original owner's memories—she'd also been "robbed blind." Aside from knowing she was named Shen Tang, had the pen name "You Li," made a living drawing, and feared her editor's deadline calls, everything else was a complete blur!!!

She glanced sideways at the prisoners and the guards watching them, sighing inwardly: [Bad luck, this is a hell-mode start, right?]

Truly, bad luck's mother opened the door for bad luck—bad luck to the max!

Regardless of the start, staying alive came first.

Escape mid-journey?

Or follow the group to the destination, then look for a chance to escape?

Currently, neither option looked optimistic.

Marching under the blazing sun, several more prisoners fainted along the way. Only when the evening glow dyed the horizon were they permitted to rest on the spot for the night.

Officers gathered to build a fire, took out dried meat from packs to boil in a clay pot, sprinkled in a bit of salt—that was a pot of meat soup.

Shen Tang reacted fast this time, kept her cake.

Plopped down on the ground, chewing the hard, cold cake slowly, softening it with saliva before swallowing, attention fixed on the officers' low conversation. Though their idle talk was fragmented, she could barely piece together some intel.

These prisoners were one family.

Surname Gong. The clan's old and young, even servants and maids, none escaped—all arrested.

Divided into three batches, transported in groups.

Men sent to the borderlands as penal labor; women sent to Xiao City's Jiaofang (Courtesan Bureau).

Shen Tang's group was the second batch, mostly Gong household women and maids, including the highest-ranking Old Lady, several young wives in their prime, beautiful concubines, children of various ages, the rest being servants and maids.

She guessed this body was either a maid or a child.

Pinching the bone age, about eleven or twelve.

Men tattooed on the face, women inked behind the ear.

If a prisoner died en route, they'd cut off the tattooed face skin or ear as proof of headcount.

She touched her ear—sure enough, a scabbed blood clot behind her left ear.

Shen Tang: "...F*ck!"

New book on the road, asking for recommendation tickets again after a long absence.

7.15, setting off anew.

(End of Chapter)