Chapter 18: Return of the Lost

Pan Yun opened her eyes to find Tao Ji staring at her with eager curiosity.

Tao Ji’s eyes lit up when he saw her awake; to avoid disturbing Xuan Miao, he lowered his voice: “Come here—where did you pick up this child?”

Having already decided to go with them, Pan Yun had no reason to hide the truth: “At the gate of Shexian County.”

“You really went to Shexian,” Tao Ji said, speechless. “Were you the one who left those two traffickers half-eaten by beasts near Jiaozhangkou Forest, not far from Shexian?”

“You found them too?” Pan Yun nodded. “I did it. What beasts attacked them? Are they dead?”

She frowned. “Dead’s no good—I was counting on them being caught by the government office and naming all the others they kidnapped.”

Tao Ji said: “They’re not dead, but close enough.”

Tao Ji and Xuan Miao had been heading toward Datong; since Xuan Miao’s divination couldn’t be used constantly, they’d keep running, then pause to calculate Pan Yun’s location—each time, they discovered she’d fallen behind to the south.

So they turned back, tried again, searched, tried again, searched.

By the time they reached the Zhangde Prefecture area, they heard of a strange incident between Anyang and Shexian.

Two traffickers were punished: bound in the wilderness, attacked by beasts at night, barely escaped death—only to run straight into a troop of soldiers returning with prisoners.

These soldiers were low-ranking, with little chance to earn merit; they never expected to stumble upon a reward before even reaching Anyang.

Recently, Ruyang, Zhangde, Kaifeng, and Great Ming Prefectures had joined forces to crack down on trafficking; even a tip counted as merit, so when the soldiers saw the characters on the men’s backs, they lunged like wolves and pinned them down.

The merit fell from the heavens; combined with their beast-mauled wounds—one man’s arm torn off, half his face devoured—it became legendary gossip across Anyang.

Tao Ji and Xuan Miao overheard it, sensed something odd, and went to the county government office to inquire.

Neither trafficker saw who knocked them out, but both suspected the little girl they’d kidnapped—the one with the black cat.

Unfortunately, the government office didn’t believe them.

The county magistrate and government office runners thought they’d been robbed by bandits; the girl likely fell into the same hands and was probably dead.

The government office had been searching nearby for her—so much so that local bandits had dared not show their faces lately.

The government office didn’t believe them, but Tao Ji and Xuan Miao did.

They exchanged glances—they’d finally found Pan Yun’s trail.

A thread, once you find its end, no matter how tangled, can be unraveled.

They’d seized the end—and followed Pan Yun’s trail all the way here.

Tao Ji proudly explained how they’d tracked her down, then warned her: “Even we found you. What about the Embroidered Uniform Guard? Don’t wander off—they’ll catch you.”

A missing Embroidered Uniform Guard in the capital could be a minor or major matter; not just Pan Yun, but even Mount Sanqing must tread carefully.

When Wang Yong chased Pan Yun on horseback through the streets, dozens saw it; constables and officials joined the hunt—how could there be no trace at all?

Fortunately, Tao Ji and Xuan Miao quietly took her away from the capital, severing her trail within the city.

Pan Yun hadn’t considered these things before; now, with their words, she thought harder: “What was the name of that temple we left?”

Tao Ji: “Tianning Temple.”

“Won’t the Embroidered Uniform Guard trace you back through Tianning Temple?” Pan Yun asked. “We saw an Embroidered Uniform Guard enter the plum grove—and you left Tianning Temple right then.”

Tao Ji: “They’re monks. Monks don’t meddle in worldly affairs.”

Pan Yun stared at him silently.

Tao Ji stared back silently.

“Oh,” Pan Yun realized Tianning Temple wouldn’t betray them and changed the subject, nodding toward the child: “Since you’re so good at divination, find his parents and send him home.”

Wouldn’t returning him to his parents break his early-death omen?

Tao Ji could see no more; they’d have to wait for Xuan Miao to wake.

Xuan Miao woke, her complexion improved; she bent to study the child closely, met his large, glistening eyes, and after a moment said: “Imperial blood. Let’s go—back to Kaifeng Prefecture.”

Tao Ji picked up the child.

Pan Yun hugged her black cat, frowning: “Who in Kaifeng has royal lineage?”

Xuan Miao: “The Prince of Zhou.”

Seeing her confusion, Tao Ji explained: “The Prince of Zhou is the grandson of the Hongwu Emperor’s fifth son. His late father and the Yongle Emperor were both legitimate sons; he is the current emperor’s royal uncle, closely related by blood.”

In short—he’s Zhu Yuanzhang’s grandson.

Pan Yun simplified the relationship in her mind.

Pan Yun: “Did his family lose a child?”

Xuan Miao: “Since late last year, Ruyang, Kaifeng, Zhangde, and Great Ming Prefectures have jointly cracked down on trafficking. Since spring, the number of soldiers hunting traffickers has only increased. No official word yet, but the Prince of Zhou’s mansion must have lost a child.”

Tao Ji nodded vigorously, then froze mid-nod, his face blank: “But the Prince of Zhou has no sons. Where did the child come from?”

Xuan Miao glanced at him. “Didn’t you hear in the capital? The Prince of Zhou fell gravely ill, remembered his bond with his former heir, and petitioned the emperor to restore Zhu Youlao’s son, Zhu Zijin, as his heir. Moved by his sincerity, the emperor allowed Zhu Zijin, long imprisoned in the capital, to return to Kaifeng last year to visit the prince.”

Tao Ji suddenly remembered—he’d heard the gossip, but hadn’t paid attention.

He looked down at the child in his arms, his eyes filled with pity: “Life in a noble household isn’t easy.”

Xuan Miao nodded.

Pan Yun nodded deeply in agreement. She’d struggled walking north with the child, but heading south to Kaifeng was far easier.

Xuan Miao and Tao Ji finally relaxed—they stopped insisting on walking. First, they took her to a small dock and boarded a boat drifting downstream.

Then they stopped at a county town with lax gate inspections.

Xuan Miao turned to Pan Yun after a moment: “To enter Kaifeng, you need a household registration and a travel permit.”

Pan Yun stared at her silently.

Xuan Miao took her to a pawnshop.

Tao Ji spoke with the clerk, who led them to a small room and soon returned with a stack of papers: “Here—these are suitable registrations. Boys and girls, aged six to ten.”

Pan Yun’s mouth dropped open.

Xuan Miao carefully selected one, then asked: “Who was this one’s original owner?”

The clerk glanced, flipped through a ledger, and found it: “Zhang Xiaomei, native of Xiangfu County, Kaifeng. Born in Xuande 9th year. Sold into servitude in Zhengtong 5th year. Died in winter of Zhengtong 6th year.”

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Xuan Miao: “We’ll take this one. Also get a travel permit for her.”

Xuan Miao placed a silver ingot on the table.

The clerk glanced at it, closed the ledger: “Wait a moment.”

He took the papers out and returned shortly with three: Zhang Xiaomei’s household registration, her travel permit, and her indenture contract.

Xuan Miao was satisfied—now Pan Yun could be whoever she needed to be.

Pan Yun walked out of the pawnshop in silence.

Xuan Miao said: “Many things can be pawned—and many things can be bought from pawnshops.”

Pan Yun pondered: “From birth to death?”

Xuan Miao nodded: “From birth to death.”

Xuan Miao handed her all three papers: “Go. Until we return to Mount Sanqing, you are her.”

Pan Yun reached out and took them.

With these documents, travel became easier—they decided to hire a carriage directly to Kaifeng.

With Tao Ji and Xuan Miao present, Pan Yun didn’t need the documents yet—but as they neared Kaifeng, patrols would increase, and soldiers would stop them to check not only adult registrations and permits, but also children’s.

Pan Yun’s registration would come in handy then.

Oh, the child beside her didn’t need one—he was too young. Ancient Chinese society had a strange delay: children weren’t registered until later.

Many families waited until their child was five, six, even seven or eight before registering them.

Pan Yun: “So they lost a three- or four-year-old, yet search for children eight and older—and ignore the most likely suspect? What’s the point of this massive hunt?”

The other two, and the cat, fell silent, then all looked down at the child—pity deepened.

The four of them headed straight for the Prince of Zhou’s mansion upon entering the city.

Pan Yun stood before the mansion, unusually uneasy: “Are you sure this child is from the Prince of Zhou’s household?”

If he wasn’t, getting thrown out was minor—but being captured and exposed would be disastrous.

Xuan Miao glanced at her, then at Tao Ji.

Tao Ji straightened his back and walked toward the mansion gate.

The gate was empty—no gatekeeper in sight.

Tao Ji knocked loudly, thrice.

Long minutes passed before someone opened the door.

The gatekeeper, seeing a Daoist, frowned: “Who are you? What do you want?”

Tao Ji: “I am Tao Ji, Daoist of Mount Sanqing. I come to deliver good tidings to the Prince of Zhou.”

Perhaps because he was a Daoist, the gatekeeper endured: “What tidings?”

Tao Ji stepped aside, pointing to the child beside Pan Yun: “The joy of a lost child returned.”

The gatekeeper didn’t react at first—then stared at the child, eyes widening: “This—this—is our young master?”

Tao Ji: “Whether he is or isn’t—have your young prince come out and see for himself.”

The gatekeeper didn’t know the boy well—he’d only seen him twice from afar before he vanished, half a year ago; the child had changed…

But even changed, there was still a resemblance.

The gatekeeper forgot to close the door, stumbling inside: “The young master’s returned! The young master’s returned—”

The ten lucky numbers of this chapter are those ending in 6; screenshot as proof, deadline until next chapter’s release.

(End of chapter)