The journey began again — this time toward the capital.
Taotao adjusted the wide-brimmed straw hat on his head, casting a shadow
over his sun-darkened face. Ju Xian wore a simple traveler's robe with a
faded sash, her hair tied in a low knot beneath a veil of gauze. Together, they
looked like a modest couple — quiet, unassuming, and clearly worn from
travel.
They arrived at the edge of a desert trail, where traders and travelers gathered in preparation for crossing the golden stretch of sand that stood
between them and the outer roads leading to the capital.
A caravan of camels and mules was setting off — their cargo bundles packed
with silk, spices, and grain. A burly merchant in a red scarf shouted
instructions while workers secured barrels.
Ju Xian approached him, Taotao limping slightly behind.
> "Sir," she said, her voice soft and respectful, "we heard your caravan is
heading eastward."
The man looked them over, suspicious. "I don't take beggars or runaways."
Taotao stepped forward and held out a small pouch of coin. "We're married.
Traveling for work. We don't need luxury — just space to ride and some
shade from the sun."
The merchant weighed the pouch, then nodded. "Two spots on the rear mule
cart. You ride quietly, you ride clean."
As the sun began its climb, the caravan moved forward.
The desert was a world unto itself — vast and unforgiving. Waves of heat
shimmered above the sand, and the wind whispered dry secrets across the
dunes. The sky was pale blue by morning and a blinding white by noon.
Taotao pulled his scarf tighter, shading his eyes. "How do people live in
this?"
Ju Xian didn't answer. Her eyes were fixed on the horizon — always
calculating, watching.
The desert bloomed with small marvels: golden hawks circling overhead,
lizards skittering over stone, caravans in the distance like floating mirages.
On the second day, they passed a ruined watchtower, half-swallowed by
sand, with faded banners still flapping weakly in the wind.
By the third day, the merchant grew more talkative.
> "People used to cross this land carrying tribute for the emperor himself,"
he told them. "Now, it's bandits and tax collectors."
Ju Xian said little. Taotao mostly complained.
> "If I get one more grain of sand in my shoe, I'm starting a war."
But at night, beneath a sky littered with stars, Ju Xian found herself
watching the constellations again. And though she still claimed not to
remember, her fingers traced shapes into the dirt with practiced care.
Taotao watched her, saying nothing.
The desert was cruel. But it did not lie.
And ahead, the capital waited.