Chapter Text
He finally has had enough of getting beaten three times a day. His body ached every time he could barely walk. Even if he had work to do, he would push the pain to the side and do the work. It was better than being murdered, is what he thought at first, but as time went by, that changed.
He meant what he said: that Mobei Jun wouldn’t be able to find him and that he wasn’t coming back. No way was he going to
It had been around a month by now since he left. He was travelling through Mobei Jun’s Kingdom. He was planning on heading towards the human villages, but with Mobei Jun’s uncle now wanting to murder him, he wasn’t so sure.
It was dark out and the cold winter wind was starting to pick up. He coughed and sneezed. He knew he was sick from how long he’d been walking around in this snowy forest.
He probably has frostbite on his legs, which had gone numb some time ago.
He stopped to see a small cave. He could stay there to stay hidden from the harsh winter wind. Walking over, he grabbed a rock and threw it into the cave, making sure there wasn’t anything that would come and attack him if he went in.
Nothing came out.
With a sigh, Shang Qinghua set his bag down on a rock. He only had the clothes he was wearing and some coins, and that was about it.
He sat down, pulling his knees to his chest. He could see his breath in the air as he shivered. He was thinking of going to find Shen Qingqiu, but Luo Binghe could tell Mobei where he was, plus his son wasn’t too fond of him, it seems.
Shang Qinghua sneezes as he shivers from the harsh cold breeze that enters the cave. His nose is running; he is most likely getting sick. He wraps his arms around the upper half of his body to try and warm himself up.
He looks over to the cave's opening to see a few tree branches on the ground. Maybe he could make a fire.
Standing up, he quickly grabs the branches. He sets them on the ground of the cave, looking through the bag he had on him. He tried to look for something to help start the fire. He had a few notes in his bag. He grabbed them, ripped them up into four pieces each, and landed on the branches. He looked around for a rock.
He finds one nearby in the cave. He sits on his knees and rubs the rock against the branches for a long time before he starts to see a little spark of fire. He keeps going until he gets a fire going.
He felt proud of himself; he was never the type of person who liked camping very much and didn’t have very good survival skills. Besides hugging his thighs and begging for his life, he wouldn’t call those survival skills at all.
He curls up close to the fire, rubbing his hands together. This was okay. It was fine. He could do this without being caught or murdered. He’s already survived three months. Maybe he can find a nice place far away from all three realms where no one can find him.
Closing his eyes and trying to rest before he has to move on, he can't stay in one spot for too long.