Empress's Flight From Capital(II)
1342 Words
Part Four: Severing Names and Paths
Eleanor Su held the household documents under the lamp and examined them carefully.
One identified them as the Lin family of Riverside Town in Jiangnan: a widow returning south with her children.
The other was a supplementary registration for distant relatives, complete with origin, family ties, and reasons for relocation. The ink was slightly aged and the seals authentic—clearly prepared years in advance.
Quentin Mo glanced at them and asked quietly, “You anticipated this day, my lady?”
Eleanor Su replied evenly, “No one could have anticipated tonight.” She paused. “But I knew that if something ever happened, once the palace gates closed, waiting for others to save us would mean waiting to die.”
As she spoke, she picked up the golden register from the table.
It was the empress’s official register—gold-embossed, heavy, and once the greatest symbol of her status. She looked at it for a moment, then tore it apart with both hands. The sound of ripping filled the air as fragments of gilded paper scattered across the floor like cold snow under the lamplight.
Fuguan cried out in shock, “My lady!”
Eleanor Su looked up, her voice terrifyingly calm. “After tonight, there is no empress in this world.”
She handed the household documents to Quentin Mo. “Remember this. My surname is Lin. So is theirs. Celeste, Julian, Damien, and Sylvie—from now on, they are simply children of the Lin family.”
Quentin Mo took the papers, veins standing out on the back of his hand.
“But His Majesty—”
Eleanor Su turned and looked at him.
Her gaze was not sharp, yet it silenced him before he could speak.
“I know what he asked of you,” she said softly. “He was a father. Even on his deathbed, he wanted to leave roots, a sword, and a path for his children to rise again. But I am different.”
She stepped closer, her voice low but each word heavier than the last.
“I am their mother.”
“I only want them to live.”
Quentin Mo opened his mouth but found himself unable to respond.
Eleanor Su continued, “Celeste is only ten. Julian and the others are only three. If we can get them out alive tonight, it will already be a miracle. I do not want them waking up every day forced to remember national hatred or family vendettas. I do not want others to decide their path for them. If one day they grow up and choose to turn back, it must be their own decision—not yours, not mine, and not because of tonight’s blood.”
By the final words, her voice trembled faintly.
But the tremor lasted only a moment before she suppressed it.
Quentin Mo looked down at the Azure Blade in his arms. After a long silence, he said hoarsely, “This subordinate… understands.”
Eleanor Su knew he might not truly understand. Or rather, he carried another kind of understanding—loyalty to Xiahou Yan, to that bloody night in the main army, to the lord he had followed without regret for so many years. But right now, she had no time to debate right or wrong with him. She only needed this man to take her children and leave alive tonight.
At that moment, a soft, muffled groan came from outside the hall.
It sounded like someone had their mouth and nose covered, struggling once before falling silent.
Quentin Mo’s head snapped up, eyes cold.
Eleanor Su also looked toward the door and said quietly, “They’re here.”
Part Five: Escape Through the Deep Palace
The next quarter-hour, the entire sleeping quarters moved in silent urgency.
Part Six: Lantern on the Old Canal
Hazel Qiu and two trusted palace maids packed the children’s everyday clothes and took out several plain, inconspicuous coarse cloaks.
Fuguan divided the valuable but unremarkable gold leaves and loose silver into small packets, giving them to those still willing to follow while dismissing the younger eunuchs who were too terrified to stand.
Eleanor Su neither stopped nor persuaded them.
She simply looked at each person who was leaving, nodded, and said, “Go find your own way to survive.”
Those who had once called her “my lady” now stood with red eyes, unable to look at her.
In the end, only Fuguan, Hazel Qiu, Quentin Mo, and Eleanor Su with her four children remained.
Eleanor Su stepped in front of Fuguan, straightened the wrinkled collar of his robe, and said softly, “These years have been hard on you.”
Fuguan trembled violently and knelt at once, tears streaming down his face as he kowtowed repeatedly.
Eleanor Su said gently, “After tonight, do not call me ‘my lady’ anymore.”
Fuguan looked up, eyes full of tears.
“Call me Madam.”
This request seemed even heavier than tearing the golden register.
Fuguan’s lips trembled for a long time before he answered hoarsely, “…Yes, Madam.”
Eleanor Su said no more. She turned, lifted the bead curtain, and entered the side chamber.
The lamps inside were dimmer.
The children had already put on their outer robes. Celeste stood by the bed, eyes red but holding back tears. Damien’s shoes were on crookedly, laces uneven—he had clearly put them on himself.
Sylvie leaned drowsily against Hazel Qiu. Julian stood by the edge of the bed, one hand gripping the wooden frame, looking up at his mother.
Eleanor Su crouched down and tied Celeste’s cloak strings securely.
Celeste asked softly, “Mother, are we leaving the palace?”
“Yes.”
“What about Father?”
Eleanor Su’s hands paused.
She looked into her daughter’s reddened eyes, which stubbornly refused to cry, and said quietly after a moment, “Your father… won’t be able to come back for a while.”
Celeste’s breath hitched. Her fingers clenched tightly around her clothes.
She was too sensible for her age and already understood much of what “won’t come back” meant. Yet she pressed her lips together, forced the tears back, and nodded. “I will take care of my brothers and sister.”
Eleanor Su stroked her head and said nothing more.
Damien suddenly rushed over and hugged her knees, sobbing, “I won’t go! I want to wait for Father!”
Eleanor Su looked down at him.
Damien lifted his tear-streaked face, stubborn and fierce like a small, aggrieved wild animal. Eleanor Su bent down, straightened his crooked shoes, and tied the laces properly.
“Go with Mother first. That way, when your father returns, he’ll be able to find you.” Damien sniffled, wanting to argue but held back by her words. He could only nod through his tears.
Sylvie, nestled against Hazel Qiu, asked sleepily, “Where are we going?”
Eleanor Su took her into her arms and whispered, “Somewhere with less rain.”
Sylvie blinked, took it seriously, and obediently buried her face in her mother’s shoulder.
Julian remained quiet the whole time, simply watching.
Eleanor Su walked over, lifted him for a moment, then set him down and touched his forehead. “Stay close to Mother. Don’t run off.”
Julian gave a small nod.
He didn’t ask about his father and didn’t cry.
He simply grabbed a corner of Eleanor Su’s sleeve—lightly, but firmly.
The hidden panel behind the bed was pushed open, revealing a downward stone staircase. A musty, earthy smell rushed up, washing away the last traces of palace incense.
Quentin Mo led with a lantern, an iron staff slung across his back and the Azure Blade secured behind him.
Eleanor Su led Celeste, Damien, and Julian in the middle. Hazel Qiu carried Sylvie, and Fuguan brought up the rear. The moment the secret door closed, the lamplight in the sleeping quarters seemed to extinguish cleanly behind them.
- Writer
