The Azure Phoenix Blade

Joining the Caravan at White Sand Crossing

The next morning, a thin mist still hung over White Sand Crossing.

Several mule carts stood on the gravel shore, loaded with cloth bolts, wooden crates, and oilcloth packages.

Workers moved back and forth, their boots kicking stones with sharp clicks, turning the early morning quiet into busy disorder.

Madam Gu stood beside the second cart, checking the cargo list. She was about forty, with high brows, a straight back, and sleeves rolled to her wrists.

She stood like a green bamboo planted firmly in the wind—neat and capable despite the muddy ground.

She was scolding a young worker so thoroughly he couldn’t lift his head. “I told you to cover the oilcloth properly last night. Did you leave your ears on the back of your head?”

The worker held a cloth roll with a bitter face.

“If it still got wet, that proves you’re stupid, not that I’m wronging you.” Madam Gu closed the list and finally looked up at Eleanor Su’s group as they approached.

Her gaze was quick and sharp—first on Eleanor Su, then Celeste and the children, and finally on Quentin Mo, who was deliberately trying to stay inconspicuous. Instead of asking their origins first, she said, “Looking for work, or looking for a road?”

Eleanor Su stopped and answered evenly, “A road heading south.”

Madam Gu looked her up and down, the corner of her mouth lifting slightly. “This isn’t a soup kitchen.”

“I know.” Eleanor Su took out a moderate silver ingot from her sleeve and placed it in her palm. “We’ll pay. Just let us travel with you for a stretch.”

Madam Gu weighed the silver, and her expression shifted. She had led caravans south for years and seen all kinds of people begging for passage—some pleading poverty, others acting tough. A woman who said nothing pitiful and simply offered fair payment was rare.

“Where are you from?” she asked.

“ Lin family come from southern Anhui. My husband passed away early. I’m taking the children south to join relatives,” Eleanor Su replied without haste. Her voice carried fatigue but no weakness.

Madam Gu said, “Nine out of ten who say they’re joining relatives are actually fleeing debts or disasters.”

Eleanor Su gave a faint smile. “Then I must be the third kind—I simply don’t want to leave my life behind in the old place.”

Madam Gu actually laughed, a crisp, straightforward sound. “Alright. Interesting.” She pocketed the silver. “You can ride in my cart, but there are rules. First, the children must not cry or touch the goods. Second, if we’re inspected on the road, you answer exactly what I say. Third—”

Her eyes flicked toward Quentin Mo. “That grim-faced guard of yours—tell him to stop scaring my workers with that black face the whole way.”

Quentin Mo’s face darkened further in the mist. Celeste quickly bent to help Sylvie onto the cart, using the motion to hide her near-smile.

Madam Gu waved for her men to shift two bolts of coarse cloth in the rear cart to make space for the children. Sylvie climbed up with Celeste’s help. Once seated, her eyes darted around curiously, but she remembered her mother’s words and kept her hands to herself.

Damien refused help and tried to climb the shaft himself. His foot slipped, and he nearly hung off the side. Julian quietly gave him a push from behind and said, “You’re up.”

Damien’s face flushed red. He glared. “I was almost there anyway.”

Julian sat down beside him and nodded seriously. “Mm. Almost.”

Sylvie looked between them, her eyes curving with amusement, but she was sensible enough not to laugh out loud.

Half a day after the caravan set off, a wooden barrier checkpoint appeared on the official road ahead. Several constables were drinking tea under a shed. When the caravan approached, the leader set down his bowl and shouted, “Stop! Checking travel permits!”

Madam Gu dismounted with practiced speed, as if she had anticipated this. She smiled and approached. “Master Zhou, you’re on duty so early? You look more energetic than my mules.” As she handed over the permits, a string of copper coins slid discreetly into the constable’s sleeve—smooth and unobtrusive.

Constable Zhou weighed his sleeve and his expression softened, though his eyes still scanned the rear cart.

Eleanor Su lifted her gaze with perfectly timed weariness. Celeste held Sylvie securely; the little girl hid half her face behind her sister’s sleeve, looking both timid and quiet—like any ordinary child who had endured a hard journey.

Damien tensed and straightened his back the moment he saw the constable. At that exact moment, Julian’s small hand brushed lightly against the back of his from inside the sleeve. Damien paused, his rising aggression fading.

Constable Zhou frowned at Quentin Mo. “Who’s that black-faced man?”

Eleanor Su answered before anyone else could. “The guard we hired for the family. With so many children on the road, we didn’t dare travel without someone carrying a staff.”

Madam Gu immediately followed up with a smile. “Master Zhou, if a widow with several children isn’t even allowed a guard on the southern road, then we merchants might as well stop traveling too.” Her words were half-true, smoothly blending worldly wisdom so that they felt natural rather than provocative.

The constable glanced at the rear cart once more, then waved them through, unwilling to waste time on a few women and children.

“Move along, don’t block the road.”

Only after the wheels rolled forward for a good distance did Celeste quietly exhale, realizing her back was covered in a thin layer of sweat.

Much later, Damien muttered sullenly, “He kept staring at me. I really wanted to—”

Celeste cut in swiftly, “You wanted to what? Fight an official at a checkpoint?”

Damien choked, then said stiffly, “I’m not that stupid.”

Julian leaned against a cloth bundle and said softly, “Your face earlier basically said you wanted to hit someone.”

Sylvie, nestled in Celeste’s arms, added earnestly, “It was written very big.”

Celeste finally couldn’t hold it in. She turned her head toward the coarse cloth behind her and smiled silently.

The cart wheels rumbled on, heading south along the official road. The trees on both sides grew denser, and the air grew heavier with moisture.

The dry, harsh cold of the north was gradually left behind with each mile. Yet everyone understood that what they had shaken off was only the terrain—not the past.

Since the road led south, they could only keep moving forward.

The carts were still rolling, and the children were still with them. At this moment, that was what mattered most.