Exhausted, he was running away. Would running away be the way he decided his fate? Would he be presumed dead? Would he be branded a traitor for abandoning his post at the most critical moment? He didn’t know.

He had slipped on so many rocks along the path that he had travelled that his feet now felt thinner than he could remember. Worst of all was wandering without knowing where he was going. He would spend the rest of his life denying that he was a former prince. No one needed to know about his principles or his past. Absolutely no one.

He just needed time until he felt like an ordinary person again.

Yǐnlián kept a solemn pace; although he was tired, he tried not to faint from exhaustion or hunger. He didn’t know the area well enough to know what he wanted or who he might find, and that worried him even more.
For a few minutes, he was preoccupied with the idea that he would have everything he needed: water, a bed, jewels and gold. This made him feel sick; he wasn’t like that and didn’t want to be. He had lost something far greater than the gold and jade that had been given to him. He had lost something that no one could ever give back to him.

He stopped in his tracks.

So alone now. The boy who used to give him flowers or crafted ironwork wasn’t there to reassure him.

He really had no one. Would he be able to live like the servants of the nobility whom the kingdom deemed mere servants? How hard would it be to serve a purpose?