The Cage of Langya

Wang Xuanzhi stopped before Xie Qingyi, leaning in slightly to examine her face. His gaze lingered for a moment on a red mark on her neck, left from being pulled. He spoke with a carefully calibrated tone of pity, "Miss Qingyi, you must have been frightened. My subordinates were rather rough; they didn't hurt you, did they?" He was so close that his warm breath almost brushed against Xie Qingyi's face. His handsome features and solicitous words formed a stark, ironic contrast to the brutality that had just unfolded behind him. A chill shot from the soles of Xie Qingyi's feet to the top of her head, and her stomach churned with nausea. She lowered her eyes, avoiding his gaze, which seemed gentle yet was as cold as ice. Her body stiffened, like a block of stone. "It seems you are indeed startled," Wang Xuanzhi chuckled softly, straightening up and gesturing to his attendants. One immediately presented a brocade box. Wang Xuanzhi opened it, revealing not gold or jewels, but a pair of exquisitely crafted, slender anklets adorned with tiny silver bells. In the dim light, the bells gleamed with a cold, eerie luster. "Miss Qingyi possesses exceptional talent and elegant demeanor. Such worldly shackles would be too crude for such a lady." Wang Xuanzhi picked up the anklets, his movements as graceful as if he were admiring a work of art. "These are 'Clear Sound Bells' I had specially made. Their chime is crisp and melodious. With them on, your every step will be like a lotus blooming, tinkling with each movement... It will also prevent you from getting lost in this vast estate, which would worry me." His words were gentle, but their content was chilling. These silver bells were a more humiliating mark than iron shackles, a symbol of ownership, of the stripping away of all freedom and privacy. They would constantly remind her that she was merely a caged bird, her very steps monitored, with nowhere to escape. Before Xie Qingyi could react, Wang Xuanzhi signaled to the matrons. Two women flanked her, forcing her to sit on a stone stool. They lifted the hem of her skirt and trousers, exposing her slender ankles. The cold metal pressed against her skin, and with a soft *click*, the silver bells were securely fastened to her ankles. Wang Xuanzhi watched with satisfaction, a look of almost obsessive admiration in his eyes. "Excellent," he murmured, gently stroking the bells. His fingertips brushed Xie Qingyi's skin, sending a shiver through her. "A talented woman finally becomes a caged bird... This scene has a unique charm. Wenjun, take her to be settled. Let's say... the empty room next to the woodshed. Let her have some quiet." With that, he turned and left without another glance at Xie Qingyi, as if he had just completed a trivial task. His wide sleeves stirred a faint scent of sandalwood as he departed. Yu Wenjun watched Wang Xuanzhi's retreating figure, then looked at Xie Qingyi, who stood with silver bells on her ankles, her face pale but her composure fiercely maintained. The complex expression in her eyes deepened. After a moment of silence, she said to Xie Qingyi, "Follow me." Xie Qingyi stood up mechanically. The silver bells on her ankles chimed with her movement, a crisp yet piercing sound. Each ring seemed to mock her helplessness, slicing at her dignity. She followed Yu Wenjun through winding corridors, deeper into the Wang estate. The sound of the bells echoed in the spacious walkways, like a mournful dirge of humiliation played just for her. She was led to a small side room adjacent to the woodshed. Inside, there was only a hard plank bed and a thin quilt. The air was thick with the scent of firewood and dust. Yu Wenjun said nothing, merely giving Xie Qingyi a deep look. There was a warning in her eyes, and perhaps also a trace of something faint and indescribable. Then, she locked the door and left. The room immediately plunged into darkness and silence. Only the silver bells on her ankles made a faint sound when she shifted slightly, a reminder of her predicament. She slumped onto the cold bed, the fear, humiliation, anger, and despair of the past few days finally overwhelming her. Burying her face in her knees, her shoulders trembled violently, silently. But she bit her lip fiercely, refusing to let out a single sob. Tears were a sign of weakness, and here, weakness would only invite crueler treatment. "Qingyi is here." Wang Xuanzhi looked up, his smile warm, as if greeting a long-lost friend. He put down the bronze sparrow and walked to Qingyi, his fingertips brushing the skin of her neck. The icy touch made her tremble slightly. "The Wen family has broken off the engagement, and my father is quite displeased. Tell me, how should I 'appease' the old man?" Qingyi lowered her eyes, staring at a speck of dust on the tip of her embroidered shoe, silent. Any words at this moment would be superfluous, and could easily become a new excuse for his torment. "But it matters not." Wang Xuanzhi answered his own question, picking up the bronze lock. "I have lost a potential in-law, but gained an interesting trinket. This item is called the 'Sparrow's Tongue Lock,' cast by a renowned craftsman from Jiangnan over three months. The lock core is exquisite; once closed, it cannot be opened without a special key." He brought the collar close to Qingyi's neck, the coldness of the bronze pressing against her pulse. "And you, my Qingyi, have been too restless of late. You need a little... a small restraint." With a soft "click," the bronze sparrow lock fastened. Its weight was neither heavy nor light, but it settled precisely below her Adam's apple. The cold metal pressed against her warm skin, and each swallow brought a distinct sense of pressure. The sparrow's head rested perfectly between her collarbones, its hollowed-out eyes seeming to watch her mockingly. "It suits you perfectly," Wang Xuanzhi mused, as if admiring a flawless work of art. "From this day forward, you may not remove it, except when bathing. Of course, during your bath, Yu Wenjun will be in charge." He called out loudly, "Wenjun." Yu Wenjun emerged silently from behind the screen, a brocade box in her hands. Her head was bowed, and she dared not look at Qingyi, merely presenting the box. Wang Xuanzhi took out a small key from within. The handle of the key was also shaped like a sparrow's tail. "The key will be kept by Wenjun. Should Qingyi commit any 'misconduct,' Wenjun has the authority to delay unlocking this collar as a form of punishment." He placed the key into Yu Wenjun's palm, looking at her meaningfully. "You must... keep it safe." Yu Wenjun's hand trembled slightly as she clutched the key tightly, her fingernails digging into her flesh. "Yes, young master," she replied, her voice dry. Qingyi felt as if the bronze lock had come alive. The sparrow's tongue transformed into an invisible barb, not only locking her neck but attempting to pierce her heart. The key in Yu Wenjun's hand – this arrangement was utterly venomous. It was so close, yet separated by a chasm of "power" and "self-preservation." She looked into Yu Wenjun's eyes, filled with struggle and fear, and felt a chill spread through her heart. Could she rely on her? Perhaps, at the critical moment, Yu Wenjun couldn't even protect herself. The gloom of the underground prison was a backdrop that no fine clothing or adornment could conceal. The bronze sparrow lock reflected a faint gleam under the dim oil lamp, drawing the glances of the other female slaves, yet none dared to speak. Murong Xue was confined alone in a stone cell deeper within, bound in chains, reportedly for several attempts to resist the servants who brought her food. Qingyi, under the pretense of delivering food, secretly went to see her. Murong Xue leaned against the cold stone wall. The heavy shackles made movement difficult, but her eyes remained astonishingly bright, like a lone wolf on a snowfield. She saw the bronze sparrow lock on Qingyi's neck and the corner of her mouth curled into a mocking smile. "The young master of the Wang family is indeed quite elegant." Qingyi gave a bitter smile and handed over the half-biscuit she had saved. Murong Xue did not refuse, swallowing it in a few bites, and whispered, "I've observed for many days. When the guards change shifts, there's a brief gap near the west waterway. Do you still remember that map?" Qingyi's heart stirred. She touched the oilcloth package hidden close to her body and nodded. It was her only hope. "A map alone is not enough; you must also be able to squeeze through those narrow openings." Murong Xue moved her hands and feet, restricted by the chains. "There's a bone-shrinking technique in my homeland. While it can't completely free me from these shackles, it might be worth a try if it's just to pass through a narrow waterway. Watch closely." Murong Xue gestured for Qingyi to block any potential line of sight from the doorway, then took a deep breath. Her body began to twist in a peculiar manner. Her bones emitted faint "crackling" sounds, and her shoulders seemed to contract inward at an impossible angle, making her entire silhouette appear smaller. Qingyi held her breath, watching. This was beyond her comprehension of the human body's limits. However, just as Murong Xue attempted to demonstrate how to pass through a simulated narrow crevice, perhaps due to the restriction of the shackles or an unhealed old injury, a sharp "crack" was heard. Murong Xue let out a muffled groan, her face instantly turning pale, cold sweat beading on her forehead. Her right shoulder hung limply – her shoulder blade had been dislocated. "Don't make a sound!" Murong Xue gritted her teeth and hissed, stopping Qingyi's almost-uttered gasp. "Cell Block C, Number Seven, Murong Xue! Step out!" The scarred guard at the forefront hammered his keyring against the iron bars, his voice chilling. The air within the cell froze instantly. Everyone knew that being taken away like this often meant a grim fate. Little Grass let out a suppressed whimper from the adjacent cell. Murong Xue's heart sank, but her expression remained unnervingly calm. She slowly rose, adjusting her tattered clothes. The movement pulled at her numerous wounds, causing cold sweat to bead on her forehead. She would not show weakness before these brutes. The cell door creaked open, and two guards roughly dragged her out. As they passed Little Grass's cell, Murong Xue's gaze met the terrified eyes of the younger girl. She shook her head slightly, mouthing silently, "Don't be afraid." She was shoved away from the common prison area, deeper into the dungeon's darker, more oppressive depths. The air here was fouler, and the marks of torture were more grotesque. Finally, she was pushed into a spacious stone chamber. In the center stood a massive stone altar, etched with bizarre runes. Around it, several men with sinister eyes, clad in dark robes, stood guard. They didn't look like ordinary thugs; they resembled the guest scholars of the Zhu family, those versed in dark arts. The scarred guard shoved her before the altar, sneering, "Orders from above. Your tough hide is still useful. Cooperate with the masters, and you might suffer a little less." A black-robed scholar stepped forward, his withered fingers tracing the brand on Murong Xue's shoulder. His eyes gleamed with a greedy, cold light. "Good roots, ample resentment and resilience. Truly prime 'bait'..." Murong Xue instantly understood. The Zhu family didn't just want to torture her; they intended to use her, perhaps for some wicked ritual or cultivation. A chill shot from her feet to the top of her head. She could endure mere physical torment with sheer willpower, but this involved unknown dark arts, filled with unpredictable dangers. She was forcibly pressed onto the cold stone altar, her wrists and ankles secured by specially made shackles. The black-robed scholars began chanting around the altar, and a strange, sweet,腥 scent filled the air, mingling with the dungeon's stench to create a nauseating aroma. The runes on the altar seemed to glow faintly, and a suction force emanated from beneath her, as if trying to drain her vitality, even her soul. Murong Xue struggled fiercely, but the shackles were incredibly strong. Her consciousness began to blur, fragmented memories flashing through her mind... her father's stern yet caring gaze, the howling wind and sand of the frontier, and... a fleeting, indistinct warm figure... No! She wouldn't die here! And she certainly wouldn't be used in this manner! Just as her consciousness teetered on the brink of being torn apart, a muffled roar suddenly erupted from above the stone chamber, followed by the faint sounds of shouting, fighting, and clashing weapons! The noise grew closer, seemingly heading towards the dungeon! The black-robed scholars and guards in the chamber erupted in a commotion. "What's happening?!" "Something's going on outside!" "Go check it out!" The ritual was interrupted. Murong Xue felt the suction force on her body abruptly weaken. Amidst the chaos, the shackles on her wrists, perhaps due to her struggles and some external vibration, revealed a minuscule gap! Hope, like a spark igniting in the darkness, flared suddenly. She could feel an unusual power gathering and clashing outside the dungeon. Was it a rescue? A vendetta? Or had something gone wrong within the Zhu family itself? Whatever it was, it was an anomaly, an opportunity! Murong Xue held her breath, mustering all her remaining strength, trying to wrench her wrist free from the gap. Sweat mixed with blood trickled down her forehead, the edge of the shackle cutting into her skin, causing sharp pain, but she paid it no mind. Her eyes were fixed on the entrance to the stone chamber, her ears straining to catch every sound from outside. Xie Qingyi and Murong Xue had temporarily escaped their pursuers and taken refuge in a dilapidated ancestral hall, overgrown with weeds and long abandoned. Sunlight streamed through the broken window lattices and holes in the roof, forming hazy shafts of light that illuminated the dancing dust motes in the air. Murong Xue sank down against the mottled wall, struggling to adjust the iron shackles on her wrists, trying to find a position that was less agonizing. Her lips were cracked, her face pale, but her eyes remained as sharp as an eagle's. Xie Qingyi tore off a corner of her tunic, dampened it with the relatively clean water she had secretly scooped from a ditch, and carefully wiped the raw wounds on Murong Xue's wrists, chafed by the shackles. The flesh was torn open, revealing bone. "We have to get these off," Murong Xue said, her brow furrowed as she looked at the shackles. "Otherwise, we can't move an inch." Xie Qingyi nodded in silence. She scanned the surroundings, her gaze falling on a broken brick with a sharp edge in the corner of the hall. She walked over and laboriously dragged the brick closer. "Try this," her voice was hoarse with exhaustion. Murong Xue took the brick and, aiming at the connection point of the shackles, brought it down with force. "Clang!" a piercing metallic impact echoed through the empty hall, sparks flying. The shackles remained unmoved, only a shallow white mark appearing on their surface. Murong Xue was undeterred, striking again and again. Sweat trickled down her forehead, mingling with the blood seeping from the wounds on her wrists. Xie Qingyi watched anxiously from the side, her heart clenching with each strike. She knew she couldn't help, only listen warily for any sounds from outside. After countless blows, just as Murong Xue was about to collapse from exhaustion, a faint, crisp "crack" was heard. A hairline fracture finally appeared in one of the shackle's links! A glimmer of hope ignited in both their eyes. However, at that very moment, the sound of soft footsteps and hushed voices drifted from outside the hall! Xie Qingyi and Murong Xue froze instantly, holding their breath, their eyes fixed on the dilapidated wooden door of the ancestral hall. The footsteps stopped outside the door. A slightly hesitant, familiar female voice called out softly: "Is… anyone in there?" It was Yu Wenjun's voice. Inside the hall, the air seemed to solidify. Murong Xue tightened her grip on the bloodstained brick, a murderous glint in her eyes. Xie Qingyi's heart sank to the bottom; the very thing she had feared most had happened. The pursuers had arrived so quickly, and led by her personally. Should they surrender, or fight to the death?