Shen Jiu's breath heaves in his chest, his legs pumping beneath him, propelling him onward as swiftly as they could bear. His body ached, he ached, but he pressed on, forcing himself through the agony.

He is well aware of the stares he draws from passersby, clad in rags and bruised from head to toe, but he pays them no heed. He needs to get out of here. He needs to get out of here.

Shen Jiu knows not whether Qiu Jianluo and his lackeys still pursue him, but he runs all the same. He cannot afford to be caught again—it would mean certain death. So he runs.

If he goes back there, back to that awful house, to that awful room, Shen Jiu will die. Either at the hands of his master, or by his own hand.

Shen Jiu drags in a wheezing breath and drives himself onward. Moving too swiftly to rein in his steps, he finds himself unable to stop when someone suddenly crosses his path, sending him crashing into the stranger.