By the time I caught up with Mother’s household, I had developed three ambitions.
Sleep.
Food.
A complete absence of military discussions.
The first two seemed achievable.
The third died before I entered the courtyard.
Two guards straightened when they saw me.
Not bowed.
Straightened.
Like soldiers.
I ignored them.
One of the servants carrying a chest stepped aside so quickly he nearly walked into a pillar.
I ignored him too.
This was how reputations died.
By refusing to acknowledge them until everyone became embarrassed and stopped.
Probably.
The household had stopped at one of Father’s western residences while the larger movement out of Luoyang continued.
The place was smaller than our main residence, which meant servants were moving constantly through the courtyards with clothing, records, tableware, bedding and whatever else Mother had decided absolutely could not be abandoned to history.
I stepped inside.
Then saw Qiao’er.
She stood beneath the gallery speaking with one of Mother’s older attendants.
Clean robe.
Hair properly arranged.
No blood.
No knife.
No torn sleeve.
I stopped.
Only briefly.
There.
That was better.
That was how Qiao’er was supposed to look.
Not behind a broken gate with half her hair loose and blood on a knife.
Not exhausted.
Not standing still while I tried to determine whether the bruise beneath her sleeve was the worst injury she had.
Just Qiao’er.
She noticed me.
Finished speaking.
Then came over and bowed.
“Young Master.”
“Qiao’er.”
Her eyes moved over me once.
“You look terrible.”
There she was.
“I have travelled.”
“You looked terrible before travelling.”
“Then the journey cannot be blamed.”
“No.”
She looked toward my hands.
“The bandages need changing.”
“They remain attached.”
“That was not what I said.”
Normal.
Beautifully normal.
I followed her toward my room.
Servants had already brought my things inside.
The bedding was prepared.
Water stood on the table.
A dish of pears sat beside it.
I lowered myself onto the mat.
My legs approved.
My back approved.
Several other parts of me attempted to declare independence.
Qiao’er began putting away clothing.
I watched her for a while.
Then she said:
“The soldiers spoke about Xin’an during the journey.”
My mood deteriorated immediately.
“Do not believe them.”
“I have not told you what they said.”
“It does not matter.”
“They said Young Master defeated thirty thousand men.”
“See?”
I pointed at her.
“Already wrong.”
Qiao’er folded one of my robes.
“They seemed convinced.”
“They have reduced an entire battle to one sentence and put my name in it.”
“What happened, then?”
“General Duan happened.”
“With no assistance?”
I narrowed my eyes.
“With substantial assistance from his officers and soldiers.”
“And the wagons?”
Damn soldiers.
“The wagons were an emergency.”
“The road?”
“Also an emergency.”
“The false withdrawal?”
“General Duan.”
“The attack on the baggage?”
“Partly planned.”
Qiao’er placed the robe inside the chest.
She said nothing.
This felt like a trap.
I considered leaving.
Then remembered it was my room.
Unfair.
Qiao’er returned to the table.
“So the soldiers exaggerated.”
“Wildly.”
“And Young Master did not decide to fight thirty thousand men.”
“Obviously not.”
That distinction mattered.
“I am not insane.”
“The road needed to be opened.”
Exactly.
Finally.
“Yes.”
I leaned back.
“Father is moving people west.
The roads were already becoming unreliable.
General Duan was pinned at Xin’an.
Coalition soldiers were appearing around settlements east of us.
Leaving everything as it was would eventually become a larger problem.”
All true.
Very reasonable.
Qiao’er nodded.
“I thought that might be the reason.”
There.
Solved.
She reached for the water pot.
Then asked:
“Was the road not already blocked before my guard arrived?”
My hand stopped around the cup.
A minor complication.
“Technically.”
“You knew the coalition army was there.”
“Yes.”
“You knew General Duan could not move east.”
“Yes.”
“The situation already existed.”
I looked at her.
“The situation changed.”
“How?”
“New information.”
“My guard.”
“Among other things.”
“What other things?”
Qiao’er looked genuinely interested.
That was unpleasant.
“The condition of the eastern road became clearer.”
“How?”
“The rider had travelled through it.”
“Yes.”
“He confirmed there were coalition soldiers moving around Yanshi.”
“Yes.”
“And that the countryside was becoming less secure.”
“Yes.”
I waited.
She waited too.
This woman had spent nearly nine years remembering every stupid thing I said.
Dangerous habit.
“The household property was exposed.”
Qiao’er tilted her head slightly.
“The records?”
“Yes.”
There.
A completely legitimate concern.
“Those records mattered.
The property mattered.
Father has been moving supplies and household goods west for weeks.
Losing all of that would have been extremely inconvenient.”
Qiao’er nodded thoughtfully.
“Then I misunderstood your instruction.”
I immediately distrusted the sentence.
“What instruction?”
“Before I left Luoyang.”
I searched my memory.
Nothing helpful arrived.
Qiao’er supplied it.
“You told me that if anything changed, I should forget the inventory and come back.”
Ah.
That instruction.
“Yes.”
“So the records were not important enough for me to remain if the road became dangerous.”
“They were not important enough for you to die over.”
Her eyes lifted to mine.
I realized I had answered too quickly.
I drank water.
“Obviously.”
Qiao’er did not comment.
I continued.
“The people were more important.”
Better.
Much better.
“You were not alone.
There were guards, servants, workers, women and children at the compound.
Whatever happened to the inventory, I was not going to leave an entire household surrounded by scattered soldiers.”
That was true.
Completely true.
Qiao’er became quiet.
For once, I appeared to have produced an explanation capable of surviving.
I took another drink.
Then she said:
“Xu An told me what happened when my guard reached Xin’an.”
I nearly inhaled the water.
I lowered the cup.
“Xu An talks too much.”
“He answered my questions.”
“Why were there questions?”
She did not answer.
Very concerning.
“He said you recognized the guard.”
“Yes.”
“And asked what happened.”
“Reasonable.”
“He corrected himself afterward.”
I frowned.
“What did he correct?”
“He said your first question was where I was.”
Silence.
I looked toward the door.
Still there.
Still my room.
No assistance forthcoming.
“Of course I asked where you were.”
“Why?”
“Because I sent you.”
Qiao’er nodded.
“That was Xu An’s explanation too.”
So she had questioned Xu An about me.
Properly questioned him.
This was no longer casual curiosity.
“He said you asked about everyone else afterward.”
“They were also important.”
“I know.”
That somehow made the sentence worse.
Qiao’er sat opposite me.
She folded her hands.
“Before my guard arrived, had you asked General Duan to attack?”
“No.”
“Had you asked to return east?”
“No.”
“Had you tried to clear the road?”
“No.”
I frowned.
“You already know the answers.”
“Yes.”
“Then why are you asking?”
“I wanted to hear yours.”
This was beginning to feel less like a conversation and more like an examination for which the teacher possessed my previous answers.
Fine.
If she wanted an explanation, I could explain.
“The rider changed what we knew about the situation.
Before he arrived, there was an enemy army outside Xin’an and General Duan was holding it.
That was military business.
I had no reason to interfere.”
Qiao’er listened.
“Then the rider arrived and told us that scattered coalition troops had moved toward settlements around Yanshi.
Civilians were exposed.
The household was exposed.
The roads Father eventually needed were becoming unsafe.
General Duan could hold Xin’an, but he could not remain pinned there forever.”
Still listening.
Good.
“Once we understood that, something had to be done.”
Qiao’er was quiet for several breaths.
For the first time, she appeared to genuinely consider the explanation.
Then she asked:
“Why did you go?”
I blinked.
“I just explained that.”
“You explained why the situation had to change.”
“Yes.”
“And why General Duan had to move.”
“Yes.”
She looked at me.
“Why did you?”
Ah.
That.
“I had responsibility for the household.”
“You could have sent soldiers.”
“I did.”
“You could have remained at Xin’an.”
“I could have.”
“You had General Duan.”
“Yes.”
“You had cavalry.”
“Yes.”
I was beginning to dislike the number of resources apparently available to me.
“I needed to see what happened.”
Qiao’er looked at me.
I immediately heard the weakness.
She did not need to point it out.
“I occasionally inspect things.”
“You refused to inspect the walls at Xin’an.”
Damn soldiers.
“That was different.”
“You told General Duan that if they remained standing, you supported repairing them.”
I stared at her.
“Why do you know that?”
“The soldiers talked.”
Everyone talked.
Civilization had been a mistake.
No.
That joke did not even make sense in my own head.
I rubbed my forehead instead.
Qiao’er continued.
“You do not like battlefields.”
“Correct.”
“You cannot fight.”
“That is unnecessarily direct.”
“You hate riding.”
“Deeply.”
“Then why did you go yourself?”
I opened my mouth.
There should have been an answer.
Father’s orders?
None.
General Duan?
Worse.
The records?
Already dead.
The household?
She had soldiers.
The road?
General Duan could open it without me sitting on a horse.
I searched anyway.
“The carriage was slow.”
Qiao’er became completely still.
I regretted the sentence.
“Too slow for what?”
There it was.
I shifted.
“For the situation.”
“What situation?”
“Qiao’er.”
She waited.
No smile.
No embarrassment.
No rescue.
I sighed.
“There were soldiers around Yanshi.”
“I know.”
“One of your guards came back covered in blood.”
“I know.”
“He told us the road had broken down and men were moving through settlements.”
“I know.”
“He said you were inside a compound with armed soldiers nearby.”
Her fingers tightened once.
I continued.
“Then General Duan explained what happens when formations break apart and men start moving through villages without officers controlling them.”
The humor left the room.
“He talked about houses being searched.
Property being taken.
Civilians being dragged into whatever happened next.”
Qiao’er said nothing.
“I knew where you were.”
Still nothing.
“I knew what might happen before anyone reached you.”
I looked down at my bandaged hands.
“I was not going to sit behind a wall at Xin’an waiting for another rider to tell me whether the situation had become worse.”
Her voice was quieter.
“You had soldiers.
You had General Duan.
You could have sent them.
Then why did you go?”
I looked at her.
Apparently there was no remaining direction in which the conversation did not end here.
Fine.
“Because you were there.”
She did not move.
I continued.
“You were there, Qiao’er.
Your guard came back half dead and told me you were trapped on the wrong side of thirty thousand men.
What exactly did you expect me to do?”
Her eyes stayed on mine.
I became increasingly uncomfortable.
“So yes.
The carriage was slow.”
I gestured vaguely toward the door.
“I took a horse.
It was horrible.
I remain opposed to the entire species.”
Qiao’er lowered her eyes.
For several breaths she said nothing.
Then:
“I see.”
I frowned.
“What do you see?”
She stood.
“The bandage on your left hand is loose.”
“That is unrelated.”
“Yes.”
She came around the table and held out her hand.
“Give it to me.”
I gave her the left one.
She began unwrapping the cloth.
I watched her.
Something had changed.
I was not sure when.
She cleaned the healing skin.
I winced when the cloth touched one of the deeper cuts.
Qiao’er noticed.
Usually this would have produced something.
A remark about horses finally taking revenge.
A reminder that I had volunteered to ride.
Perhaps an observation that I had spent years avoiding training only to discover pain the moment I finally became useful.
She said none of them.
She simply changed the angle of her hand and worked more carefully around the cut.
I looked at her.
Qiao’er continued wrapping.
“Did that hurt?”
“Yes.”
She loosened the cloth slightly.
No insult.
No commentary.
This was alarming.
She finished the left hand.
Then took the right without asking.
Again, careful.
Again, quiet.
When she finished, she poured water and moved the cup closer.
I stared at it.
Then at her.
“Qiao’er.”
“Yes, Young Master?”
“Are you certain you are well?”
Her eyes rose.
“I am well.”
“You are behaving strangely.”
“I changed your bandages.”
“You did not insult me once.”
She looked at my hands.
“Would Young Master prefer I begin?”
That sounded more familiar.
“Yes.”
“No.”
I stared.
She took the used cloth.
Then she moved the dish of pears closer before turning toward the door.
That was the final evidence.
“You moved the pears.”
Qiao’er stopped.
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“So Young Master can reach them.”
I looked at the pears.
I could already reach them.
Probably.
With effort.
Qiao’er knew this.
Something had happened.
Something serious.
“Qiao’er.”
She looked back.
“Yes?”
For a moment I considered asking directly.
Then remembered who I was speaking to.
There were dangers a wise man avoided.
“Nothing.”
Her expression changed very slightly.
Not quite amusement.
Not quite anything I recognized.
Then she bowed.
“Rest, Young Master.”
She left.
I remained where I was.
No insult about my riding.
No comment about my ruined hands.
No reminder that the injuries were self inflicted.
And she had moved the pears.
I looked toward the closed door.
Then down at my newly wrapped hands.
I had survived thirty thousand soldiers.
I had survived a collapsing road.
I had survived General Duan discovering that I occasionally possessed thoughts.
None of those things had prepared me for Qiao’er becoming considerate.
I picked up a pear.
This was deeply concerning.