Warm, and sticky.
Achou lowered her head. A large dark-red stain had spread across the straw she was sitting on.
Blood.
Her mind went blank with a buzz.
She looked again.
Blood!
She touched it with her hand. Seeing the red on her fingertips, she turned deathly pale.
“Y-Your Highness…”
The Crown Prince turned and saw her face. His brow furrowed. “What’s wrong?”
Tears welled up in Achou’s eyes. “I’m afraid I can’t stay with you anymore…”
She could feel the blood flowing without stopping.
They were on this desolate road into exile, with no villages in sight and not even a doctor.
She was doomed.
“Have I been hurt somewhere? Or poisoned? Or did the coarse grain cakes damage my intestines…? I’ve lost so much blood… I… I’m going to die!”
As soon as she finished, she burst into loud sobs.
The Crown Prince looked at the red on her fingertips, then at the straw beneath her.
“Have you… never had this before?”
“Had what?”
The Crown Prince: …
“You’re not going to die,” he said.
“But I’ve lost so much blood. How could I not die?”
The Crown Prince drew a deep breath and closed his eyes, as if trying to brace himself.
Then he opened them and looked at Achou, speaking as calmly as he could. “You’re not injured, poisoned, or sick from something you ate.”
“Then what’s happening to me?”
“It’s…” The Crown Prince lowered his voice. “It’s your menses.”
“What?”
“Your period. You’ve come of age.”
Tears still clung to Achou’s cheeks.
Menses.
She had vaguely heard the word before.
The older maids in the back courtyard of the Marquis Yongchang’s Residence would sometimes huddle together and whisper things like, “It’s come,” “I’m in trouble,” “My stomach hurts,” and “Don’t touch cold water.”
She had been too young to understand, and no one had explained it to her.
They thought her ugly and smelly. No one would sleep with her, either; they had set up a separate plank bed for her near the door of the servants’ quarters.
She looked down at the blood on her hand, then at the Crown Prince.
Suddenly, she understood.
Her face turned bright red in an instant.
“I… um… Your Highness…” she stammered, wishing she could disappear into a crack in the ground.
“Stop crying. It’s nothing serious. It happens to every woman.”
Achou wiped her tears with her sleeve, so embarrassed she wanted to bury herself in the straw.
“There’s some gauze left in the bundle. Make do with that for now. When we reach the next post station, buy some menstrual cloth.”
“Oh.”
Achou huddled in a corner, took off her outer garment and wrapped it around her waist. After fumbling with it for a long while, she finally managed to get herself sorted out.
She stole a glance at the Crown Prince.
He was looking out at the mountain scenery, the lines of his profile sharply defined in the afternoon light.
The prison cart traveled for another hour before stopping at a riverbank to rest.
The soldiers scattered in twos and threes. Some fetched water; others leaned against tree trunks and chewed on their rations.
Through a gap in the prison cart’s bars, Achou watched as the young soldier was called over by Head Zhao.
“This horse can’t walk anymore. Go kill it so we can eat the meat.” Zhao had a blade of grass between his teeth as he pointed at a skinny horse nearby.
The young soldier froze. “Head, this is an official horse. If we kill it—”
“If we kill it, what?” Head Zhao kicked him in the leg. “Who’s going to know, out here in the middle of nowhere? I told you to kill it, so kill it. Why all the whining?”
The soldier didn’t move.
Two older soldiers nearby joined in. “Look at him. He’s a coward—can’t even kill a horse.”
“If he can’t kill a horse, he can kill a man instead. Hahahaha!”
The young soldier’s face flushed red. His hand clenched around the hilt of his knife, but he never drew it.
Seeing that he still hadn’t moved, Head Zhao spat, snatched the knife from him, and walked toward the horse, which had a lame leg.
With one strike, the horse let out a pained whinny and fell to the ground, blood splattering across the soldier.
“What are you standing there for? Skin it!” Head Zhao tossed the bloodied knife back at his feet.
The young soldier crouched down, his hands trembling, but he still didn’t move.
Head Zhao kicked him again. “Useless!” Then he called the other two older soldiers over to butcher the horse.
The young soldier went alone to the river to wash himself.
Achou watched, turning the matter over in her mind.
“Your Highness, may I go talk to him?”
The Crown Prince leaned against the bars, his eyes half-closed. He gave a slight nod. “Don’t rush it.”
“Don’t worry.” Achou called out that she needed to relieve herself. After helping the Crown Prince down from the prison cart so he could relieve himself, she helped him sit beneath a tree.
Then she ran over to Head Zhao and said with a smile, “Head Zhao, I’m going to fetch some water from the river so I can wipe His Highness’s face.”
Head Zhao was crouched on the ground cutting up the horse meat. He didn’t even look up. “Don’t go far.”
Achou picked up the waterskin and jogged to the river.
The young soldier was bare-chested, washing himself.
Achou crouched down two paces upstream from him and plunged the waterskin into the river, filling it with a gurgle.
Once it was full, she didn’t hurry away. Instead, she glanced at the things beside him.
A dirty uniform lay on the ground. One sleeve had a tear in it, and the front was stained with sweat and horse blood.
“Big Brother, there’s a tear in your shirt. Would you like me to stitch it up for you?”
The young soldier was startled. He looked up and saw her. “No need…”
“It’s fine. I’ve got nothing else to do anyway.” Achou had already picked up the uniform and taken a small sewing kit from her pocket.
Crouching by the river, she mended the tear in the sleeve in no time, her stitches small and even.
“Your clothes are dirty, too. I’ll wash them for you.”
The young soldier was about to say no, but she had already submerged the uniform and begun scrubbing it.
“Big Brother, what’s your surname?”
“Commandant Lin.”
“Big Brother Lin, how long have you been a soldier?”
“Three years,” he answered gruffly.
“And after three years, you’re still escorting prison carts?” Achou said, looking surprised. Crouching beside him, she lowered her voice. “You don’t seem like one of them. You’re kind, unlike the others.”
He said nothing, but he didn’t deny it, either.
Achou didn’t pursue the subject. “There. It’s done.” She handed him the washed uniform.
Commandant Lin took it and turned it over, looking at the neat row of stitches. A trace of surprise appeared in his eyes.
He had been with the prisoner-escort unit for three years, and no one had ever mended his clothes for him.
Head Zhao only ever cursed at him because he was young. The other soldiers ordered him around, making him do this and that. No one ever cared whether his clothes were torn.
Achou took a small, clean handkerchief from her pocket, wet it in the river, wrung it out, and handed it to him. “Wipe your face. You’re covered in dust. You look exhausted.”
Commandant Lin took the handkerchief and wiped his face.
“You certainly know how to read a room.”
Achou smiled, took the handkerchief back, and washed it as she spoke. “I’ve served people since I was little, so I’ve gotten used to watching their expressions. Big Brother Lin, don’t think I’m being nosy. I just think you’re a good person. Good people shouldn’t be bullied.”
Commandant Lin’s expression shifted slightly, but soon returned to normal.
“Who said I was being bullied?” he said stubbornly.
Achou didn’t call him out. She only smiled. “No one. I could tell for myself. Big Brother Lin, do you have any family left? You’ve been away for three years. Don’t your family miss you?”
Commandant Lin’s hand paused.
“I still have my old mother,” he said, his voice growing quieter. “Last year, she sent word through someone that she was nearly blind, and there was no one at home to look after her.”
“Then why don’t you go back and see her?”
“I can’t go back. A soldier’s life isn’t his own. I haven’t served my full term, so I can’t leave.”
Achou didn’t reply. She stood there in silence for a few breaths.
“Big Brother Lin,” she said suddenly, “my mother’s gone, too. I was sold when I was eight, and I never even got to see her one last time.”
Commandant Lin looked up at her.
“So I know what it feels like to have someone waiting for you at home and still not be able to go back.” Achou’s eyes reddened, but she blinked and forced the sting away. “Don’t think I’m being nosy. I just think someone like you shouldn’t be treated unfairly.”
She picked up the waterskin and walked away.
Commandant Lin stood rooted to the spot, staring after her.