It was said that before Zhongshan Guo fell, they had lost generals and soldiers, run out of provisions, and even their ancestral temple had burned to ashes in a great fire.
The Noble idly toyed with the candlestick, responding only lightly, “Though he was a king of a fallen state, he was still somewhat of a figure.”
As for the King of Zhongshan, there was nothing more to be said.
The scout who galloped into camp brought with him a coat of wind and snow, and those who entered the main tent to discuss matters never ceased. They discussed court affairs without avoiding her.
When they were alone, the Noble even gave A-Pan a cup of wine in a horn vessel.
She fumbled about, her shackles clanking heavily against the bronze table.
The man then took her slender wrist and guided it to the horn cup. His jade thumb ring was warm to the touch, having been kept near the brazier for so long that it no longer felt cold.
He even asked, “Have you ever been to Daliang?”
Daliang was the royal city of Wei Guo. It was said that this great thoroughfare was the most prosperous and flourishing place in all the realm.
As for her—she was from a small, humble state, and living under another’s roof at that. How could she ever have had the chance to go to such a fine place?
A-Pan smiled and shook her head. “This slave has never been.”
The silk band covered her eyes, so she could not see the Noble’s appearance, nor could she know his expression at that moment. She could only hear his voice, as warm and smooth as the jade thumb ring, saying, “Have a drink.”
The wine in the army was truly strong. One sip sent her into a fit of coughing, but since the Noble had given it to her, she had no reason to refuse. After drinking, her face flushed red, and her heart inexplicably began to burn.
He seemed to enjoy watching her drink. When she finished one cup, he poured another.
A-Pan had little tolerance for alcohol. After two cups, she was already drunk and her body went limp.
She thought to herself—since the Noble had asked, he was probably willing to take her to Daliang.
If that were truly the case, it would be a wonderful thing indeed.
She could beg the Noble to take Yun Jiang along as well, and never again be the lowest of the low—a Yingji in Wei Ying.
At the thought, the corners of her lips lifted, and she could not help but smile.
Unable to resist, she raised her hand, wanting to know what the man looked like.
The man did not push her away, allowing her to feel and explore.
Oh, she touched his Adam’s apple.
She touched his resolute jaw.
She touched his tightly pressed lips.
She touched the high bridge of his nose.
She also caressed his chiseled, sculpted cheeks.
She probed carefully, reaching upward to find his eyes.
She thought—a face like this must surely have a pair of very beautiful eyes.
What kind of eyes would he have?
Unfortunately, before she could find them, the man seized both her hands and pinned them firmly above her head.
His chest was broad and warm, his heartbeat strong and powerful. His breathing grew heavier, and then—he actually, actually kissed her.
A-Pan felt as though her entire being had suddenly floated away, her heart seeming to burst from her chest, not knowing where it was rushing to.
It was but a fleeting, feather-light kiss. Before she could savor it, ponder it, or relive it, those warm, soft lips had already moved away.
This Noble of Wei Guo held high position and great power—who could have imagined he would kiss a Yingji?
This tent was still the same tent from three days ago, and the people were still the same people from three days ago, yet somehow, in a hazy way, something seemed different.
He seemed willing to keep her.
He even said, “Bring the lamp over. Let me see what you look like.”
Yes—for three days now, the man had never once removed the silk band from A-Pan’s eyes, and had never once seen her face.
She rose and fumbled her way off the bed, reaching out tentatively to take the candlestick, when she heard someone enter the tent. From the first word, she knew it was the former General Guan. “My lord, the scouts report that thirty li to the east, Zhao Guo’s troops can be seen—a dark mass of several thousand light cavalry, moving in haste toward our camp. They seem to intend a surprise attack before dawn.”
A-Pan held the candlestick, standing quietly to the side, not daring to disturb.
The ornate robe rustled as the Noble quickly threw on his garments and stepped down from the bed, already striding toward the exit. “Pass the order—arm immediately and ride out of camp.”
General Guan acknowledged the order and left first. The sound of the ornate robe paused at the tent entrance for a moment, no words spoken, and then he too was gone.
The tent curtain rolled open and shut, sweeping in a flurry of frost and snow.
A-Pan stood rooted in place, hesitating. Through the tent, she could hear the shouts of men and the clamor of horses, and the blazing light of torches faintly glowing through the silk band.
She did not know how long she waited, but then she heard the clatter of armored boots approaching steadily. A stranger carrying a chill of cold air came directly before her, yanked the silk band from her eyes, and tossed her a relatively clean robe, speaking in a muffled, gruff voice, “Change quickly. You’re coming with me!”
The man was like a black-faced demon in the chaotic, war-torn camp. Though A-Pan felt a vague sense of unease, she was too timid to ask questions. She picked up the robe, wasted no time, and changed behind the screen before following the man out of the main tent.
Outside, the snowflakes were as large as hands. The moment she stepped out, she was struck in the face by the goose-feather snow, and the biting wind of the early dawn swept over her from all directions, freezing her to the bone.
She followed her escort along the way, and as far as the eye could see, there were dark masses of soldiers everywhere—all clad in armor and bearing arms, their snow-dusted helmets gleaming with piercing cold light. Blades, halberds, and axes clattered against iron armor, while iron hooves and armored boots trampled the earth in unison.
The assembly within Wei Ying was already complete, and the great columns of troops were marching rapidly out of camp in formation.
The shackles dragged her steps through the snow, and A-Pan looked toward the light, wondering where the Noble was.
The escort kicked her, barking harshly, “What are you looking at! Keep your head down and walk!”
A-Pan’s heart was desolate and lost, not knowing where she belonged, and she quickly lowered her head.
Before they even reached the tent where they had been held before, she heard the familiar sobbing of the Zhongshan women. She looked up and saw that all the Zhongshan women captured together with her the day before had been driven outside, shivering as they stood.
She scanned the crowd but did not see Yun Jiang, yet everywhere her eyes landed, not a single person had their clothes in order.
Yes, yes—it had already been three days since entering Wei Ying, and these girls, called “Xin Chun’er” by the Wei people, had long since become prostitutes beneath their bodies.
Someone bound ropes around the women’s wrists, and another cursed as he lectured them, “All of you listen up! Walk obediently! Try to run and see what happens! If you’ve got a death wish, my blade doesn’t have eyes!”
A-Pan hurriedly asked the man leading the way ahead, “General, where are we going?”
The escort laughed at her words, “Where else? You’re all being sent to the front lines for Weijun.”
A-Pan’s mind went blank in a rush of white, as if she had lost something in a daze.
A pool of warm, cool water swirled in her eyes, and the bone-piercing chill before dawn made her whole body tremble. She steeled herself and asked, “The Noble…”
The man ahead sneered and cut her off, “The Noble didn’t keep you. You, go where you’re meant to go.”
A tear slipped down, quickly freezing into a bead in the snow, stinging her cheeks with cold.
Going to the front lines for Weijun—that meant truly becoming a Yingji.
No, she already was one.
What difference was there between her and her comrades? They were all Yingji.
It was just one man’s, or a crowd’s—that was all.
Only then did A-Pan snap back to reality. Yes, the Noble had never asked her name, never removed her chains, never taken off the cloth band over her eyes—so how had she dared to harbor such foolish hopes?
Perhaps it was precisely because the Noble had known all along that she would be sent to the front lines for Weijun, and so there was no need to waste another bowl of Bizi Tang.