YCY - 7

Chapter 7: The Sorrowful Horns of Autumn in Qiancheng

In a haze, I caught that familiar faint fragrance once again—the Essence of All Fragrances. How could I awaken my senses? How could I regain control? I felt like a lone bird with broken wings, helplessly falling to the ground. There were no stars or moon above me, no lamps around me—only an oppressive darkness so thick it felt suffocating, as if it would crush me at any moment.

All around was pitch black; inside, I was filled with desolation.

Curling up on the cold floor, I grew colder and instinctively hugged myself tighter. In this world of confusion, I was utterly alone. Was Mother also in peril, like me? If we were both adrift, why hadn’t I seen her? I sensed faint drafts seeping through invisible cracks, carrying low, sinister whispers.

“…” I couldn’t make out the words, so I strained toward the direction of the cold breeze.

“… They’ve brought her.” It sounded like Tang Zhong’s voice.

“How is she dead?” A thunderous roar shattered some of the surrounding darkness, and I seized the moment to push through the fog, rushing toward clarity.

“Damn it! We specifically agreed on a living person—a fully alive one!”

“What’s worrying you? The Riyao Sect never fails.”

The lingering scent of the Essence of All Fragrances was suddenly replaced by a sharp minty coolness, like icy winds in the twelfth month. It rushed into my brain through my nostrils, dispelling the haze and bringing instant clarity. Slowly, I opened my eyes to find myself in a spacious, bright room with several people standing nearby. Listening closely, I heard footsteps outside the window, growing nearer then farther, then nearer again. Suddenly, a magnified face loomed before me, startling me into gasping. Looking up, I saw a man clad in iron armor, his sword at his waist. His fierce, leonine features, bushy hair, and ferocious gaze made him resemble a mythical beast.

“Shi Jiu, release her pressure points,” he commanded gruffly. Turning my head slightly, I saw Tang Zhong sitting casually in a pearwood chair, sipping tea with an air of indifference.

I felt quick taps on the sides of my neck and back, followed by a tingling sensation coursing through my body. Testing my fingers, I trembled as I clenched them into a fist—I could move again. Clearing my throat, I heard a raspy sound emerge. I could speak. A faint joy rose within me as I pushed myself up with trembling hands, swaying unsteadily to my feet. Before I could fully straighten, my legs gave way, and I pitched forward. Closing my eyes, bracing for impact, I instead fell into a soft, fragrant embrace.

“Qingqing…” It was Mother’s voice! My eyes snapped open to see her brows heavy with sorrow, her delicate face pale, her eyes filled with deep anguish.

My vision blurred as my lips quivered uncontrollably. Swallowing hard to moisten my throat, I called out the word I treasured most: “Mother…”

“Qingqing!” She pulled me into a tight embrace, her warm tears flowing like twin streams down my cheeks. Like a ship caught in a tsunami finding harbor, like a bird caught in a storm finding its nest, like floating duckweed finding roots, my restless, suspended heart finally returned to its warm refuge. Peace washed over me.

Mother held me tighter, but suddenly, a sharp pain shot through my right cheek, forcing me to gasp. “Sss…”

“What’s wrong, Qingqing?” Mother blinked anxiously, her long lashes glistening with tears. Trembling lips parted as she carefully cupped my face, her voice breaking into soft sobs. “My child, your face… why is it so swollen?” Her gaze turned fierce as she scanned the room, pulling me protectively into her arms. Her chest heaved with anger, her expression wary.

I leaned weakly against her, feeling the swelling on my right cheek. Touching my tongue to the inside of my mouth, I tasted a metallic tang. Shi Jiu’s slap had been brutal—my face must now resemble a swollen pig’s head, my lips thick like sausages.

“Xue Wu still has some questions,” the lion-like man’s rough voice boomed, rattling my eardrums.

Tang Zhong glanced at him lazily, setting his teacup down. “Ask away.”

“This child was easy to abduct,” Xue Wu said, stroking his beard as his gaze shifted between Mother and me. “But this woman—how did you manage to bring her here without anyone noticing?”

Yes, how had Mother gotten here? Had she suffered along the way? Been mistreated? The thought filled me with worry.

“That’s simple,” Tang Zhong replied, brushing off his robe with an air of nonchalance. “Captain Xue, can you tell what Lady Han is wearing?”

Mother’s attire? I lifted my head to examine her carefully. She was dressed in a resplendent purple gown embroidered with golden cloud patterns, her hair styled in an elaborate coiled bun adorned with a jade necklace. The opulence was striking, entirely unlike Mother’s usual understated elegance.

“Funeral robes?!” Xue Wu exclaimed, slapping his thigh in realization. He burst into laughter. “Hahaha! Brilliant, Third Master, absolutely brilliant. I’m truly impressed!”

Funeral robes? So Mother had been transported here in a coffin? They’d rendered me mute and disguised Mother as a corpse. The Riyao Sect’s schemes were indeed deep, their methods ruthless.

“Now that the delivery is complete, we’ll take our leave,” Tang Zhong said, flicking his sleeves and nodding slightly.

Xue Wu gave a casual bow, his voice gruff. “Captain Xue Wu thanks Third Master and the brothers of the Riyao Sect on behalf of our lord. The remaining payment will be delivered within five days.”

Tang Zhong nodded in satisfaction, lifting his robe as he stepped over the threshold. In the blink of an eye, he and Shi Jiu were already several paces away, their blue and green figures gliding effortlessly onto the courtyard wall. As they crossed, Tang Zhong glanced back at the locust tree behind him, sneering softly. “Farewell. No need to see us off.” Though his voice was soft, it seemed amplified, likely using internal energy to project. With that, the two vanished.

Xue Wu waved dismissively, and three shadowy figures dropped from the trees, disappearing in an instant. “The Riyao Sect’s skills are truly remarkable. No wonder they’re a mysterious sect, elusive as a dragon. Impressive!” Xue Wu gazed admiringly into the distance, his iron fists clenched in envy.

A thin, monkey-faced man approached him, bowing low. “Captain Xue, our lord has likely waited long enough.”

Xue Wu scowled, spitting in frustration. “Damn Bai Ziqi and his rotten schemes! All that effort just to bring a woman and a little girl. If it were up to me, I’d settle things with swords, not these convoluted tricks!” He glanced impatiently at Mother and me. “Get up! Move faster!”

Mother’s slender fingers gripped my hand tightly as we trotted behind Xue Wu, moving swiftly. Glancing aside, I noticed vines creeping along the wall, their thorny branches bearing fiery red flowers. The petals were layered, vivid as blood, their beauty both enchanting and unsettling.

When the datura blooms, all flowers fade. Dust settles, how much do we know? When all flowers depart, loneliness remains. After this bloom comes autumn, petals carpet the ground, tears flow in desolation.

The dazzling red flower burned brightly in my vision, its green vines piercing my heart like thorns. A deep unease welled up within me.

Leaving the courtyard, we followed a winding stone path along gray walls, soldiers escorting us with hurried steps. Clutching Mother’s hand tightly, I looked ahead to see the midday sun blazing golden. Beneath its radiant glow stood a distant watchtower. Armored soldiers lined the tower, banners fluttering. At the center, a large flag bore the character “Ming” in bold strokes. Suddenly, Mother stopped, staring blankly at the flag, refusing to move further.

“Mother?” I tugged gently at her hand, calling softly.

Mother’s almond-shaped eyes widened as she gazed at me earnestly. “Qingqing, do you know where we are?”

Recalling Tang Zhong and Shi Jiu’s conversation, I lifted my chin and answered clearly, “It should be Qianzhou.”

“Qianzhou, Qianzhou, Qianzhou!” Mother repeated the name, her face pale with despair, her voice trembling and broken. “Could it be…?”

Xue Wu turned angrily, gritting his teeth. “Tsk, stop babbling, woman! Keep moving!” Someone shoved Mother from behind, causing her to stumble. She pulled me nearly off balance.

“Woo… woo…” A deep horn sounded from the watchtower. Xue Wu gripped his sword hilt, his round eyes bulging as he broke into a run. After covering several dozen meters, he slapped his forehead, turning to bark orders. “Wang Liu, carry that woman! Daozi, grab the girl and follow me to the watchtower!” A lean hand grabbed me by the waist, and the monkey-faced man dashed forward with me in tow.

“Dong… dong… dong…” “Woo… woo…” Drums thundered, horns blared. The clinking of armor filled my ears as I lowered my head, watching rows of legs wrapped in gray cloth move rapidly, yellow straw sandals pounding the ground. The monkey-faced man bounded up the stairs two at a time, panting heavily as he ran. My stomach churned, nausea rising.

Suddenly, I was set down, my head spinning. Staggering twice, I steadied myself. Looking up, I saw the gray watchtower crowded with soldiers. In the center stood a grand armchair, occupied by a man in an orange robe, his hair tied with a golden crown. He turned his head toward us, raising an eyebrow and stroking his chin. Lifting his arm slightly, he beckoned to Xue Wu with a crooked finger.

Xue Wu nodded, grabbing Mother’s sleeve and dragging her forward. I ran after them, clutching Mother’s outstretched hand, my short legs struggling to keep up.

Approaching closer, I studied the orange-robed man. His square face and regular features were unremarkable, save for his deep, half-lidded eyes that gleamed coldly. Glancing at Mother and me, he smirked slightly. “Lady Han?”

With a flick of her sleeve, Mother broke free from Xue Wu’s grip, pulling me protectively into her arms. Standing tall and composed, she neither bowed nor flinched. “Are you Lord Ming?”

“Lady Han has sharp eyes,” Lord Ming replied, rising slowly. He gestured to a man beside him. “Advisor Bai, the rest is in your hands.”

A white-clad man with a fan stood nearby, his cunning gaze sweeping over Mother and me from head to toe. After a moment, he grinned triumphantly. “Ziqi will not disappoint His Highness!”

Below, the sound of drums and horns erupted, shouts shaking the heavens. Mother tightened her grip on my hand, pulling me back. Looking up, I saw her emerald brows furrowed, her peach-like cheeks flushed with anger, her lips trembling. “How despicable!”

Confused by Mother’s reaction, the entire sequence of events unfolded in my mind: First, Consort Shu had invited Mother to pray at Tanji Temple. Then, the mysterious incense had rendered us unconscious, and we were abducted. After traveling along the Lei River, I had finally reunited with Mother today, only to be forcibly brought to this war-torn watchtower. Could it be?!

“General Han, do not be anxious. I have a gift for you and the young general,” Bai Ziqi said, standing by the battlements, fanning himself leisurely.

General Han?! This entire plot was aimed at Father!

“Enough talk! Troops, follow my command—attack the city!” A familiar voice rang out from below.

A deafening roar followed: “Kill!” Footsteps thundered, hooves pounded, echoes reverberated, cannons fired in unison.

Bai Ziqi’s face twitched, his teeth grinding as he grabbed Mother’s jade necklace, dragging her to the wall like a dog. His knuckles whitened as he gripped her chin, bellowing toward the city below. “General Han, do you recognize this woman?!”

Mother trembled, leaning against the battlements, but remained silent. The cries of battle below gradually faded, replaced by a shocked shout: “Mother!”

It was my brother! I tried to rush forward, but the monkey-faced man yanked my hair, the pain searing my scalp. Tears welled up as I bit my lip, screaming, “Let me go! Let me go!”

Bai Ziqi waved his hand, tossing Mother aside. Smirking coldly, he strode toward me, grabbing my clothes and lifting me into the air. The wind whipped against my face like a knife, stinging sharply. Lowering my gaze, I saw the battlefield below teeming with soldiers. Three neatly arranged formations stretched across the field, their weapons gleaming—golden melons, silver axes, yellow halberds, white banners. A black flag with red edges fluttered proudly at the forefront, bearing the bold character “Han.”

Beneath the banner, Father stood clad in golden armor and a white robe, astride a fine black steed. His right hand, gripping a steel spear, trembled slightly. His brows were knitted tightly, his jaw rigid, his gaze filled with restrained pain as he stared at me.

Suddenly, a gust of yellow sand rose, and a red figure charged out of the formation. Squinting, I recognized my brother, his spear raised, eyes blazing with fury. “Shameless dogs! Release my mother and sister at once!”

Both Father and Brother were heroes of their word, valiant warriors who fought fiercely. But now, amidst the autumn chill, beneath the clear skies and fluttering banners, their wife and daughter were trapped.

The wind whipped my hair, sending it brushing coldly against my cheeks. Silent tears streamed down, mingling with the sorrow in my heart.

Why had we met again here, at this time?

Why, under the warm autumn sun, beneath the feathered arrows and war drums, did we stand so close yet feel worlds apart?