YCY - 8

Chapter 8: The Wind Whispers Through the Reeds

“Qingqing!” A hoarse, anguished cry rang out from behind me.

Hanging over the battlements, I turned my head with tears in my eyes. There was Mother, her once-elegant coiled bun now disheveled, her almond-shaped eyes brimming with tears, crawling on the ground, her embroidered gown stained with dust. Behind her, Xue Wu mercilessly yanked her by her long hair, his foot pressing down on her back, pinning her to the ground.

“Please, don’t hurt my daughter, please…” Her broken voice was unbearable to hear.

“Oh”’““ Suddenly, I felt myself falling, my heart stopping mid-beat. Instinctively, I let out a scream: “Ah!”

“Qingqing!” “Sister!” “Qingqing!” Mother, Brother, and Father cried out in unison.

Just as I thought I would plummet to my death, I was suddenly yanked upward again. My legs dangled in the air, tears clinging to my lashes. Swallowing hard, still trembling from the aftershock, my hands and feet shook uncontrollably.

Behind me came a burst of maniacal laughter: “Hahahaha! To hear the mighty General Han’s cry of terror—Bai will die without regrets!”

I clenched my teeth, forcing back my tears, and whipped my head around to glare at him, spitting fiercely: “Beast!”

The laughter stopped abruptly. Bai Ziqi’s gaze turned vicious as he wiped his face with one hand, his jaw tightening, his lips quivering. Suddenly, I felt the world spin upside down—the blood rushed to my head, my arms hung limply in the air, my cheeks burned, and my lips went numb. I stared blankly at the yellow dust swirling mere feet below me. The grip on my ankle tightened painfully, and I couldn’t help but whimper softly: “Uh.”

“Bai~ Zi~ Qi!” A thunderous roar erupted from below. Straining to look down, I saw Father galloping out of the ranks, the red tassel on his helmet shaking violently. He stood firm, his spear held horizontally, his voice thick with murderous intent: “Release my daughter this instant!”

“Oh? Release her?” Bai’s tone was slippery, almost leisurely, before it suddenly turned icy. “Then so be it, General!”

“No!” The grip on my ankle vanished, followed by Mother’s heart-wrenching scream. I fell like a leaf, drifting through the cool autumn wind. The rush of air whistled past my ears, the yellow earth drawing closer. For some reason, my previously chaotic mind grew eerily calm—I could almost hear the passage of time.

This life had only lasted a little over five years, fleeting like a mayfly. I had no other wishes now but for my parents and brother to escape danger.

As I exhaled softly, preparing to embrace death, a golden figure flashed across my peripheral vision. My waist was yanked suddenly, halting my descent just inches above the uneven ground. My mind went blank, frozen in shock. Then, I was pulled upright, my cheek pressed against a sturdy chest. Dazed, I looked up to see Father’s throat bobbing, his dark pupils gleaming fiercely, his lips tightly shut, no words spoken.

“Father!” My voice cracked as tears streamed down my face. I threw myself into his embrace, and only then did fear flood my heart. A whirlwind of emotions swirled within me—bitterness, sorrow, relief—all mingling together, coursing through my veins.

“Oh! Oh!” Turning back, I saw the golden spears glinting in the sunlight, the silver helmets gleaming amidst the clouds. The army and commoners cheered wildly, their valor reaching the heavens.

“Sister!” My brother spurred his horse forward, racing toward us like a streak of red silk carried by the wind.

“Xiao’er, protect your sister!” Father’s voice was low and tense.

“Yes!” Brother reached out, lifting me from the back of Father’s black steed onto his pure white mount. Leaning against his cold silver armor, I frowned deeply, gazing at the watchtower—and at Mother.

“General Han truly has remarkable skill!” Bai Ziqi’s eyebrows twitched slightly, his lips curling into a smirk. He spoke casually, “Our King of Yong and Lord Ming have long admired you. If you were to join our Great Yong, Bai would gladly offer his head to assuage your grievances.”

“Hmph!” From the right flank, a red horse surged forth. A tall, long-armed officer brandished his saber, pointing it at the city walls. “You vile dog, stop your deceitful talk! Your Yong Kingdom attacked Jing under the pretext of tribute, disregarding the suffering of both nations’ people—this is inhumane! Time and again, you’ve been defeated by our general, and now you’ve resorted to binding Lady Han and her daughter, using them as leverage—this is unjust! Our general shines like the sun and moon; how could he ally with such dishonorable scum!”

“General!” “General!” Several officers galloped out from the three formations, watching Father anxiously.

The gleaming steel spear was raised high, its red tassel fluttering in the wind. Father tightened the reins, his posture erect, sitting proudly atop his black steed: “I, Han Baiqing, was born the Revitalizing General of You, and I will die a loyal spirit of You!”

His deep, resonant voice echoed in the rising autumn wind, clear and unwavering. Feeling Brother’s chest rise and fall slightly behind me, I reached out to grip his right hand, which held the spear: We are proud of you, Father!

On the city walls, heads stirred. Bai Ziqi paused, nodding slightly as he stepped aside. The gold-crowned Lord Ming appeared on the wall, draped in a russet cloak. He lowered his head, narrowing his eyes to glare coldly at Father: “Hasn’t the general wondered how Lady Han and Miss Qingqing, who should have been safely within the palace, ended up here in Qianzhou, at the border of three kingdoms? Hasn’t the general questioned why news of their disappearance never reached the front lines?”

At these words, Father’s sword-like brows furrowed as he stared at the city walls. The previously roaring soldiers fell silent. I felt Brother’s chest heaving violently, his breaths growing heavier. “Father!” Brother roared, his hand gripping the silver spear turning white, his body half-rising. Father raised his left hand, and Brother let out a soft groan, slowly sitting back on his horse. Looking up, I saw his unwilling expression, his lips curled, his jawline sharp, as if grinding his teeth.

“After this battle, Baiqing will investigate thoroughly. No need for Lord Ming to concern himself!” Father’s response was decisive, his voice ironclad, without a trace of hesitation.

“Very well, then this king need not worry about Lady Han either!” Lord Ming’s gaze turned ruthless. With a flick of his robe, he turned and left. “Ziqi, Lady Han is yours to deal with. Do not disappoint me!”

“Yes!” Bai Ziqi responded excitedly, unfurling his fan, looking smug. “Qian Qiao, Lady Han is yours to reward the brothers with!”

Father bent down, picking up a white-feathered bow. He nocked an arrow, drawing the bow taut like the autumn moon crossing the sky. The arrow shot out like a meteor, landing with precision. A wail rang out from the city walls as Bai Ziqi clutched his ear and collapsed weakly.

“No! Don’t!” Mother’s shrill scream cut through the air.

“Jinse!” Father roared, swinging his spear. “Pass my order—bathe Qiancheng in blood!”

“Yes!” The three armies roared in unison, their fury scattering the clouds.

Brother’s chest seemed ready to explode as he screamed hoarsely: “Mother!”

Tears poured down my face, choking my voice: “Mother… Mother… Mother!”

Soldiers ignored the rain of arrows from the city walls, pushing siege ladders, supporting battering rams, wielding spears and sabers, trampling over the bodies of their fallen comrades, rushing forward wave after wave. Behind them, trebuchets launched massive stones onto the corner towers, eliciting cries of agony from those above.

Amidst the deafening shouts and the stench of blood, a slender figure suddenly appeared on the outer parapet of the city wall. “Baiqing!” Mother’s hair was loose, her clothes disheveled, her fingers gripping the bricks tightly, blood trickling from the corner of her mouth.

“Jinse!” Father drew his bow fully, four arrows slicing through the air, striking the dazed soldiers behind her with deadly precision. More soldiers surged forward, grabbing Mother’s slender arms, attempting to drag her away from the parapet.

“Baiqing, kill me! Kill me!” Mother screamed with all her might.

Father lowered his bow, his jaw trembling slightly. “Charge!” Brother kicked his horse, racing forward. Clutching the horse’s mane, tears streaming endlessly, I cried out: “Father! Be careful!” Brother swung his spear, deflecting several stray arrows aimed at Father.

“Baiqing! Baiqing!” Mother’s fingers clung desperately to the battlements, her crimson nails breaking off one by one, fluttering to the ground like petals in the wind, tragic and haunting.

“Baiqing! Kill me!”

Father suddenly raised his white-feathered bow, nocking a golden arrow.

“Father!” Brother and I cried out simultaneously.

“For your mother’s dignity!” Father clenched his jaw, his face taut, his eyes trembling slightly. Tears slid down his resolute face. With a dull thud, the bowstring snapped. The golden arrow whistled mournfully, flashing coldly in the autumn sun, slicing through the air and piercing Mother’s chest with precision. The soldiers behind her froze, stunned, releasing their grip. Mother touched the golden arrow embedded in her chest, smiling tenderly, gazing at Father with love. Her lips parted slightly, as if whispering final words.

“Jinse!” Father roared like a wounded beast. “Jinse!”

Mother’s gaze grew distant. She leaned unsteadily against the parapet, a blossom of blood blooming at the corner of her mouth. Extending her arm with the last of her strength, she toppled over the city wall. Her robes fluttered as she fell, like the last flower of summer, quietly wilting in the bloody battlefield.

“Jinse!” Father struck his steed with the spear, galloping away.

Through my tear-blurred eyes, I suddenly noticed crossbows being raised along the parapet. Forgetting to wipe my tears, I screamed: “Father! Be careful!”

“Whoosh! Whoosh! Whoosh!” Amidst the flurry of arrows, Father spurred his horse to catch Mother’s falling body. Turning the horse sharply, he raced back like the wind. In the hail of arrows, Father wielded his spear in one hand, gripping the reins tightly with the other, shielding Mother’s body protectively in his arms. Suddenly, his brow furrowed, his lips pressed tightly together, his body stiffening momentarily.

“Father!” Brother kicked his horse, bringing me forward to assist.

Father’s face was pale as he carefully cradled Mother. Reaching beneath his golden armor, he retrieved a silk handkerchief embroidered with flowers, trembling slightly as he handed it to Brother: “This was the handkerchief your mother gave me before we departed. Quickly tie your sister to your chest with it and protect her as you flee!” The white silk was stained with spots of blood.

“Father! You’re injured!” Brother gripped Father’s hand tightly. “You take Mother and leave first—I’ll stay here and fight!”

“Xiao’er!” Father’s eyes widened, his gaze heavy with sorrow. “Do you want our entire family to die here? Do you want Qingqing to follow in her mother’s footsteps?”

“Father, Qingqing isn’t afraid!” I held back my tears, straightening my posture.

“You may not be afraid, but I am!” Father spat out a mouthful of blood. “Do you want your mother to die with her eyes unsealed?”

Brother let out a deep sigh, taking the handkerchief. He tied me securely to his chest. By now, the siege towers were fully erected, and the ground was piled high with layers of corpses. The soldiers of the Han family fought fearlessly, climbing the siege ladders toward the city walls. In the central formation, soldiers led by officers pushed battering rams toward the gates. Suddenly, boiling oil rained down from the city walls, accompanied by screams of agony. No one paid attention to the writhing figures on the ground—soldiers continued to surge forward, filling gaps automatically, pushing the battering ram toward the gates.

This was war; this was the abattoir.

My small body was yanked forcefully backward, tightly bound to Brother’s chest by the blood-stained handkerchief. Just as we prepared to ride off, a loud shout rang out: “General!”

A blood-soaked officer galloped toward us. As he approached, his body swayed, and he tumbled off his horse, collapsing heavily. “General, our rear has been ambushed by Jing’s forces!”

“What?!” Brother’s eyes widened in shock. “Weren’t they our allies? Weren’t they supposed to guard our rear?”

The officer propped himself up with his saber, sweat pouring down his face. “It’s indeed Jing’s army—no mistake!”

Father closed his eyes briefly, exhaling deeply. “Jing and Yong must have colluded long ago. Jing’s sudden plea for aid and Yong’s feigned military support—it was all a ruse. Their goal was to annihilate the Han family’s army and weaken You!”

“So that’s why Jing’s military reports were delayed, and why the siege was dragged out for ten days,” Brother said bitterly, gripping his spear tightly. “They were waiting for Mother and Sister—those beasts!”

Father raised his spear decisively, roaring: “Pass my order—withdraw the troops in batches! No lingering in battle!”

I gazed at Father’s towering back, my lips trembling. Only now did I realize—he had already been struck by multiple arrows! All this time, he had been shielding Mother with his own body.

“Father!” Brother shouted anxiously. “Take Mother and leave first—I’ll cover your retreat!”

“Xiao’er!” Father watched as the troops withdrew in an orderly fashion, his gaze burning as he looked at Brother. “I am the commander of the three armies—how can I flee alone?” Lowering his head, his gaze softened as he looked at Mother cradled in his arms: “I will bring your mother back—to You.”

“Kill!” The gates of Qianzhou suddenly opened, and waves of Yong soldiers in earth-yellow uniforms poured out like a flood. “Kill!” A deafening roar erupted from behind our ranks.

Father gazed into the distance, letting out a deep sigh: “It seems there’s no escape.” Straightening his face, he raised his spear, commanding loudly: “Han Shuo, heed my order!”

The officer who had earlier berated Bai Ziqi galloped forward: “Your subordinate is here!”

“I command you to lead the left flank and break through from the southeast corner!”

“Yes, sir!” Han Shuo raised his saber, roaring fiercely: “Left flank, follow me to face the enemy!”

“Yes!” Soldiers clad in green uniforms moved swiftly and orderly into the distance.

Father coughed up a mouthful of blood: “Han Qi!”

“Your subordinate is here!” A handsome-bearded officer responded loudly.

“You lead the right flank and withdraw through the northeast corner of Jing’s forces!”

“Yes, sir!” The bearded officer saluted, preparing to leave.

Father suddenly called out: “Han Qi!”

“General?”

Father patted the neck of Brother’s white steed, urging it forward a few steps. “Han Qi, help me take care of these two children.” His voice was low. “Jinse and I thank you.”

“Yes…” The bearded officer turned his horse around, bowing deeply. “General, rest assured—even if I die, I will ensure the safety of the young master and miss!”

I turned my head, screaming: “Father! Let’s all leave together!”

Brother wheeled his horse around, kicking it toward Father: “Sister and I will stay with you!”

Father raised his iron palm, delivering a heavy slap to Brother’s cheek: “Your mother’s body is still warm—are you willing to let her die with unseeing eyes, refusing to drink Meng Po’s tea?” With that, he struck the neck of the white steed. It let out a neigh and galloped away.

I stretched my arm desperately backward, crying out into the wind: “Father!”

Brother let out a roar of anguish and frustration: “Ah!” The white horse carried us away at full speed.

The autumn wind howled, the bright sun cold and distant. The mournful cries of armor and the occasional screams of pain filled the air. Brother wielded his silver spear with relentless vigor, thrusting, hooking, slashing, stabbing. Blood and flesh flew everywhere, while behind us, shouts of rage echoed. Everywhere I looked, the ground was littered with corpses, the air thick with the stench of blood. Yellow sand filled the sky, blotting out the sun. The battlefield was a blur of dust and iron chains, time seeming to stand still. The world around me was brutally real. My face was smeared with sticky blood, my nostrils filled with its metallic tang.

Suddenly, a drop of blood landed on my eyelid. I looked up to see a deep gash carved into Brother’s handsome cheek, fresh red blood flowing steadily from the wound.

“Brother…”

“Qingqing, don’t be afraid!” Brother wielded both his spear and sword, his arms moving like a whirlwind, heads and limbs flying in all directions. He licked the blood from the corner of his mouth, giving me a gentle smile: “Brother will definitely bring you back!” Urging the horse forward, he swept his spear across the battlefield. Blood dripped onto his eyes—one drop, two drops, three drops—blurring his vision. All he could see was a sea of crimson.

In this mortal realm, where do heroes dwell? Beneath the rainbow of spilled blood, they lie scattered on the battlefield.

Years later, I lay on a bamboo bed, idly flipping through a copy of The History of You . My gaze lingered on a particular passage:

“In the nineteenth year of Tianlu, during the sixth month, Yong’s forces invaded Jing, dealing them a crushing defeat and seizing several cities. On the twenty-fourth day of the sixth month, Jing’s Empress Dowager Wen sent envoys to seek aid from King Qin Chu of You. On the twenty-seventh day, King Qin ordered General Han Baiqing to lead troops to assist Jing against Yong. On the seventeenth day of the seventh month, Han achieved a great victory over Yong’s forces, forcing Lord Ming of Yong to retreat westward for a thousand miles. On the twenty-ninth day, Han pursued the enemy to Qianzhou, at the intersection of three kingdoms, but Lord Chen Shao of Ming refused to open the gates.

On the eighth day of the eighth month, Han led his troops to the city walls, only to find his wife and daughter bound atop them. Yong’s strategist Bai Ziqi hurled his daughter from the walls, but Han galloped forward and caught her. Later, Han personally shot his wife, and Lady Han Su fell from the city walls to her death. At that moment, Jing’s forces betrayed You, allying with Yong to surround the You army in a pincer movement. Han led twenty thousand troops in a rearguard action, ensuring the safe retreat of the You army. Fighting until dusk, Han Baiqing and a dozen loyal guards fled to Gu Pu Cliff, with enemies ahead and no path of retreat. Raising his head to the heavens, Han let out a long cry: ‘Heaven may grow old, seas may turn, but I cannot return to my homeland!’ With that, he embraced his wife and leapt from the cliff, their remains lost forever.

The Battle of Qianzhou saw the Han family’s army lose more than half its strength, and You lost its position as the dominant power in the south.”

The eighth day of the eighth month, the eighth day of the eighth month.

A birthday.

And a death anniversary.