Today’s dish is called a boxed meal.
With the fall of the bridgehead, the Northern Conquest Army’s vanguard surged forward, driving straight to the foot of Zhongling’s walls. He Lianzhi’s eyes were red with slaughter, his tall horse dragging a string of severed heads on either side as he charged forth, scattered limbs left in his wake. These rebels were easier to fight than the northern Di barbarians—at least those would die for their nation; here, once their generals were gone, these men fell apart, scattering like headless flies.
Once past the bridgehead, nothing stood in their way. Thousands charged forth, all the way to Chongtian Gate. He Lianzhi speared a rebel officer, drew a curved blade seized at Beidi, sliced off the enemy general’s head, and tied it by the hair to his saddle.
Ji Hong rode up, Deputy General Wei He by his side. Wei’s wound split open on his arm again, making him think ruefully that he’d be scolded by Doctor Yu back at camp. He tore a strip of cloth to wrap it up, then looked up to see He Lianzhi’s horse soaked red, blood dripping fiercely, and said, “General He, in our camp, beheadings are not counted for merit.”
He Lianzhi, happily counting the “trophies” on his horse—four, five, six, seven—paused, startled: “Then what do you count?”
Wei He: “…Nothing at all.”
He Lianzhi glanced at their own horses—indeed, not a single head.
Ji Hong added, “General He’s merits are plain to everyone—there is no need to fake them.”
Min Xuefei, seeing He Lianzhi disappointed, quickly praised: “A true hero of the Northern Conquest—General He is a true hero! These heads won’t go to waste. We’ll hang them on the city gate to proclaim your valour to all.”
He Lianzhi reluctantly looked at his collected heads.
Ahead, the main army had already reached Chongtian Gate; dozens of strong men pushed huge battering rams past them, sappers raised ladders, and more hot oil and boiling water rained down from the wall, just as when Song Cheng had defended the city. Clearly, ammunition was running low. The outer walls of Chongtian Gate were stained with blood, old patches turned black, making it impossible to tell where Song Cheng had fallen.
Min Xuefei wondered if Song’s body could still be found. Word was the entire Song family had been wiped out. At the very least, he should recover Song Cheng’s body and give it a proper burial, report it to the court, so the man’s loyalty would not be forgotten.
The men looked up thoughtfully at Chongtian Gate. Only Ji Hong kept turning to look behind, where the supply wagons and militia followed; farther back, the rear was the temporary hospital. In the army, lightly wounded men never left the line—battle could last days, and as long as you could still move, a quick bandage and you were sent back to fight.
Seeing Ji Hong glancing back and again, Min Xuefei patted him on the shoulder: “Don’t look—you’re fine!”
Ji Hong glared fiercely at him and rode off.
“…,” Min Xuefei touched his own nose sheepishly, then hurried to catch up, but Ji Hong jerked the reins aside to dodge. Min Xuefei, unwilling to be snubbed further, rode over to He Lianzhi, who was still brimming with energy, and laughed: “General He, your Northern Army is strong—can you have a few bold men call out to the wall?”
Even if no one answered, the formalities must be kept. They were the army of justice, not like the traitor Yue army slaughtering all in their path. If they could win without further bloodshed, all the better. He Lianzhi slapped his chest and swore it was as good as done, summoning a few men with the loudest voices, who took turns to shout up at the walls.
“——Listen up on the wall!”
“All under heaven are the sovereign’s land, everyone the sovereign’s people. This rebellion belongs to the Prince of Yue alone; all of you are subjects of the Great Xia, just like us, born of parents. The emperor knows you’ve been deceived, forced by the traitor king; if you surrender your arms, the emperor holds no past grudges!”
Soldiers roared together, “Open the gate! Lay down your arms and surrender!”
…
“Open the gate! Lay down your arms and surrender!”
From afar came the thunderous shouts, and the battering ram pounded at the Chongtian Gate—each blow like the dead breaking into the world of the living. Yu Xu held a palm-sized casket, running frantically through Zhongling’s inner streets. Blood leaked from the cracks of the box, soaking his silk robe, breath steaming into the fur collar around his neck.
The city was about to fall, and he was thrilled—strangely thrilled.
Whether Zhongling fell was nothing to him; he was eager for Yan Chang’s death. And as for that cousin Yu Jinnian—wasn’t he so fond of playing at doctor, claiming godlike healing hands? Fine, then cut off his pulse-taking fingers, his tongue for diagnosis, his ears for listening, and his eyes for examining. Let’s see if he can work wonders now!
His cousin—such a pretender of false compassion—and that heir of Duke Li, all moral pronouncements and hypocrisy! Didn’t they love meddling in others’ business? There were plenty of court lackeys in Zhongling’s prisons—drag them up on the wall and display them! If they didn’t comply, throw them right off! Let’s see whose “morality” was real.
Those callous scholars all recited “better to be broken jade than intact tile,” yet none slashed their own throats in jail—so much for loyalty as a virtue. In the end, all hung their hopes on a nameless street doctor to sacrifice himself and save them.
His own cousin’s physician’s hands and eyes swapped for those scholars—an even trade.
Yu Xu ran and laughed, “All of you, die! Just die already!”
At the corner, a squad of soldiers rushed past; Yu Xu instinctively ducked, but one stopped, surprised: “You? Are you hurt?” The man slowed, grabbed Yu Xu’s arm to look, and pulled him into an alley, whispering, “What are you doing here? Go! There’s going to be a fight!”
Yu Xu looked up—this man seemed familiar. He looked down at the man’s rough hands on his wrist.
The man bent to draw a dagger from his boot and pressed it along with his military tag into Yu Xu’s hands. “Take this—protect yourself and run south. There’s chaos among the refugees at the south gate; you might slip through. Go south, don’t look back. If you’ve nowhere to go, find the family under the banyan tree in Zounan—they’ll take you in for a few days.”
Yu Xu suddenly remembered—it was that simpleton soldier, the one who’d peeled him a pear, Yuan Gui. He stared, clutching the dagger in confusion. “Wasn’t this for your bride? You’re giving it to me—what about you?”
Yuan Gui waved it off, joking, “What bride? Penniless as I am, no girl would want me.” He tried to laugh, lips twisting awkwardly. “No matter. With no merit, there’s nothing to go home for.”
No going home this time—he didn’t expect to return.
That night in the tent, Yu Xu had barely seen what Yuan Gui looked like. Now he saw: a tall, stalwart man with a scar on his face, much like his own, probably from battle. He wore nothing fine, no heavy armor, just a stiff overshirt of rough cloth over his uniform.
Yu Xu looked up at him. “Where will you go? What for?”
Yuan Gui: “To war, of course! Guarding the gate! I count as vanguard now!”
Yu Xu glanced back—thundering and screaming echoed, sometimes near, sometimes far. Dust and smoke shrouded Zhongling’s sky, the wind bitterly cold, and the blood on his skin was icy hard.
Vanguard? Just a fool sent to die!
Suddenly, Yu Xu grabbed Yuan Gui: “Come here, I have something to tell you!”
“What is it? Say it.” Yuan Gui, large as he was, stumbled under the anxious tug as Yu Xu dragged him to an empty spot. The farther they got from Chongtian Gate, the more distant the shouting, and Yuan Gui’s thoughts drifted—to his aging parents in Zounan, his sister yet to marry. He’d had a younger brother once, but the boy died after Yuan joined up—he never saw him again.
He doubted he’d get another chance to go home. If he died this time, would there be enough compensation for his sister’s dowry?
He came to himself in an abandoned yard.
Yu Xu dragged him inside and suddenly started untying his uniform. Yuan Gui jumped back—what was going on? With his strength, Yu Xu couldn’t overpower him, but he was so flustered he blurted out: “Don’t go to Chongtian Gate!!”
Yuan Gui blinked.
“Don’t go.” Yu Xu didn’t know why he was so anxious; what did it matter if Yuan Gui went or lived? He’d hoodwinked both generals, driven Yan Chang mad, who knew if Yu Jinnian was dead, and had Ji Hong’s hair standing on end—why worry about a nameless foot soldier?
Maybe for the sake of that pear.
“Are you stupid? You’ll die there!”
Yuan Gui straightened his clothes, reached down and ruffled Yu Xu’s hair just as he had his siblings at home. He let out a rough sigh and said, “A soldier has to fight.”
Yu Xu: “The land’s a mess—who’d notice you?”
Yuan Gui shook his head. “I would.”
Yu Xu froze; he truly did not understand why Yuan Gui persisted—was it for Yan Chang? What did the prince ever do for him? Why run to certain death, smiling? Yu Xu hated Yan Chang, hated Ji Hong—he’d never give his life for anyone. Life was his own—why throw it away for nothing? Why deliberately die when you could live?
He watched Yuan Gui striding out, seemingly fearless of death. As the big man reached the threshold, Yu Xu’s face twisted; he snatched up a collapsing old chair and smashed it over Yuan Gui’s neck!
Crash—!
Chair and man alike fell apart, blood streaming down Yuan Gui’s head. He turned back in disbelief, vision blurring from one Yu Xu to two, three, four, then darkness.
Yu Xu dragged him into the back room like a sack, tore off the military uniform, fished out a length of dusty rope from under a broken bed, and tied Yuan Gui securely to the table. Yuan Gui was so heavy that Yu Xu could only drag him with his teeth gritted. As he tied him, he muttered, “I know what they say about me. Heartless, ungrateful, shameless, lowborn… I avenge myself, while they call my truth a flaw!”
Yuan Gui groaned in pain, still unconscious. Yu Xu checked on him, wiping the blood from his head. “You’re a good man, I know.”
He didn’t know what else to say. After a while, he stammered, “I’m not only out to harm people…”—but whatever he said, Yuan Gui couldn’t hear. When Yu Xu got up to leave, he turned back, took off his coat, and covered Yuan Gui.
“Just sleep awhile—when you wake, the battle will be over. Then shout loudly, someone will find you. That precious life you risked—it’s not so easily thrown away.” Yu Xu slipped the dagger back into Yuan Gui’s boot and pocketed the name tag. “Fool! When you wake, don’t be stupid, don’t say you’re Yue army!”
Yuan Gui’s head hung low, unresponsive.
Yu Xu closed the wobbly door and left.
The sky was overcast, snow threatening, the wind cold and dim.
Yu Xu walked slowly through the alleys with his boxful of broken eyes and ears. A few refugees with ragged packs ran by, glanced at his ornate wooden box and fine silks, and figured it must be treasure. After a quick discussion, they surrounded him, grabbed the box, and fled!
After two blocks, finally safe, they ducked into a corner and pried it open—immediately there was a scream, and the man flung the box away. Bloody lumps tumbled and rolled at their feet, and a starving stray dog pounced, gobbled a few, and ran.
Only then did they see—not treasure, but a box of human fingers!
Yu Xu, robbed, gave a couple of giggles, laughing at such fools, grabbing filth for treasure. He followed the streaming crowd to South Market; beggars and refugees pushed as a mob for the south gate. He too tried to push out—when suddenly there came the pounding of hooves and soldiers shouting at the commoners!
Not just a few horses, nor a small squad, but thousands rushed toward the gate! At the front, two horsemen swung long whips; anyone who didn’t move was whipped or trampled without mercy, and some were killed instantly.
The crowd split with panic, a corridor forming before the gate.
The city gate opened; the massed army thundered out. Mixed among them was a nondescript carriage, guarded by a stern young general—plainly someone important was inside.
Everyone guessed it must be the Twelfth Prince, who’d come to rule Zhongling just months before. Ordinary people could not fathom—how did a lord, rich beyond want, end up rebelling, seeking ruin?
Why rebel? Out of greed! Yu Xu, face smeared with dust, watched from afar as Yan Chang’s carriage escaped the city, with his faithful guard, now “Chief Zhou,” at his side. This grand “Southern Xia” had lasted only a few months. How ridiculous.
Yu Xu was delighted—Old Bastard Yan, your luck’s finally run out! You see, all those medical books you made me copy weren’t wasted!
As the great army passed, the refugees tried to follow out the gate, but a hundred soldiers dropped back, blocking the gate with blades, hacking down anyone who dared push through. Screams rang out; mothers covered their children’s eyes, weeping in fear.
With each step back, the gate closed ever more; with a heavy boom, the gate was bolted shut from the outside.
Only then did Yu Xu react—he shoved forward, pounding the gates, cursing: “Cowardly bastard, damned old turtle Yan! How can you be so vile! Open this door!”
Boom—!
From Chongtian Gate came more earth-shaking explosions.
Yu Xu looked back, fear overwhelming him.
A band of soldiers fled toward them, armour and weapons abandoned. Yu Xu’s vision darkened.
He seemed to hear someone cry out, delighted, “Hey, isn’t that the cocky pet from the bridgehead? Standing there like a fool—the traitor king ran off and left him! Watch, I’ll shoot him and take his head to Lord Ji for a reward!”
Another interrupted, “Why you alone? Lord Ji said any part of his corpse counts! Save a limb for me—I need a bride price!”
“Ha! You two, who knows who’ll get him!” An archer strung his bow, aimed at Yu Xu, and fired—the arrow grazed Yu Xu’s ear.
Others laughed, “Look at that, hopeless shot. Guess you’ll get nothing!”
Snapped from his daze by the blood on his cheek, Yu Xu ran for his life.
…
Twelfth month, twentieth day.
Favourable for sacrifice; all else inadvisable.
An arrow whistled from behind; Yu Xu, bloodied and battered, staggered through the narrow alleys. He thought of the woods behind Sifang Village, autumn rabbits running wild. When his father was alive, he’d bring him hunting, but the rabbits ran too fast—father would shoot to wound one so he could catch it.
As a child, he’d never wondered if the rabbit hurt.
Today, he was the rabbit. Blood ran heavy down his legs, freezing his breath as he shook, senses fading away.
A squad of soldiers followed, mocking his limp—one called him a toad, another, a duck. At the alley’s end, seeing he could run no more, they watched as he crawled on, tripping, headfirst, through his own blood.
Still, they joked: “Wasn’t so tough before! Ran just a bit and now can’t move?”
“All swagger, but just a fool. That traitor king was no genius to take such a pet. Now he’s fleeing for his life!” Another laughed, “Say, does he still think those fingers he took were our miracle doctor’s?”
Yu Xu jolted—What? What did that mean?!
“It was just a fresh corpse! Did he really think he was important? Who’d give up our own doctor’s fingers for his bluster? When our doctor saves lives, where were you? Lying pretty in some man’s bed!”
Someone walked over and nudged him with a foot—again and again, but he didn’t move. Bending down, the man checked Yu Xu’s breath; finding him alive, he stepped hard on Yu Xu’s hand, drew his knife, and hissed, “You like cutting off fingers? Let’s see what your own looks like. Watch—”
The knife fell, and Yu Xu’s scream rang out—four fingers lopped off in an instant, spinning like dice in his gaze—ten fingers linked to the heart, ten to the heart! For a moment, he could not even distinguish pain. Was there pain worse than this?
A cloud of crows burst from above Zhongling, melting into the clouds.
The soldiers drew their knives.
Yu Xu struggled up. At last, after two days’ gathering, the heavy clouds filled with human blood split apart; the crows tore them, and snow fell in rain and ice, pure white. In Sifang Village, snow never lay thick, only a thin layer that quickly melted into rain, making for a wet winter.
They said the capital’s snow was thick as quilts, which you could roll up, just like pancake wraps at the start of spring. He wanted to see quilt-thick snow—he could have seen it, could have…
A soft sound—the hush of falling snow.
But he wouldn’t see Zhongling covered in white.
A name tag tumbled from his sleeve, showing the carved side. He tried to reach for it, but with his fingers cut off, only the stubs of winter branches remained—he could only press his palm to it.
He opened his mouth, and with no tongue, blood oozed from his teeth. Lying dazed, he thought: Yuan Gui, I can’t make it to Zounan…
Zhongling’s winter—so very cold.