Chapter 4

We ambushed the Prince of Zhennan’s army in the mountains.

Arrows flew overhead like rain—ours and theirs.

Men fell one after another, friend and foe alike.

Our blood streamed endlessly down the cliff until it mingled with theirs.

Night fell, bringing a brief respite.

I crouched behind a boulder, gasping for breath. An arrow had punched through Wang Ersan’s shoulder, and he was barely alive.

Whenever he opened his mouth, blood and tears spilled out together.

He said, “Brother Jiang, when we win, take my money to my mother. Tell her that her son died in battle. Tell her he was a hero.”

I turned my face away. “You’re not going to die. Hold on. The reinforcements will be here tomorrow.”

But the next day, our reinforcements did not come.

The Prince of Zhennan’s did.

That day was even harder to endure than the first. By nightfall, only a dozen or so of the men I had brought were still alive.

I had always been more perceptive than most.

At home, I was always the first to understand why Mother or Father was angry.

In the army, I was always the first to know what my superiors wanted and what they meant to do.

Yet only now, when it was all over, did I understand that there had never been any reinforcements.

Perhaps the main force had already withdrawn.

Perhaps they had made other plans.

Whatever the case, my life and the lives of my men had never entered our superiors’ calculations.

I had never been one to serve sovereign and country with blind devotion.

The sovereign belonged to princes and lords.

The country belonged to the imperial clan and its kin.

When I starved, when I smelled that meat I could never forget, when I left Mother and my sister behind—where was the sovereign then? Where was the country?

I threw down my spear and stripped off my armor. To those who still showed signs of life, I said, “Run. Each of you, save yourselves.”

I hoisted Wang Ersan onto my back and walked into the night.

I do not know how long I walked. Dawn was breaking when Wang Ersan began to lose consciousness.

I set him down and scooped water from the river into his mouth.

I knew nothing of medicine and had nowhere to find help. He was covered in blood; taking him into the city would only arouse suspicion.

How fragile people were.

One stray arrow was enough to leave him at death’s door.

One wounded man was enough to leave me utterly helpless.

I carried him into a cave, found a few herbs at random, pounded them into a paste, and spread it over the wound.

I had done everything I could.

I wished I were like the rich and powerful, able to scatter gold and silver with one hand, summon the finest physician, and buy the finest medicines for him.

But I was not.

I had no such power.

My tears fell into his blood. With his breath fading, he raised a hand as if to wipe them away.

I turned my head. “Take care of yourself. You have to fight to live.”

Then I stood, turned, and walked out.